Faux Fu

Sunday, November 13, 2005

"Open the Door, Richard" - B. Dylan

Lately I've been trying to live the discipline of anti-discipline. To find a more spontaneous approach to experiencing the moments of my existence. It's all very paradoxical, which suggests to me, I'm onto some profundity, which of course, I must immediately banish from my thought processes, because "profundity" seems like some sort of death knell. There's this tension between remembering and forgetting, a kind of self-canceling mode that hopefully opens up a vista: the now. I have noticed time seems much more malleable. Some moments speed up, some slow down. I've been playing guitar every day, and I have been getting lost in notes, chord structures. There's noise, then silence. I've been "breaking things down," in order to "understand" how a song works, then I try to let that knowledge go, and sort of improvise on the fret-board. This "work" seems like play. Another paradox, that seems to kick open a door.

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