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Of course. I work all day, then try to do something creative in my time away from work, which is what I write about. It's all very dull, working. It destroys as quickly and thoroughly as dissipation or being trapped in perpetual torpor. But it's the images of what I'm doing that kill me. What am I thinking when I post an iPhone pic of guitar pedals? Do I presume they possess some synesthetic quality? It's pure Spinal Tap, without the humor.
I know better, but there I sin anyway. I am neither writer, nor photographer, nor musician, nor producer, nor even employee to completeness. I am partial to each, resistant to nothing.
Well, we'll see. A new stereo filter arrives on Saturday and perhaps my studio-building reporting will resume. I sent the picture of the assembling of the home studio to an old friend and his excitement was so great and warm that it cheered me. The ego never tires of being flattered. The older I get the better I used to be.
Early tomorrow morning we depart for Tahoe. We will be there for the lifts opening. Just a day trip, up into the sierras to the great lake and back. I have grown to like day trips. They are less expensive, financially and otherwise. They require less... determination, they generate less resistance. No, that's not quite it. Raquel and I tend to get along better. What else is there?
A friend passed away this morning - cancer. Life is unpredictable, death isn't.
I'll try to hold fewer petty grudges, but just the petty ones.
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