From: Alan Sondheim <firstname.lastname@example.org>
To: Cyb <email@example.com>, "WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines" <WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA>
Subject: All I can do -
Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2006 11:07:22 -0400 (EDT)
All I can do - Please go to http://nikuko.blogspot.com. Guitar is all I can do. Everything else is talk, concept, ideation. Guitar is labor/energy. Guitar is skill. I wanted to be the fastest guitar player in the world. I learned the chords digital-style, sort [chord], a b c d e f g a7 b7 c7 etc. I practiced speed. I practiced speed all the time. The forms began to come. I slept through the harmony melody. I went after the forms. Nothing was too fast. I wanted more than twenty-two notes/second. I didn't want to cheat. I'd didn't want to cheat myself. I wanted it there, what my hands, wrist, fingers, were doing. I wanted to play faster than I could think. I wanted to trip over myself, catch up with myself. I caught up with myself. I added chords. I subtracted them. I did chords. Then music sped out of my control. I abjure myself. I forgive myself. I couldn't follow it. I couldn't do anything. It surrounded me. It held me in thrall. We didn't speak through each other. We didn't speak to each other. I played faster. I surprised myself. I kept surprising myself. I forgot theory. I forgot speech. I did this for you, baby-bounce. I did this for you.