Fucking Zombies - 3/29/15
It's been a while since I've posted here. Lots of reasons for that. Most of them good, none of them newsworthy. I haven't made any progress on Ἀφροδίτη in quite some time. I feel bad about that, but not quite bad enough to sit down and create music. But then again, if the only reason I make music is out of some sense of guilt at not doing it, I'm probably going to compose crap anyway. There's 6-8 songs that I could release and not be ashamed of in a couple of months if I put my head down and just did the work of finishing them. That said, I feel like there should probably be two more. If only.

One of the reasons I haven't been doing music is that I've been making progress on the writing front. The novel, which has consumed the majority of my creative output for the last couple of years had to go on hold as I found some momentum on what I thought was a long dead comics project. There's an artist and editor involved so it's farther along than any comic I've done before. Still a long way to go before it sees the light of day and many opportunities for it to die again. I will say no more, lest I tempt fate. The novel is creeping along at a pace that makes a glacier look like the roadrunner. The son of a bitch is going to be big. The first draft of the first 16 chapters, plus the outline for the next 30 or so is already over 81,000 words. The tragedy there isn't that I want to see it done, so much (though I really do) but that I have so many ideas I'm in love (or at least heavy like) with in line behind it. The zombie of a comic has also made me reconsider other long dead things in various mediums that really could be something with a bit of love. Damn, I just don't have the time. To that end, I've spent the last several years stripping out everything in my life that isn't writing or otherwise essential. If I don't see some traction on the creative front, I will probably regret the loss of my social life. Best not fail then.

Right now, filled with a sense of optimism (and a glass of 12 year old whisky), I fully intend to make a weekly practice of brain-dumping on this space. It seems like at least once a week, I come up with something I think I'd like to opine to myself about on the internet but by the time I'm home and whatever, I don't. I don't promise to be erudite, or otherwise worth reading, and after a couple of weeks you likely won't hear from me again for another year. Until then internet, my closest of friends, may all your long dead ideas rise up with a vengeance.

© 1997-2015 Mike Townsend