I tried. I really tried. I meant to write something graceful and elegant, in which an acoustic guitar shimmered across the prairie, in the way clouds roll past in our lovely big Texas sky.
I’d be four parts Ry Cooder, one part Cole Porter, and perhaps a dash of Durutti Column, all without touching anything more than the .wav file of the elegant strings provided for my acoustic use.

I’ve been reading yet another introductory tome on music theory, and I knew that I could, like Thelonius Monk, write in whole tones, using a mere six notes with an improvisatory American deep-seated imagination that would make the listener journey to outer space and yet feel as patriotic and thrilled as if Van Cliburn were playing the Liberty Bell March on an elegant Schoenhut “baby baby” grand piano while a roman candle flared. Not that I could be Monk, of couse, but just thinking about him makes us all a little better.

Perhaps it was when someone cool over at Kristin Hersh’s site suggested it would be fun to remix her latest song in Nintendo Entertainment System MIDI. Perhaps it all started with the long wait for the sandwich in the chain place which needed a bit of savvy broom-work, or the glee of the red-suited nutcracker I bought for 150 pennies at the estate sale: http://www.flickr.com/photo...

Perhaps it was a very stressful work week. Perhaps it was the realization that all my best chess is played in games lasting no longer than five minutes a side.
Perhaps it was reading how an aerospace corporation actually made the Comsat Rebels change their name, on a silly trademark theory.
Perhaps it’s my thoughts lately about how there are a lot of people, including children, and even domestic pets, who are treated as throwaways, stray titles in search of the social equivalent of http://www.bookmooch.com

I just set aside all my ambitions and intentions, and the stress of the week, and began to play.

Where I live, the wildflowers permit bees to make honey that drips off your tongue like first love or luscious long goodbyes.
A native sage in front of our home is in glorious purple bloom, with an aggregation of hymnoptera in reverent attendance.

I’d like to invite you to spend 140-odd seconds on a trip to a silly space outside, a land of milk and prairie honey, where you can leave it all behind and just reach out and grab what’s sweet.

The young Latvian freesounder who has the only spoken word on this piece sums it up in one word: “juppee!”.

Let’s play, while the honey fuels hopes for a better time.

Am extra attribution here to DaMo, whose “best believe my beatz” was released CC on this site, but seems not to be listed now.