I dream of electric shoes
*Another letter to gross. Nothing even that interesting but thought I’d post something. If
anyone wants a letter from me just ask and I’d be happy to write one.
We are equal distances from all things. I only say one thing but I will retool and calculate so
that it will come out closer to what I mean. Glory and poetry seem to seep into my being. Slowly
petrifying anger and fear. I am calm. I’m ready to start a pop band. We will speak to the
public in there language about things that don’t need saying. This is not debasement its just
a beat you can dance to. I want to be that guy in the local bar who you think sounds alright. I
want to be lots of things. I’m more then fine with where I am. I have direction even if I
have no speed. I’m far more curious about how others are moving. I write to waste my time and
to mark the peaks and valleys of my oscillations. My mind is working all the time and out side the
realm of ‘normal’ thought. I am brilliant in this if nothing else. I dream of electric
shoes that will keep a beat for me and brilliant noise summoned by a flick of my wrist and a long
chain of steal boxes. I dream so that my failure seems farther off. I can’t play love, or
friendship, or sadness, or frozen milk on any number of strings.
It’s been an interesting first few weeks back here. I brought no pedals, only the clean
Casio, and the normal dozens of acoustic instruments. I’ve been working on the technical
aspects of my playing trying to memorize the fret boards of several different instruments.
I’ve been exercising my hands constantly. I think I’m improving little be little but
its left me with a lust for noise and a tangle of cables running into everything. And my damn comp
keeps crashing so I suppose here is as good a spot to end as any.