electric_acoustic epitome of incomprehensibility Thunderstorms end either with a huge life-endangering lightning bolt, or a series of smaller simultaneous lightning strikes spread out over the sky. I hug the ground, hoping there's a white, insulating blanket there, but the storm diffuses with the second type of lightning that hurts no one. A piano appears in that newly-washed field when I want to fly. The rising notes C-D-G are a perfect accompaniment to ascension achieved by breaststroke-like arm movements, but I can't really play piano and liftoff at the same time. I need to keep my fingers together to push air, and pianos are HEAVY. 150127 ... raze it was a black takamine with a cutaway. it was eli's guitar, but i never saw him play it. he was always lending it out to someone else. usually jesse. he said eli had no business owning a guitar like that. said he didn't even know how to play. jesse brought it over the day after i got drunk or what i thought was drunk for the first time. we smoked in an alley across the street from my house. "you better not be wasting my pot," he said. i was, but so was he. he never got anything done when he was high. we were supposed to record some of his songs. all he did was sit around talking about how great he was. he played a fastball song i kept hearing on the radio. not "the way". the other one. the song about being drunk behind the wheel of possibility. if there was ever a lyric that summed jesse up, that was it right there. he was in love with everything he deluded himself into thinking he was. he left the guitar at my house long enough for two other people to play it on two different days. andrew played a song about a roommate from hell. he called it "satan's son". it was the same three chords over and over again, but he did something he wasn't trying to do on the choruses, and the sloppiness introduced a few welcome whispers of dissonance. max played something called "coming conscious", speaking his lyrics more than he sang them. i always wondered what the piezo pickup sounded like, but i never got to hear the takamine plugged in. no undersaddle pickup ever sounded like a real guitar to me anyway. 220117 ... unhinged my heart tingles until my hair stands on end now the scientists have sensitive enough instruments to measure this the effect that soundwaves have on the human brain but_still no instruments or techniques to measure what soundwaves can do to the feeling human heart basins_of_attraction revealing whole valleys of possibility no matter my heart tingles until my hair stands on end things seen and unseen realign 220117 what's it to you? who go blather from