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?
no.. but.. I WOULD LIKE IT SO MUCH!
sigh.
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?
i have charts, they are a perfectly respectable option! and... remember the bagpipes? you were pretty good, no? second instrument.
ReplyDeletei 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.