"Here on this ring of grass we have sat together, bound by the
tremendous power of some inner compulsion. The trees wave, the clouds
pass. The time approaches when these soliloquies shall be shared. We
shall not always give out a sound like a beaten gong as one sensation
strikes and then another. Children, our lives have been gongs
striking; clamour and boasting; cries of despair; blows on the nape of
the neck in gardens.
"Now, grass and trees, the travelling air blowing empty spaces in the
blue which they then recover, shaking the leaves which then replace
themselves, and our ring here, sitting, with our arms binding our
knees, hint at some other order, and better, which makes a reason
-- Virginia Woolf - The Waves
I'm Ed and I went away for a while, and I missed everyone and I came
back and now I'm going to sit in the tent we went to Glastonbury with
and wrap my knees in a big blue blanket and set up all my musical
equipment and hopefully people will come in and make songs and noises
and ideas with me (or play Scrabble) and then we'll perform them all
on Sunday and either pretend like we know what we're doing or not care
that we don't.
I tend to make scrappy little shreds of songs with my retrograde
tracker software, broken instruments, and ropey ol' singing voice.
Whether friend or stranger, musician or not, please consider this
short, oblique text your formal invitation to come say hello and, if
the mood takes you, join in. You would be warmly welcome.