I'm at Howard's for my weekly writing session...which I actually haven't done in about a month. Little changes, though. The bartender still knows my drink. I still get recognized by a barfly before I even reach the bar. When I get to my table, there's a condom packet. The packaging advertises the perfect fit by showing a (doubtlessly illegal) screen shot of Tetris. This is new, but it's so in character with my surroundings that I give it a pass.
I have, since the semester ended, been reading a songwriting book. It has had its intended effect, that is, to make me think more explicitly about things which I know mostly from learning as I go. I have several others in the apartment complex office waiting for me to pick up, and earlier, I ordered a few guides for diy musicians. It is one of my goals to, over the summer, get more serious about my music. I care too much about it to do this halfheartedly. Additionally, I suspect I actually have more talent than my album sales or concert attendance would suggest...and I guess it's time to go down kicking and screaming in my efforts to be an artist.
Inspired by my reading, my mind involuntarily generated a chord structure while I was making my peanut butter and banana sandwich lunch. I ran back to the study, broke out my acoustic, and recorded a crappy demo after stumbling over a potential chorus. However, it took me until having a depression fit while cooking dinner to come to some idea as to what the song was about.
So what is the song about? What are my songs always about? Me, of course, and my depression a little more specifically. My particular angle of attack this time is based on Wil Wheaton's maxim that depression tells lies. It certainly does, but it does more than just lie. It inspires massive jealousy, the kind that makes looking at social media a bad idea lest one start to hate one's friends for their successes and travels. It also instills doom, paranoia, and resentment, in my case, towards my sick and moody child. When all this happens, is one really living? This is on what the song (or the songwriting process, depending on one's perception) will focus.
So now I'm here to write. I've got an idea of the melody, but I'll embellish and explore that after the lyrics are in draft form. My main goal is to scribble lines into my notebook. If I'm very lucky, I might get enough to start sculpting them into a lyric.
Time to get to work.