12 is a magic number

It is. Twelve is a magic number.

Oh I know what you're thinking.

Three . . . It's three that's the magic number!

But you're so incredibly wrong.

you're incredibly wrong by one fourth.

You're wrong by one half squared.

Okay enough of the math jokes.

Twelve is the magic number not only for its math joke capability, but it is also the number of strings on one of my guitars.

Why is that magic? you ask. Well, a few days ago I wrote about how I was torturing myself trying to create a song around a single stanza that I couldn't get out of my head.

"Only hope draws a solid line. I can see why you would need to dance for better days"

Man, it just says so much that I wanted to say in the next piece I write. But it's self contained. It is it's own beginning middle and end.

But so far its like a really great line out of a really bad movie. I have nowhere to go. So I took up the usual haunts.

First I sat in the living room where all the noise of the household was around me and tried to pluck my way through. That just made me tense. Then I waited until the house fell asleep and snuck into the quiet of the garage to test my skills. Nothing, and its cold in the garage. then I tried that usual failsafe of waiting till the household goes to bed and opening up a bottle ot scotch and just keep sipping off the highball until an idea comes or I pass out. (This is of course my favorite method, but my wife won't touch me for three days because she insists that I still smell of sweat and alchohol.) And then there's the last method.

I change instruments.

This method I came by naturally, cause I don't play any instrument particularly well, and I discovered that it was also a favorite of almost all the songwriters I admire most.

Changing instruments enlivens. It changes the phrasing and the voice. When banging on an unfamiliar instrument, suddenly all the world is possible, and any rut that I may have carved into my mind is filled with new sounds and ideas.

when I write, I almost always start with my six string. If and when that fails, I'll make a leap over to the piano. (I don't play piano past the first three chapters of a beginners manual, but the mistakes I make usually lead me to find a different direction.)

Sometimes I'll move to the bass guitar, but I have no rhythym and its doesn't last long before I go to something else. maybe the cello? Maybe the ukelele? Maybe my dad's ovation. Nope wait. He took that back.

But today. while calvin slept, i took out my old beat up twelve string and tried the phrase once agian.

and there it was.

the bright twangy sound exploded and a song was begun.

twelve.

its magic.