Things have been a little thin on the ground here at Mountain Fortress Blarg, and while I have no good reasons, perhaps an excuse or two might do in their stead. Dave Humphrey recently linked to an article on composing, which David Byrne closes by saying:
“But one might also ask: Is writing ever NOT collaboration? Doesn’t one collaborate with oneself, in a sense? Don’t we access different aspects of ourselves, different characters and attitudes and then, when they’ve had their say, switch hats and take a more distanced and critical view — editing and structuring our other half’s outpourings? Isn’t the end product sort of the result of two sides collaborating? Surely I’m not the only one who does this?”
And surely he’s not, but when those other aspects of yourself won’t shut the hell up for a few minutes so you can get some damn writing done, it isn’t always this pleasant coffeeshop chat about this fine spring day’s occurrences. It’s not that I have less time to write, strictly speaking; it’s the two or three hours of staring at my keyboard, clenching my jaw and vibrating in place until my eyes bleed that I don’t have.
According to Sartre “hell is other people”, which makes me think his internal monologue was very different from mine. Let me tell you: managing those jackals is work. Other people are comparatively well mannered.
Anyway, here are a few pictures of the reason I don’t have that time anymore. She continues to be 100% adorable, and her quickly-improving mobility continues to be 100% some elaborate German word that denotes bursting with pride about something which also terrifies you. We’ve already hit “Baby’s First Circumvented Security Measure”, thankfully to no particular harm, and so now the arms race begins.