This year, on July 20, I turned seventy-two. At this time next year, if things go well, I'll be seventy-three. I've noticed that during the progress of the past few years or so, more and more of my old school friends, early adulthood workmates, and friends in general, have passed through the veil. I'm saddened by these events - and maybe just a bit alarmed.
      Older, wrinkled, grizzled, care-worn faces merge in and out with the soft, smooth, and sometimes, cherubic faces of those who have taken their last ride in a Cadillac. I must confess a bit of envy - just a bit, mind you - that now, they know the rest of the tale.
      When setting thoughts down on these occasions of an old friend's demise, I am bought up short and stand face-to-face with an internal quandary: how the devil do I express my regrets?  
      Today, I watched The 24/7/365 News (that was the first daily idiocy committed) and which said idiocy brings me to my dilemma: Do I express my comments to The Departed in the form of "Condolences" or "Congratulations"? 

        Don't scatter the story; keep it simple, stupid. The words "complex" and "scattered" are two completely different things;  a good story can be complicated but never scattered.  Complex doesn't stray too far from simple.  
      Another thought:  Never feel "compelled" to write a bridge just because some guy at a seminar, or a book on the subject you read, says you must!  You're an artist.  Think like an artist.  Better still, don't think - do it!
          A prime example below, including all 17,320 verses.

​This is a point - there are more (for me at least) that film scores changed to actually sound like they had something in common with the film and not some random idiocy the editor/director fished out of the can and just plonked down!  Bravo and thank you Elmer Bernstein, for the score, and director Robert Mulligan for the film.

Workers in the backyard re-doing the pool - powersawing rebar since Friday - screech city!  Workers out front are re-building garage - lots of hammering there.  My Bose NC Headphones have been erected on my head for more than four hours now.  Question:  Should I consult a doctor? 

I've been blessed by God.  He blessed me with such a gift - I fed my family with this singular gift - He blessed me with work; work that, barring my health going way south, I can undertake to a very considerable set of numbers in age, and, I find no better way to relax than to work.

I rise up, pretty much, right after dawn.  Rarely do I jump up with my hair on fire; I lay there for a while, reviewing my nights dreams which, maybe nine tenths of the time, are musical in nature.

Pants on?  Check.  Slippers?  Check.  Downstairs for coffee for Jessica and myself and then, weather permitting, out to the veranda with the laptop and headphones, or, straight to the studio and go to tape.  Yes, I still call it tape.

I used to enjoy reading the paper with my morning coffee; it's taken me over a half century to break the habit - it was a poison I dragged along with me throughout my day, never realising it's effects upon my frame of mind, therefore, every act/decision of the day was colored by some calamity or other.
My advice?  Grab your headphones instead of the paper when you pour that cup.  By all means, check the news of the day, but wait ​much later to do so.

I seem to work better under a deadline, and it seems there's always a deadline.  Music Supervisor:  "I need it by yesterday at 4 PM".
I enjoy deadlines; a fire is built under my ass, everything gets shoved aside, and people stay the hell out of my way.

Deadlines are not always the case, and I take these occasions to roll a fatty and just go wandering in order to allow whatever to unfold.  My mileage varies somewhat.

This is one of those wanderings - as yet, still un-signed and hanging around in the shoebox; SOMEBODY ​will need a "theme" someday.