I can't make music come from my brain. It just doesn't. If I ever hum anything, I make it up, unless it's the Elmo Song, or the Wedding March, or Do Your Ears Hang Low. How the fuck am I a poet? How did any sonic qualities get into anything I write? Actually the last rejection I got, a good rejection, suggested a path for revision favoring sound and lyric over things and rhetoric...
I do love process though. I love forcing things to arrive by a machine I've created. Here are some beautiful music machines that I love...
how the fuck am I, POET?????
ReplyDeletesounds like a threatening line in a gangster movie. LOL.
Haha, I love me sometimes.
ReplyDelete