Nice in No Sense of the Word

Training of the new guy continues at work. He seems nice. Let's face it, who isn't nice compared to me? I'd be fucking insulted if anyone called me nice...unless they meant it in the older sense of the word - "nice" as "precise". Then I'd think the person was an idiot because precision ain't my forte, Matt.

Wha?

Trying to convince Bill Garver to see Drive with me this week. He's sick. Poor guy. We'll see what happens. Also, even though it may be financially unwise to do so this week, I am trying to book a recording session. The guy is good and the money is right, I just have had a shitload of bills come up recently.

But if I don't start doing demos and at least trying to put something together soon I am going to go out of my fucking mind. More importantly, the other writing suffers when I am not working on music with collaborators. Being in a band is a release valve for ideas that aren't for the other stuff but still worth doing. Doing them with other musicians make those ideas satisfying and usually better.