This week coming up, I’m gonna hunker down and record! I have some great songs that I’m going to make all shiny and nice just for you! Most of the drums are done, and as the fam is going to Florida for a week, I’ll be all by my lonesome. For a week. Recording.
Not eating pizza. Not sitting in a coffee shop trying to get my Sim City BuildIt population up to 500,000. Not watching “Peep Show” on Netflix. Not poring through the copious quantities of unscanned genealogical documents.
Not watching total strangers play basketball. Or soccer. Not napping to heal from the last nap. Not ruminating upon all the rejection I’m going to get when it’s all done. Not planning my radio show. The one in my mind. Nope. Gonna grab that goddamned Les Paul and turn those demos into better demos and then let some high-priced music industry go-getter put it all together into digestible form. Gonna hone my raw elements in a kind of rock and roll alchemy.
Not going to let all the phone calls and social invitations distract me! All those road trips–they can wait. Not going to Best Buy to enjoy
the thought of finally getting one of those sound bars or a pair of wireless ear buds for when I finally decide to go running or learn how to serve a tennis ball.
The world is waiting for Gilbert Neal Volume 5! And the world is gonna get it! Not the creepy Gilbert Neal that doubles back down the aisles at Harris Teeter or tries to find old girlfriends on Facebook. No time for that! The world is waiting for my muse to flower once again like a groovy titan arum, a dance-able dirge, a balladry larger than it’s components, sung by someone who’s old enough to have real cause to be bitter, but wise enough to
probably abandon these petty vexings for the sake of future generations. I mean, was Lennon bitter? Kurt Cobain? Leonard Cohen? Wavy Gravy? Never heard of bitter gravy, and I’m certainly not going to start now.
Soon, once my ducks are in a row, watch out for a Kickstarter campaign. The good kind. My kind.