From the visitor centre we check the relief map for our trail. As I’m signing in, Heather notices my date of birth is in the 80s. I’m the only one, and they joke about how young I am — especially compared to Benoît, who’s a sixties baby — but it never feels like we’re far apart in heart and mind.
We carpool to the closest lot, and strap on our packs for the hike to the cabin.
The trail is fairly easy, and paved most of the way. It’s a very welcome detail when you’re carrying sleeping gear, rain gear, extra clothes, eating/cooking implements, camera equipment, several days worth of food, enough water to keep you hydrated on the way there, and your pack is over 25% of your body weight.
One day I’d like to pick up an instrument with a bigger range (than a ukulele1), and start writing my own material. It’d be even better if I could form a duo with a person I was romantically involved with, like The Dresden Dolls or Wild Strawberries2.
Sometimes The Dresden Dolls play extended versions of their songs at concerts3. The way they interact reveals such intimacy. In each face, you can see how they’re completely lost to the music in those moments of dissonant bliss, but they’re lost together. From body language alone, they read each other for timing, volume, and intensity, until they feel where the other is going by instinct. That kind of chemistry is rare, and it’d be amazing to be able to share that with someone.
The high-g reentrant is what gives the ukulele it’s distinct sound, but it feels so limiting sometimes. [↑]
Hellllllllllooooooooo Roberta Carter-Harrison circa Quiver. [↑]
Okay, admittedly, Amanda’s singing isn’t anywhere as good in the video as on the studio version, but the nearly five-minute extended intro with Brian’s brilliant drum solo would be worth the price of admission by itself. [↑]
It’s been an emotional time. I’m in anti-social mode, but I force myself to get out when the opportunity comes along.
One day, we hit up a diner around noon. I wore my flip-flops, and cruised west with the wind numbing my skin. My stereo gets louder as I accelerate, and it only made me drive as fast as I could to see how loud I could push Wild Gardens. For a moment, it filled me with serene bliss, and that was enough, among the steel and pavement and summer heat in spring, to give me hope.
It’s that feeling I’ve been craving. To be the only living boy in New York.
Audra tells me I smell nice when I haven’t left the house for days. Gives me the breath-stealing hugs. And the fact that she’s so sensitive about crossing my boundaries makes her the sweetest redhead I know. It’s hard not to believe in myself when she believes in me so well.
In the winter I made a short video teaser for Jesse’s upcoming album by getting him to perform a song off it called Make Hymn Cry. As the only ukulele piece on a rap album, it definitely stands out.
Then it dawned on me this morning to see if I could cover it. As I was trying to figure out the chord progression, I realized it’s a fairly simple song that only alternates between the G and C chords. The strumming in Jesse’s video is slightly simpler than on the album, the latter of which is the pattern I use in my version, and includes the picking arpeggio for the second verse.
Still, it took me half the day just to get comfortable with the strumming pattern because it’s syncopated in a way I’m not used to yet, the rhythm at the end of each bar divided beyond eighth notes into sixteenth notes. This is what long weekends are for.
The main thing I’m concentrating on is counting the beats so I can strum off them and keep track of where the extra strum is at the end of each bar. The next is trying not to speed up, which is a very bad habit of mine, regardless of instrument. I also need to pay attention to softly resting my hand on the strings when transitioning to the second verse; firstly, to prevent the last chord from ringing too long, and secondly, to physically feel where the strings are so I can get my thumb on the C string. I’m definitely not good enough to know where it is at all times. Most of the rest came by itself (i.e. I’m not consciously focusing on it), probably from already listening a few times to a pre-release copy of the album Jesse gave me.
The phrases of the lyrics are also syncopated against the strumming; it always feels like your strumming is late because the first word of every line falls on the beat before each down-strum), which adds another layer of complexity. The fact that I made it through without any major mistakes but fucked it up right at the very end1 is why I can’t stop laughing.
My singing is strained cause I’m trying to project above the strumming to stay in balance, but it’s clearly out of my comfort zone. I’m not good enough to strum softly with control yet, so I cheated and just raised my voice. The thing is, I never practice singing when I’m practicing my playing, usually because I need to concentrate on one thing at a time. Singing practice is also boring by itself, so I never do it, even though I should.
Anyway, I had a good day after learning this little piece, and being able to figure out the chords and the strumming was probably just as fun as being able to play it.
I lost track of the extra strum in the second last bar! [↑]
At some point, the flowering cabbage plant Heather gave me started to shed. The top leaves remained supple and fresh, while the bottom leaves would dry up and fall off. I couldn’t figure out why. I liked the look anyway, to see this plant growing out of the decay it cast around itself, so I didn’t worry too much.
I wasn’t used to having a plant that was so alive. It had a pungent smell, and I noticed a few insects on it here and there. I thought the insects were a good thing, cause that meant the plant was healthy enough to support other life.
