When I realized I had to move on to the next step in doing the ear-training exercises I was sort of intimidated by the fact that the next logical step would be to take on the Jazz Chords. I dialed up the first set of exercises and what I hoped would be fairly simple process to practice. I was wrong. I was back to square one like i was with the inversion exercises. I didn't know what any of the chord options they provided to choose from. Okay, maybe one or two of them. I already knew what a minor seventh should sound like.
The 'Fixed Root" option would apply, so all the exercises would be based on that fixed root. I needed a way to figure out what the chord names meant before I could work the exercises. I backed out of the ear training sight and decided to Google up "Jazz Chords" to see if I could find some information that would resolve my dilemma.
I got lucky. The second link in the result page turned up this site:
http://www.apassion4jazz.net/keys.html
It not only provides names for all the possible chords, jazz or not, and shows which piano keys to press to see what it sounds like. I intended to take the information this site provided and spell out the chord options provided by the ear-training site. I bought a staff book for this very purpose, but the staff lines in it are printed so close together I can't draw the notes in, so I used some graph paper and drew out staff lines big enough for me to write out the chords. Then, I penned in the chords with the labels I got from the ear training site and looked them up on the "a passion for jazz" site. Hopefully, one of these days I won't have to stop to look everything up each time I need it.
I began to understand what was going on much quicker than I expected. I figured out which chord the server played by looking at the chords I spelled out. I could have gone back to the chord chart site where it showed the exact piano keys to press, but i wanted to read the stuff I drew myself to see what happened.
I was able to follow the same process I used to figure out the major, minor, diminished, sus 4th, and augmented 5th chords. I had to put my fingers on the right keyboard notes and play them to figure out my answer. I started out with the root triad, which in this case was C#, and figured out which fingers I had to move or add to come up with the same sound the server provided. When I got eight out of ten right the first time, I knew I was on to something. This was doable.
I don't know why I didn't realize the next step would be based on the last step. It always has. For me, anyway. I got so happy when I figured out for myself the fixed root was C#. I think doing this stuff with a piano keyboard is one of the main reasons I've been able to understand the little bit I have. It's so right there in front of me, and all I have to do is count out the notes one by one if I have to, at least I can, eventually, and that's a big deal to me.
All of this still serves the single purpose I have in trying to learn this stuff. I wanna be able to sit down in front of a keyboard, lay my fingers randomly on the keys, and start figuring out where I want to go from here for as long as it pleases me. If what I do next is jazz or blues or blue suede shoes that's just fine. I got a feeling that where this takes me might end up being a big surprise.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I finally saw the trough that drains where those big mountains were east of the Appalachian range on Google Earth. It drains into the Pee Dee River basin. The Appalachian range ain't all that young, but it upsurged into being in between the western slope of this huge extinct mountain range. There is not much left of the old mountain range. What's left of the old peaks can be seen when approached from the west on U.S.64 just before you descend into the Yadkin River valley.
There is not enough left of the old mountains to suspect the original upsurge went as high or higher than the Himalayas. Right here in North America. It may not be all that unusual for mountains to reach for the sky like that over the eons, and then tumble back into the oceans. The southern end of the Andes mountain range is said to be approaching the height of the Himalayas right now. People are having to find another place to live. Hasn't it always been thus? If it ain't one thing, then it's another.
There are a bunch of programs on PBS about what's going on in North Carolina. They are made locally and seem a little hokey, but some of them are fairly informative. One of those programs is about the new grape wineries locating in the Yadkin River valley. The Yadkin River is what drains the western edge of those old worn down mountains and the foot hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which are a part of the Appalachian Range.
The land they're growing grapes on now with such success in the Yadkin Valley is some old dirt. It's what's left after all the rocks rotted and eroded away. What don't rot or are the last to rot away are sometime semi-precious stones. Even high quality emeralds and some diamonds. This only happens on really old dirt that used to be mostly rocks. It apparently takes a long time for the lesser stone to rot away from the jewel stones.
This area seems like an ideal place for growing wine grapes. Probably better than California. When I win the lottery, I'm gonna buy all the land I can get in the Yadkin Valley. It's relatively cheap now, but it won't be for very long.
They grow grapes here on the coastal plains too, but it's really too muggy here for anything but the native grapes like muscadine to thrive. The rotting in the swamps here on the coastal plains literally heats the air just above it and it hangs in the air because it's so flat. People get fungi in their lungs here from constantly breathing this trapped swamp air. According to the seasons and the various spores floating around in the bottom of the barrel, they can turn into vampires through positive hallucination. European grape stocks seem to need more drainage than we got here from the air and water. They both move too slowly here. The delicately refined European rootstock find it difficult to reproduce here because literally get the vapors.
There is not enough left of the old mountains to suspect the original upsurge went as high or higher than the Himalayas. Right here in North America. It may not be all that unusual for mountains to reach for the sky like that over the eons, and then tumble back into the oceans. The southern end of the Andes mountain range is said to be approaching the height of the Himalayas right now. People are having to find another place to live. Hasn't it always been thus? If it ain't one thing, then it's another.
There are a bunch of programs on PBS about what's going on in North Carolina. They are made locally and seem a little hokey, but some of them are fairly informative. One of those programs is about the new grape wineries locating in the Yadkin River valley. The Yadkin River is what drains the western edge of those old worn down mountains and the foot hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which are a part of the Appalachian Range.
The land they're growing grapes on now with such success in the Yadkin Valley is some old dirt. It's what's left after all the rocks rotted and eroded away. What don't rot or are the last to rot away are sometime semi-precious stones. Even high quality emeralds and some diamonds. This only happens on really old dirt that used to be mostly rocks. It apparently takes a long time for the lesser stone to rot away from the jewel stones.
This area seems like an ideal place for growing wine grapes. Probably better than California. When I win the lottery, I'm gonna buy all the land I can get in the Yadkin Valley. It's relatively cheap now, but it won't be for very long.
They grow grapes here on the coastal plains too, but it's really too muggy here for anything but the native grapes like muscadine to thrive. The rotting in the swamps here on the coastal plains literally heats the air just above it and it hangs in the air because it's so flat. People get fungi in their lungs here from constantly breathing this trapped swamp air. According to the seasons and the various spores floating around in the bottom of the barrel, they can turn into vampires through positive hallucination. European grape stocks seem to need more drainage than we got here from the air and water. They both move too slowly here. The delicately refined European rootstock find it difficult to reproduce here because literally get the vapors.
Monday, January 14, 2008
My hands are dry and slide across the keys easily. Low humidity. Low temperatures. Winter. The forecast is for it to get cold and stay that way for a while. I've got my own ideas about that. My forecasts are as good as the professionals if not better. Half the weather report on the six o'clock is these guys teaching us about their new toys. I think they've got too much information to make sense of any of it consistently. People get too serious about the weather. It's just something to talk about. It's just something to say. It's just another birdsong that never was meant to have any other meaning except as it relates to procreation.
I don't look at weather the way I used to. I've spent much of my life outside. I never actually intended for it to be that way. I've never had any problems with being inside or with sitting on my ass for long periods of time. I bummed around and traveled as a homeless person for at least a decade on and off, and then when i finally became a journeyman craftsman it was working a trade that did most of their work outside in the open air. Some jobs were inside, but most were not.
I never meant to work in the construction trade as a pipewelder/fitter. It was just easy money. I knew how to survive in that world. To me it was a good way to get some money pretty fast. Practically every job I worked on for over twenty years was always gonna be the last one. Most of the time I worked for the large construction companies. They pay the most money when they're hiring. They're the quickest to lay you off when the dealings done. That was a good thing for everybody. It's a tough world where the hard part is to stay emotionally uninvested.
The first job I got as a pipewelder was with the shipyard that trained me to be one. Previous to their hiring me I was just a dependable hand with basic welding skills and no experience. I showed up. That was ninety-five percent of holding on to your job. As far as I was concerned, they were giving money away. I wasn't about to miss work if they were going to pay me just to show up.
I was thirty five years old when I first learned to weld. Most of the jobs i had before I learned to weld were equivalent to being a burger flipper or some sort of assistant manager's job where I got sick of being there for the little of nothing they paid me. When i started welding my pay even as a green hand was at least twice the minimum wage, and the people I worked for acted pleased to have me there.
I got paid every Friday, and it was enough to pay our bills and put a little something back for a rainy day. Working at that shipyard was some of the happiest marital periods of my life. It was a steady job that paid decent money. Who can't have a good marriage when the bills get paid? Apparently me.
It was the money that pipewelders made working industrial construction that attracted me. I was making decent money at the shipyard. My family was living in one of the first decent apartments we'd had for a year or two. I didn't leave well-enough alone. I wanted to be where nobody knew my name. I can not be there when you need me with the best of 'em.
The Winged Seraph
Where in the void of thoughtless passion
can the passion of thought be called love?
In the passion of love no limits of ration
can surpass the peace of a dove.
That a dove is at peace is apparent
when seen in subliminal flight,
and it flies without reference to thinking,
and it's instincts make love out of sight.
January, 1972
I never actually knew why I wrote poetry. I stopped writing after I got up with the woman who was to become my second wife. The poem above was composed to contain an attitude. I wanted to preserve the attitude the poem contains for selfish reasons. By reciting the poem as a mantram or chant I can reinstitute the original attitude, and by displaying that attitude in the prevailing situation can turn it about in what some take to be fair play. It allows me to let a lotta things pass without being duped.
Poems can act like force fields might if force fields were actually real. I don't try to change the world to suit my needs. Some people do and doing that works just fine for them. I change my attitude, because in essence that's all it is that I am.
I had to look up the term "dissemble" in several dictionaries to satisfy myself with what it was supposed to mean. In the way I had seen it used, it means to feign insanity, but it could also be used if the pretender wasn't pretending.
Feigning insanity can act as a very powerful mojo. The only real problem in pulling it off as a successful strategy is being able to come across as the real deal. If such can be made so, however, many, if not most, people will respond to the possibility they are confronted with an insane person, as if they encountered a deadly snake. That's a very desirable response sometime, but only if my act works, and I appear plausible and convincing.
The term "ring-pass-me-not" may not be clear as it could be to me. I remember it as a phrase that implies a specific distance away from a starting point at which an airplane leaving New York on a transatlantic flight to Paris can't turn back to New York, because after a certain distance away from New York, they only have enough fuel to get them where they're going.
It's about the same way as when I need people to think I'm insane for my own selfish purposes. Once i commit to the role I have to carry through all the way to Paree.
I don't look at weather the way I used to. I've spent much of my life outside. I never actually intended for it to be that way. I've never had any problems with being inside or with sitting on my ass for long periods of time. I bummed around and traveled as a homeless person for at least a decade on and off, and then when i finally became a journeyman craftsman it was working a trade that did most of their work outside in the open air. Some jobs were inside, but most were not.
I never meant to work in the construction trade as a pipewelder/fitter. It was just easy money. I knew how to survive in that world. To me it was a good way to get some money pretty fast. Practically every job I worked on for over twenty years was always gonna be the last one. Most of the time I worked for the large construction companies. They pay the most money when they're hiring. They're the quickest to lay you off when the dealings done. That was a good thing for everybody. It's a tough world where the hard part is to stay emotionally uninvested.
The first job I got as a pipewelder was with the shipyard that trained me to be one. Previous to their hiring me I was just a dependable hand with basic welding skills and no experience. I showed up. That was ninety-five percent of holding on to your job. As far as I was concerned, they were giving money away. I wasn't about to miss work if they were going to pay me just to show up.
I was thirty five years old when I first learned to weld. Most of the jobs i had before I learned to weld were equivalent to being a burger flipper or some sort of assistant manager's job where I got sick of being there for the little of nothing they paid me. When i started welding my pay even as a green hand was at least twice the minimum wage, and the people I worked for acted pleased to have me there.
I got paid every Friday, and it was enough to pay our bills and put a little something back for a rainy day. Working at that shipyard was some of the happiest marital periods of my life. It was a steady job that paid decent money. Who can't have a good marriage when the bills get paid? Apparently me.
It was the money that pipewelders made working industrial construction that attracted me. I was making decent money at the shipyard. My family was living in one of the first decent apartments we'd had for a year or two. I didn't leave well-enough alone. I wanted to be where nobody knew my name. I can not be there when you need me with the best of 'em.
The Winged Seraph
Where in the void of thoughtless passion
can the passion of thought be called love?
In the passion of love no limits of ration
can surpass the peace of a dove.
That a dove is at peace is apparent
when seen in subliminal flight,
and it flies without reference to thinking,
and it's instincts make love out of sight.
January, 1972
I never actually knew why I wrote poetry. I stopped writing after I got up with the woman who was to become my second wife. The poem above was composed to contain an attitude. I wanted to preserve the attitude the poem contains for selfish reasons. By reciting the poem as a mantram or chant I can reinstitute the original attitude, and by displaying that attitude in the prevailing situation can turn it about in what some take to be fair play. It allows me to let a lotta things pass without being duped.
Poems can act like force fields might if force fields were actually real. I don't try to change the world to suit my needs. Some people do and doing that works just fine for them. I change my attitude, because in essence that's all it is that I am.
I had to look up the term "dissemble" in several dictionaries to satisfy myself with what it was supposed to mean. In the way I had seen it used, it means to feign insanity, but it could also be used if the pretender wasn't pretending.
Feigning insanity can act as a very powerful mojo. The only real problem in pulling it off as a successful strategy is being able to come across as the real deal. If such can be made so, however, many, if not most, people will respond to the possibility they are confronted with an insane person, as if they encountered a deadly snake. That's a very desirable response sometime, but only if my act works, and I appear plausible and convincing.
The term "ring-pass-me-not" may not be clear as it could be to me. I remember it as a phrase that implies a specific distance away from a starting point at which an airplane leaving New York on a transatlantic flight to Paris can't turn back to New York, because after a certain distance away from New York, they only have enough fuel to get them where they're going.
It's about the same way as when I need people to think I'm insane for my own selfish purposes. Once i commit to the role I have to carry through all the way to Paree.