Wet oils on the fifth layer or so on 40 x 50 cm stretched canvas. Thinking of a long-promised land in California I’ll never see. Illustrates…
A new song (or poem if you just read the lyrics) about how thriving is the most moral thing you can do in response to immorality.
This is the 11th happy (ish) song I’ve written since deciding all my old songs were too sad to sing, and I’d have to write all-new material to even figure out if I can sing in front of myself—much less anybody else. And it still manages to have this sad back-story, or series of sad back-story meanings when I think about it.
In any event, at #12 I can stop and reevaluate whether I want to use these vocal sketches to learn the lyrics and melody, compose and learn proper accompaniment, and revisit public performance as a thing I do as an artist… Because I fantasize about it, but maybe it is just a fantasy because I’m a quiet poet–painter more than a stand-up in spite of my experiments. And because everyone knows an album has at least 12 songs you can sing with happy families in the park on Sunday. Otherwise you need to learn Beatles covers for wedding gigs, and then you might as well get a job in advertising, and we know where that ends.
