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Procrastination for fun and profit, with none of the profit and only some of the fun
Note to self: "I'll post something once X is done, so I can talk about that" translates out to "I'll feel guilty about not posting, then use X as an excuse, then use that excuse to stress out about X, until I finally get done with X and then neglect to post anyway." D-minus, do not recommend.
And no, not talking about X in this post either even though it's done because my brain cell count is in the yellow zone at the moment and self-promotion is hard. (Spoiler: X is my latest YouTube video. Big long post about the channel to follow. Have a link to hold you over.)
Anyway.
Weekend before last, I went to an informal get-together (like, "in a literal barn" level of informal) of the Maine Songwriters Association, a group I talked a bit about not too long ago. I think this was literally the first time I'd left the house for the purpose of meeting people since I moved here, not counting any out-of-state excursions, so this was a mild flavor of terrifying, especially since there were mics set up for some low-stakes performance which OH GODS I HAVEN'T DONE THIS IN EONS I'LL JUST HIDE BEHIND THESE HAY BALES NOW IF YOU DON'T MIND. I did two songs that none of you have heard: "Unfamiliar Sky," which I wrote at the beginning of COVID about oh what ever so much fun depersonalization-flavor anxiety attacks can be, and a brand new reworking of "Underneath the Fold," a noir-based thing I wrote like six years ago that never quite worked until a nip-tuck of the lyrics and a crumple-toss-start-over of the music. They both went over well, F-bomb and all. (Me: "Will anyone be upset if I drop an F-bomb?" Woman in crowd: "Fuck, no!" My people.) Really nice crowd, and I was strongly encouraged to get something in for the 2022 songwriting contest whose deadline is Saturday, which means I'm currently overthinking-slash-option-locking on which song to record. I'll be over here wibbling if anyone needs me.
Other than that, not a whole helluva lot of stuff going on. Summer plods on with only one air conditioner installed because as long as the master bedroom is cool enough at night we haven't really seen a reason to put up the other two. (Have I mentioned that I love Maine?) I have some crossword-y stuff that I'm working on and another video that I'm planning and sore shoulders and allergies that Claritin continues to allow past the velvet ropes of my head, so all in all I'd say all is well. I'm actually at the office today, and there's a chicken sandwich awaiting me at home, so I'm going to stretch, feign industry for a half-hour and get the fnork out of here. If I've missed anything important here in DW Land, please let me know. Stay buoyant, all.
And no, not talking about X in this post either even though it's done because my brain cell count is in the yellow zone at the moment and self-promotion is hard. (Spoiler: X is my latest YouTube video. Big long post about the channel to follow. Have a link to hold you over.)
Anyway.
Weekend before last, I went to an informal get-together (like, "in a literal barn" level of informal) of the Maine Songwriters Association, a group I talked a bit about not too long ago. I think this was literally the first time I'd left the house for the purpose of meeting people since I moved here, not counting any out-of-state excursions, so this was a mild flavor of terrifying, especially since there were mics set up for some low-stakes performance which OH GODS I HAVEN'T DONE THIS IN EONS I'LL JUST HIDE BEHIND THESE HAY BALES NOW IF YOU DON'T MIND. I did two songs that none of you have heard: "Unfamiliar Sky," which I wrote at the beginning of COVID about oh what ever so much fun depersonalization-flavor anxiety attacks can be, and a brand new reworking of "Underneath the Fold," a noir-based thing I wrote like six years ago that never quite worked until a nip-tuck of the lyrics and a crumple-toss-start-over of the music. They both went over well, F-bomb and all. (Me: "Will anyone be upset if I drop an F-bomb?" Woman in crowd: "Fuck, no!" My people.) Really nice crowd, and I was strongly encouraged to get something in for the 2022 songwriting contest whose deadline is Saturday, which means I'm currently overthinking-slash-option-locking on which song to record. I'll be over here wibbling if anyone needs me.
Other than that, not a whole helluva lot of stuff going on. Summer plods on with only one air conditioner installed because as long as the master bedroom is cool enough at night we haven't really seen a reason to put up the other two. (Have I mentioned that I love Maine?) I have some crossword-y stuff that I'm working on and another video that I'm planning and sore shoulders and allergies that Claritin continues to allow past the velvet ropes of my head, so all in all I'd say all is well. I'm actually at the office today, and there's a chicken sandwich awaiting me at home, so I'm going to stretch, feign industry for a half-hour and get the fnork out of here. If I've missed anything important here in DW Land, please let me know. Stay buoyant, all.
no subject
How did that go?