So I’m giving up playing guitar and singing and writing songs. It’s a mugs game, and A.I. can do it far better now anyway. There are millions of songs out there in the universe already, and who in that universe is going to be disappointed if no more are ever written. By humans anyway. Also, it’s a constant battle to register any interest, even from people who like me and/or think that my songs demonstrate a modicum of talent. And though singing to myself is fun and therapeutic, it’s probably no more fun (or therapeutic) than watching old episodes of “Would I Lie To You?”
I am lying actually. But it’s probably true to say that variations on these themes flash through my head on occasion. In the darker moments.
And then I get an idea for another song, and the best laid plans of mice and men go belly up. I’m back on (or off???) the wagon again.
It turns out that, for better or worse, songs are my truth.
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