Sheepishly I am forced to admit that the modest target of 12 pieces in 2012 is turning out to be too ambitious. The process of actually learning to play jazz piano is soaking up time. But with that come new ideas and things to try in my mind.
Ideas are forming and reforming. Swimming up to the surface so that I catch glimpses. Rose moles all in stipple on trout that swim.* But I guess the flies aren't done hatching yet, or whatever, because they're not biting on the end of my line. I see blops and concentric rings where they break the surface by the banks on the other side. I know they're there, I just have to be patient.
I found this Dorothy Parker Poem in a book of comic poems I bought for 33p in St Leondards on Sea in the gap between train arrival and drum rehearsal.
Indian Summer
Then I looked at some other DP poems on the internet and started thinking about how inviting they seemed for setting. Probably swing. Wry and zesty alternatives to the red roses/ deep gloom of so many love songs.
This morning I was practising using chromatic passing notes on C6. Delicious. And I caught a taste of something that made me think about this poem.
Neither Bloody Nor Bowed
And oh now I have currents to explore.
* Gerard Manley Hopkins, Pied Beauty.
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