Side Projects

I'm writing a cool song today!

I often wonder how other people write songs.  Me, I write them in my car.  Or in the shower.  Mostly in my car, as I shower with embarrassing rarity.

In contrast, I drive all the time since I live in LA.

I don't really know what it's about.  I think it's gonna be called "side projects" because it started on the way to a gig when I came up with the line "all my side projects have side projects...".  It's a reference to the way I fill my time with infinite creative persuits.  The song goes on from there. "All my good days have bad times." Etc. Cheery, I know.

I'd show the full lyrics here, but rock lyrics always read as being either trite, or silly, or both.  It's in the gestalt, you know?  They require melody and kickass guitars to make sense.

What I came up with this morning was the chorus, which was an independant idea on it's own.  Then I thought, "hey, I'm writing a song that doesn't have a chorus yet." So I slapped them together in my head and it worked. In my head. Haven't played it on guitar yet in any serious way.

I like putting independent bits together in my songs. I think it keeps them from being formulaic, though I'm currently leaning on a crutch of country/rock twang that I'd like to shake. It's a good system though, and often it only takes a good drive with the radio off to find something that feels right. Or a shower.

But who has the time for that?

Does Grandpa watch me Masturbate?

Here's a disturbing mental toy to play with:

Many folks (myself included) often console themselves, in the event that a significantly loved person should pass from this world, with the thought that said person "watches over" them after death.  I know, maybe it's silly, but it can be comforting in dark times to think that those who leave us (who are, as I like to call it "DEAD") are out in the vast beyond looking over our foolish little lives and smiling warmly.

This is all fine and good, until you want a little privacy.

We all do things we're not proud of.  You know, I do things I'm not proud of. I play rock and roll, after all.  It is at these times I wish the dear departed would just but the hell out.  The thought of great grandma Nelson looking over my shoulder at the porn I'm watching or the pre-marital sex I'm having is just plain disturbing.

What is there to do, though?  We all pay a price for our superstitions.  I pay mine in guilt and really unsettling mental images. 

A new look.

It's been over a month since my first post, and as I prophesized in said post, I have done nothing with my blog since... until now!

BEHOLD:  a new visual theme!  It's not flaming cowboy hats and skulls, but it's a damn fine look none the less.

Perhaps now that my latest screenplay has hit full rough draft status, I will begin to update this here blog a little more frequently.  Perhaps not.  Don't get your hopes up, though.

And who knows?  The flaming cowboy hats may yet appear...