Archive for November, 2007

Ticket- Object Writing 5 Oct

admin November 30th, 2007

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Started by Paul - Last post by Paul
Ticket- she’s got a ticket to ride, ticket aeroplane, train ticket. Aeroplane ticket. Used to be made of paper, some still are. A glossy cover holding a carbon copied version of your life that’s about to unfold. A typewriter somewhere has struck the paper and the force has descended through layers of blue and red backed copying paper. Miniature droplets of ink have been pressed from copy paper to the facsimile. Some of it has gone blurry and is ill defined - red wine spilt on a table cloth. The sheets are so thin they’re like fairy wings, delicate , but not brittle. Talented hostesses can make them fly. They are paid to be happy, greeting you at check-in counters at weird hours of the morning.

Arriving and being dropped off is a tense affair. Gestapo traffic wardens wave and watch with hawk eyes for any discretion and you’re moved on. Step outside and the smell of jet fuel is underlying everything, I happen to like it. Someone having a final cigarette before boarding is pacing near the door - a reminder of other days, when tendrils of smoke would filter over the back of my tongue and into my lung, making me feel better- or so I thought. I pick up the ‘lighter than air’ ticket and move to immigration. A shopping mall of voices is bubbling near the entrance - people, wishing others well, there are some tears. Serious security looks on. This time I am leaving not arriving. Passport is checked - I look like myself so it must be me. The photograph in the wallet is the happiest one of me ever I think. Just after I had met an exceptional woman. I had to get an emergency passport to fly to New Zealand after discovering my UK one was no longer valid.

Typewriter- object writing Dec01

admin November 30th, 2007

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Just beneath the surface it lies. The azure blue water is moving and rippling in the light breeze that ghosts across my face. The wreck looks bent out of shape, pixelated and warped in the crackerline water. My body is covered in a rubberised diving suit, it’s clinging to me like a limpet on a pier, a second skin, moving with me. The flippers cause me to waddle on the deck of our boat, my toes poking into the blunt rounded end. The rear biting onto the back of my Achilles. The air tank is so heavy I am almost toppling over. Turn on the flow of air and it hisses as I take a hollow breath before we plunge overboard.

I stand with my back to the water and let myself go - a short freefall before being let free in the water- all the stupid encumberances of being on land vanish as the flippers, goggles and tank take over. The wreck is not too deep maybe twenty meters and as I flipper down I become a dolphin at play. I hear the hollow sound of my breath more clearly now with each release of the respirator, sort of like an iron lung underwater. My mouth is dry - funny being in such a body of water. The shipwreck is home to all manner of fish and barnacles. They appear and disappear from openings and portholes. This is their territory. The breathing continues regular. The wetsuit is keeping me at a comfortable temperature as water slides between skin and the rubber - sort of acting as a lubricant and a second layer of insulation. At the wreck we turn on powerful lights and peer into rusting cabins. There’s not much of real interest here - it’s pretty much been ravaged of any worthy items, a few bits and bobs are left in the bridge- pencils etc…..

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End Of Summer Sale at Musician's Friend

Object writing Sat Oct 6th

admin November 29th, 2007

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Started by Paul - Last post by Paul
Light. All around us in the day, it is a spectrum of many colours, a rainbow we cannot perceive unaided.. There are all sorts of light;
Blue sky sunshine light sorts of days, with spring in the air, where you want to gambol like a lamb and there’s a spring in your step, and optimism about everything. Where you want to pick up dandelions and pick each leaf off one by one, or nestle a buttercup under your chin and let the pollen leave a yellow mark.

Then there’s late winter afternoon light. Somewhere just before the sun sets, that induces a wintery hibernation sleepiness. Where your eyelids are as heavy as garage doors and about to close. Where you just want to find a burrow and slow your heart rate down to 1 thump a minute.

What about the amazing electric light - a few sorts now; incandescent, the original Edison ‘invention’ though it took him and his team 10,000 tries - “I didn’t fail 9,999 times I just didn’t succeed until the 10,000th light bulb”- attitude.

Filaments burn on for set periods of time, in kitchens , in hallways, in lounge rooms. You cannot hold an incandescent globe when it’s on as it is too hot, they burn silent.

Fluorescent lights however hum, sometimes imperceptibly, but they do. These require an igniter, but once on they are self sufficient. Hanging on the roof like mutant space ships, waiting to zap someone up and interogate them. They’re not really friendly are they? Fluorescents. Lately there’s the ‘long life’ globe- better for the environment lasting 90% longer and using 50% less power. Usually they are a curly-wurly twisted shape and have a reminiscence of fluro- they might even be - not up to speed. We have some here. Soon you won’t be able to by incandescent’s and all you’ll get is these.

Shipwreck- Objectw Writing 30 Nov

admin November 29th, 2007

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Just beneath the surface it lies. The azure blue water is moving and rippling in the light breeze that ghosts across my face. The wreck looks bent out of shape, pixelated and warped in the crackerline water. My body is covered in a rubberised diving suit, it’s clinging to me like a limpet on a pier, a second skin, moving with me. The flippers cause me to waddle on the deck of our boat, my toes poking into the blunt rounded end. The rear biting onto the back of my Achilles. The air tank is so heavy I am almost toppling over. Turn on the flow of air and it hisses as I take a hollow breath before we plunge overboard.

I stand with my back to the water and let myself go - a short freefall before being let free in the water- all the stupid encumberances of being on land vanish as the flippers, goggles and tank take over. The wreck is not too deep maybe twenty meters and as I flipper down I become a dolphin at play. I hear the hollow sound of my breath more clearly now with each release of the respirator, sort of like an iron lung underwater. My mouth is dry - funny being in such a body of water. The shipwreck is home to all manner of fish and barnacles. They appear and disappear from openings and portholes. This is their territory. The breathing continues regular. The wetsuit is keeping me at a comfortable temperature as water slides between skin and the rubber - sort of acting as a lubricant and a second layer of insulation. At the wreck we turn on powerful lights and peer into rusting cabins. There’s not much of real interest here - it’s pretty much been ravaged of any worthy items, a few bits and bobs are left in the bridge- pencils etc…..

For more Home Recording hints and tips remember to visit MyHomeRecordingStudio.com often.
Join the Object writing forum at ObjectWriting.com and write for ten minutes on ‘The word of the day’.
For Wealth Creation Strategies and 100 Free Ebooks on Making Money visit MyMillionaireBuddy.com


End Of Summer Sale at Musician's Friend

Premiership - object writing 01 Oct

admin November 28th, 2007

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Started by Paul - Last post by Paul
Any one in Melbourne Australia this weekend would have just experienced the Australian Football League premiership. Certainly we celebrated at our house. 3 salads were prepared, fried rice; with a mountain of bacon bits, rice, sliced egg, bean shoots an other morsels. A potato salad; boiled potatoes standing about like icebergs in a sea of egg and spring onion. Garden salad; plenty of leafy jungle greenery, with flashes of capsicum, and cucumber.

People had started drinking at 11 am - the match started at 2.30. It was meant to be a barbecue lunch but it was gone 2 before a single piece of meat sizzled on the hungry hotplate. Even then the organization was so haphazard that one of the 11 o’clock drinkers had to do the cooking - successfully I might add. Then to the game.

The MCG [Melbourne Cricket Ground] was a brilliant picture on the television. A wonderful bright green, with those adverts dyed into the ground so they appear to hover in the air, waitng to pounce on you. The roar of the crowd as the first ball was bounced was a throw back to a gladitorial colosseum, and the contest was on. Though what you call it when one side completely dominates the other is not a ‘contest’ . Geelong were premiership winners after 44 long years and 6 unsuccessful attempts. Meanwhile the party continues. I think there was only about 6 of us actually watching the game. I’m not much of a football fan, but, you had to admire the grace of the team, like a pack of running gazelles, they were almost effortless in their ball skills and execution of goals. The steak I had had earlier still rested upon the memory of my tongue, slightly burnt but cooked enough to mean I tasted no blood. It was matched with the well prepared, but little utilised salads, it was a terrific lunch.

As evening wore into midnight, the revelery continued, those who had started drinking at 11 were still standing, but were certainly swaying like williows on a river back moved by whichever gusts of drunkeness were passing them at the time. I had been drinking only ‘light’ beer so was able to observe the whole procedure through rational eyes.

#TITLE#Songwriting Hints and Tips / Get Your Song Undwerway II on: October 06, 2007, 01:46:32 AM
Started by Paul - Last post by Paul
I had to write up a flow diagram the other day for the process I need to follow to get a song/lyric from idea to completion. You might find it useful;

1./ You are walking down the street thinking about nothing in particular. One thought leads to another and suddenly you are struck by what seems to be a great idea. A concept arrives waiting to be fleshed out. This is often called ‘ The Muse’. Any bit of inspiration or muse that passes by is worthy of pursuing. It might come from your walk down the street or it might come from an exercise such as object writing. Object writing is the process of writing from your senses about a particular object/thing/person/place or time. Have a look at the site Objectwriting.com for some ideas on what to do.

2./ If your great idea has not come from object writing then you need to do some; Find a quiet place to set yourself up with pen and notepad, or word processor if you’re computer inclined. Set a stopwatch or timer, most mobile phones have one these days, and write for 10 minutes on your subject. For example this afternoon I came up with the concept of “losing altitude” .This could be about a relationship running out of steam or taking a dip or going through a period of turbulence, so, the challenge is to take metaphors related to the concept and make them into useable phrases for our song. Here’s some example writing;

Losing altitude, we’re dropping down, my tummy is left up in the sky somewhere. Losing altitude, who’s in control of this plane? I’ve got my hand on the controls, but you keep wrestling them away. While we’re wrestling the plane is going into a dive and we’re losing altitude. The ground is spinning up to meet us, I want to jump out of this plane and be free wheeling on a parachute, pulling my own cords, not be your puppet on a string. etc.

Usually you can find a few choice phrases from your stream of consciousness sense based writing that can be valuable to expand on, which is part 3.

3./ Pick key words or themes from your main idea and find rhymes. I am a great fan of the methods of Pat Pattison of Berklee Music college. In his book Writing Better Lyrics Pat advocates that we not just look for perfect rhymes, but also family rhymes, assonant rhymes and near rhymes. So, from our example we might look at the words altitude, dropping, sky, control, plane, dive, losing, spinning, parachute and cords, to find a database of rhymes we can use.

For “altitude” you might try: solitude, latitude, attitude, unscrewed, voodooed, argued, stewed, mood and feud. Now any of those combinations can open up a world of possibilities,but if you stick ‘on theme’ you might get a coupe of rhyming lines like;

Hey, I know we argued
and you’re in a terrible mood
and I’m reaching for my parachute, ‘cos , [ I brought in one of the other key words which happened to be a near rhyme]
baby we’re losing altitude.

not the greatest prose in the world but a starting point. What about dive? Drive, test-drive, arrive, survive, alive, real-life, jaws of life.

We’re in a nose dive
this isn’t a test-drive
if we’re gonna survive
somebody’s gonna have to go and get the jaws of life.

4./ Once you’ve got a few more ideas flowing try to story board your song and work out if there is a narrative flow. What will each part of the song say? To carry on the example, part one could be; boy and girl are going on holiday they are flying and he thinks that there are problems in the relationship. Part 2 could be the woman’s perspective, what she thinks is wrong. Part 3, a bridge, might be them playing out disaster scenarios, and a final verse might be a happy ending as they are coming in to land at their destination, losing altitude, but in a controlled way. Could this journey be a plan to rekindle the romance?

5./ Rewrite the main idea using new lyrical/rhyming ideas within the story board

6./ If you’re stuck for a rhythmic idea try to extract it from the working title of the song- Our working title of “losing altitude” could be broken up to represent he following; Loo-zing-al-ti-tude or, ta Tum ta ta Tum. Try ta Tum ta ta Tum at different speeds to see what matches the ‘feel’ of the song.

7./ Start speaking out loud some of your rough prose and rhyme to see how it might fit against the rhythm and start trying out melodic ideas

8./Hit the record button on your tape recorder or computer and get writing, and rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, until you’re done!

Can Opener - Object Writing -29 Nov

admin November 28th, 2007

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That funny little butterfly sitting on the sideboard. It sits waiting for a can, the bow ready to engage and spin around in mechanical perfection coming away with the lid, flying away with the lid on its butterfly wings.

The Jaws of the opener clamp tight to the edge of the tin becoming a leach as the can is pierced with a low escaping whisper. Now guard dog teeth sink deep into the villain - but the can is not a villain more of a victim.. The screw is turned, the can is in a medieval dungeon, on the rack, but nothing to confess. a high grating sound stops and starts as the butterfly mechanism is rotated.

The smell of baked beans starts to escape from the can. I open a cupboard, a cave of mismatched plastic cookware and containers awaits. It’s like making a family tree when you pull them all out - they all discover relatives they didn’t know existed. The Microwave bowl with the clipping lid is what I am after and it is found. The orangey red beans unwillingly slide out of the tin. It’s silvered insides covered with a scum of orange sauce that isn’t worth pursuing. Into the microwave which pulses and hums , making molecules far more exited than they ever anticipated.. Meantime I wash out the tin and place it into the quarry of the recycling bucket. The lid of the tin is separated from the can opener by widening the jaws. The guard dog goes back to rest in the second drawer. Cans wait nervously on shelves for the next mutilation and surrender. The lid is washed also as the microwave comes into the home straight and counts me down to dinner. I wait 30 seconds and then, like lava, the beans flow onto the plate . They taste flaky and tomatoey. Lovely.

For more Home Recording hints and tips remember to visit MyHomeRecordingStudio.com often.
Join the Object writing forum at ObjectWriting.com and write for ten minutes on ‘The word of the day’.
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End Of Summer Sale at Musician's Friend

Lesson - Object Writing 02 Oct

admin November 27th, 2007

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Started by Paul - Last post by Paul
Archive for the ‘Object Writing’ Category
Lesson; Object Writing 021007
Paul October 1st, 2007

Lesson, my first guitar lesson. 1975. I walk along streets of a lifeless country town. The streets have jagged edges and fall away to dusty dry dirt. It s hot, the tarmac is begining to melt it s so hot. My shoes are sticking to parts of the road it s so hot. Walking along with anticipation, being taught by one of the Hawking Brothers a famous Country and Western band. He lives near the railway track I cross over it and look along the lengths of shiny rails. Worn perfectly smooth by the feet of a thousand trains, unlike the siding which has grown a powdery rust through lack of use. There s an oil transport container that seems permanently parked down there. Sometimes we go and release the brakes, but it never moves.

His house is weather-board and memory paints a dark entrance hall, but the room where we do the lesson is washed in light. I am nervous, full of expectation and fear. He s a burly fellow with broad shoulders, quite friendly and I am welcomed in. The first thing I recall is him saying use your thumb for the bottom three strings [the low ones] and the top three strings you cover with your fingers [but not the little one]. I stare down at my pink encumberances and wonder how they ll ever wrap themselves around that big thick python of a neck, but I persist. It s beeen six months since getting the coveted guitar as a hand me down. It s a light burnt honey sort of colour and is equipped with nylon strings. I have faffed around a bit and made some in-roads; I am over the finger pain- where your finger pads need to toughen up. Until they do it s like putting your fingers on a hot plate! I play a chord or two falteringly I am a learner driver bumping down the road with bad clutch technique.

Week two brings tears. Those funny black squiggles on the page elude me. It s like they re a thousand tadpoles swimming eagerly to get off the page. I later conclude I am mildly dyslexic.

Serviette Nov 28 Object Writing

admin November 27th, 2007

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The large white square is unfurled and sits like a dormant flag across my lap. The hostess performing the action with a flourish, a nonchalant flip of the fabric in the air. It is a heavy thick weave, yet smooth and refined at the same time. Perfect for collecting various food scraps deposited on my lap.

We are flying at 30, 000 feet and it is my first meal in First Class. Silver service all the way. The front part of a Boeing 747[under the bubble] is very luxurious the walls seem to be as high as a cathedral. My sister and I are sat on a pair of seats as wide a s a standard loungeroom recliner, and they do that too! There is an individual video player for each passenger and the ‘video’ box is bought around frequently. This is a fond memory of mine from nearly fifteen years ago and I imagine things have changed a great deal with all the new technologies that are currently available. Now that I am settled in with serviette and real knife and fork I assay the meal. Today it’s lamb, The odour of a moist roast leg fills me with anticipation. The hostess slices the pieces of meat from the bone and dollops vegetables onto the plate, the peas dance and bounce with rubbery abandon before it is set before me. etc. The other time I have had silver service was at the ‘Melbourne Oyster Bar’. The same deal the serviette placed on the lap each dish served with a silvered pair of clippers or tongs. The waiter making it seem like art , like composing a painting as the meat and vegetables were freed from the serving dish. Inside the room a loud murmur of voices filling the air with exited talk. I don’t recall what we talked about on that night 10 odd years ago.
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End Of Summer Sale at Musician's Friend

Object Writing / Hammer on: October 02, 2007

admin November 26th, 2007

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Started by milbuddy - Last post by milbuddy
Hammer, the wooden grip in my hand is calloused through years of toil, the wood worn into the shape of thumb and forefinger, rubbed smooth, so smooth you could skate on it if it were freezing. Never did skate, where I grew up it did get cold, small lakes would become sheets of frost, but never perma frost, never foot thick frost. We would dare one another too see who could walk out the furthest before the ice started to crack, you could hear the first cracks appear like breaking eggs and would dart off the ice as soon as possible .The danger was small though we too were small - five or six or so- the lake was ornamental and only 3 or 4 feet deep. Rushing from the stabilising ice, our breath would be a cloud around us as we hurried along crinkling paths of frozen mud and grass. Each blade trapped in an icy fortress preying for release by the sunlight. Sometimes it snowed, once again not so heavily, really a novelty, sheets of thick cardboard were hurriedly made into tobogans, sliding down the hill next to our house, holding onto the edges like a baby to a mothers breast. The cold seeping through the sodden gloves, fingers tingling.

Photograph- object writing 27 Nov

admin November 26th, 2007

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The dull red light makes seeing difficult, but there’s just enough light . The chemical baths have been heated to the correct temperature and the first piece of photographic paper is placed under the enlarger. The smell of bromine and new photographic paper dominate the tiny ‘cubby’ space. The celluloid negative is flimsy and is slid onto the holding plate, then slotted into position in the enlarger. A few minor adjustments are made with the red filter on. The paper is placed on the grid making sure it is correctly aligned with the reverse image projected from the enlarger. The bulb of the enlarger is contained in a large elongated housing - similar to a hairdryer at a womens hairdresser. The cover is sizzling with heat, for the powerful stream of light that needs to throw itself at the photographic paper.

All is ready and the red filter is slid aside. Precise clipped seconds are counted and noted as the paper is exposed. It is then placed into one of three chemical baths. Small tongs are used to avoid getting the smelly substance on hands. with the gentle cajoling of putting a baby to sleep the image begins to appear. This period is also critical - not too much and not too little time, more a matter of judgment. Years of experience in the red half light tells me when it is time and I move the photograph into the second bath - ‘the ‘fixer’ and the set of chemicals that cement the silver crystals onto the page - giving us what we know as a black and white photograph.

The final step is a water bath which hopefully removes all traces of the chemicals. I have photos where this last step obviously was not followed and a light brown cancerous tide is advancing toward the center of the picture.

For more Home Recording hints and tips remember to visit MyHomeRecordingStudio.com often.
Join the Object writing forum at ObjectWriting.com and write for ten minutes on ‘The word of the day’.
For Wealth Creation Strategies and 100 Free Ebooks on Making Money visit MyMillionaireBuddy.com


End Of Summer Sale at Musician's Friend

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