| PETER B. aka Peter Blasser was introduced to “the maestro” in a fourth grade assembly. This kind conductor of the micro-kid band introduced the wind instruments available and Peter chose the tuba because it was the least practical. His parents put up with its bellows until high school when he diversified to banjo. Unallowed to purchase an Ud, Peter built one in the basement, thus beginning his career of “I will interface with reality by building a sound object”. In college he was introduced to electron machinery; the infinite randomities seduced him into pure abstraction. After college Peter was bombarded with syncretist philosophies: “hi-tech, lo-tech” “squaring the circle” “gonzo meets goth”. I am indeed shown the path; I must engage these yin-yangs into my work, connect dissonance with “Evenflow”. To regain tunefulness, I use the tuba, but it hurts my jaw so I compromise with smaller cups such as trombone and french horn. The french horn is especially wabi-sabi; it allows the poet to become lost in a wilderness of sevens and elevens. On finding a well-worn path in the woods, I snap into a tune, a remembrance of my grandma’s botany, a rusted traditionalism as sunshine on moss.
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