Someone Could Walk Into This Room And

...everything Looks Worse In Black And White.

Someone Told Me It's All Happening At The Zoo.

My Voice Is My Improvisational Instrument, The Melody Instrument. The Guitar Is Harmonic Structure. I'm Not A Good Enough Guitarist To Improvise On It.

Maybe The Heart Is Part Of The Mist. And That's All That There Is Or Could Ever Exist. Maybe And Maybe And Maybe Some More. Maybe's The Exit That I'm Looking For.

You Sit And You Let Your Fingers Go To Wherever They Are Going To Go. You Wait Until You Start To Hear Something, And You Start To Figure Out What It Is That You're Doing. And Then You Add Another Piece Next To That Piece, And Wait To See If Some Kind Of Pattern Or Something Interesting Starts To Grow, And Then You Cultivate It.