No Washington Bats Feed on Blood

Two bats flew together over me in the garage as I spilled whiskey onto the carpet. This grey and thin carpet with the duct tape cross hatched over the burn holes from fallen hookah coals. One fell into my shoe once and burned its way out. “You make real friends quickly.” Settled into the self with a foxtrot. Finding a dried up pine needle in between my letters and numbers on my keyboard.

“You didn’t have to make me a total disgrace,

you didn’t have to leave me with that beer in my face.”

  • Led Zeppelin

The bats flew around investigating the dimensions of the room. “Capable of true and certain flight.” I watched one bounce (sonar) off enough surfaces to realize an exit, where the echo of the object outside takes a while longer to return. In this case the cracked fender of my black 2007 Focus. A barely-there night reflection in human eye. This becomes a surface for sonar signals to bounce off of and convey depth. Lead astray with “a song to keep my memory in tact.” Left in a small channel between the two highways.

Checking the crucial volume output. Gunna need to open up that old knock off stratocaster, hand built from a kit over 7 years ago. Kept the natural woodgrain on the body. White pickup. Black knobs. Whammy bar woodglued into place. Settling into the rhythm of other-minded musicianship. Hearing impossible bass parts to execute in a timely manner.

Could it be that I could find a wavelength to hit where my words make sense to a handful of likeminded people.

Settle into nothing at all. Keep those middleweight strings wrapped tight around the headstock. I do not normally cut the new strings off of the guitar for a cleaner appearance, I wrap them in tightwoven circles of nicklewound steel. I reintroduce the “round wrap wire around the core” to the circle. Making sure the sharp point at the of the winding is bent away from where the fingers go to retune an old tuning. Scattered into new tunings… playing terribly unless you learn how a different guitarist has figured out new bar chords or open letting the orange and silver mobile in my teenage angst-ridden bedroom rattle and spin.

“Looking for a way to reconnect with an averted past

except it doesn’t always work like that.

Today I pulled three baby snakes out of moss and dirt

where the wild strawberry vines toss and turn

I told them you arre going to be something inventive and electric

You are healthy, you are special, you are present

and then I let ’em go.                                         oh.”

– Aesop Rock  “Gopher Guts”

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