Indifference, inertia, insignificance

Thanks to the rest I've been getting over the last few nights and the absolute stress reduction in my daily existence, I found myself scribbling lyrics for the first time in ages. I don't mean the jotting down of a random idea here or a few verses there--I'm talking about writing on a jag, the way I used to. It's a case of the "storing up enough lyrical roughage in my diet so I can take a damned good artistic crap" when the time came. And sure enough, here 'tis. Not exactly a surprise, as I've been egged on by many good people who've asked "so why aren't you writing?" or "why don't you write anymore" and so on. Not meant in an obnoxious or sarcastic manner, mind you, just surprised at my lack of necessity (or urgency) in writing, when I used to be able to write reams of stuff--good or bad. It's like I'd explained to some that I have such a great back catalog of material that I was able to rest on my laurels and use those songs, as I feel (still) they deserved an airing. It was (at one time) almost a compulsion to write and write and write; now, it's become again a matter of pleasure. Like this blog. It's been an aid; a blueprint and a valuable tool in my desire to refine my lyrical skills, which definitely haven't eroded. So while I have the stockpile of yet-to-be-recorded/released material, I can also press on with the new songs.

A good portion of the gratitude is due in part from encouragement by a few of the inner sanctum. You guys know who you are, but thank you (outright) for saying to me "get to work and write like you used to". The hue-and-cry over not hearing new demos for some 7-plus years now is pretty surprising in a really great and very kind way. I didn't think anyone cared enough, but hey--that's brother (and sister) hood. One shout out goes to The Man With The Thud Staff for his never-ending patience and practicality; the other goes to The Boys--big up respect in the green and pleasant lands. Three new pieces complete--I'm looking at sitting down and finishing off one set that's been sitting in my portfolio since October '03 (my only attempt at truly writing, but not completing) and now I think I can do it with no more funny business. The mantra--get it done and done right. To bullshit and pretend that writing lyrics is a great art is just that. It's bullshit. I don't need to nurse my fucking lyrics--I've just been lazy. No more; makes me a hypocrite. Put the Fostex to work. I have a job to do and once again, taking the reins of control and doing it. I'm not under any pressure to do it--Liz pointed out "it's what you do. It's what you were meant to do". I'll defer to her on this one, as this isn't the first time I've heard that, not just from her. So I don't argue. I get to work instead. Some people have a God-given gift or talent or whatever you want to call it; I look at my ability with words to be a gift and I have no right to squander it. That I can put strong melodies, etc. to those words is the bonus, but at the end of the day, it's not a matter of anyone's opinion as to whether or not the "song" is good; it's down to my own satisfaction of being pleased with the final result. You know, everyone's a fucking critic and 99 times out of 100, as we all know, it's the ones who don't know a thing who love to chime in. Once upon a time I cared--now I don't. Pleasing me first, not you. Otherwise, what's the point?

Being that it's May, I shouldn't be all too surprised in this turn of good fortunes. The month has always signified to me the best things, be it when I found my first long-term relationship or finding a great job (has happened more than once) or most significantly now, Liz' birthday--it's always been a month filled with positive vibes. I couldn't give a shit whether or not it sounds trite; it just means something to me and as always, that's all that matters.