Read. Write. Rock.

A bit above my usual average. Actually, that’s a staggering amount of time, really, and time is not free. I need to get my nose out of FB and back into books. Consume and create more art. Read. Write. Rock. That’s mantra. I have a library of books to enjoy. An embarrassing amount of stories to complete. A few albums’ worth of songs to finish and record. Yet I allow myself to be constantly distracted from my creative pursuits. Sure, a lack of an audience plays a big role in the stagnation because at my core I’ve always been a performer in need of a stage, physical and virtual, but artists are primarily compelled to create art regardless of circumstance. The rest of it is secondary to that. So, like the Decepticons after they’ve had their asses handed to them by the Autobots . . . I should retreat 🤓

I should also use this blog more.

The mantra.


Current status is: bedridden. Not due to illness or the approach of death (I’m middle-aged now, but I’d like to think I still have sufficient leverage in my negotiations with the Reaper). No. I’m bedridden for self-imposed reasons such as being curled up with a good book (last week I moved all my books/bookcases up to the bedroom), ruminating on a new book idea myself (a rather personal contemporary novel that I hereby code-name PROJECT GHOSTED), playing Solitaire on my phone (I never play games on my phone but recently I got bored enough to down Solitaire the other day), listen to music (probably the moody kind) and since I recently moved a TV and X-Box One up to my bedroom I will be playing games on it as well as watching a movie after dinner — all these things from the comfort of my bed. Yeah, I know, kinda goes against the dictionary’s definition of what it means to be “bedridden” but Roget and company can sue me later. And after another blah worker drone day at work today I’m not much in the mood for conversation with anyone in the house. So here I am. In bed enjoying a little solitude and self-care. And it’s fine. Tomorrow will be a better day, right? Or so say the optimists. I remember when I was card-carrying member of that tribe. Good times.

Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

Now reading: No Walls and the Recurring Dream (2019), a memoir by Ani DiFranco.

Soon watching: FRAGMENTS (2008), directed by Rowan Woods.