a new www.johnwatt.ca

John Watt

Member
canhthongxanhtq! I thought I was just being a thread killer here, but your reply is surprising.
Both links led to a lot of animated and font graphics, looking really good.

All I can begin to think is you are oriental, thinking Cambodian or Taiwanese.
One of my Gaelic ancestors helped the Japanese start the Bank of Japan,
and he negotiated the hundred year lease for Hong Kong.
Another ancestor of mine was the only white man allowed to have property and live in China,
after the opium war. I'm surprised how many young Chinese people over here have never heard of it.

South of Simcoe is where I have been, a few times, a hundred miles from here.

I just published a new domain last night. www.johnwatt.ca

And if you've lost enough of your sense of reality,
to think you can quote me and send a foreign language,
as some kind of message, when your name doesn't even make sense,
it's not a nice try. Either way, I just let the font fly.
 
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John Watt

Member
Sometimes life can be like a box of musicians,
sitting in the pit, waiting for the sheet music to be handed out.

When I was severely poisoned and kept in a one-door closet for three months,
my parents agreed I looked bad, felt bad, and wasn't in the mood for art or music,
or working anywhere. So I went back to high school at the age of twenty.
Because of my previous art grades and success out of high school,
I was told I couldn't take art again, and if I was starting to play electric guitar,
maybe I could start at grade nine in music.

I wanted to meet with the music teacher first, having my own guitar ambitions,
but he gave me my first lesson about symphonic instruments and the nature of his lessons.
I had to agree that my first choice of instrument, the French Horn, was wrong.
My lips were too big and soft, not catching any umbrature.
He thought if I sat at the back playing cornet, I'd get into it, talking about jazzers.
I thought the cornet looked more like a marching band instrument,
so I went back to a neighbourhood where I used to live in Toronto when I was nineteen,
and bought a nice trumpet and case at a pawn shop. That year was fun for me.

The music teacher also thought I should volunteer in the pit band for "Hello Dolly".
He said there were guitar parts and banjo parts to play, and I could help get it together.
I'd bring my 100 watt Marshall head, one cabinet, and effects, and set up early,
and turn it up in the auditorium to riff out, no-one complaining about that.
That was the same stage where I saw The Wicked Wilson Pickett and Lighthouse.

What surprised everyone, and what made everyone think we sounded for real,
was my banjo imitation. It was easy to do the riverboat fast strumming,
but I used a piece of cigarette foil wrapped around the strings by the bridge,
to sound exactly like one, alternating between soft guitar chords and banjo sounds.

I was still switching effects, playing both parts kept me busy playing, not waiting at all,
and I was sad to see the show come to a close.
There was something stately about getting to the end, starting the theme up slowly,
all the cast slow waltzing onto the stage, even some audience members singing out loud,
"hello Dolly, it's so nice to see you back where you belong,
you're looking swell, fella, I can tell, fella, you're coming back and you'll be strong".
That's how the music made me feel.

Sometimes music can feel like you're sitting in a pit,
your head down, your audience vision not getting into it.
But when the isolated swirl of sound of all the types of instruments,
catches you up into the music, absorbing all your energies,
it's the head-space above you that opens up a new focus,
making you look up to see where all this inspiration and sound disappears.
I've made enough sounds in my life.
Now I want to follow them and be where they go.
 
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John Watt

Member
The new John Watt as a 65 year old man, my birthday early this month,
isn't afraid to get into bar band and disco humour with little old ladies,
flirting and skirting around them, acting out like the single man I am.
The St.Vincent dePaul store where really nice music and art books show up,
buying them for trade or book store credits, where I got the pre-1870 Mendellsohn book,
get into it with me.
When I was there yesterday, them knowing I stayed alone for my birthday,
looking for some dish towels and a pillow case,
these little old ladies said if all you want for a 65 year old birthday present,
is having your first wet dream, here, you can have this for 25 cents.

No matter what anyone else can think about my non-porn owning self,
having a satin pillow is going to be a difficult place to rest my head,
because I know,
"satin pillows to lie on, satin pillows to cry on" and how that goes.

With my plum coloured wool blanket, black and red tartan wool blanket, and red sheets,
all of my bed is red now. Is tumescent red a colour?
Tonight, I think I'll try laying face down on my bed,
and see if I can see into a world inside my mattress,
and go nuff nuff nuff, like bunnies do.

satin pillow.JPG
 

John Watt

Member
It takes a lot to hurt my heart, even forgetting how that felt.
But my heart is heavy today, after this unexpected generosity.
Someone who wishes to remain anonymous,
left these Jimi Hendrix products at a friends store for me to have.
I always felt the best for Jimi, my favorite music of his my favorite music.
I used to say there were two kinds of music, Jimi and everyone else.
That was as much about the depth and variety of stereo movements,
all the various sounds and studio recording techniques he used,
as it was about his fingers and how he played guitar left-handed.
That's because I'm a lefty too.

But after reading this very detailed book, written by the people he worked with,
and the people he played with, went out with and had for girlfriends,
I have a heavy heart, changing my facts and understandings,
of the kind of man he was and what he did with his life, and talents.

When Jimi passed away, a carload of us went to the "hippy cinema" in Hamilton,
to see this movie, and I haven't seen it since.
It's interesting now to see how Jimi used his equipment as his instrument onstage,
and playing with drums and bass, created such dynamics and sound variations.
That's still a lesson for me, even if he wasn't jazzy or classical with his fingers.
That would be hard to do, because he carried a huge volume, tones and sounds,
like the rhythm section of a big jazz band, with bass and added notes.
When I saw Jimi in 1969, I didn't own an electric guitar, and didn't know barre chords.

The letter from Jim Dunlop Manufacturing is there just to show my involvement with many Crybaby pedals.
I often wondered why, as a serious Jimi Hendrix fan, I never got into recording, not at all.
Now I have many more reasons to be happy I didn't.
And please, these are North American reasons, criminal at best.


Jimi Sessions.jpgJimi DVD.jpgJim Dunlop.jpg
 
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