Saturday Morning

Okay, so even though I said I was giving up singing, it doesn't seem to have given up on me. Mainly it's the songwriting. How can a person try to walk away from the music world when songs keep dropping into their brain? It's simple: they can't. This summer, when I was going to write a novella out in the garage, longhand and with a steady supply of tea and cassette tapes, I found the only thing available came in stanzas and melodic form. Grab your guitar. That's right, honey. Now play. 

And now I'm starting to perform out on the town, something I thought I'd never do again. What happened is, when I said never, I forgot that never doesn't exist. Never is a wall, and no matter what, we'll always find a away to get around it. The thoughts in my brain: I'm so glad to be done with performing, but in the inner folds of gray, synaptic cushioning: She'll play again. 

It just goes to show, when you stop trying so hard things come forward. Life is like a bullet behind a shield, waiting for an aorta to grab onto. 

Dylan's new album Tempest is about to come out. Here's a video for Duquesne Whistle. Warning: it gets violent around the middle-to-end. But I liked the beginning—the actor reminds me of singer Steve Marriott. And, again, Dylan is so vaudevillian. I love it.

Having said all this, I did write 25,000 words of fiction last week. So, all is well in both worlds. Let's see if I can handle the pressure.

How are things in your world?