THEORBO

While listening to one of my favorite instruments, the theorbo, I’m thinking about great calls to a vocation, or to do something, and what happens when these calls get misinterpreted, and thus missed. Hearing the call but not heeding attention can turn the sound into a howling to the moon. Whatever new start after that is bound to carry with it some of the initial resonance, just enough to keep the one who recognizes the call caught up in the illusion of having done something without actually having done anything. It occurs to me that most of the music composed for the theorbo has a resonance intended for traitors. How do I know this? Just listen to the strings, and you will hear the steps of the one retreating. The treachery of men. The treachery of women. The(orbo). The blind.

 

Similar thoughts can be found in my book of fragments, Being Besides Myself, where this passage also appears.