My tweets of the last week:
Personal
hours in between
Last night we had a “play everything” Filmstar rehearsal for tomorrow’s free show at Fergies with Cris Valkyria and the Opponents.
I joke that I love playing bass because only having to worry about one string at a time gives me plenty of time for choreography. It isn’t entirely a joke. When I am playing lead guitar or singing lead while playing rhythm I have no room for other thought. There’s not much room for mindfulness of how I’m standing or if I need to tighten up a rhythm or a change.
Playing bass leaves room for those thoughts. I can actually improve at every rehearsal, instead of simply maintaining.
It seems as though Glenn brings his new songs in pairs. The last pair, “Weight of the World” and “Silence Kills” were both incredible songs that I was lucky to get in on early. As a result, my bass lines are a big part of the backbone of each song, in some cases intertwining with Glenn’s guitar lines or Zina’s rhythms.
His new pair, “She’s Gone Home” and “The Hours In Between” are just as genius, but different. I don’t know if it’s that Glenn was farther along in his process, or that I hear them as more of a gestalt. Either way, I could tell immediately it wasn’t my job to act melodically or contrapuntally on these two.
Sometimes bass must be the basis.
“She’s Gone Home” clicked for me first. One of the first times he played it for us he remarked that it was slightly patterned after “She’s Leaving Home,” from Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Between rehearsals I listened to the album (never a chore), and realized a driving rhythm that matched Glenn wasn’t the right thing for the song. It would make it too heavy.
When we reconvened I had a neck-striding walking bass line. Glenn’s eyes lit – it sounded like it would fit perfectly with a riff he was working on.
“Hours In Between” is something else entirely. Try as I might, I cannot seem to pin down what it wants from me. I have some of the elements in place – a heartbeat pulse of bass on the verse, a quick hammer on the chorus, scales at the close. Yet, there’s something about its personality that I’m having trouble with. It goes from gray regret to wistfully sunny, and I need to be the ground beneath E as she sings us through the journey.
I’ll figure it out eventually. “Millionaires” used to be my least favorite Filmstar song, both to hear and to play, and now it seems like it might become the lead single from our next EP. How long did it take to figure it out? About nine months. We kept playing it during that time, of course, but I knew that it wasn’t right. One day it just clicked. Now I love the whole mess of it, a sweaty disco protest song.
I know the personalities of these songs better than mine or Gina’s.
As it turns out, not all my spare mindfulness is spent on choreography.
What I Tweeted, 2011-11-13 Edition
My tweets of the last week:
Devils in the Details
This weekend I have spent a not insignificant amount of my time researching the following engrossing topics:

I think I am still feeling some of the psychological ramifications of reading this book today.
- relief maps and rivers of the Ozark mountains
- construction of single story log cabins with a chimney and attic
- zip line harnesses and the weight limits of various carebiners
- the physiological effects of breathing nitrous oxide, and if it appears spontaneously in nature
- diagrams for simply tree houses
I also spent fifteen minutes standing at sink, lighting matches and throwing them in at a set of house keys, counting how long they would burn and checking to see if the keys got hot.
Am I going on an adventure vacation in the mountains of middle America?
No, I am writing a book. Again.
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When I was in ninth or tenth grade one of our reading assignments was Lord of the Flies. I hated a lot of the other things we were forced to read, but this was a book I could get behind. I consumed it in a single weekend.
Our final project was to create some sort of derivative work, with the book as our source material – like an interview with one of the survivors.
I loathed this sort of teacher-approvef fanfic assignment. At age thirteen I was already writing fanfic for things I actually cared about and novellas of my own. I was fine with a research paper, but the assignment (and its brethren) felt like the equivalent of assigning us to a chain gang in an attempt to spark creative brilliance. I considered the whole bunch of them to be a waste of my time.
In my orneriness, I decided to protest the assignment via dutiful completion of the best assignment in the class. I would write the correct ending to the book, because (SPOILERS!) most of the little hooligans living through the end was far too precious of an ending. I felt that it spoiled the morally gray original to allow these murderers to be returned to children in the eyes of their rescuers.

I'm getting verklempt! Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a topic...
(Next on Coffee Talk: The Hunger Games has supplanted Lord of the Flies despite lacking the measured allegory of the latter not only due to its similarly unsentimental look at moral/ethical behavior in young adults, but because it follows the realistic outcome of their actions much wider in society and much farther in conclusion. Discuss.)
I set about creating my groundbreaking and teacher-baiting work of subversive genius. I was a scrawny pre-teen, so I had that angle well-researched. I spent a lot of time tracking the various spears through the book to see where they were and who held them, considered how quickly a forest woud catch fire, and gave some thought to how you could behead a boy with the rudimentary tools the tribe had fashioned.
(In other news, I’m happy I went to high school in a pre-Columbine, pre-9/11 world, because afterward I would clearly be labeled as a dangerous potential murderer and/or terrorist.)
It was a glorious day when I turned in my assignment. It branched perfectly from the existing novel, written in the same style. It ended with the idnelible image of the marines disembarking onto the beach to discover nothing but an idyllic island beach, barren but for a wooden pike bearing Ralph’s head – set against the backdrop of the raging inferno of the forest, from which the screams of Jack’s tribe could be heard all too clearly.
To emphasize this bleak ending, I carefully collaged said image out of a series of clip art as an illustration for my final page.

A relief map of the Ozarks, in case you were wondering...
I got an A, but they might have decided to keep an eye on me for a little while.
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I know I’ve mentioned this before in more memorable fashion, but for me the hardest thing about writing a novel continues to be writing what I don’t understand.
I understand talking, so there is plenty of dialog. Once I got my learning permit last winter the driving scenes became much more plentiful.
I managed to keep the characters out of the car for three thousand words this weekend, but when your characters are crashing around the Ozarks in a pitched battle for life and death, every page is a new research project.
As a plus, I am now ready to book a zip-line adventure through America’s deciduous forests!
Remainders, 11/10 Edition
Things my network of friends and blogs shared that made me think twice, at least.
(via @brimil. See the end of the post for the finished product. I think this is cooler, personally.)
I am totally buying this star projector as Arcati Crisis’s first official stage lighting equipment. Bonus points if I can figure out how to turn it on from my pedal board (via NotCot).
Seth Godin posted the only job interview questions that matter. Seth’s is a “every post is amazing” sort of blog.
An efficient post on how beginners and experts are the same. (via Karl Martino)
A solid and realistic plan for an indie, DIY band to begin promoting themselves via social media. A lot of familiar conversations and steps portrayed here. From How to Run a Band, fantastic blog.
A brilliant kerning game made its way around our office recently; Kottke posted its sequel – a letter shaping game that simulates typed design. Also via Kottke, we totally had this 1970s Chevy Nova when I was a kid. Maybe this is why I am so obsessed with speedometers.


Shared by the artist, Leon Keer, I think it was cooler when they were invisible soldiers.
I thought The three biggest myths about women in tech was an interesting read, partially from a feminist perspective, but also because I have been alerted as recently as today that I rely too much on non-existent meritocracies to promote me and my creative work. (via Ma.tt)

