pages tagged Catalogue Philowixian http://www.columbia.edu/cu/philo/tags/Catalogue/ Philowixian ikiwiki 2012-12-12T07:00:32Z SURGAM Spring 2011: "The new guitar" http://www.columbia.edu/cu/philo/phlog/2011/05/surgam-spring-2011-new-guitar/ 2011-05-29T01:17:00Z 2011-05-29T01:17:00Z <span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Oops&mdash;took a bit of a sabbatical there. My </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">bel ami</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> was in town (la!), so I suppose I was never really far from Phlogging, but maybe not in that way.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">&quot;But what&#39;s left from the semester?&quot; you might wonder. Actually, nearly all of </span></span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Surgam</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">And so for the next few days I&#39;ll be regaling you with pieces and art from the Spring 2011 issue, just in case you missed picking up your very own beautiful copy. If you&#39;d like one, however, never fear&mdash;we&#39;ve more in the Halls, probably buried under Korean drums at this point but certainly accessible come September. Without further adieu, Jessica L. Johnson&#39;s brief and lovely piece &quot;The new guitar.&quot;</span></span></span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></span></i></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">&mdash;</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">The new guitar </span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Jessica L. Johnson </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">CC&#39;11</span></i></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">The neck knows my palm. To tune is to find the right vibrations between my thumb, thumb and forefinger, ear. The guitar string is a tightrope my fingers run across. I hang on its body. We&rsquo;re hollow in the same places at times, though my insides aren&rsquo;t so well carved out. I, too, am suspiciously held together by small metal screws; want only to be held at my side, wound and strummed, to sound. </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></p> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div>