You know, it’s not easy being an unemployed layabout. What with doing the dishes and volunteering at the library and staring, vacant-minded, at half-finished scripts while saliva drips from your slack jaws, the days fly by and you realize you’ve neglected your one-man musical variety show operation, not to mention blogging about said one-man musical variety show operation.
But a man’s interests are like a great burning wheel, turning slowly through the cosmos, crushing worlds like inhabited grapes. And once in a while, such a man comes down from his mountain redoubt, knocks the dust from his sandals, and sets himself to work once again. Is this man … ME?
Maybe! I make no promises, but I'm feeling the bug again. It’s gnawing on my flesh, and I like the neurotoxin in its saliva that is trickling into my brain, paralyzing the plump neurons therein. It feels like fizz.