my journal must get out of read only mode
Lately I've been playing with my drum machine. I think it's blasphemy when you're a young drummer to possess such an item. It's like how you can't have a calculator when you're learning your math. Such an easy way out, and then you supposedly never learn. More than that, there's the pride of the mighty drummer. No people want to think that they can be replaced by technology. It takes a little bit of the flare out of your work when you know that a little box can do it with far less energy and a shorter list of demands. Once you can come to terms with the technology, then you can embrace it. I've been having fun making ridiculous beats that my arms would not be able to handle. Exciting, no?
Everybody seems to be having issues lately. I'm not sure what I can blame it on to explain away the not-so-sudden rush of miserable posts on my friends list, but for the record, I'm going to say that it's winter. Cold temperatures and a lack of adequate sunlight. You know, we can dish out pills for everything from a sniffle to a little bugger running around in your body causing hell, but we'll always have a time during which we're subjected to the whims of Mother Nature. Even in the city, there's always the price we have to pay for being people. I just wanted you people to know that my thoughts are with you, and you should pester me to get on AIM because I often forget to do so. A word of caution: I give into abuse rather easily.
My sister Sarah is subject to the whims of winter more than I, so she came round the other day because there is nothing better to cheer her up than the bright, witty conversation shared with her beloved little brother. Actually I think she told me why she was visiting, but I was too busy playing with some gadget to really listen. The sentence lacked "Dave" in there, so it didn't really catch my attention. We have an interesting dynamic. She'll mope around like a forlorn teenager, and I'll rush off to find my toys to share with her. Some might call it regression, but the truth is we've never moved too far forward from that. I always run to catch all of my cats and line them up so she can examine them, but usually one starts to creep away if I take too long hunting down the rest. Mojo is the notable exception because she loves the attention and is a little heavier than the rest. I think she's starting to develop a diva complex. She even sprawls out like she thinks she deserves to be on the front cover of a magazine. I share all of these thoughts off the top of my head with Sarah, and she just raises an eyebrow at me and asks if I've fallen off the wagon. I always have to assure her that if I did any falling, I probably landed on my head and that's all there is to it. I for one cannot wait to make the transition from eccentric to senile.
Everybody seems to be having issues lately. I'm not sure what I can blame it on to explain away the not-so-sudden rush of miserable posts on my friends list, but for the record, I'm going to say that it's winter. Cold temperatures and a lack of adequate sunlight. You know, we can dish out pills for everything from a sniffle to a little bugger running around in your body causing hell, but we'll always have a time during which we're subjected to the whims of Mother Nature. Even in the city, there's always the price we have to pay for being people. I just wanted you people to know that my thoughts are with you, and you should pester me to get on AIM because I often forget to do so. A word of caution: I give into abuse rather easily.
My sister Sarah is subject to the whims of winter more than I, so she came round the other day because there is nothing better to cheer her up than the bright, witty conversation shared with her beloved little brother. Actually I think she told me why she was visiting, but I was too busy playing with some gadget to really listen. The sentence lacked "Dave" in there, so it didn't really catch my attention. We have an interesting dynamic. She'll mope around like a forlorn teenager, and I'll rush off to find my toys to share with her. Some might call it regression, but the truth is we've never moved too far forward from that. I always run to catch all of my cats and line them up so she can examine them, but usually one starts to creep away if I take too long hunting down the rest. Mojo is the notable exception because she loves the attention and is a little heavier than the rest. I think she's starting to develop a diva complex. She even sprawls out like she thinks she deserves to be on the front cover of a magazine. I share all of these thoughts off the top of my head with Sarah, and she just raises an eyebrow at me and asks if I've fallen off the wagon. I always have to assure her that if I did any falling, I probably landed on my head and that's all there is to it. I for one cannot wait to make the transition from eccentric to senile.