Squeezed in some time on my guitar today. My left hand still isn't working very well, so it's very sloppy sledding, but the strings felt so good. I managed to debase Joan Armatrading's "Down to Zero" and muffle most of the chords with poor fingering for "Stand By Me," though the singing wasn't too bad for the parts where I remembered the words. I didn't ruin Robert Burns' "Rigs of Barley" too badly, so that's something.
I'm still working between 65 and 70 hours every week, most of it at computers, so even with stories and social commentary and possibly some bona fide insights roaming around in my head all day, the last thing I want to do at the end of the day, or first thing in the morning, is type some more. I have written a little down in my notebook, but only a little. The problem with notebooks is that it is too easy to sheer off into diary-type stuff, where I berate myself over and over for not accomplishing anything. Better to avoid that whirlpool of despond.
So nothing artistic tonight. I just miss posting.
Stalling out in the thought department. Partly because it is after midnight again. Partly because it seems stupid to be writing about not having time to write. This is, I suppose, an effort to keep the pump primed. To leave the faucet running just the thinnest little trickle to prevent the pipes from freezing entirely.
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