Friday, February 28, 2014

a poem

Just breathe

Don’t worry
About the sky
That might be falling soon
Don’t let
What others think
Or hide
Who you are
Don’t let
The stress of the day
Ruin the night
Whatever it is
That unwinds you
Find things
That cause you to be
Swallowed up in
Make sure
You have time
At least weekly
To do those things
So they can help your
You don’t have to
Become what others want
You need to be around
Those who will love you
For you
As you
Those who only need you
And breathe
By b.e. noll
[thanks Mom]

Monday, February 24, 2014

an unusual use of band aides

I’m not sure how to say this.
Where to begin, how much to share.
Or perhaps what flack I’ll get for this. [flack, disbelief, pick an adjective]
Sat. March 1st, is Self Injury Awareness Day.
I got an idea, about 4 to 6 months ago. The idea will probably sound really stupid to at least some of you. I’m going to wear a homemade bracelet. Made of band aides. Real band aides. I’ve been practicing an old drawing I did a few years ago. 147:3 drawn in the shape of a heart. Why?
“He heals the broken hearted,
and binds up their wounds”
-Psalm 147:3
It can pretty much be said that there is broken hearted-ness at the core of self-injury. I first heard of self-injury through To Write LoveOn Her Arms [twloha]. I’m not sure if I can “come up with some cool way of putting them on this” or not. I’m hoping to. Some “unique font” that is “all me”. I’m not raising money, or asking for anything. I just know a few people who self injure. I know that you know [/know of] at least one person who has self-injured. I know, because you’ve heard of me. You’re reading this. So, if no one else comes to mind… I have. I didn’t really know that’s what it’s called. I called it “one of the bizarre things about myself that, if you knew it, you would think I’m stranger than you already thought I was”. When I heard of twloha, I thought they were awesome [I STILL think they’re awesome, btw]. I just couldn’t imagine that someone would cut themselves on purpose. Do you have ANY idea how many times I’ve had cuts on me? All I can say is, if I had all the stitches here in front of me, I could probably make a regulation baseball out of them. I decided to read a book on self-injury…I didn’t get very far into the book when I came to a frightening discovery. Cutting is the most common form of self-injury. As in. Not. The. Only. One. Some other forms of self-injury include: biting, wound interference, hair pulling, banging self against walls [sometimes to the point of breaking bones]… So there it was. My strangeness in print. I bite my lip. Sometimes I pick at it. I pick at my skin. [summer usually isn’t as bad as winter] I pick at [interfere with the healing of] my wounds. I began to write 147:3 on the band aides. [after reading Psalm 147:3 one day] I’d leave them on longer. So I would have something “non self destructive” to pick at. This seemed to help. I don’t do too bad anymore.
Though in all honesty, the band aides were the starting point. I journal, write poetry, take hikes [of varying lengths], & I’m never very far from my camera. These also have helped. This blog began as a chance to bleed out my sorrows healthily. A lot of my writing seems to be like going to confession. Or perhaps an AA meeting. [not that I’ve been. So keep that in mind. For those who have & think I’m wrong] I feel bad that it seems like I have these deep, sharing ugliness with you blog posts. Somehow sandwiched in between poems & lighter posts. I just wanted to say this. For those who might see me wearing it, it’s easier to state why here. Than to have someone come up to me & ask “out of the blue” what it’s for. So this is my answer.
I need to wrap this up for now. Even though I feel like I’m leaving you hanging. I have an earlier than usual day tomorrow. [my long drive day for work]
May His grace drip from your fingers,
This is the book by the way. Inside a Cutter's Mind By Jerusha Clark

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

so many directions

Lets see if I can post briefly here. I'm really being pulled in many directions. I think I slept 2 whole hrs last night. [though part of that was Jimmy Fallon's fault. SO loved watching U2 on The Tonight Show last night. Loved the slow build of Ordinary love live acoustic, & then Jimmy singing behind Bono & Bono inviting Roots to join them at the end.]
I just have too much good stuff going on here. A class I'm taking. Book I'm reading. I've been drawing a bit more lately. Still writing poems like mad. I can barely contain them. Some are branching out from my usual form. I'm really liking this. It's like tapping into a new well. And suddenly I hear a therapist friend telling me again: "you should get together with one of your musician friends & turn one of your poems into a song." Perhaps I will. Just...not this minute.
So here's a new poem.

we have to fight
to feel love
as though
there is an ocean
of stars
between us
there is...
I know [now]
I put them there
are nothing like
the sky
they fakely hide
I shouted
"I have no one"
and the real hurt is
my makeshift veil
a crowd stood
and I can't help
but hear Bono sing:
" don't see [us]
you aren't invisible
we see you
please see us
please come on over
join us
be with us
let us be with you
We can't make you
we can only wait
for you
to realize we are not
 a "them"
we can be
an us.
you can be part
of us
[there is no them]
by b.e. noll

May His grace drip from your fingers,

p.s. I'm hoping I can get some of these posts I've been working on finished so I can post them.

to "flesh out" a tweet

I'm not sure how to preface this. It's maybe a bit too "stream of consciousness" in comparison with my usual "fair". I hope you can gain something out of it. [at the least a good laugh] Maybe it'll seem more like a journal entry.

I thought I’d share a bit about something I tweeted to Michael Gungor. I realize that some of my friends may check me out on there. Knowing that my story has some dark parts to it, they may read into what I said. Sometimes I can field questions about this easily. Sometimes I just give a knee-jerk reaction, or brush it off. Partly because a lot can happen between my online writing & the next time you see me. So I thought I’d take a moment to really share about it.
First let me open making sure all of you are on the same page. Michael Gungor tweeted:
Not a great night of sleep. Probably ought to change out of my suit next time I sleep in my car..
to which I responded: [@bought_as_is] don't know bout that one [suit part]. avoid the drivers seat. I hated that. no choice at the time, but hated it. #sore
For some reason I thought about this today. A lot. Wondering if someone would think that I had been homeless for a time. Or that I ran away when I was young. At the very least wondering what age I was when I did this.
This isn’t a sad story. Or part of that. This is one small story in the first community I was in outside of my family. [That is: Mom & Dad, & “The Nolls”, etc.] They/we were called YAF Fishnet. I don’t know how many times Fishnet went to Wyoming for a “summer camp”. I know I didn’t go along every time. I did go twice. I also don’t remember the two times separately anymore. It plays in my mind as if it was one trip, somehow. Except for maybe the discrepancies within them.  So, I wasn’t really made to sleep in the drivers seat of the van. I just knew [have always felt] that I can handle un-comfortable situations more than some can. I don’t mean this to sound: tough/poor me/ no one loves me, or anything. I guess I just feel like: as long as I’m not being shot, set on fire, cut up, or beaten it can’t be that bad, really. I’ll live. [whether I like it or not is up to me] So I volunteered to sleep there. Mostly because SOMEONE would have to. Now you cannot recline in most rental vans really well. [this was a rental] So I woke up kind of “out of sorts”. Stiff. I joked about it. I remember hoping I wouldn’t have to explain to a cop why it was that a 15 or 16 year old kid was sleeping in the drivers seat of an “out of state” rental van, at a rest stop on the interstate. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. I also remember feeling very awkward when we drove a little down the road to a Hardee’s. We got to use their rest room, to clean up for the day. You cannot imagine the looks you get when you go into the rest room. Proceed to try to wet your hair into some fashion that no longer resembles “the mad scientist” look, then wash your “pits” [you haven’t LIVED till you dry your armpits with rest room paper towels.] & then brush your teeth there. To make matters worse, I have always looked younger than I actually am. [a trait I have generously received from my Dad. He looks about 5 years older than me, no, seriously. It’s funny…& it’s not so much.] So I actually AM about 15 or 16…but don’t look a day over, what 8? 9? MAYBE 10? [why is it: “you don’t look a day over___”? Why a day? Why not 14 hours & 7 min.? just curious.] Now that you have hopefully laughed at least a little. …I gotta say I thought a bit about how it might feel to be homeless. NOT that this little moment would really give me much of an understanding, mind you. You don’t know what any negative experience is like, until you’ve lived it long enough to want to turn it off or change the channel. Only to realize… that you can’t, because you’re not ON TV. People look at you differently. Or try not to look at you. You can imagine the looks our leader got. Being seen as “the Dad” for us, by some. There was an unspoken look at times of: “can’t take care of all these kids? You should be ashamed.” He took it in stride. Looking back, the hardest part of dealing with us was after U2’s The Joshua Tree came out. 2 ½ to 3 days of the whole …tape on repeat. Poor John [aka: “Yanni” Don’t ask…no, seriously, don’t ask] Between my buddy Scott & I we bought, what? 4 copies of it the year it came out. Stupid hungry tape deck. [for my high school friends who remember… That was Scott also called “Spot, the finely groomed mutt” I still miss his drawings. And his/our “lingo”. Freshie. Stylin’. No race. Sexy chick. Konnichiwa. Yes I loved having our own little language. And I do know that Konnichiwa is Japanese. Which I had with several of my friends. You know who you are. And I have the surveillance recordings. Safely tucked away in a vault in the side of a mountain in the Swiss Alps. You can only get there by helicopter, in the summer months. I could go on, I won’t.]

Sorry this is a rather silly post. I do like making people laugh. However, please do not come up to me & say: “be funny”. Because…well… that’s not funny. Also, I’m not a vending machine.
There is something serious in there, somewhere.
I’ve only ever had a feeling similar [to the homeless feeling] when I went to see Gimme Shelter. I went by myself. Due largely to the circumstances around the evening. As well as some of the subject matter in the film. Sometimes it’s just better to go to a film by myself. So no one tries to “comfort” me while I watch it. I still have certain times when touching me doesn’t “translate” like you might wish for it to. I’m not one for soft touches, anyway. Gives. Me. The. Creeps. It was a bit tough & “reminiscent” for me to watch the abuse scenes. These I can watch & remember my own at the same time. If someone was with me, they might have wanted to comfort me during those. When I remember these times… someone touching me is like putting your lips to my ears & screaming as loud as you can. I’m just…”on”. [you might better understand it as feeling very “bring it”] Anyway, I saw this with only two other people in the theater. As I watched it I became self conscious. The main character is in a gray hoodie. I wasn’t quite back to health yet so I had worn one in. I was fine for the hour I sat in the theater before the movie started. Ravenously reading Purpose for the Pain by Renee Yohe. And remembering meeting her the night before. [I think it was during this. That I realized that she was the first person, outside of my family, that has hugged me & I didn’t “jump” or defend myself from it without thinking.] I forgot about my “unknown companions” in the theater during much of the film, till the end. Then I’m wondering what they think. Do they think I’m like her? Alone with no one to care about me. [I have felt that way at times.] Part of me wanted to tell them that though I’m alone tonight, I really do have people in my life. My own “twloha” community. Who, if I called, would ask roughly 3 questions: Where are you? Maybe, how do I get there? What do you need? How can I help? And then give an “ETA” so I know when to look for them/ how long I have to wait for their arrival. It’s nice to know I have a lot of people who will be with me. No matter what I have to live through. Family. Families. It’s nice to be chosen…rather than tolerated.
take care. Hopefully you are thinking of your "people". The one's who will drop everything & come running if you need someone. The one's you have "inside jokes" with that no one else would understand. Those people are the best.

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Valentine’s day [reboot?]

I’m thankful for this morning. [No, guys, not for the reason that probably first comes to mind.]
Along with some friends, I got to show love to people. People I only met today. They needed help. We could give that help. To borrow from Jamie Tworkoski [& his story, To Write Love On Her Arms] We got “to play the rescuers. To move for things that matter.” To be the ones to answer the t-shirts:
People need other people.
Wake up, you’re alive. We’re on your side.
I’ve met so many people who say: “Why do you care? Why do you [guys] do this? Why are you still my friend?” The saddest: “I don’t deserve to be loved.” [or “I don’t deserve your love”] None among us deserves to be loved. The details of why are different. I’ve said it before: “we’re all broken. The pattern of the cracks is different for each of us. Yet the depth of the cracks are the same.”
Love wouldn’t be powerful at all… if you deserved it. You don’t. Why else would it mean so very much to us? We really feel loved…& it really knocks us over, speechless. When the one who loves us, knows all the reasons we can think of, why they shouldn’t love us. …and they love us anyway. THAT is the love that makes us reach for the tissues.
We all need help. Sooner or later. Often there is nothing we can really do for those who help us. “Can’t we PAY you?” That would cheapen it, ruin it completely. Love isn’t bought. It costs too much. You can’t afford love…& you’ll die without it.
More than you know…by someone closer than you think. No matter WHO you are. It’s nice…after being on the receiving end, to be on the giving end. The giving end of a beautiful circle. A loving circle.
Being a part of a community of love, is so amazing. If only there were words. It’s nice to be who we were made to be. “…to be the body of Christ coming alive to meet their needs…” [again, from Jamie Tworkoski’s story]
So thankful for LWCC, for my growth group, for my family, for friends [new ones & those who’ve been with me for quite a while].
So…I find it more than a little ironic that we got to do this today. The day after Valentine’s Day. Love cannot be confined to a day, an act, one moment. Love is defined by one day, one act, one moment. It cannot really be measured. We don’t deserve it. It’s so very nice to get what we don’t deserve.

Plumb – Don’t Deserve You [thanks for making this a single, I really like it]

“…there were scars, before my scars. Love written on the hands, that hung the stars. Hope living in the blood, that was spilled, for me…” – from Control, by JJ Heller
Hope you could enjoy Valentine’s Day

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Valentine's day [sort of]

I want to write about Valentine’s day. I was hoping to add another component to this, it's just not coming. So I'll post this part for now...
Partly because I want to give a glorified “shout out” to To Write Love On Her Arms. They are hosting a: “Valentine’s Day Doesn’t Have to Suck” event tomorrow. 8pm. So this is partly for them, & for this cool thing they do every year. 
Live Chat on [a link for you if you're interested]

It’s partly because… Some parts of my story…many parts in fact, were not parts anyone would willingly sign up for. Yet, there can be good in them. If you use them right. [hopefully this is me, using it right.] I’m not ready to share this.

I was single till I was 25. Which, for those who didn’t know me, was about 7 – 9 years longer than I would have written into my story. [funny how that works] I “with a little help from my friends” was often miserable about this. To re-write McDonald’s slogan: “do-do-do-do-do, I’m hate ‘n it” [see? This is why you read this. Only I would take a horrible event & make a stand up comedy routine out of it. Your welcome, please deposit another 25 cents.] In all seriousness, we three single guys [not a Christmas song], bummed out together. Suffered through Valentine’s days together. Got upset with friends who “had someone” & were sad because they had to wait hours to see them. “at least there’s a definite end to your ‘torture”, I’d tell them. Then say something like how I wished I knew how many hours till I got to see “my girl”. I got stuck there. One of several time in my life that I “got stranded in the middle of sadness”. Eventually I got to a point where I got extremely sick of …my own pity party, table for one. [I really don’t know how else to say that right now, sorry] I realized that I’m not going to punish myself for not having a great relationship with a girl. At least, not anymore. After all, the only thing worse than not having a girlfriend/fiancĂ©e/ wife [girls just change to boy & husband appropriately] is to have THE WRONG ONE. You are not defined by the relationships you do or do not have. Whether they be with a spouse/significant other or with a famous person [or a semi famous person, you get the gist]. You do not have to be in a romantic relationship to be whole. Or happy for that matter. How’s that old saying go? “If you aren’t happy where you are, you’ll never be happy where you’re going.” Something like that. So I did things I was “waiting for a girlfriend” to do. I went to see Christmas lights at Hershey one year. Yeah, I wanted to go “with someone”…but I was done not going for only that reason. I didn’t go alone, either. I took some friends. I’m going to live. Something that I keep pressing myself on. I’m going to live. I’m not going to sit & think of how better it would be if my life had ___ in it. Or if I had “someone to do ___ with”. This was tough at first. Then it got tough in stages. The first time I went to the movies alone. Can you say “awkward” boys & girls? I knew you could. I’m married & still do it sometimes. Not sure Mick would like the movie. Don’t think ahead about asking someone to go with me. You need people in your life. However don’t get addicted to not being alone. Alone can have it’s benefits. Being a Lover of God, when I’m alone, I’m with him. I’ve gone to see movies with him. Driven to places that I wasn’t even sure I’d find. I went to Penn State Berks campus & ended up driving through half the parking lots before finding the right one. Then standing, awkwardly around with people half my age to see a unique version of storytellers. I almost didn’t go about 15 times till I got there. Loved the drive [I know, your shocked]. And was glad I went in such an unbelievable way, & I haven’t stopped learning from it yet. So I guess I’m trying to help you see that being single doesn’t have to be a punishment. This spawned out of a “message prayer” to a friend. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to kind of re-pray similarly here…
Please be with those of my friends who are single. Especially those who don’t want to be. I remember those days. How hard it was to wade through the “not in a million years even if you paid me” girls trying to find “the girl”. Wondering if I was worth having in this fashion. Thank you that I lived through that. Thank you for letting me remember it. Please be with these friends in a special unique “only you” way. Let them know they are not alone. That there are people who are glad they are here. Glad they are still here. Show them they are loved. By you & me.
Thank you for loving us wherever we are now.

May His grace drip from your fingers,

from tweet to poem

inspired by a tweet response I made...

Paper Courage
Has been so many things
Therapy, a chance to vent,
To say something important
And then remember
What it was
I said, & how I said it.
The ability to pull my thoughts
Out of the air & stair at them
To see how true they really are
Some fit in with the writing
Of my story
Fleshing it out in grand directions
Some are just a black void
Sucking the life out of my story
Scratches on the record of
My song
So I need to lift the needle & move it
So I can stop hearing the same old part
Knowing they are there
I can have the scratches taken out
Over time
The song becomes restored
To it’s best version
Re-recorded so the sound
Can be heard as the artist
Originally intended
Maybe this song
Will flavor your song?
Maybe this song
Or this poem
[blog post, tweet, facebook post]
will so touch you
or me
that it will become
paper courage
Standing in the storms
Refusing to be buried
In the snow
Or washed away
In the rain
Or blown away by the wind
Standing courageous

As proof

That you & I

Can also survive the storm

By it.
by b.e. noll

not so stuck at home, in the snow. 
You're only stuck if you refuse to move. 
" foot in front of the other, as they say, even if it's dismal, I'm guaranteed change..."
Crazy Fishes by Bearcat, from the Bearcat EP.

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Monday, February 10, 2014

there are
of course
times for everything
under the sun
I'm able to joke
to play  "the life of the party"
there's nothing I want less
than to be in one
I want to "be known"
I want to just be
you see me
you know
about me
do you know
I want to forget
I can't
I watch things
and I remember
what "that"
was like
I remember
what "that" was like
will say
or write something
and I sit there
I wonder
"how'd you know?"
How could you say
what I've felt?
I want to hug them
and sometimes
I want to run
from them
I like
that I'm not like
anyone else
it's not
as fun
as the brochure
said it would be
I'm ok
I'm not
I want to tell you
I don't
I'm easy to deal with
I'm not
you can still like me
all the time
b.e. noll

I've got a lot of stuff inside. [getting kind of cramped in here] Not to mention I'm getting quite a string of days that are going sideways. You know the days. "due to lack of interest, today has been cancelled." Or "may I please be excused? my brain is full." [SO love far side] My response is not always very "stellar", either. So I'm kind of hoping for some boring days soon. You know where everything goes by some semblance of a plan. Yeah, that'd be a switch. Sometimes I can be funny about it. Sometimes...not so much, really. Thanks for asking. I'm so sure you never have this [there really should be a "sarcasm font", just sayin']. At least I get to go for my drive Wed. [at least...that's "the plan" as of now, who knows?] And I've been able to go for a walk over the last 2 weekends. Though the parks here have taken a pounding. As you quite possibly have heard on the news. I'm careful...yet my walks are part of my time to connect with the one who is greater than me. There's just something about it. Some strange amalgamation of growth/ healing/ calming/ meditativeness about being out there. To me it's kind of a "church of 2". So I've posted a boat load of photos on facebook. Maybe I'll post a few here later on.
I've also been having quite a bit of "watching something that takes me to memories I haven't thought about for a long time". So that's bringing me back to the ongoing writing of my story. I'm also getting this weird "nebulous" whispering conversation in the back of my mind. that might be helping me understand why a few of my friends think they would like to read it when I finish writing. hmmmm.
Well, I've been given a heads up that tomorrow will be crazy. So I guess I'll try to sleep... or read & write poems some more.

May His grace drip from your fingers,

Thursday, February 6, 2014


It's really not fun to talk about things I think I didn't do right. Things I wish I had done, only I didn't. Things I did, & wish I could "undo". Obviously, I don't want to talk about them. Let alone "immortalize" them here. As I have continued to move forward in this blog I have been pushing myself to get uncomfortable. What's the title of that disc by Sarah Bareilles? Oh, yeah: The Blessed Unrest. Perhaps that is the phase I find myself in. Or maybe an equally appropriate disc title by Michael Been: On the Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough. So, in keeping with this "uncomfort", here we go.
I had a chance to talk with someone recently. I could kind of see in her eyes a look of we could talk later if you want to. Me... I bolted. I left like I planted a bomb. So very sad. Even as I left I felt a strange pull to go back & talk. To talk more. I felt it pulling my sweatshirt on, walking out the door, all the way to my car. Even as I hesitantly pulled out of the parking area. In all fairness, I did have to work the next day. I usually start work at about 7am. I'm up between 4:30 & 5 usually. Can I level with you? Part of the reason is: I was afraid I'd end up talking to these 2 people till then. If I was given half a chance. When I get to see them again, I think I'll take the next day off. So if this returns, I can let it happen. [& if, for some reason, it doesn't play out this way... that's ok, too. At least I'll be ready.]
I hate that I'm like this. I guess it's just too much "going off script" for me. Sadly, I am so very self conscious it is unreal. I felt "out of my element", yet oddly a bit comfortable. I didn't expect to connect. I was thinking some usual pleasantries. Then off I'd go. When that didn't happen, it just... I don't know. I can feel a bit trapped in some of the oddest circumstances. Since I experienced this feeling very young, sometimes I go on "autopilot" & escape as fast as possible. Which would be fine... if there was something to escape FROM. Which, there wasn't.
I'm also not one for fame. Any kind, no matter how minute it might seem. So I'm a guy who does well on the internet, because I at least feel like there's really no one who tunes in here. Or, at least I'm not standing in front of you speaking all of this. Which, till I got to know & be comfortable with you, would be extremely difficult for me. So, if you meet me, & I seem not quite what I am online. Please don't be shocked or insulted. Right now at least, I pretty much laugh every time I watch a scene from Person of Interest which has Finch saying: "You know, I'm a very private person." I'm with you Finch. Totally get that. Me too. [& now I'm talking to a fictional character. Unique, the "polite" adjective used to describe me. There ARE others. Most of those you can't say in church]
So, to borrow from Yoda: "Much to learn, you still have." Yes, I'm afraid I do. I don't want to just share some "airbrushed imagining" of myself here. Which is why I bother to share this. I'm broken too. Hoping to keep on learning. To keep striving for better. To grow in positive directions.
Now for a "mish-mash" of news.
As I tweeted the other day, I burned myself on the oven door. My arm, no biggie. It's not bad. About 1 1/2 inches long, by about 1/2 inch wide at one end, & one inch wide at the other. I'm just hoping that I can keep from picking at it when it gets to that stage. I am horrible with that. Picking at wounds. I really cannot remember a time when I wasn't like this. I have learned some things that help me to stave this off. However the best way is to be a little better with my surroundings. So that was my "come on, B. Your better than this." moment.
I finally posted some pictures on facebook again. It was time. A friend was even asking me to. Which was nice. I've got some I need to go through & post more of. A few concert pictures from Monday a week ago. I still haven't gone through. And Saturday might just be a time to write. Like take a few hours & write. I have a "bottleneck" of posts in my head.
And then there is a book I have recently begun to read. This book is unique. You might see it & think you know what I mean... only you really don't. As I read it I feel guilty. I probably shouldn't. Yet I kind of do. I showed it to a friend. He asked me to share my thoughts on it. "Somehow, it's'll probably think this is strange. Like reading a person's private journal from their days in prison. Only to realize that...'hey, I remember that place...I served time there too." It's a bit unsettling to read a book for the first time.  Feeling like someone crawled into your head & wrote down your feelings in their own words. Changed a precious few things, to throw people off the trail that it's you. Then publish it.
Every therapist I've ever shared with has told me: "Don't you feel better knowing someone else has been through this?" Me:"ah, no. Why would I want someone else to go through something that's anything like this?" I think I have a little bit of an understanding of that statement, now. However, this too, has given me MUCH to write about. So I guess for tonight I'm off. To read & write. Photograph...oh, & I got a guitar pick from a new friend. So I'll have to squeak in some time to fiddle with that. [yeah, I'm now trying to dust off my guitars & play around a little] So this weekend might be a bit of "short attention span theater." Hard to say.
And yes... I like the Beatles. Looking forward to the tribute on Sun.
Songs I hope to hear? 2 among them are:
Come Together [ironic, no?] And
Michelle. I can still remember learning to play this. And then "playing" with it. My teacher helped me to learn strumming techniques with this song. We played it every way we could think of. A country strum, jazzy kind of strum, "The Police" strum, reggae, classical, "string skipping" deal, "More Than Words" kind of strum. We even did it in power chords, kind of a "Green Day" deal. Such fun! Oh, I asked my uncle what the French line is in English. "Michelle, My beautiful, these are words that go very well together." So it's not a deep song... deal with it.
A side note. I'll know I'm getting my fingers back into shape guitar wise... when I can play the solo from the album version of More Than Words. [and every time I listen to this I hear a third voice part. Thanks to my friend Matt Frigm. And I sing that part when no one's around.] Now I'm thinking of Steve Vai's instrumental song: I would love to. Just because it begins with: "you know I'm very, very shy".
Thank you,
and good night. [too rock 'n roll?]

May His grace drip from your fingers,