Guys. This past week I wrote a song about a movie, a theme song for our podcast, “Prompt Queens” (you’re listening to “Prompt Queens”), a song about summer and a song that would inspire Earth, Wind and Fire to cover it. The Earth, Wind and Fire song was the last song and, this isn’t an excuse, but I was running on fumes and that’s what it sounds like on playback this morning. It sounds like disco fumes after Studio 54 closed for the night and everyone went home.
I spent three ridiculous hours practicing what I would call “disco strumming”, recording one verse/line at a time, listening to playback and then writing some more. By the time I looked up it had been four hours of playing and working and playing and working and my fingers hurt. (“Well, your back is going to to hurt now because you just pulled landscaping duty” -Happy Gilmore. Watch it)
I was so tired that I posted it on the songwriting forum. And I regret that in the light of a new day. But, ya know what? I learned something. Sleep on it. No need to succumb to some weird time constraint you’ve given yourself. Sit back, think about it, then realize how stupid the song was and work on it. But also, don’t stress so much about showing off in your songwriting class that you can’t honestly show up with half-baked work on the day you’re tired and your fingers hurt.
Other adventures include: getting to talk to a class of college kids today and try to impart some wisdom, recording more podcast episodes and battling through tech problems, rehearsing for an upcoming recording date on Friday, planning a trip to Nashville (!!!), finally getting those lingering home repairs completed and buying my son his first guitar.
His guitar is so cool that I want one now.
Life is good. Life is grand. Life is full of helpers and cheerleaders, dreamers and doers and children flying off to foreign lands as you stand in wonder at how Time waves its magic wand and poof, you’re suddenly in a place you’ve never seen before. LIfe is junior high Sunday school, the potato bake at the senior center, the house like a rehearsal space where he’s playing guitar all. day. long. It’s a glimpse of sun after days of shadow, it’s the melting of the mounds of snow you never thought would vanish, it’s the books of the Bible Q&A and the passing around of lemon bars Meg made for us. It’s sitting beside a couple you adore and remembering that, when you first got here, they weren’t a couple at all. They were strangers and now, eight years later, they are expecting baby number three.
And you look around and, poof, you’re in a place you’ve never seen before. And, poof, the magic wand is still glowing, and, poof, she asks you what you wish for and suddenly, years later, you’re in a place you’ve never dreamed.