The Pitty Post, like the Pity Fuck, is a post posted purely to show sympathy for an otherwise neglected blog. Danse Russe has unfortunately gathered dust lately. Why? 1. My personal life is largely uneventful: I exercise, I agonize over petty things, I sometimes work, I sometimes go to band practice. All the rest has moved to Exploder, because the only exciting things happening, if at all, are in music. That said, the whole thing is beginning to get old. The rains have started. Relentless, cold, grey rain. A late, wet spring has sprung. The blossoms are bursting from the cherry trees but they’ve jumped the gun. Everything else is just buds and sticks. Springs are often attributed various magical powers. I have occasionally witnessed these powers, but this year’s feels somewhat deflated. My calendar tells me its been almost a year since I quit smoking and I think how strange that is before stepping out for a cigarette. The bands I hear are increasingly wierd or increasingly mediocre, depending. I’m starting to have trouble distinguishing the good from the bad. I wish I could produce 12 songs every single day, and sort out the good ones on Sundays. I wish, for the first time in my life, that I could see my own abs. I have gained 10+ pounds, and still can’t be sure if it’s muscle or flab.

I’m starting to feel it all as just spinning wheels, no progress. What felt like everything falling into its right place now feels like stasis. They say if you put your mind to it, you can do anything, but your mind is not enough. You have to put your soul into it to make it work. I’m still ignoring that little voice of mine that tells me I just don’t have what it takes (sometimes unsuccessfully). I’m trying not to be impatient. I’m thinking out loud. The house is on the market, officially. I must clean and move boxes. マ is on and off and on and then off the wagon. Looking from the patio, I notice the hills behind the house have far less trees and far more houses. I must buy an ionizer at home depot and scrub the walls and ceilings. Ceilings is such an odd word. It took me 3 tries to spell it, and it still looks weird. Mom watching golf. Scratch Ionizer, ordered a rental Ozone machine. Write thank you letter. Listen PPN. Brush Teeth. Make coffee. Make bed. Tidy room. Mind: off.


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