My old roommate VJ got me back into making music. Playing around with tracks on my computer, making new ones and modifying preexisting tracks. Sometimes I get jealous when people make things that are better then what I can do. When I can play with them, change them, hold their hand, that feeling of jealousness goes away. [[Ok! lets contribute, lets compost!]]The track that were going to be playing with today is PianoVerb (work in progress) by Joe Kvasnicka. Its a couple bars, a line, of piano notes and chords. [[Soo... how are we going to play with it?]]There are plenty of options... lets try... [[Reverb]] [[Chorus]] [[Grain Delay]] [[All Three]] [[Beat Repeat]] [[Tube Amp]] i feel like i'm in a church basement or maybe its main room. maybe in the kitchen area <blockquote> here </blockquote> Long lost meet spirits linger in old white walls, <blockquote> The walls covered in a new coat of bright white paint. </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Perhaps the result of a well-meaning but ultimately ham fisted troop of boy scouts. </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> the blank walls contrast with the warm faces of those in attendance. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> those who I’d seen every holiday and those who told stories I’d never heard before </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> from those who are getting older too, those who i may not see the next time </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> only on boards of thumbtacked kodaks </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> they shake my hand and warmly wrap me in hugs </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> hugs that only have an impact years later. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> they look healthy i think. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> three years later i'll get a surprised look and just one a warm handshake <blockquote> just one second uncle exiting a play. </blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote> The second half of they, lost to some unspoken illness. </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> without that church basement </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> we are without words </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> without a sprit between us </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> i miss my grandma <blockquote> the house i used to live in every thursday after school </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> and all day at before there was ever class </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> where i told her that i was never going to learn how to read </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> that i didn’t need it anyway. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> where sometimes i was frustrated brat </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> but i really loved here </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> (the here from back then) </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> But i really loved her </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> i wish i had her records, the things she liked. <blockquote> i have so many questions for her now </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> so many that i didn’t know then. </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> god i miss her </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> and her soft fleshy hugs </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> The ones that hit you right then. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> I know now that I'll have so many questions for my parents too <blockquote> the ones i don’t know yet </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> the ones I haven’t thought to ask </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> i want to have kids when i'm ready. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> when i'm sure i have enough time and money </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> but i want them soon enough to meet my parents </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> soon enough </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> to generate their own questions. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> [[What is this?]] <iframe width="0%" height="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745780%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-yR6O2&amp;auto_play=true&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=true"></iframe>The first few days of elementary school. Everything whirls past like a merry-go-round. <blockquote> Like the one I used to go to in Tilden park </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> with the brass rings dangling up high. <blockquote><blockquote> I like the wooden tigers and big grey rhinos </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> But I like sitting in the sleigh the best. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> In the wintertime they set up a half dozen charismas trees brisling with ornaments for sale. After unpacking the same ornaments my entire life it was exhilarating to look thorough trees brimming with ones I didn’t recognize. My dad picked a //cool cat// ornament <blockquote> a tomcat with leather jacket and shades </blockquote> One that reminded him of his father, and now reminds me of mine. <blockquote> I picked a particularly sturdy looking cat </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Sitting neatly on its rump, looking up with big doughy eyes. </blockquote></blockquote> Sometimes we almost got too lazy to dress up the tree. <blockquote> One year I rallied for a small tree </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> I pitched by case for a humble 4-footer </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> marveling at its simplicity </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> // why hadn’t we done this sooner// we laugh </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Marveling at it’s simplicity </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> It fits easily into the back seat of our four door Toyota Camry. <blockquote> I sit in the back seat with it </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> blunt needles springing into my lap. </blockquote></blockquote> [[What is this?]] <iframe width="0%" height="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745781%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-V6kI4&amp;auto_play=true&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=false"></iframe> Eventually we wore that tape to death. <blockquote> The Loggins & Messina tape you had in Buicks number 1 through 4. </blockquote> I would try to skip over the instrumental parts <blockquote> not realizing that the tape was flipped. </blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote> I would accidentally stretch out those parts forever </blockquote></blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Inadvertently rewinding a reversed tape </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Repeating the parts that I'm pretty sure you likeed the most </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>//man… the part without the singing are really long// I complained.</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> Driving me to sports practices that I didn't really like that much. <blockquote> but the moments in the car </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> I didn’t realize that they were the important ones. </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> I've said a lot of light things </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> and a lot of heavy things in those cars </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> but when we and our words sank into those cushion seats </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> the suspension didn’t seem to mind. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> [[What is this?]] <iframe width="0%" height="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745777%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-NgLGF&amp;auto_play=true&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=true"></iframe>Things are just all mashed together. <blockquote><blockquote> things that don’t align </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> things don’t align </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> Things that loop forever <blockquote> Milky moments, diluted </blockquote> A little bit off kilter, a few milliseconds behind.<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Rearranged for convenience</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> But now curiously<blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> out of sync</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> <blockquote>The melancholy warmth of your mind filling in the gaps and making up for the bent pitch. </blockquote> <blockquote><blockquote> Distorting it back into half tuning. </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> My mind’s manuscript, a judge’s nightmare </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Everything woven into a ruddy parka </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> It only needs to feel good from the inside </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> [[What is this?]] <iframe width="0%" height="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745776%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-raphk&amp;auto_play=true&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=true"></iframe>I know that my memory will eventually go <blockquote> That the furnishings of my mind will break down </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Into little bits of what they used to be. </blockquote></blockquote> Shreds of cloth <blockquote> stale sundried wood </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> sagging leather </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> the breeze of seconds and hours scattering them </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> scattering them away. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> there the same after all... right? </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> Someone might visit me <blockquote> sitting in a once favorite chair, it rank now forgotten </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> I'll stare at their fresh face </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> still sharp in it softness </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> beautifully defined by confident creases </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> they will ask me questions, and I will show them my mindful rubble. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Their importance was unforgettable but not their form. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> the melody half imagined, half recalled. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> Nobody visited me today. [[What is this?]] <iframe width="0%" height="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745771%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-UmDhq&amp;auto_play=true&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=true"></iframe>Sometimes I look at old guitar equipment <blockquote> the kind the lingers music store </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> chained down with “vintage” price tags </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> Some one's wall to wall nostalgia </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> The kind that’s cheap when you bought it </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> When youthful exuberance accidently bought you classics. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> Feelings that I'll never understand <blockquote> Feelings that I'll never pay five grand for. </blockquote> Someday my feelings will be like that <blockquote> Hanging on a wall </blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> painfully priced at a premium </blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> until the day no one remembers it </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> when no one can relive my exuberance. </blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> [[What is this?]] <iframe width="0%" height="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/232745770%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-TNreq&amp;auto_play=true&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=true"></iframe>