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Day One Hundred Fifty One

Watching that interview and such last night got me to sit down with the acoustic today before work. True to form, I found a couple of new ideas that I like. And maybe it was just the early afternoon optimism, but for some reason, they felt different. They felt like the start of something, as opposed to re-hashings of warmed over stuff I've heard a million times. I know I've said it before, but I need a week hidden away somewhere to just play, record, process, and write.

Right now, the record I'll write eventually would have the sheen of well produced power-pop, the instrumentation of an Aimee Mann record ("Lost In Space," perhaps?), and lyrics that would purge the last three years of my life. It would have an acoustic core, electric flourishes where they were needed, and would utilize an acoustic bass. It won't be made in a giant recording studio, or in a living room.

I need a room that will serve as a studio first. I crave a place where I can be loud and make mistakes without people judging me. I long to lose myself in the safety of the sound. Soon. My time is coming soon.

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