Now here's a music one. Two posts in one day! Luck you!

(lucky me?)

I have always considered modular synthesizers to be an exercise in "discarding with abandon." Most of my patches are enjoyed just once, by me, and then are immediately never heard again. Saving one of these little whirligigs of sound for future use is a deliberate choice. I can't possibly save them all.

So each time I patch, I have to choose: Save, or obliterate? Mostly I choose the latter. I only save the really remarkable stuff. Most of it is pretty chuckable.

What if the noises are somewhere inbetween? In that case, I'll share it with a friend. I put my phone's mic in one earcup of my headphones, which are turned up as hot as they get. I'll record while I improvise on the knobs for 60 seconds or so, and then text that recording to a friend. On the other end, they can hear the cars passing outside my window. The ambiance envelops my little bleep-bloop-blop noises, or whatever they are. Together they say, "hello friend! This is what I'm doing right now. I love you!!" And then I unpatch, content to have shared that song-scrap with just one other person.

Last night, I did one of these little recordings. It was nothing spectacular; two voices of plucked vactrol type stuff, each driven by one of two clocks that are cross modulating each other to make a little organic rhythmic phrase. Medatative. Which is to say, not particularly groundbreaking, but a bit stirring somehow.

I made my little phone recording, meaning to unravel it afterwards. But in the few minutes it took, I feel in love with the thing! And when it came time to pull the plug, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Some subtlety of the thing reached through my filter. It let itself free. I'm still not sure what happened! I guess it put its foot down. A perfectly ordinary little animal told me to pay attention already.

I prepared to record it for real, only to bump a knob at the last minute. I dislodged the balance of that pair of clocks, chiming away at each other. I tried to put things back, but I couldn't quite manage it. I unplugged after all.

Hello friends and goobers! (if you have found your way here, I will assume you some variety of goober)

I am becoming quite fascineted by low-tech-web-design-as-personal-art-form. I began this little journey with the goal of creating a space for musical self-reflection. In brushing up on my HTML, I've uncovered quite a new whirl!

I'm enjoy the ways that people work with their limitations, rather than against them. There are many navigation bars to be found, but few of them carry over between pages, like a "modern" website would. Actually, lots of links will take you to a page that looks NOTHING THE ONE FROM WHICH YOU CAME!! Dynamics manifest in digital interface!

It's been a long time since I've really written for fun. I'm trying to strike a good balance of silly. How is that panning out? Maybe one of you goobers can let me know.

So I must say that I'm a bit giddy about the possiblities of this thing. But I'm currently besieged by a forceful contingent of beetles as I sit on my front stoop to mooch of the public wifi from the library accross the street. So I will keep it brief. They are quite icky, as far as little bugs go. Not that I blame them.

I'll write one more little post before I shuffle off. It's a music one, so probably more agreeably than my little abstract gobs. We'll see what becomes of this little zone. Maybe I'll even figure out how to do some of that dynamism stuff.

If another human being really has read these words, in real life and with the genuine artefact of their personal grey matter, then I think I must say "thank you." And perhaps even, "stay tuned."