Music?

I never talk about music, and there are sad reasons for it. You think I would want to talk about music, being a musician. Or a past musician, rather. Or, once a musician, always a musician? I don’t play for an audience anymore, so it doesn’t feel like I’m one anymore. I don’t really practice. I have a hard time playing for pleasure. Like I said, there are sad reasons for that. But talking about music these days is a touchy subject I try to save for therapy.

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Foiled Again, But Not

I’d hoped to get the book finished by this weekend, but no dice. The stupidest things kept standing in my way. Some aren’t totally my fault. But not all.

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Medicine Dan and Time

I’ve been fittin’ to make a new Artist’s book about Dan, so I’ve been pretty busy working out all the logistics, layout, words, supplies, etc. for all of that. These things take a lot of planning and months to complete.

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Healing List

It’s nothing new when I talk about my never-ending “to-do” list. It always changes and morphs anew, but it definitely never shrinks. And it behaves like a tide of overwhelm. Not the whole time, of course—hence the ebbing and the flowing. At least, that’s how I remember it when I lived near the ocean.

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And a Stuffed Fish

While purchasing some of the parts for my new, weird floor sculpture—probably the most expensive bits of it—I’m still trying to conceptualize the tougher logistics of how it will need to be “engineered.” Typically, one cannot defy physics, after all.

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