The work week barrels along and Friday comes into view larger and larger. I've been feeling pretty good these days, by design and by circumstance. I'm taking care of myself as best I can and have been studying the habits of my mind and its incessant discordant warbles. The game is rigged; I see it but man it's a bitch to come up from under it. Ubiquitous, this culture of the mind that governs all. A chief reason we've made a mess of this planet.
I can't change the world but I can make myself a clear vessel for the Divine to speak through. That is the goal. Fractionally less important goals include getting laid a lot, money money money, and getting laid a lot. There are other goals, but I'll keep them under lock and key until they sprout.
Anyway, I'm trying to free my mind so my ass can follow.
I haven't made significant progress, but I've been working at lyrics every night. I know that the more I exercise that muscle, the more successful I'll be. I'm in the business of letting ideas arise on their own accord, absent exertion but born from discipline. Too often, I'd find myself in cram mode regarding lyrics (usually when I'm playing out and insist on performing only new material) and while there are benefits to that approach, I feel it's not the way to go. You can't force a plant to grow or a hen to lay an egg. Gotta let these happen when they're ready. The lyrics will come - seven songs worth, that is the plan - and when it has all come together, I'll have before me several of the best songs I've ever written.
On that note, I should get to it. I keep putting off my thoughtful and comprehensive analysis of The Walking Dead. It's not even that I have a lot to say on the matter. Maybe that's what's stalling my efforts. Who knows, but I promise you from the bottom of my pure heart I will address the topic in my next post. In other words, I'll probably reduce the whole matter to a small paragraph. Don't get your hopes up, you fans of love and splendor. Or, I could surprise you with a thoughtful and comprehensive tour de force, which would make the angels sing!
Gather up, son, we ride.
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