Er ... well, there's PR emails, of course, and I have quite a few good ones at the moment. Thanks, guys! Maybe I will do one or two of them ... tomorrow, and tomorrow ...
'And tomorrow never comes, boss.'
Yes it does, Voice. It did yesterday.
Uh.
And I sold my Epiphone Les Paul yesterday. A sad day. But life goes on! ... apparently.
Anyway ... that recording of Endless Fun. It's possible I'll keep it. My main complaint is that not all the words can be heard clearly. However, that never did Jagger any harm. There's that famous movie scene where Whoopi Goldberg is trying to work out the lyrics to Jumpin' Jack Flash. Ha! / I've put the lyrics in the YouTube description, so ... it's all right, you dig?
If I can get a better recording in the next few days ... obviously, I'll replace it.
I haven't tweeted the song yet. Twitter is another story ... Christ. I don't know. What's the point? Maybe I'll stick to poetry now.
Poetry!
Yeah, yeah, I've got four poems, man. Maybe 40+ poems is a bit much for a first volume.
30+ poems?
Maybe.
Maybe I need one more big poem for the volume. / The 155-line one only took three weeks to write. I find that a bit disturbing ... considering the quality of the poem. Shouldn't it have taken longer?
'Keats wrote Ode to a Nightingale in one day.'
I'm not Keats, am I, idiot?!
'Sorry.'
Never mind.
Listen! Maybe the poem was reasonably easy to write because of all the Karate Kid shit I've been through.
Wax on, wax off.
I can spot a mistake in seconds.
I can spot a weak line in seconds.
And ...
I have ideas and themes and concepts (all the same thing) that I have built up over the years in this blog.
All those years!
Shaman and boy.
So ... it's all right, you dig?
EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT.
Let's start enjoying life!
'Let's have it ... LARGE - !!!'
Ha!
Calm down, Voice.
Laters.
'Bye!'
Oh, that poem? The lines are quite short, so ... I think it's roughly 660 words. I mean, the word count thing on Word is unreliable, and ... I'm not going to count all the words, am I? I'm not crazy.
Anyway ...
Bye.
'Laters!'
Shut up, Voice.
Oh, that recording? I like it. I think ... I'll keep it.
'Can we go now, boss?'
Oh, you're in a rush, are you?
'I do have a life on the astral plane, you know. Not everything is about you. Bye!'
Whatever.
Anyway ... listen, kooks. I might become a rock star and a poet. And ... I'll recite my poems at concerts, in stadiums, the way some artists do an acoustic set - when they want to give the band a rest, like. Ha, ha, ha! How do I think of this shit?
Laters.
