I was going to write about how I've been looking at my hands lately, but why bore you with cross-hatch musings. Age is a wonderful thing.
Summer is here. I just finished (all but the epilogue) a book on Brian Wilson's recording of Pet Sounds. What gets me is even this book isn't immune from Brian Wilson Worship. I find great irony in that this man once declared he would "write songs one day that people would pray to" and now it seems some pop historians and writers mistakenly pray to him, not the songs. As my dad always said "you know Brian Wilson fried his brain with drugs…"
Genius or not, I declare that one day I will write songs that people will sleep to. You heard it here first.