Firing a shot across the bow.
And why so violent?
I called myself out in class the other day for the kind of language I seem often to use to describe things like, say, mastering a track really well ("It hits hard! It kills!"). Everyone laughed. I appreciated the generosity.
Speaking of, it is unbelievable to me that young people can still be so generous to someone like me, so kind. In the face of Where We Are These Days. Two Americas, et cetera. And the attendant disaster of opportunities lost.
Still, they laugh with me. And they trust that I will say something of value about making a thing, which I honestly and earnestly do try to do.
Even with the sinking suspicion that there is something really profoundly flawed with what I make. I imagine playing with my friends and how cool and exciting their sets will be, and then I will get up there and start my mediocre singing about Things That Feel So Real and it will be embarrassing for all of us.
That's today. Other days I will sit and play for you as soon as you pick up on the hint that I dropped that I would like to play for you.
Step out one ring: push this whole thing over. Brush it off. There need not be so much noise in this simple life of making and sharing.
(As the lyric I have been playing with says: nice to believe, harder to know.)
Wait, what? You want to hear it? Oh I suppose I could play it for you...
It's nice to be building this site again, and to be writing again. I mean, I am still writing every morning. 1.7 million words since 2010. But that shall never see the light of day. Whereas this? This you could find if you were enterprising enough, or if I tweetstagram a breadcrumb trail (which is the nickname for my new marketing strategy that it is unlikely I will adopt) to it.
Also, here is a thing. I buried it way down here.