natelyswhore asked: I enjoy your real blog, so I hope you continue it eventually!
Aw, thank you! I am always so surprised and pleased to hear that sort of thing, especially when it comes from unexpected sources (i.e. anyone who doesn’t know me personally and thus feel some sort of obligation to be encouraging).
As it happens, I’d finished continuing by the time I read this, but I am going to read it again next time I run into trouble. So, probably tomorrow.
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-6-27) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
I haven’t written anything on my “real blog” for over four months. And now that I’m finally working on something I’m having a terrible time with distractions and resistance and feeling like I don’t want to sit and type stuff about a Mountain Goats song even though actually I do want to, more than I want to do almost anything else.
If I can get back into the swing of writing regularly I will be exceedingly happy. It’s my current Number One Goal.
It doesn’t help that the next post in line is going to be hard to write.
FEAR OF SUCCESS, FEAR OF FAILURE, FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS, STOP WHINING ON TUMBLR AND WRITE STUFF, THE END.
Also I’ve been wondering if I should set up a secondary Tumblr and use it to mirror my “something about every Mountain Goats song” project posts.
GOOD GRIEF SHUT UP AND GET BACK TO WORK
Magpies eyeballing me as I walk past in the mornings, and then bursting into song.
28 days until the start of my first annual leave in over three years.
There are files on my work computer called “quetzalcoatl has plans.txt” and “orange ball of metlink.txt” and I suspect that this is only the beginning.
No two ways about it.
(Weird lasagne with jerk-zucchini, pumpkin, cashew ricotta and spinach is pretty good, but that doesn’t make the zucchini any less of a jerk.)
you’ll let me change the genre of these tracks to “Poo” or “itunes has a stupid face”, but as soon as I try to change them to “C20 Classical” you decide that the real genre Carl Orff belongs in is “Alternative”?
Staying home alone on a rainy Friday night in winter, listening to music, obsessively organising music, being warm, thinking about music.
Listening to a great-quality bootleg and hearing the small gasp of recognition and joy when a girl near whoever is recording the thing figures out that John Darnielle is about to play one of her favourite songs ever and she is there to see it happen.