Original intention yesterday was to disassemble and stow my electronic drumset away in the eaves above, but I couldn't do it once I got it out to The Shed. As of this morning, I still couldn't bring myself to do it. Not sure if it means that I'm too lazy to take it apart or if the drums and I still, after more than a quarter century and multiple instrumental permutations, have unfinished business.
I've become mildly obsessed with figuring out how to use a hand plane and what, if anything, among my wooden dalliances might make use of it. If nothing else, a useful way to think through the roadblocks in the (narrative) WIP(s) for which I’ve a notion of how to move forward that I want to explore this week. Not sure how it'll work out, but it might give me room to breathe on both – and leave open room for seeding two potential other things.
derbzsketch
Writing wasn’t going anywhere so I dashed off a sketch of Kirby watching (inexplicably increased) traffic from his chair in The Shed.
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A chilly rain all morning but at least The Shed's nice and warm whatwith the little baby infared heater and all though a little sun would be nice so my panels can drink drink drink.
As I scribble my way through Edwards's DRAWING ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BRAIN (in those afternoons when I'm not attempting to make The Paintshop habitable again), I'm fascinated to see its translation to my writing and the realization that my process – hunt and peck scraps and fragments and eventually combine – is right brain, whereas my frusration at this method and its slow pace (until it isn't) is a 100% left-brain mania. Learning still, to tune that out, even after (especially after?) all these years.
Looks like I'm back to some form or other of morning / midday word-blogging because it's the only way I'll actually do it. Plus, I do kinda miss it; twas always a useful way to unstick the brain. Note: need to figure out a time to do the actual posting.
One of those creative days in which I'm glad that I have solar in The Shed and haven't wasted any energy resources other than my own mental capacity in my project slate’s journey to fuckall nowhere.