I just came back from Commissioner's Park. I had wandered over to sit in the car overlooking the walking track, thinking of nothing in particular, and wondering about very familiar things.

Foremost among my thoughts was, simply, music. The thing which I most desire. My life seems incomplete. Not because of relationships. Or realities. But because of the utter lack of music. Oh, I have music still. But I no longer play it. And I no longer have the capacity to record it.

There is a beautiful acoustic guitar at Hames. A beautiful Ovation. It has a dark, warm woodgrain finish and plays like a dream. I am thinking of laying it away in the next few weeks. With the way things have gone recently, there are most certainly better things which I could do with my money. But need this. I need to get back on the path, as it were.

A lot has changed. Within. Without. Spiritual and circumstantial. And the time has come to begin working back towards the primary goal of simply making music. I have, more or less, given up on the thought of attaining another Alembic. There is no way I will ever have another unless I manage, by some grace of God, to get a business loan from the government as I hope to do. Instead, I will simply repair the Ampeg bass head so that I might get back into playing. I will complete the Cat Bass. I will replace or replate the hardware on the TSB-350 and the Destroyer. And I may purchase that acoustic.

“Sometimes I wish...
That there was naught but the dream...
And the pursuit of the dream...”

I seem to be missing something very vital. Part of it probably has to do with playing. I miss that. But part of it has to do with being here, trapped within an atmosphere which stifles creativity or even thought, due to family neuroses, demands, and contrivances. And I will escape. If only in the contemplation of minor goals. Such as acquiring a few new trinkets.