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Now I know much better.

I think I have writer's block. Probably. That or I'm just fabulously uninspired these days. That's a thing that happens, I guess, with some cyclicity. I tried to sit down and write about zombies the other day. It didn't go quite as well as I hoped it would. Lots of writing, erasing, rewriting, and erasing. I remember when I sat down and wrote fifteen pages in one sitting. Now I'm under the impression that it's a good night if I can sit down and write fifteen words that stick. All of the ideas are bouncing around up there, it's just that I can't get them to precipitate the way I want them to. My sounding board has up and left. I've lost my ground. Which, I guess, means it's time to start a different project.

Maybe I'm just working too much. Too much work, not enough outlet.

We made $150 playing the street corner on Saturday night. Just an hour of playing. And I busted the drumhead. Split it wide open after the first song. And yet, things still went well. They thought that was the coolest thing. Someone tipped us with a six-pack of beer. Leslie came and danced with us. Someone tried to patch my drum with duct tape while I was playing. Also made $20 after the split. And, most importantly, had a lot of fun. It makes me wonder, really wonder, why I would ever think about doing anything else. Besides, you know, play music all the time. That would be a fulfilling life.

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