And Yet Another . . .

The first song I've written in . . . well, since college, maybe even high school . . . that hasn't dealt with a larger story or project. It's based off of two past relationships, go figure.

Mobius?

Another one fermented today . . . just wish my cold would go away so I could record vocals for all of these sketches.

For Those Not Lost Yet

The best material is always the stuff closest to you. It's like I've been given a gift for my birthday last week from the Gods of creativity. I used to dread plugging in the recording equipment, opting to try to write out detailed plotlines that I knew I wouldn't be able to follow. Bukowski said something along the lines of "If you don't feel inspiration: DON'T WRITE!! It will usually turn out terrible and shallow." It's coming, now. Something different. More simple.

I have a feeling it will be a lot sooner for people to hear my musings than previously planned.

Still Cookin'

For the day he runs away . . .

Breaking Protocol

Another muse called today.

Writ Connections

More writing. Harder today for some reason.

Misleading Placental Praising

A successful day. Amazing what cold-pressed coffee can do for lyrical storytelling . . .

The Day I Lost Control

"What happened in the war?
These crimson pools on the floor,
I feel a draft from the door --
The man who came from the Drawers."
--IN HOPES TO MEND

Day 7 -- Details

Back at it. "Mend"ing the details, now . . .