All you SHiPs at sea (Shiny Happy People). God, I suck.

I may not have anything to give today. I woke up, performed the morning ritual, assembled the studio, and beat the f*ck out of that Les Paul with full vocals. The neighbors aren’t home; I hope. Have you read the latest chapter of Wrath’s Lament or watched the prologue to Jim Walker and the Redemption Hymn? You can find links to both of those on my site’s title card.

I’m pouring sweat and super satisfied with what I had to give. Saturday is going to be a great time to be on stage. I’m buzzing for some reason, and I hope it lasts until then. I think this is the next stage in the journey, but it’s not a struggle. I’m having a great time with all of it.

Sometimes, I ask myself why I’m still on The Journey at middle-age. Then I remind myself that I’m a dumbass. This is the NEXT journey. I’ve already finished a couple. I want my headstone to look like the opening crawl to a Star Wars film.

Also, the Holden Caulfield hat? Prime stage hat. The flaps muffle everything, so you can keep a check on your voice. It also kind of prevents the audience from getting in; if you know what I mean. Didn’t Cobain have one in a video? I’m not sure; I wasn’t a Nirvana band-waggoneer during the early nineties. I didn’t begin to respect Nirvana until I was in my forties.

What? I was clinging to hair metal for dear life! I still am!

It’s inadvertently a Jack Black thing, and not on purpose. Everyone watch the fat man.

I just remembered I have a Pencey Prep t shirt. I feel a theme coming on. Good times, good times…

I hope all of you find a way to have a wonderful morning. If not, then zone out and imagine the brutal death of the one stopping you. Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.

I NEVER want my artistic endeavors to feel like a business again. NEVER. The years I’ve lost playing along with poons is depressing.