I'm going to stop writing about personal stuff soon - including music - because I'm sick of it. But not this week. Oh, not this week because I can't face writing about finance ... no more. [I will write about it again though, obviously. It's my "job", for my sins.] The magic has gone for me. I've lost the thrill of being a financial shaman. I really need to become a rock and roll shaman. It's like a voice is calling me from the desert: "Mikey! Mikey! God gave rock and roll to you. Join us!" Jim's voice? I don't know.
Anyway, my sacred mission. I want to write ten world-beater songs. I'm not satisfied with five. / Hey! I made a playlist yesterday of Paul Simon's top ten best songs. Then I realized that only Bridge Over Troubled Water is a world-beater ... and I lost interest. [The other nine are bread-and-butter classics. The Boxer - ? It's too bloody annoying. Something that Bob Dylan recognized. Listen to his ludicrous cover of the song on his Self Portrait album.] / I just have this urge, man. This absolute obsession. It's taking over all my thoughts. It's more important that recording my new demo. I mean, that will happen sooner or later, now that my performing has improved. I'm not worried about the demo.
Last night, I wrote a fragment of a new tune which I know is the start of a world-beater. I KNOW IT!!! Instinct, you dig? All the new tunes of the last few weeks have been scrapped. My standards are insane. Listen, my friend(s), take this hot tip from me: You need insanely high standards. In art. In life. Go big, or go home.
...
Anything else? It will be raining in St Ives all week. How ridiculous! St Ives has got the potential to be even better than Malibu, but ... 'Go to Malibu, boss.' What, to live, Voice? 'Yes.' Well, one day. / I demand strong and stable sunshine!
Anyway, my sacred mission. I want to write ten world-beater songs. I'm not satisfied with five. / Hey! I made a playlist yesterday of Paul Simon's top ten best songs. Then I realized that only Bridge Over Troubled Water is a world-beater ... and I lost interest. [The other nine are bread-and-butter classics. The Boxer - ? It's too bloody annoying. Something that Bob Dylan recognized. Listen to his ludicrous cover of the song on his Self Portrait album.] / I just have this urge, man. This absolute obsession. It's taking over all my thoughts. It's more important that recording my new demo. I mean, that will happen sooner or later, now that my performing has improved. I'm not worried about the demo.
Last night, I wrote a fragment of a new tune which I know is the start of a world-beater. I KNOW IT!!! Instinct, you dig? All the new tunes of the last few weeks have been scrapped. My standards are insane. Listen, my friend(s), take this hot tip from me: You need insanely high standards. In art. In life. Go big, or go home.
...
Anything else? It will be raining in St Ives all week. How ridiculous! St Ives has got the potential to be even better than Malibu, but ... 'Go to Malibu, boss.' What, to live, Voice? 'Yes.' Well, one day. / I demand strong and stable sunshine!
