sometime i say genius shits (shouldve had another toffee instead of speaking)

sometimes i think what i say is brilliant (smarty pantsy brilliant that is). and sometime it totally blow chunks. it blows chunks so bad that it puts the yard shredders to shame. it's like: oops, shit, did i just really say that? hmm. i would like to take that back please. ah.. alas, it's turned into feed for mockery did it? fine, feed me to the wolves! i can take it! go ahead! you cold cold world!

then someone goes: dude, chill out. that shit's funny.
and i go sit my ass down and that's that.
i wonder why i am speaking in such a tone today. hmm. perhaps it is the cheeeeenok (well really spelled chinook)- it's warm enough, my nonexistent balls are dropping (ahh warmth) and now im talking like a true trashy teenage man. soon enough i be looking for the invisible stack of porn as well.

oh my gawd. really. monkey, stop. but then it's kinda hilarious. may be i will let it go for now. till it gets really unruly. like.. if i start to have body odour or something, ha ha. (cross fingers)

anyhows i said something spectacular last night and it's been stuck on my back, like a typical 'kick me' sign. you see, there is always this innate curiosity among musicians to 'improvise,' and in some disciplines it's a requirement: must know how to do stuff on fly, and do it well. actually i say it's most of the musical disciplines that requires improv skills. except in classical music (with a very very few odd cases really). and what i do for a living: accompanying, there's a certain comfort in having your score in front of you. i love you. i will never let you go. you are my lifeline. i dont care if you are wrong and i care even less if im not playing what you are telling me, as long as you are here with me.

sounds rather pathetic- like a proper teenage crush eh.

anyhows, so there was a session in the hut last night for improv. and monkey was wornout, it was dark, and i was feeling kinda stupid as it was an end of a rather excited for no reason day. ooh no i did have a reason: toffees. treacles toffees came in mail from mr salamander and that was a field day. so. bounce. bounce. bounce. oops. splat. crash. thump. so by the evening, well, i was being useless, as usual.

then came a small knock. i say 'yeah?' no answer. so i go open the door and comes a IN YOUR FACE SERENADE BY WACKO AUDIO SLAVE AND AUSSIE FLUTTER WITH COOKIES AND CHARANGA. i dropped a baby i never had. it must be like number 37 or something by now. sigh. anyways, it was an invitation- well, a coercion for improv session.

audioslave: so you coming?
monkey: well i was gonna go back to farrally-
as: so you are coming?
monkey: well im still in my flipflops-
as: you got wine?
monkey: urr
as: great!
monkey: (changes shoes)

i was really going to drop off vino say hullo and leave as i had ZERO intention of doing anything so honest as improv. then i ran into the tall bass man and decided to get the door for him.

tallbassman: you coming?
monkey: nah. i will just get the door for you
tbm: what? you should come, it be fun?
m: i dont do improv
tbm: why not? it's just about feeling and-
m: but what if i have no feelings?
tbm: - or just have something to say-
m: i have nothing to say?
tbm: okay, you write like 50 lines everyday and you have nothing to say?
m: ----

anyways. so i suppose it was all leading up to getting to elisse's hut. fine. and there i was greeted by the enthusiasts. scary people, enthusiasts. no one is more motivated than enthusiasts, screw the professionals eh. haha. so aforementioned gestures monkey to piano and she protests: im done working for the day!! so than as decides to give monkey a break and says: what about some tango tunes? and i say:

okay you got charts?

silence. oops. ha. sorry. i tried. hey. give monkey a break. give me something to hold on to. im not grown enough to state what i really think!! (rather probably irresponsible and does not want to take responsibility for my own action. ooh lazy). as just laughs his ass off. well deserved i think. and people, after laughing till tears, broke into playing. and i was thinking: this is one of those brilliant moment. good job monkey.. NOT!

it took a while to take a lot of courage to play a single note. well, i had some liquid courage and skipping dinner helps the causes of that. toasted in vino. nice. so who cares really. let's blame alcohol. without that i dont think i would have dared to make a noise, as i just stood there like a perfect moron for about half hour. how was improving after that? i think im real shit at it, but whatever. it's done.

it is a weird fear. i know how the piano operates and i am not the worst player of it. and since i never play the right notes on the page anyways, it really shouldnt matter to make stuff up (im very good at this by now; ask my last recording session- i dont think there are more than 3 takes let say, that i play the same notes, nevermind if they are right or not!). and it is a group of very forgiving and generous people. so why fuss?

because. i dont want be stupid.

i never really picked up a secondary instrument and i had all kinds of opportunities. but never did. why? simple. i hated the first learning curve. cant stand it. if anyone wants to hear me learn something, well.. they will be waiting for a long time. im too self conscious for my own damned good. and then i think: well, what do you think you are monkey? athena or someone, just busts out from zeus' head all formed, knowledgeable and perfect?


when there is a score i feel as if i can let go of things. many things. in fact i am frequently flecked for having the score to sit with me on the stage though i no longer need it. but wants it. crutch. safety blanket. whatever. and improv gets even worse- what do you mean now i have to be responsive, creative and honest? i can no longer blame reinecke for shit writing? (or any composer i happen to dislike at the moment. sphore comes close as well) i have to SAY THINGS AND MEAN IT?

tall order.

i talk lots of stuff. most of it is usually meaningless jumble i think. nothing really important or interesting. not amazing but amusing at best. im a crap talker. like background noise, blah blah. it's really hard to shut me up most of the time. but perhaps i talk too much because i dont want to think too much. or do much. or im trying to hide the fact that im really a simpleton and got not much in the skull. it's a party trick of the ages: if you wanna look smart, dont say anything and nod real seriously. i do the exact opposite. spilling odd bits out everywhere. so improv hits me right on the spot. ugh. i have to mean something?

well anyhows. that comment- 'where's the chart' made me laugh on and off this morning. i cant believe i said that. how classically dumb of me. at least im laughing on it. and i cannot guarantee that i will ever get myself near lady flutter's hut near improv session (it's fearful scenario even now brrrr), but it was a nice chance to be real about self: monkey, you arent anything special nor you need to be. be real and get your feet on the ground. and for fucks sake, listen, reason then act!

i wish i can follow my own advices.
or someone has a chart i could use?

1 comment:

  1. i have charts, they are a perfectly respectable option! and... remember the bagpipes? you were pretty good, no? second instrument.

    i may have triggered some unwelcome peer interrogation. luckily, it's probable there are no highland pipes at banff to be thrust into your unwilling arms. pray.