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| Just outside Thane, about a mile from downtown Juneau. That's downtown Douglas on Douglas Island. |
I know that I haven’t updated this blog in a while, but
that’s not because I have grown bored with it. It’s not because I stopped being
creative. In fact, quite the opposite. If you are a naturally creative person,
as I am, you cannot live in Juneau and NOT create. It’s like breathing. It just
happens. You don’t have to try.
I haven’t updated because my creativity has kept me to busy
to do so.
I’ve always been a writer (poetry, short stories, failed
attempts at novels/screenplays) but music is my first love. My dad is and was a
professional musician so, naturally that was my bent too. I played in bands all
through high school and throughout my twenties. I recorded half a dozen albums,
went on half a dozen west coast tours and, never had much success, and only
sporadic bouts of fun. Making music, in
a band, is, difficult. Egos, long road trips, very little financial payoff: All
of these factors contribute to a difficult life style.
And, I have had many friendships end or become permanently
strained as a result of being in bands. So, in 2010, about a month before my
wedding, I quit my last band, and swore off music. I even wrote a poem about
it:
Flailing Empty
Capillaries
You were there from birth,
passed down from father to son,
waltzing through my veins, My muse.
We embraced, in perfect pitch,
a song, and then I found
another
and I left you.
Still I see you
tattooed on my wrists. Thick
black lines, a G
and an F. Permanent,
my former muse, over my veins,
under my skin,
a perpetual reminder.
I stare at you, remembering.
Still wanting
to create with you. After all,
you are still in my blood,
but you’re left my heart.
Empty capillaries flail
like strings waiting to be plucked,
longing to be played once again,
but I’ve forgotten the tune.
The irony of that poem is that one my “Permanent markings,”
the G (a reference to the G or Bass clef) has since been covered by a feather
quill and ink, which I had published shortly after I published my first book.
Yet, tattoos never go totally away. If I look closely, I can see it through the
ink blot. It reminds me of my roots. It reminds of, perhaps, my first love.
But, I made this trek to Alaska, selling all of my musical
equipment, with the exception of my Blues Harmonicas. I haven’t played a guitar
for at least a year. I sing, I sing a lot (in the shower, at home, at the karaoke
bar), but, really, the creative side of me musically was dormant, perhaps in
danger of dying.
Enter: Alaska. My muse, all of my muses—writing, drawing,
musically—has/have been reawakened. It’s glorious! I a no longer tormented by
unwritten ideas, I am no longer bothered by the expression trying to get out
and be expressed. So, I embarked on something I have never done before: Solo
music.
Under the name The Proper English, I have composed two songs
completely using my IPhone. One is a middle eastern inspired, dance/trance
piece called “Pipa Longstocking” (the Pipa being a Chinese instrument, which
makes up the lead instrument in the tune). The second is a spoken word piece
called “Open Air West Side Market on the First Day off Spring.” Set to, what I like to call, Youth Group altar
call music. The poem, first published in an anthology poetry collection about
Portland, Oregon ironically enough, is a tribute/mockery of my home town.
I don’t know if they’re any good, these songs. I have never
ventured being a solo artist before. I have never created music without a band
to hide behind. Even my first band, Five Minutes Cooler, where I was lead
vocalist and wrote most of the songs, I still had two or three bandmates (the
band fluctuated from a trio to a quartet throughout its four-year career) to
hide behind.
But, something about Alaska, coupled with approaching middle
age and with it supreme confidence, gave me the strength to write these songs
and share them with the public. I hope there’s more. One thing I know for sure,
though: Living in Alaska has revived my muse. In every form that she takes.
