Language about the dead is stylistically quite distinct from language about the living.

So, this week is that tradition where we offer up thanks for that which aids us in our lives. I am pretty thankful that I am able to hear music in the way that I do. I will listen to a song and only pay attention to one single part for most of the song: latching on to a single piece and enjoying it. The rest of the song sort of fades out when I do that which is amazing I think: the power of concentration. Anyway, I love taking something that is organic in sound and turning it into that which is electronic. It sort of reminds me of how I listen to songs sometimes. I will play something on guitar and then crush it in sound until certain parts pop more than others and that same melody becomes different or filter another line with a bit of delay to produce something entirely different.

I probably deconstruct too many things, oh well. What is wrong with understanding how the parts interact with themselves, others, and the whole?

I have a seven hour day today and I stayed up way too late watching Wall Street Money Never Sleeps (which was unspectacular). I did, however, watch The Killer Inside Me and was completely horrified by the nature of the sociopathic character portrayed by Casey Affleck: crazy but gentlemanly polite and observing. Anyway,

8bits and Pieces

Love,

tm

With You

" A few seconds more and the Negress will sing. It seems inevitable, so strong is the necessity of this music: nothing can interrupt it, nothing which comes from this time in which the world has fallen; it will stop of itself, as if by order. If I love this beautiful voice it is especially because of that: it is neither for its fulness nor its sadness, rather because it is the event for which so many notes have been preparing, from so far away, dying that it might be born. And yet I am troubled; it would take so little to make the record stop: a broken spring, the whim of Cousin Adolphe. How strange it is, how moving that this hardness should be so fragile. Nothing can interrupt it yet all can break it.

The last chord has died away. In the brief silence which follows I feel strongly that there it is, that something has happened.

Silence.

Some of these days

You'll Miss me Honey."

~Sartre from "Nausea"

So, I did this next one in so little time that it is probably terrible; however, it is the first one that I have actually done lyrics for and sang on in a long time. I know I am not that great of a singer. I am aware of my out drift in and out of tune, yes. Oh well. I'll add the lyrics for clarity..

With You

I don’t wanna be afraid of everything we need to say. like how I shouldn't hide from the idea that I’m gonna die. And I know I shouldn’t fear something that happens when I am not here but that spot of matted grass; it once was cold and will be again when you are old. I won’t be there to share it with you. I won’t be there to share it with you..

I’d rather find which shade in the sky would compliment your eyes best. Instead, I’m cementing everything about that color and holding on. Moments cheek to cheek, they’ll be fading fast and fleet just don’t let them be your everything because I won’t be there to share it with you. I won’t be there to share it with you.

Anyway,

It is time for a ride in the rain to work.

Love.

more very soon.

promise.