Medeonome

I was trying to do some creative things this morning, while I was waiting for phonecalls and confirmation.

I started with my guitar, which is the most faithful of my instruments. Normally, my fingers know where to go to bring forth measures of sound that are appealing to the aural senses.
Not today.
The cold weather and transits have put my guitar out of tune, and I'm finding I'm in need of a Korg to bring the music back.

So, in lieu of my strings, I found my keys. I dusted off the piano, and started hammering out simple tunes. Crude ones at first, and later ones that would have made Mogwai proud. I recorded one such tune, but my digital recorder is poor, and didn't do anywhere near a decent job of it.

So. I need to make a trip to L&M to get a microphone, a recorder, a Korg, and a speaker synthesizer for port to laptop. Yes. Overhaul.

So after music, I tripped over something else I haven't laid eyes on for months. My old sketchpad stared up at me from the floor, blank white pages beckoning. I've never been one for the drawing arts. I have shaky hands, but today they seemed to behave. I drew... something.
I never know what to make of what I draw.

Later on, I attempted made an attempt to try and confrom the rather chaotic swirl of my mind into perfect 4/4 time to try and write down some lyrics. They didn't quite work. Like an amorphous spine of some great amoeba, my lyrics warped and warbled across the screen. The rhythm was off, and then the words didn't rhyme. And then, everything lined up, but it wasn't saying anything at all.
I was stuck in between lyrics that made sense and said nothing, and lyrics too vague that explained the world. Lyrics and I, as I have decided, were just never meant to be.

And then, good news came. My car is fixed, and I got to drive it home tonight.
It feels good to have wheels again.