See a couple things missing there? Yeah, me too. So shut the fuck up about it and do what you do.

I sent him an email, to two addresses. The first one, which was his local address for years, bounced. The second, from which I received an ecard on my own birthday just passed… well, I don’t know how real it is, how much he uses it, if at all.

The man has no internet footprint at all, which also kind of blows my mind.

But he’s out there somewhere, and I know he does pass this way by and by, so hey:

Here’s hoping that this finds you well and happy, wherever it finds you.

Love you.
- Gwyneth

I want Mamet in the Morning.

For the past several weeks we’ve been overhauling the apartment: throwing stuff out, getting things into and out of storage, moving components and shelving, cleaning everywhere, and most importantly, rebuilding the studio area… and this time, according to Alison’s direct needs rather than my idiosyncratic feng shui.

We finally got it to a point where she can sit comfortably, access her tools with a minimum of technological interference, and practice at will. It’s not a great solution by any means – not yet a room of her own where she can compose, think, and even just not be around me all the time – but it functions for now and we’re committed to not being static.

I was sitting at my desk – at a right angle to hers and facing outward, so we have full access to the whole arc of equipment and screens – deep in some engineering task or other, when I realized that the music I was listening to was her. I turned around and saw that she was practicing guitar to a recording of Toto’s “Girl Goodbye,” a very intricate and precise piece of power rock.

It was astonishing. She was so in the groove, so completely with the feel of the thing. I was watching a professional musician at work, not just an amateur guitarist flexing her chops.

These moments are yet few and short. She has a lot of work to do, to rebuild her stamina and focus. But when she’s on, she’s amazing, and I want nothing more than to get her that room so I can hear that sound.

We are the Feeders of Vaal.

Meet Vaal:

Fight fire with fire, eh?

I called her the Gorgon Queen and her name was Val. And a little over a year ago she went silent, as I became quieter, more guarded… and finally, perhaps, better integrated.

So I own her words now, as I knew I must do. The Gorgon Queen is asleep for good, and this is what is left.

Goodnight, Val. I hope that one day I can live up to you.

—

Addendum: In retrospect I now realize that it was Val, not I, who was sane… that she was the keeper of my conscience while I processed a particular struggle. Understanding that, I think I’ll miss her even more, as I feel that in many ways that process was unsuccessful and that she takes with her a great part of my courage and focus.