Stone

Stone

Opening my eyes

I see a stem, two yellow flowers, and a red spider

which is small -

so small it fits

through the eye of a golden needle.

The red spider hops, glides

across the sensuous, curving petals,

and stops upon a

line of fur,

which is smooth as moss.

It darts off,

always on the move,

looking for food, a friend,

or something.

The flower is still and empty,

a universe of color and warmth

bundled tightly in its silken folds,

with death held back

for at least a moment more.

My eyes darken and

turning upon themselves

an open hand meets the dreamy gaze,

a bird upon a stone.

Desire

Connection

The More I Learn, The Less I Know

Walking to Work, Spring

Thinking about the continued progress I am making with guitar has inspired me to reflect upon the learning process. As I have previously written, one of the things which interest me about guitar is its foreignness and complexity - not having any prior knowledge or experience with it or music makes it a perfect activity for gaining knowledge of my own personal learning process.

At the current point of my development a picture of the steps required when beginning the guitar is coming into focus. I see that I was making progress during the difficult beginning months, but was blinded to most of it because I was unable to make pleasing sounds. One thing which intrigues me about the guitar is a person of average intelligence has to work hard for an extended period of time before anything resembling music can be created - it is a test of patience, will, and desire. When I see/hear an accomplished guitarist I have a high regard for their accomplishment because I have a sense of the trials they went through. An exception to this is the prodigy who displays unusual focus and clarity, unraveling complex problems quickly and with great insight. While I admire this quality, knowing the prodigy did not endure the hardships of the average person means that I look upon their achievement as something done by a power higher than human.

One of the qualities of my mind is its ability to break down a complex activity into simple steps. While it cannot do this quickly, with continued practice and reflection it gets ever closer to the goal. I have learned during this journey that it is better to work out technical/mechanical problems on my own. Reading an article about vibrato does not do me much good because the description of how to do it may make logical sense, but without practice it means nothing. Even the steps and insights provided are for the most part useless because each person's mind/body is unique. While there may be similarities in vibrato technique for all good players, I believe that each of those players went about it in their own way before ending up in the same place.

Rather than reading about vibrato, what I need to do is hear the sound of the vibrato in my head, and then try to recreate it with the guitar. When I finally am able to achieve the sound, the technique will have been established.

Breakthrough

Spring Visits a Parking Lot

During the week when I pick up the guitar I focus upon the mechanical aspects of playing. Repetitive finger movements dominate a session - the ladder, chromatic scale, pentatonic scale, bending, vibrato, chords and sliding bar chords. Sometimes I will play along to a jam track to learn rhythm. When Sunday arrives I wait for the sun to descend into the trees, the sky becoming pink/orange/red/silver - it is then that I feel the need to focus upon my emotions, allowing the state of my spirit to dictate what kind of music I will create with the guitar.

Yesterday when I began to play there were extended moments when the mechanics were forgotten, allowing me to concentrate upon the sounds flowing into the room. My fingers became tiny birds weaving into a complicated pattern of tree shapes - any hesitation or doubt resulting in disgrace - I therefore left doubt behind and became one with the guitar. It was the first time I created music which reflected the white burn living inside my heart, and this led to a few beautiful moments when the body shivers with recognition upon hearing the truth.

Today is balmy and summer like, the sun going low into the green roundness of things - repetition, repetition, repetition....

Sunday

Morning Walk, Spring

Sunday

A small room eaten slowly by the night -

piece by piece dissolving

until the only thing left

is sleep.

Spring Dream

On my walks to work I have been carrying the camera, the days have been a mixture of seasons, so many peculiar things to see....

Scissors

Scissors

I went to the library yesterday and got a few Lonely Planet travel guides for various places around the globe which seem interesting, and perhaps cheaper than the USA - Belize, Guatemala, Laos, Sri Lanka, Panama. In Chicago I worked with a guy named Mo from Sri Lanka who had just graduated from the Art Institute. One time on break we walked up to the 8th floor storage area and found a few original art pieces by famous artists such as Ed Paschke and Diane Arbus. Mo was unimpressed, and we discussed what makes a good piece of art. I happened to have my camera with me and snapped a picture of him smoking a cigarette.

Mo eventually returned to Sri Lanka and is now an internationally famous artist. I recall him telling me that I should go to Sri Lanka because it is more beautiful than the USA. If I do consider living in Sri Lanka for an extended period I should perhaps contact Mo and ask him for suggestions on where to live and if he knows of any cheap apartments for rent. Having at least one contact in a foreign country would be helpful.

Mo on the 8th Floor

Future Plans

With my lease soon coming to an end, I need to decide if I want to remain in Urbana. I have various thoughts and desires about living elsewhere, but having ended my marriage and moved into an apartment only four months ago, I feel it is best that I remain in the apartment until next July. Part of the reason is because in just a few days I will be returning to the 40 hour work week. This depresses the hell out of me, as I have enjoyed working 20 hours a week for the past four years. In January I began working 30 hours a week, which isn't too bad because I work from 6:00am-noon, or 7:00-1:00, depending on when I wake up in the morning. My eight hour schedule will be 6:00-2:30 (a 30 minute lunch is required by law), which is as good as it gets for an eight hour day. The thing that will drag me down is working in the same place eight hours a day, day after day after day. I know I will get the old feelings of restlessness, fatigue, and the nauseous thought of "anyplace but here".

The positive side is I will be making enough money to save $500 a month, so that by the time my lease is up I should have an extra $6000-7000 in the bank (barring an unexpected medical emergency). That thought alone should give me the energy to wake up in the mornings and slog another dreary day in the office. With my current savings at $10,000, and with Rachel owing me $9700 for my portion of the house, that puts me at $26,000. When I quit my job I will have $7000-8000 being added to my savings, which puts me around $33,000. To be safe I can round down and expect to have $30,000 in my savings by next July. Living in the midwest USA I can survive comfortably (with no car) for $1000 per month, giving me 2 1/2 years of freedom from having to work for others.

Considering that the USA is a relatively expensive place to live, what if I could find a place somewhere in the world where I could live comfortably for $500 a month? I would then have unlimited freedom and solitude for 5 years. By the end of the 5 years I will be 50 years old, and most likely old enough to no longer care about jobs and careers, etc, or maybe I will no longer be alive, thus cheating a future employer of cheap labor.

I am reminded of the Hermann Hesse story Klein and Wagner, where Klein, a civil servant, aged 40, robs his employer and rides a train south to Italy. He falls in love with a young woman, has a few adventures, and then drowns himself. Another story, whose name and author escape me, is of a man who quits his job and moves to a cheap foreign land which is pleasing and artful. A few years later the man's savings are depleted and he goes insane and dies. These stories give me pause in my desire to move out of the country and live off of my savings...

We're Going Wrong & the Big Dream in the Sky

Yesterday I made more progress with the guitar. I have been listening to a lot of Cream songs and put We're Going Wrong on repeat and riffed to it for 40 minutes. My picking speed and accuracy was better than usual, and I gained some depth in my knowledge of the pentatonic scale. I discovered that I can add a non-pent note when riffing to certain songs, such as We're Going Wrong, and it totally fits, kind of like the blue note, but with a different feel. I forgot to check what the note was, so I just now walked over to the guitar and picked it up, but forgot which two strings I was moving into when using it. I am starting to find my own style with vibrato, I have trouble turning my wrist back and forth, so have assimilated my classical vibrato with a bit of the turn, it sounds pretty good. I am sure a guitar teacher would disapprove, but it works for now.

Now that I am moving slowly toward my goal of playing the blues, I find I am practicing longer and harder, seeing that it may just be possible to get to where I want to be. I have set a high standard for myself, as I want to be able to express the music inside of me, which will require the skill of an Eric Clapton or Buddy Guy - it's fun to dream....

I brought my digital camera on my morning walk today :

Morning Walk I

Morning Walk II

Morning Walk III

Morning Walk IV

Sophia Sleeps

Detail #1

Detail #2

Somewhere

Somewhere, looking up,

beyond the night mist,

is a brightness

waiting patiently

for me to lose my grip.

Within me are golden memories,

each one more precious than the last,

but an ache swims through and across me,

searching for one which is lost.

Somewhere, I know,

you are waiting for me,

your infinite beauty

beyond the sight of the ashen faces

on the great, green earth.

I know you are there,

your moist breath

spinning the world,

awaiting the grasp of my closing eyes.

Gray Spring

Gray spring

wind dripping,

at rest upon an empty street.

Heavy time

pregnant with hope,

creeping through wet grass,

a red tulip bending low.

A thousand creatures

move to and fro

readying for emergence,

my lonely room awaits the knock.

Tipping Point

Spring Morning

Last night I practiced guitar for a couple of hours. My normal practice routine is to start with slow finger movements, such as the "walking" exercise set out in the Andreas Principles book. This exercise is the crux of my current practice routine. Once learned, the student has a set of finger skills which can be used for playing any style of music. However, it is not an easy thing to master, as I have been working with it for 6 months and am still far from obtaining the required speed and accuracy. But the more I work with it the stronger my fingers become, which allows my practice in other areas to become more productive.

After 30 minutes of the walking exercise and a few minutes spent on sliding bar chords, regular chord changes, and the chromatic scale, I played along to an A minor blues jam track for 1 hour. I put the track on repeat, each new time around finding a nuance in note selection, vibrato, string bending, or picking style.

During this session it occurred to me that I had reached one of the tipping points in my guitar quest. One of the reasons I write in this journal is to examine how I go about learning something from the beginning. I have already made note of the 1st year struggles, and how it is important to have faith that the mind and body will discover a way to overcome the many obstacles which prevent the beginning student from playing well. My current learning phase is in the refining of basic skills, allowing for added confidence and momentum, which in turn fuels the desire to practice more. This extended practice and enthusiasm leads to a further gain in skills, which in turn fuels greater momentum. Having reached this stage, learning and progress becomes quicker and easier.

There is another interesting thing to note - the perception that one has put in hundreds of hours of practice. Thinking back on the struggle and the will to continue and push forward, the thought arises as to how many beginning guitar students have put in as much work as I have? The people who have are undoubtedly already proficient in guitar play, but I believe that my Asperger tendency to focus intensely on a subject puts me ahead of a person who believes one hour a day of practice is a lot. On the other hand, my paltry 2-3 hour sessions look pale in comparison to a virtuoso who plays 8-10 hours a day. The lesson here is that the more one plays, the better one gets - practice, practice, practice!

Sophia's Dream

Sophia's Dream, Detail

On the Road Again

This past week I have put in a couple of 2-3 hour practice sessions with the guitar. Since playing with Joseph a month ago one of the things I have been working at is sliding bar chords. Yesterday I was listening to a couple of Canned Heat blues songs (Going Up the Country and On the Road Again), and decided to learn the chords and play along. I found that Going Up the Country required a sliding bar chord going from fret 6 to 11, then down to fret 1. Normally the hardest place to play are the frets near the nut (frets 1-3), but I found placing the fingers in the cramped space of fret 11 to be challenging. To play On the Road Again I was especially satisfied when I was able to create the blues boogie pattern. I had always wanted to play that kind of rambling/rolling blues rhythm, and guessed it would take playing a combination of exotic, hard to finger chords. So I was surprised to find that it was a familiar pattern that I practice everyday - E/G/A. The tricky part is in the timing and strumming, but I quickly picked it up and was jamming along without much problem. This experience taught me that with a few simple chords many different styles of music can be created through timing variations.

The Magpie

Detail from The Magpie

A few weeks ago I began a correspondence with a young woman from Sweden named Sophia. Her letters contain a life bending poetry which leave indelible images in my head, reminding me of dreams I have had of paintings. Sensing the pictures in my mind inspire me to transfer them to paper. The drawing I posted earlier entitled Fur Elise was my first attempt, and tonight I made a second drawing. I have an idea for a third, and if we continue to correspond I hope to make a series of drawings based on Sophia's poetic letters.

Drawing #2 from the Sophia Series

Found Art

This winter I took it easy with my running mojo and let days pass before lacing up the cross country shoes. I just don't like running in cold weather, and even though I numbed myself to it during my 16 month running streak, it wasn't exactly my cup of tea. So it is no surprise that I am woefully out of shape and overweight as the spring season arrives. The long rest period, however, has energized my overworked legs, and this week, with the warm weather arriving in spades, I have run for 5 consecutive days, knocking off the winter rust and a couple of pounds.

After my run on Thursday I was walking back on my usual route, and when I finished crossing the sushi restaurant parking lot on University Avenue I passed a dumpster adjacent the railroad tracks. I had a nice flow going in my head, thinking about Oregon, guitar, Zen, and drawing, when I noticed the edge of a matted picture sticking out of said dumpster. Normally this dumpster is filled with construction refuse, so seeing a colorful picture next to rotted planks and musty cardboard jolted me out of my reveries. I walked over to the blue steel container and gently pulled the picture out, being careful not to rub it against anything rough and dirty. The artwork was large, and placed in an 18"x22" white mat. I was impressed with the subject matter and the execution. As I looked closer I saw that the image was printed on textured watercolor paper, and the backing board behind the mat had a gallery stamp with handwriting, "Altman, 1986". Inscribed on the front left of the picture was "Printed in France by Mourlot", and on the right "Altman".

Looking around and seeing nobody, I decided that the picture was indeed discarded, and carried if off using both hands. I thought of a scene from the film Bobby G Can't Swim, when Bobby has to throw a $20,000 brick of cocaine into a New York City trash can to avoid getting busted by the cops. When he returns to the trash can to retrieve the brick he is unable to find it, and this is the beginning of the end for Bobby G. When I arrived at the Square I stopped at the frame shop and asked how much a basic frame would cost, and agreed to pay $38.

Before picking up the frame today I did some internet research on Altman and discovered he was a prolific lithographic artist. I also found information on the picture, which is entitled "Reflections". I hung the picture in my living room, and it reminds me that I still have some luck left in this life.

Reflections

Fur Elise

Fur Elise

Flowers on the Wall

Evening Walk II

Guitar practice is moving steadily along. A couple of days ago I was barring the 10th fret and discovered a haunting melody, it then occurred to me to use a capo so that I could use all four fingers. It was the first time I used the capo, which I bought when I started playing guitar 15 months ago. After clamping it down I was startled at the unusual beauty of the sound. Since then I have been using the capo at different frets, discovering the convenience of being able to play in any key while still using familiar chord patterns.

Yesterday I was inspired to practice three times throughout the day and night, finally putting the guitar down at 1:00am. The more I learn, the more I want to practice. Each day I feel more comfortable, the fingers becoming not only stronger, but more relaxed and coordinated. I am not sure where all of this is leading but I have a confident feeling that I will continue to improve.

Last week I joined an artist cooperative in downtown Urbana. After paying the monthly fee I carried numerous drawings, paintings, and photographs to the gallery. I talked with one of the resident artists, Mehta. He was loquacious and friendly, sharing ideas on the creative process and even showing me his small studio room where he makes his art pieces. I doubt anything of mine will sell, but it is a good opportunity to exhibit a few things. Before leaving the gallery I bought a large oil painting of flowers for $40, which I hung in my bedroom when I got home.

Wolf 09

Drum and Bass

Evening Walk I

Last Tuesday I went to therapy session IV and afterward rode my bicycle home, got my guitar and a 6 pack, and walked to Joseph's house. When I arrived I saw Joseph and Mike unloading gear and we walked into the house together and down the stairs to the music space, a small room with a drum set, amps, and guitars. Joseph and Mike talked for a few minutes and I stood around, and then Joseph said, "well, James, are you ready?" I took my guitar out of its case, plugged in, and stood awkwardly, unsure how to start.

Mike, being an experienced musician, suggested jamming freestyle to House of the Rising Sun. Well, I know the chords to that song so I started strumming out the notes and Mike played lead as Joseph found the beat on his drums. After a few minutes we stopped, drank beer, and then began improvising with power chords.

I was starting to feel somewhat comfortable, but then I got it in my head to try playing the bass guitar which leaned against the wall. Mike encouraged me to do so and within a few minutes I was creating bass notes in line with Joseph's drum rhythm. My mind focused intently on the music being created, and with Mike playing lead the music began flowing with a creative ease. After an hour of bass Mike wanted me to try playing his high quality guitar, so we switched and I did alright, playing some blues riffs and improvising with other styles.

After 2 hours we stopped and I packed up and walked home. I found the experience to be inspiring and illuminating. Making music with others is not as hard as I thought it would be. I also realize I have a natural sense of rhythm - even though I can't count music in my head I have a sense of time which fits with what is being played. It is similar to how I process language because I don't know the mechanics of language, such as nouns/verbs/adverbs, but simply follow a sense of innate timing which chooses the flow of the words.

This week I have been practicing harder than ever, inspired to improve in all aspects of my play so that I can better express myself the next time I jam with a group. I surprised myself by doing better than expected at Joseph's, but I have a strong desire to play the music which I know is inside of me, and this will require a tremendous amount of work/practice before it is allowed to surface - Rock on!

Crossroads

Walking Home from Therapy I

Therapy session III last Tuesday went well and was productive. Like session I was stuck in the breakroom, however, my therapist knowing I don't like bright neon light brought in a table lamp which created a warm glow. Content, I was able to find a groove and rambled for an hour.

Joseph and I are planning to get together soon to jam guitar and drums. He called yesterday and left a message asking about Tuesday, 8:00pm at his house. Unfortunately my therapy session is set for 6:30, and it takes 90 minutes to walk home, so we most likely will have to wait until he gets back from Ireland. I am somewhat nervous about getting together with him, not only because of my minimal guitar skills, but I have lost all confidence in whatever social abilities I have. Redefining who I am relative to Aspergers, I no longer am willing to jump into scenarios of friendship. Most people I come across don't feel comfortable around me, and I don't understand why my mind tends to shut down in group settings.

I have not worked on my landscape drawing since the last post. In the evenings my mind has been focusing on existential topics related to my therapy, so most of my energy goes to writing private journal entries.

After a winter of little running and lots of rest, I injured my right hip without doing anything. I got up from a computer session last week at the Square and found myself limping home. I have gotten a little better since then, and walked 9 miles yesterday, but with the warm days coming I hope to be able to run when I want.

A few days ago Rachel and I were hanging out and I told her I was spending time contemplating my future. Within the next 5-15 months I may leave Illinois and start anew somewhere else. Not getting Leona's job means I have no long term commitment to the park district. The main idea is to move west, preferably Oregon, and see what unfolds. Being someone with Aspergers and working low paying jobs all my life means I will have trouble finding employment, but I won't let that worry me, as I always seem to find a way to land on my feet.

Lurking in the back of my mind is the desire to practice Zen Buddhism full time somewhere. I believe there are a few places in the USA which offers this opportunity, but there may be better places to study in Asia, at a cheaper cost. If I have to pay monthly room and board it would be financially wiser to go to Southeast Asia. I would have to work at learning the local language, but seeing that I will have an abundance of time to study means it should not be that difficult to do.

When I mentioned this desire to study Buddhism to Rachel she said she had also been contemplating her future. She said that because she kicked me out of the house she feels obligated to try dating, but she doubted she would find someone who made her feel as happy as when she is with me. She said she would prefer if I did not leave Urbana, and that there was a possibility that when my lease was up at the end of June we could get back together.

I am not sure what to think of Rachel's suggestion. It took a lot of effort to start a new life on my own, and I do not know if it would be a good idea to go backwards instead of forwards. It is something to think about, and maybe I will mention this in therapy session IV.

Beautiful, Strange

Winter Walk III

Went to therapy session no. 2 today. The first session was held in the break room because all of the regular rooms were being used. I did not care for the bright lights and lay out of the room, but this week the session was held in a pleasant space with dusky light - perfect. Jessica, my therapist, seemed open and warm and this led to a discussion of things which I had not planned on navigating.

Jessica steered me into the territory of my recent split with Rachel. I can understand why she did this because it would appear to be more important than my dilemma with social parties. As the session sped along I couldn't help but recognize that how I talked with certain friends was similar to how I was opening up with Jessica. However, some of the topics brought up I most likely would not discuss with a friend.

While I have been neglecting to work on my current drawing, I have been practicing hard with the guitar, and a few days ago made another breakthrough. I have been working on the classical piece Asturias for the past 6-7 months, after 12 or 13 measures the fingering becomes more complex with a consistent wide stretch between the 1 and 4 finger. This stretch prevents me from playing the passage correctly due to the 4 finger not being strong enough to maintain proper pressure upon the fret. When I played the passage this week the 4 finger had finally become strong enough to hold the string in position - it is beautiful and strange to observe how the body and mind slowly adapt to the wishes of the will....

Drawing in Progress

Drawing in Progress

Restructuring

Winter Walk I

The past few days have reminded me of my existential struggles of 25 years ago. As the time of my first therapy session moved closer, my mind began sifting through the important moments of my inner life. Painful memories buried deep under the shadows of many seasons resurfaced as I tried to make sense of my experiences under the new light of autism. All of the odd behaviors and inclinations and rueful experiences began to settle into a new and clearer reality. As if I was a scientist searching for years through random sequences of numbers, trying to find some kind of order and logic, and finally, by chance, the numbers fall into place, a pattern emerging.

In a way the whole thing makes me sad, as I see that all along I was destined for loneliness and isolation. Eventually I realized there was no use trying to break through a brick wall, so I turned away and accepted my fate, which allowed me to live in peace. Along the way I met a few people who I felt comfortable with, and who accepted me. For this I am blessed and lucky, for it could have instead been years of solitude and silence.

When I arrived at the therapy session the doctor asked one question and that set me off on an hour long ramble of spoken thoughts. While I usually don't subject people to that kind of monologue, I have to admit it felt good as it is the only time that my words have any meaning. I thought of a couple of people I used to work with at the Nature Center and laughed to myself that I should have been paying them by the hour because they would let me ramble on about things and were kind enough not to fall asleep on me.

I am not sure what the doctor thinks of me or my problem, but I can see the value is not so much what I say during the session, but all that goes on before and after - it is back to trying to understand my mind and how it relates to the world and the things which inhabit it - picking through memories of events and emotions and faces and things gone bad or good.

I sense that having the knowledge that I was born different than most is going to alter the way I think and act in the future. I used to believe I was just like everyone else, but now I know better. I can see myself in the future being reluctant to speak with words, avoiding unnecessary contact with people I don't feel comfortable with. It is the way it should be - I was born with a poison, but also, luckily, the antidote - a mind which is never bored, and which sees and senses immense beauty in every passing moment.