I need a new project. I’m in between. The creative impulse is still there, to create a harmony in things, but I’m seeing the harmony in every artistic aspect of life, in the creation of music especially, but in stand-up comedy and the architecture beneath it, in architecture, in painting, fortunately I don’t know the first thing about painting so I’m not tempted to try that out at all. But music-making: I’m learning. The cycles of tension and release, the build-up and release, I’m looking for release. I’m tempted to put a soundtrack to everything. Trip to the pharmacy, the way that interaction with the pharmacist man would reflect what the conversations I’ve just had with the receptionist, the nurse, and the doctor in succession, all variations on the same conversation, each with its own flavor and the addition and subtraction of spices (cooking! that’s another one) that alter the composition of the final product, the waiting room and its fourth-floor view of the expanding city, to the examination room and its oddly dentist-like chair (must be an otolaryngology thing) and the uncomfortable-looking portable computer terminal with its exposed intestinal cord cluster tethering to the secure network, to the pharmacy and the Twilight Zone waiting area inside a grocery store, wood paneling and upholstered furniture not unlike a ski lodge, the racks of tabloids, pet flea treatments hung up in the pharmacy’s interior pegboard like so many condoms, all of these backdrops for the same set of questions, correct address? allergies to any medication? insurance card?

It comes down to character, though. That would determine the final soundtrack. The other scene-setting details might influence the genre, but the soul of the music would be in the characters. As it should be.

I’ve written a novel and it was the only period of my life where I could satisfy the urge of an itchy brain, removing the top of my skull and exposing it to open air, giving it the chance to react to the open atmosphere and brown like fruit, to absorb the world and react to it. I need another novel, or novel-like experience, the old brain fruit is tingling again, kept under wraps too long, someone please lend me a saw, someone please tell me the location of a good patch of earth for rubbing into the gray matter. Grittier the better. Let’s see what grows.

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