I have an Armand Assante bathroom. I’ve been visiting it a lot this morning, because last night, the beer and cigar fairies came and danced in my forest (no, not in my gutter – so remove your mind from it … even though there is no “you,” because this is my second “blog” and I don’t actually believe anyone is reading this so I can actually go relatively unobserved). Let me tell you, it’s pretty liberating to have Mr. Assante looking down at you (from a large poster on the back of the door) while you do your business; as if to say “you really aren’t living right.” He’s doing it with a kindly attitude, as if he cares about your body, your life, your career. He’s got a cigar in his hand – so he knows how it is. He’s being very zen about the whole thing. He just wishes you’d get some exercise … or go to the doctor more often … but whaddayagonnadoaboutit?
I’m writing in here, but I feel like sometimes I’m only writing in here because I’m trying to keep up with the rest of “blog university.” My husband is looking at other people’s blogs and telling me how much more “me” I could be. I know that’s not what he’s doing, but we both agree that I would be more successful if I had more of a “web presence.”
I was working while shoving donuts in my face. I was actually getting a lot done (besides the fact that it’s rather dubious for a “rock star” – ha, ha – to be shoving donuts in her face) and putting in my stuff from the tiny recorder I have this neat thing that I work with where I put all my “input” … jams, thoughts, sometimes “voice-diaries” down. I might integrate it into the blog if I get brave … I don’t know. I know that on lj you can do voice posts … although I’ve never done one. I’m pretty shy about getting my voice out there.
I actually called my engineer friend. I say “friend,” but I feel like I am still in a series of “cool” auditions for him; and I don’t know yet if I’m gonna live forever, or learn how to fly. Baby … he’d better remember my name – (ha, ha, ha … I am such a cheezeball …) … So I’m thinking that if he doesn’t call me back by next Tuesday then he’s not really interested in me coming into his bad-ass studio to finally record all this shit. Or perhaps he is off somewhere, obsessing about me, like all the fabulous young professionals are doing.
My husband is a good man who loves me and has a lot of faith in me. All my ideas sound really, really good in my head. I’m really ready for them to sound as good out in the world, but I haven’t started trusting anyone yet.
TTD: Finish this input. Go shower and pack backpack.
- Go to humidor and keep inputting. Do not yield to pressure to stay for ill-fated open mic tonight. DON’T DO IT!
-Go HOME and get dressed for martial arts. Then you get the “cookie” that is lots of piano practicing. Put uniform in wash for next day when back from class. Clear voice mail.
… I’m not wearing anything special today … and I’m only listening to myself.