Greetings from the....OK I haven't named my apartment yet. I have finally decided that the whole not doing nothing routine was getting a touch on the old side. Rather than treating the local open mics as a nice thing that it would be not a horrible idea for me to do, I have begun to treat them as mandatory events that I cannot afford to miss. Which to the untrained eye seems CRAY Z. But it's the type of wack shit that is going to have to become a part of me if that whole this becomes the primary thing I do plan can get its ass all fruity. I wrote a new song on Sunday. I'm hoarding the lyrics and the demo. I just don't feel like the posts do a lot of good. Plus it gives me an added incentive to do more work and write more songs so that they can be packaged together and shoved out of my brainplane to parachute into your ears and...this sentence has gotten away from me. I want to put together a full-length album. So I'm not just going to post stuff online as I'm writing it. I save that shit for my blog posts. Instead, I'm going to hang onto stuff, work it at open mics and see what sticks on the proverbial wall. If you really want to hear something, you can always try to butter me up and it's highly likely that arrangements can be made. But I don't want my inability to generate a triple-digit Youtube view count running through my head when I'm deciding if it's worthwhile to sit down and write. So I'm going to go down to the open mic now. Hopefully it'll be less than a month before we meet again. Toodle-oo, go with God, and don't take any wooden nickels, Nick
Like a forest fire it burned a hole in me. I perspired.