(Zoning is a very odd looking word.)
I am having trouble lately getting to my computer. Oh sure, I have some writer issues, you know, direction, voice, tone - little stuff like that - and, actually, I have been letting myself get a little too thinky and afraid to
And it's true that some of the things I want to talk about don't really belong on this blog, stuff about me and how I got to this point and love and self-image and self-doubt. I'd like to talk about my musical journey and how, after four decades it has hit a final, it seems, insurmountable wall.
It doesn't seem appropriate to whine about my aging, my yard, my beard or my impossible cravings for meat. What has that got to do with my boys and the story I am working on for them, about them, about the trip they went on between then and now, or, perhaps, now and then?
I'd clarify that if I could, but, as I said, I've been having trouble getting to my computer, you see, there's a giant Hotwheels track in my flippin' way:
Yeah, that's my chair in the distance, that black one, and in front of it is a wall of cushions topped with that famous orange track.
From Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."
"LEGOs are dangerous ... but fun."
That is surprisingly accurate except... Ouch, dammit!