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| phlant |
Trying to find the right melody. That's what was happening before Christmas. Trying three different song melodies for one set of lyrics... I don't remember ever having tried this before with song writing. In that I complete the whole song, very very roughly, and nail the melody and hook if there is one... Perhaps I didn't need to? Working on these songs comes in fits and starts. I always get to a point where I have to leave the song where it is, to simmer for a few weeks, then come back for a fresh 'hear'. This is where I really miss and need Cam, Cris and Ted. The fuel's all there, they just know(knew) how to ignite it.
Went to see Beach House on Friday night. Garnered some joy from that. I'm still listening to the Oh Hellos.
Dropping.
I dropped the comic for a few months. (Dropped in the old fashioned sense.) Inspiration shifted and I got sick of struggling with my drawings. Bruce has another week up his sleeve apparently. Perhaps I can economise my style and not care about the shizzle that comes out of my pen.
I'm writing about patterns again. Writing but in a kind of turpentine spill. Reads like a pseudo-somethingist's scrawl. Blather. Like the 'mad' Dog Catcher in FNQ, whose intriguing books (scientific observations and sketches?) he begged Vaddi to look at. The 'spill' is a place. A place for inspiration. I can't articulate the concepts that sometimes ghost their way into me. Yet I don't want to miss them, lose them, search again for them. They just river from other places, through me, and if I can place something of them into my own work then they can keep moving. I don't really work enough though - or rather, I'm not finishing much at the moment. Just scribbling trunks and murmuring harmonies.
Unus Mundus has been weaving a web for me over the last two or so months. When I wrench my head out of the clouds then I might play with this web. Or just look at it. Or keep playing D chords and drawing little dudes. Like this guy.
