Tuesday, 5th June 2001

10.51
An e-flurry is now at an end. I have also been compiling some print-editing of this Diary's early months, and re-living the early ProjeKcting of nearly three years ago.

14.12
I have spoken to Toyah twice - hooray! - who is having dinner with her Parents.

John and Ken are wheeling equipment from the studio out the back door en route to the rehearsal room in town.

On an entirely different topic: an importance of Guitar Craft is that it is of value to very ordinary people, rather than exceptional talents; although people of high capacity will recognise its value as well.

16.42
Terror! Fear!

Driving recently in England and listening to the CD of our last batch of writing & playing, I wondered how anyone managed to discover and play - that! Now, putting the reference CD on here - yow! It's a terrifying amount of information to return to the front burner. In a relatively short time, it will have gone into the body, the motor system and the deeper layers of the brain. For now - Dribble! Fear! I've run out to the garden to shake tremulously in front of Adrian, who is presently in gardener mode. He begins to shake when I remind him of what is in store, and promises to take up his acoustic and return to the fray. All thoughts of a Monster Margarita tonight collapse in front of the horrors of Nuovo Metal and Level Five.

Pat is in town. Trey should be landing shortly. At least we can share the fear with them.

17.37
Two pairs of prescription shades have accompanied me from England. I shall be practising chewing gum in 4 while metalling in 11 and looking very moody all the while; all this in preparation for summer touring with Tool. Onstage, at the most unlikely moment, I shall smash whatever guitar I'm playing over the Space Module, kick over the spare, and mosh into the crowd from the front of the stage. At this point the chewing will move to five - two in the left cheek, three in the right, and possibly some gobbing over proximate audients who don't appreciate the skill involved in this.

Should the crowd accept me, Crimson will continue the tour as a three piece and Fripp will never be seen playing in public again. Should the crowd throw me back onto the stage, I'll throw a signature hissy fit, readjust my shades, and refuse to play an encore. Cool or what?

Search Robert Fripp's diary archive.

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