The Buddhists say that as one moves closer to spiritual enlightenment one's life starts to become a shambles. Money troubles, health issues, bad luck all around; all these are signs that one is getting closer to Ultimate Truth. If that's the case, I'm well on my way to becoming a bodhisattva as I can't seem to go more than a few minutes lately without some new disaster forcing its way into my home and giving me a swirly in the toilet of misfortune. Just sitting down to write this post proved to be an adventure, as I managed to start choking on the tail end of a turkey sandwich at the precise moment I took a big swig from the old water bottle. But what the hell. One soaking shoe and a damp carpet later I'm back in the saddle.
That's the good news: I'm managing to pick myself up and dust myself off every time life administers another grundy, though I can't deny that it's beginning to get a bit tiresome. This morning I was sitting in a traffic jam on Harlem Ave. due to a lane closure. I happened to look out the window to my left where I was treated to the sight of a gigantic adult retard skipping merrily down the sidewalk like some deranged cherub. My god, I thought to myself, what I wouldn't give to trade places with that big jolly bastard right now!
But the sun also rises, comrades. For one thing, the writing phase of the album is nearing completion and I'll be damned if it's not some pretty hot stuff. Granted, I've had little serious interest from any respectable labels, and in any case, no offers of a budget that would even come close to enabling me to record the album somewhat properly, but at this stage of the game I've bigger fish to fry anyway, so that particular headache will have to get back in line and wait its turn. But I do seem to have stumbled blindly into finding myself a potentially great producer who is spending an unusual amount of time demoing ideas for arrangements and production glitter and gloss. Good news indeed.
On the novel writing front, there is absolutely no news to report. I knew I wouldn't have time to get back to it until late summer, but it's kind of driving me nuts because I had finally gotten into the groove of it. Still, 80% of writing is mulling and I can do that even while wading neck-deep through the toxic waters of mild tragedy to which I've recently been subjected. (None of which I intend to address directly here, as I find that alluding to it in vaguely ominous tones is more than adequate to let a little pressure off the steam valves, and if that makes me coy, so be it. Go read somebody else's blog, ya grabby little twat.)
All in all, things aren't so bad. I'm reasonably healthy, if not wealthy or wise. I'm 133 days off of cigarettes, having kicked cold turkey. I'm brimming with creative ideas, if not the time or money to explore them. Plus I've got the love of a good woman, which makes it all a little easier to take. And while bitter experience has taught me to play it relatively close to the vest when discussing future projects, suffice it to say that I have more than enough to keep me busy creatively now, and more is being added to the plate every moment. I couldn't be happier about it.
The only real problem is a lack of time. I suppose lack of money is a problem too, but I'm used to working around that. Things will slow down eventually but, as noted previously, updates will be few and far between until late summer, as will any serious creative work. Like a great man once said, the world needs ditch-diggers too, and I'll be manning the shovel for a bit longer until I can get back to banging on musical instruments and making up stories for a living.
Until then, may you and yours have a fine Spring and a terrific summer. With any luck, I'll pop in here from time to time to give you an update.