I haven’t written a song in a few weeks. This is after a song or two every few days for a stretch of a month or so. About half of my “album” was written two weeks before I went into the studio in a week-long fit of constant songwriting. I like how it feels to write a new song. I like even more how it feels to write a new song you’re proud of. It lifts me. Maybe I sound weird or over-thinking, but I have to create things. I’m not trying to give that spiel where I try to convince you that I’m elevated over those uninclined to symbolic creation; I’m not saying that my mind is, like the great artists, tortured by the clash of mundane reality with a higher intellectual-spiritual realization and forced to battle insanity with my art. Gag. That’s enough to put me off my lunch, and it’s not what I’m trying to say at all. I’m not good enough to pull that off; neither is anyone who attempts to. But really. I feel like I should write. I feel like I want to write. I feel like I could write. I suppose that writers/creators know what I’m talking about. Life is so much more fun when you can sing about it later.
Oh. Wait. I forgot to introduce y’all to my friend and neighbors.
Les presento a mi amigo, Writer’s Block, y a mis vecinos, “Half-Written-Songs.” I suppose it’s time to buckle down and finish them, but my makeshift tour is commencing on Wednesday. I will be just distracted enough to forget that I have to finish the songs. This means that I will, of course. I write my best stuff when I should be doing something else. Like getting dates and finding places to sleep and doing responsible things. I need a manager.
