A free association?

Money is hard.  In the middle of the boondocks is where to find I my life friend vest. Vestitude in the inn, bridgestone in the brimm.  Grimm Reaper, till the soil, seap what you sow, sew a new crow, home a new phone.

Alas, my money comes to you, my sweet, not bitter, blessed, beloved fluttering sister-bye.  My, oh, hi, lovely.  Lovely my, yes.  Thank you.  Goodbye, why.

——————-

My cousin told me about an artist (singer) who had a journal, in which she wrote words that sounded good together, sentences and phrases that sounded nice and felt right, but hat didn’t necessarily make any real sense as sentences and such.  She then made a CD out of the words in this notebook.  I’m not sure who this is, though I have wanted to hear this album ever since he first explained about it to me – I find the idea bountifully beautiful.  Or something positive like that, anyway – I like the idea.  This was my own sort of exercise in that same sort of writing.  It wasn’t about making sense, but about telling a story through the sounds, without the assigned meanings of the words.  I’m guessing my effort to be a mediocre outcome, however I am nonetheless proud of my accomplishing it.

Thank you for reading.  😉 

Post-a-day 2017

Trombones

I think I could date a trombone player.  Listening to a performance today, I was almost in love and lust already.  I had never heard such a beautiful sound come from a trombone (at least, not one right in front of me).  Uh, gosh… fantastic was that experience.  I never thought a trombone player would be my style.  However, if he plays with the kind of sound (tone quality) I heard today, then it’s a definite mark in his favor.

I mean, I actually almost want to date a trombone player now.  And I’m a trumpet player.  It was that amazing.

 

Post-a-day 2017