The latest, and sadly last, issue of ouroboros review is out. I’ve got a photograph in there. Look for “Rolling Bottle” on page 4 (you can read it online). The photo first appeared here at Coyote Mercury back in 2006 along with some others I took in Gruene.

Dave Bonta’s Woodrat Podcast is back. The first two episodes of this season are well worth the time. He finds very interesting guests and their conversations are always worth a listen, especially his interview with Lorianne DiSabato where they discuss nature writing, old school blogging and zen practice. DiSabato blogs at Hoarded Ordinaries, a site I’ll be checking out.

Remember that video I made for “drylung” from Clayton Michaels’ chapbook Watermark? Well, Watermark is available and it’s fantastic. You can read it in its online form or even better buy a copy. You can also listen to his interview on the Woodrat Podcast.

While you’re going around listening to the web, stop and have a listen to the poems at Whale Sound a mesmerizing project where Nic Sebastian reads poems written by other poets. She does a brilliant job with these pieces. I’ve listened to her reading of “At Ruby’s Diner” by Sherry O’Keefe several times and it just gets better and better each time.

And, finally, it appears there is another James Brush out there and I’m not talking about my dad. Count him and it seems we’re everywhere. Check out the other James’s site and dig his art at jamesbrush.com.

This is my first attempt at making a cigar box guitar. In last Sunday’s Austin American-Statesman, there was an article (can’t find it on the site so no link) about 2 guys who make and sell cigar box guitars under the name Bobby Taylor Guitars. They’re based here in Austin, and the article made the guitars sound so cool, I thought about going out to find one. The article also mentioned a few websites with plans for building your own, which sounded like more fun than buying one. Thus building a cigar box ax became my project for the week.

The plan I used was for a simple 3-string fretless guitar that relies more on parts from Radio Shack and Lowe’s than anything from a music store. The plan for this simple guitar is available at Cigar Box Guitars, though I used many ideas and relied on a lot of insights in the forums at Cigar Box Nation, especially for wiring.

I’m a rank amateur when it come to carpentry. My dad is talented in woodworking and though he taught me the “measure twice, cut once” rule, I’m still at the “measure twice, cut twice, screw it up, fix it, and improvise to get it right” level. Because of this, I decided I wasn’t going to worry too much about how it looked and hell, it’s a DIY cigar box ax: if it looks kind of jacked up, then that just makes it look more punk. Fine with me. I just wanted it to work and sound cool.

On Monday, I gathered all the supplies. I got the wood, a 3-foot 1×2 of poplar, and various bolts and nails at Lowe’s. I got the pickup (a piezo transducer) and 1/4 inch output jack at Radio Shack. The tuners and the volume pot came from Strait Music. The cigar box came from the Twin Liquors down the street and seemed to be the only empty cigar box in town. I’d have preferred a deeper one, but in the spirit of use-what-you-got, I took what I could get.

Cutting the neck to fit the box was the trickiest part. I went to my parents’ house to get some help from my dad since I don’t even have a workbench. We experimented with a bandsaw, jigsaw, coping saw and various weapons of sanding. In the end, and for future reference, the jigsaw was fine for most of the cutting, followed by various files and a pocket knife to finish and get the cuts just right.

I read about fretting the neck and understand the principle, but a guitar has around 20 frets and that sounded to me like 20 opportunities to screw up the neck beyond repair and so I decided it would be a fretless ax and moved on to staining the neck.

Once the stain was dry, I put it together. My cuts in the cigar box weren’t perfect and so I nailed the neck to the box lid with small finishing nails (rather than gluing it). Then I strung it up and wrestled with physics, one of the more unforgiving teachers. Here is where I had to go off plan. The first issue was that as I tuned the strings to pitch, they dug into the wood of the tailpiece. As they cut the wood, they lost tension and so I couldn’t tune them. I needed some metal to stick into the string holes.

I went back to Lowe’s and wandered up and down the aisles looking for something that might work. In the plumbing department, I found some little pieces of copper tubing with flared ends. They weren’t as thick as the tailpiece and it looked like the balls on the ends of the strings might not go through them. I bought a few, widened the string holes and glued them in.

That solved the strings cutting the wood problem, but the balls on the ends of the strings could slide up the tubes, so I used this solution, which I saw in a picture on Cigar Box Nation:

You can see holes, where I tried staples, but that didn’t work as well as the nail. This works, though, it does mean that changing even one string will require me to de-tune all three in order to release the tension on the nail.

The other string related issue was the fact that the middle string wanted to be too close to the low string. Because I’m using bolts instead of a “real” (ie: cut) nut and bridge, the strings will slip into the most natural groove, but I needed the middle string moved slightly downward. I remembered the string guides on Stratocasters and figured I could just drive a fat screw in there and perhaps it would work. It did, and now I have a nice ugly DIY-looking headstock:

Believe it or not, it works and the thing stays in tune.

Next up was the wiring. I haven’t soldered anything since 7th grade electronics class so this took some practice. The plans I used say to just hook the piezo transducer to the output jack, but I wanted a volume pot in there so I had to search around, but I found a simple wiring diagram at Cigar Box Nation. I wired it up, but could never get the ground wires soldered onto the back of the volume pot. After reading that real electric guitars use the bridge as the ground, I decided to just run the ground wire out of the back of the box (that black wire in the detail photos above) and wrap it around the bolt I’m using for a bridge. To my surprise, it worked.

Now it was time to tune up. I tried acoustic strings hoping to get more volume since the box is so thin, but they kept breaking. Electric guitar strings, however, work quite well. They’re thinner and require less tension. The source of the breaking turned out to be scale length (the distance between nut and bridge, aka, the 2 bolts). A longer scale equals more tension. I measured the scale length and found it was almost 2 inches longer than the scale length on my other guitars, but shorter than bass scale length. Had I known about this, I would have cut 2 inches off the neck, so that info will get filed away for the next one.

The thing turns out to be playable. The action is kind of high, so next time, I’ll use a slightly thinner bolt for the nut. Not having frets will take some getting used to; my fingers generally know where to go, but with the longer scale I have to spread them slightly farther than I would on a regular guitar. Fretless guitars are best played with a slide so I’ll learn how to do that.

I initially tuned to E-A-D like on a standard guitar and while that was fun, I think I’ll get more mileage from an open tuning, which is what a lot of the cigar box guitar sites recommend. Right now, I’ve got it tuned to open G (G-D-G) which lends itself to slide playing. Still, it’s a new beast and now that it’s built I get the fun of figuring out how to play it.

Coming out of my amp, it sounds old fashioned: tinny and mid-rangey like an A.M. radio. I like it. The piezo doesn’t pick up a whole lot of vibration since the lid is thicker than an acoustic guitar top and the box is thin. A pre-amp would probably be useful (there are kits to make your own) but I plugged it into an overdrive pedal and that works for now.

In all, this was a wonderful experience. I was telling a friend just last week that wish I knew how to make things. He said, “You make poems.” I nodded and while I love making poems and stories and content, there’s something immensely satisfying about the making of things. Especially things that work. I don’t know why, but it makes me happy. I don’t know how many hours I spent sanding and soldering (and re-soldering) but I really enjoyed the doing of it.

I plan to make more of these. I have a very cool cigar box that I didn’t want to ruin on my first build so I’ll be making it into a guitar one day. I’d also like to build one with proper electric guitar pickups, maybe a nice, growling, dirty humbucker. That will however be a project for cooler weather. One thing I vowed never to do again is build a guitar when it’s 103°F outside. In the shade. Thank goodness for TopoChico.

Now have a listen. The clip is about a minute or so. The 1st 30 seconds are acoustic and the rest is through the amp. The buzzing and crackling you’ll hear is the amp, which needs some work. The slide work is clumsy (you can hear me knocking it against the neck). I’m just guessing at the fingering since I don’t really know how to play a fretless instrument yet. Anyhow, enjoy (if that’s the right word):

I’ll be learning to play by watching this guy.

Flying west over the diamond, egrets glow orange in the setting sun as they round second base and head over and beyond third, deep into foul ball territory. It’s good to watch the sky. You might see birds, perhaps an owl. You might see free-tail bats racing through the insect swarms around the stadium lights. You might even see that foul ball coming right at you. Hopefully you have a hat to use for a glove; otherwise, that ball will sting when it smashes into your palm.

The year Andy Pettitte came down from the Astros for some rehab work, the cars were an extension of the first base line, stretching down 79 all the way to the interstate. He stood above the opposition like Goliath facing 9 Davids, but wanting to give them hope, he let them stay in the game until sometime in the 6^th when he decided it was over. Then, the only bats we heard were the ones hunting insects in the glow above.

In the minor leagues, we are ladies and gentlemen and respect the good play. Sure, things can get rowdy on Thursday nights when the beers and dogs go for a buck, but stout applause greets any man who plays well. Home runs, doubles, triples, we’ll cheer work well done whether by the home team or the visitors.

There are stormtroopers, Jedi knights and even Boba Fett wandering around the stadium. I don’t know why. There could be trouble. A stormtrooper stops near our section, pauses while everyone takes his picture. He looks so real, I worry that he’ll ask to see the papers for my droids and I’ll have to blast my way back to my ship—a real piece of junk, but she’ll make point-five past light speed. Made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs, I tell anyone who will listen.

In the front of section 119 almost everyone has a radar gun, held toward home in steady hands, measuring each pitcher’s worth and tallying the results in worn notebooks. These radar guns are windows to the future flashing the potential greatness of up-and-comers in red digital miles-per-hour, but they are also portals to the past documenting the steady irreversible slowing of arms that once threw lightning in the big leagues.

There is a crack, and the crowd silences as the ball sails over the outfield. You can hear the prayers, the screams and cheers waiting on thousands of lips. If the ball falls short, the stadium will sigh. When it clears the wall, the crowd lets go. Did you see that? we all ask whoever’s closest, but they don’t answer because they’re asking the same question. Hats circulate through the crowd, collecting fives, tens (twenties on those one-dollar Thursdays), tips for the batter, that master of physics, who stopped and restarted time with nothing more complicated than a wooden stick.

Some nights it all comes down to the bottom of the 9^th. One more strike and the game is over. Or one good hit and the game is over. It could go either way. There is only the pitcher and the batter staring one another down. There is nothing else in the world. Soon even the players are gone as the pitch is released. All that is left is a small sphere hurtling through space toward a future we can only imagine.

Now that February is half-gone and winter winding down, I’m starting to think about my garden again. It’s in the shade of the house so it only gets direct light in spring, summer and early autumn. In the hottest part of summer, it gets 5 or 6 hours of sun, not much, but it protects the plants from the extreme heat that kills many other gardens.

I once spoke with a gardener who claimed the best things to plant in the midst of a Texas summer are “your feet on the coffee table,” but my shady garden is almost pleasant even in July. Of course, the trade-off is a lack of winter gardening, but the break is nice. It’s good to return to it after letting it lie for a few months.

I’m still finding shards of broken glass from last June’s hailstorm so I need to remember to wear gloves, but looking at the empty beds and imagining the the good things that will be growing there soon fills me with anticipation. I love the work of gardening, which is good since the possum and birds make off with a lot of the produce.

As per the dictates of tradition, I post the same old picture I’ve posted every New Year’s Eve since I started blogging.

2009, like many years, was a year.

Have a good 2010. See you on the other side.

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but blogging has taken a backseat, so at long last, some links to cool sites I’ve discovered of late…

Stop #1.

For months, I’ve been meaning to write about fellow Austinite Lavanna Martin who has one of the most interesting blogs I’ve seen in quite some time. She paints people in coffee shops, often without their knowledge, and posts them on her site: I Stare at People. Lately she’s been painting people in her studio as well. I love the coffee shop portraits as they capture these quick moments so nicely. Her portrayals of her subjects’ faces are especially interesting as they seem to contain the beginnings of stories we’ll never really know.

Stop #2.

Last spring, the online literary site qarrtsiluni announced a chapbook contest. The winner, A Walk Through the Memory Palace by Pamela Johnson Parker can be read online or ordered from qarrtsiluni‘s bookstore. I haven’t read it yet as I’m eagerly awaiting my print copy.

Stop #3.

Visit Lucy over at Box Elder. I can’t recall how I found my way there, but I’m glad I did. Beautiful photography and thoughtful writing from France (but written in English which is how I can say honestly say Lucy’s writing is fantastic).

Stop #4.

George at I’m Not One to Blog, But… is calling it quits, at least for now. Go on over and say so long to George and the boys (greyhounds Nigel and Mookie) and thank them for making it a better blogosphere.

Stop # 5.

In all honesty, I don’t really have a 5th stop. It’s important that I be upfront and honest about that because almost a month ago Fred at Ironicus Maximus gave me the Honest Blogger Award.

If there was an academy, I’d thank it.

I’m supposed to list 7 other honest bloggers, but I’m not going to do that. The sites I’ve listed above would certainly qualify as would nearly all of the sites on my links page.

Sun is out,
weather fair,
leaves catch light,
birds appear—

If I could harness
these wracking chills,
channel them to burn
like solar mirrors,
we’d end our talk
of drilling down—

Beautiful day out there;
hot as fever in here.

—

This was an attempt to write to a prompt at Read Write Poem using specific words. I didn’t use them all, but was surprised by the direction things went because of the words in the list.

I got tagged by my friend Melanie on Facebook with the 25 Things meme. I’m posting it here too because, well, dammit, I like my blog more.

For those who may not know, the meme rules state you should write 25 random things about yourself and then tag 25 people. I won’t tag anyone here. Just the 25 things…

1. The only time my parents let one of us (kids) name a family pet was when I named the canary Thomas. I recently asked my mom why we all lost naming privileges after that, and she told me it was because the bird’s full name was Saint Thomas Episcopal Church. We changed his name to Thomasina when he laid an egg.

2. I write a lot more poetry than anything else and I share very little of it. I’m going to change that this year.

3. My favorite place in the world is the high desert country of northern Arizona and New Mexico. The landscapes, the ruins, the mountains, rock, the cacti all just speak to me.

4. The longest I ever worked for one organization is six years. That was my old school district. I quit to go work for The Man in 2005. I took some tests did some career counseling only to learn that I am best suited to being a writer or a teacher. Go figure. I went back to teaching after 6 months.

5. I listen to the Grateful Dead more than anything else. I even drove from Austin to DC to see them at RFK Stadium because I was certain Jerry was going to die. He died two months later. They closed with “Black Muddy River.” It was beautiful.

6. I can spend hours happily playing feedback and noise on my electric guitar, peeling the paint from the walls and creating howling storms of noise, drone and dissonance. It’s good that I enjoy this so well since I can barely play what the humans refer to as music.

7. I grew up on Winnie-the-Pooh. He was my hero, inspiration and friend. I still have my Pooh-bear, living safely on a shelf in my closet where I see him every day (and where the dogs can’t see him).

8. Chile rellenos, mole enchiladas, Kim Phung’s tofu-lemongrass-vermicelli, waffles, cupcakes, and very hoppy ales could be my basic diet. I wouldn’t live long, but it would be a short happy life.

9. I much prefer the journey. That’s one reason I really don’t like flying. You get cheated out of the journey. Give me long highways in the middle of the desert or twisty roads through the mountains every time.

10. My first concert was Verbal Assault, Fugazi (on their first tour), Operation Ivy and G.O.D. (Guaranteed Overnight Delivery) at The Rocket in Providence, Rhode Island. I think my ears are still ringing.

11. Despite having gone to film school twice and worked on film sets for 4 years, I really don’t like movies that much. They’re okay, but very low on my list of priorities, interests and things to do.

12. I couldn’t care less about celebrities. I don’t even know who they are.

13. My favorite books are Don Quixote, One Hundred Years of Solitude, VALIS, Blue Highways, Lord of the Rings, The Sibley Guide to Birds, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

14. I never yell. Rachel says she’s never heard me yell in 14 years. The only time I can remember yelling (as an adult) is the time I yelled at my students during my first year of teaching. It’s the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done.

15. I tend to obsess over things including things I enjoy doing. I have to keep that in mind and make an effort not to obsess. The things I obsess over never last. This is why I am very hesitant to set goals related to things I enjoy.

16. I love cycling. I do it more for meditation than exercise, but I love a good 20 miles or so to just clear things out. I’ve done 2 MS 150s and they were both enlightening. Sometimes I like to try to see how many bird species I can ID without stopping. 20 in 20 miles is my record. I don’t do this often. See #15.

17. I woke up in an emergency room in Colorado once. My friends who were there tell me I had been skiing. I suppose I believe them because I don’t know how else I could have gotten there.

18. Many years ago, I was on a train between Chicago and Austin. Watching the industrial wastelands of the Midwest roll by, I wanted to capture it somehow. I couldn’t afford film so I started writing. I never stopped.

19. Our cat, Simon, has decided he is my cat. I’ve never had a cat choose me before. I feel a little bad about this since Rachel is the one who found him.

20. Two of my teeth are perfectly reversed. First molar and incisor on the left side. I bite my lip a lot because of the this. Whenever I see a new dental tech, they always comment and one even took a picture once. I doubt this mutation will get me a spot with the X-Men, but my application hasn’t been denied yet.

21. I typically have to see something to believe it. This makes religion complicated. Doubting Thomas was always my favorite saint.

22. I’ve read The Bible, Tao te Ching, Bhagavad Gita and a bunch of others. There is wisdom to be found in all of them.

23. I pretty much hated vegetables until shortly after marrying Rachel. Now, I eat a mostly vegetarian diet. I really don’t like eating meat that much anymore, and when I do, I refuse to throw any of it away.

24. I knocked my front teeth out as a young kid and so had no front teeth for many years. This made corn on the cob a drag and so I hated corn until I was a married adult. See #24.

25. I love spicy foods. I can even eat raw habaneros. It’s not that it isn’t painful; it’s that I like the pain.

Bonus:

26. I am liberal because of my upbringing. I grew up in the socialist utopia that is overseas military bases; I grew up in churches that focused on the lessons of the Sermon on the Mount rather than the nonsense in Leviticus about homosexuals, witches and shellfish; and I was in Boy Scouts most of my life which taught me to respect and want to preserve the natural world and keep it wild.

27. The smartest thing I ever did was ask Rachel to marry me.

So. That’s that. I’m not tagging anyone in the blogsphere, but feel free to play along if you like.

I jogged on the treadmill in front of the big window at the gym, watching cars pull in and out of the lot, people coming and going, little brown parking lot birds flitting from tree to tree.

A sports car pulled up and a middle-aged woman emerged with a cigarette in her mouth. She adjusted her ponytail, fighting the hair that had been sneaking out since she tied it before work that morning. She stared up at the sky for a few minutes taking deep drags on her cigarette like someone about to go underwater, and she watched the smoke swirl away into the trees.

She glared at the gym with a sour look on her face, flicked her butt onto the concrete and marched toward the door, her face a yin yang of determination and premeditated defeat that clearly said, “Here we go again.”

I’ve found a lot of great stuff lately, and so, a links post.

Heather wrote a very nice review of A Place Without a Postcard.

Jon Swift included a post I wish I never had to write on his compendium of the Best Blog Posts of 2008 (Chosen by the Bloggers Themselves). Okay, so I picked the post, but it was nice to be invited.

I and the Bird #91 is out on From the Faraway, Nearby, very cool travel/nature/photography site that I intend to start following. Also discovered in this month’s installment of I and the Bird, are some really interesting and compelling sites that will likely become regular reads: Nature Remains, a celebration of the natural world by a gifted writer; the unclassifiable Via Negativa, which is definitely worth a detailed exploration, and Teach me about Birdwatching!!! where I hope to learn more about South American birds.

A few weeks ago, I discovered two really good sites: Flint Hills, Tall Grass and Coyote Crossing. And, let’s face it, blogs with coyote in the name are just cool.

Today, I learned from drivelocity how to put a favicon on my site.

Well. That all makes for a good day of reading.