Received 05/01/2008 23:36
Songs
Had something to say. Crap. No memory. Like the dream that fizzles from memory before I reach the breakfast table.
Could someone on our planet, upon word that I ordered red meat and cheese, could said person please tap me on the shoulder and remind me not to do that?
Thanks.
Blotation. Dizzy-eyes. Red meat. Red meat. Red meat. No more red meat.
Still can't remember what I had to say.
Tap tap tap lick lick lick licking sound of these fingers pecking the keyboard.
I passed three hours at the kitchen table today copying out piano pieces I wrote from March through today. Copying it for why? Who will ever need a readable copy over the one-off sketch? Well, the A Minor song is mighty sweet. All my stuff this month is named SONG in honor of the Brigit Pegeen Kelly poem, and in honor of the fact that I was going to call my recent stuff SONGs anyway. The hacked-off goat's head swinging in the winds, braying at the head's body, that is my melody. Songs. I will write songs.
I *think* that is what I sat down to say.