Early Sunday morning set up at Westlake.
A big part of my musical life has been a lot of sitting around, and waiting for other musicians. It’s not a complaint, just an observation. In fact, there isn’t much to complain about these days.
So much of art is pulled from depression and angst, at least for me it has been. It’s a strange place to be whenever it’s 1:30 am, staring at my instrument from across the room, and know that there isn’t much that I need to emote about.
I’m guessing that’s good. Maybe I can hang out here for a moment.
