You are entering another dimension…. Well, not a dimension so much as the world as seen and experienced by a recalcitrant old guitar player living in the heartland of Indiana. There is little choice in the matter, really, but to publish this blog. As Henry David Thoreau wrote in his masterpiece, Walden:
“I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life.” and this: “I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience.”
Observations from the Universal Soundhole, is ‘the narrowness of my experience’ expressed online for all to see. In this regard it might as well be ‘another dimension’, as it seems the widest chasm humans can ever hope to cross is the divide between one mind and another. Writing is one way to do this, and making music is another.
I’m generally known (to the few who know me) as a guitar player. Music has been my lifelong journey, with very few diversions into other means of making a living.
But my other creative passion in life has always been writing. Not so much songwriting, oddly enough, but rather prose, unrestricted as it is by either rhyme or meter… in my writing I prefer to be free of the beat.
As a young man I was inspired by Thoreau to keep a journal, took creative writing classes at various times, and especially since going online in the mid-90s, have found ample opportunity to mouth off at regular intervals.
As with most folks who write online, I’m guessing, sometimes I take great pains to get it right, and other stuff I toss off as quickly and casually as possible so as not to interfere with my web surfing. I’ve had enough positive comments on my writing to feel encouraged to continue doing it and posting it online. I’m incorrigible that way.
So by entering this blog and viewing what I post, you’re getting a combination of all my strongest interests: music, teaching, writing, the internet, and a variety of topics I study day by day and write about occasionally. I will leave it to you to judge my work as you see fit. In the end, I’m doing this for myself, anyway, so that I might fulfill Thoreau’s request for a simple and sincere account of my life.
It is… what it is.
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