PickledCherub

Work was relieving. I kept myself super busy, scrubbing things up and down, left and right. My attitude about extra cleaning is this: I'll gladly do it, but please don't ask me to do it. I'd much rather let the sponge lead me to where I'm needed. Point is, I'm physically exhausted, and that really helps. I got a bunch of morose voice mail messages today. Good thing: Adam arrives in six days. Good thing: Chris is coming really soon.

Lindsay and I had a long talk over dinner about making art through certain parameters, setting limits as to method and subject. I am thinking, How can I do that with music? A hip-hop album about dishwashing is one idea. Songs that use neither the letter nor the chord E is another. "The more I am restricted, the more I am set free," as J.S. Bach used to say. (Or, that's what my music theory teacher said that JIAO Bach used to say.) I have to go to work again in eight and a half hours. That's its own type of restriction.