Perhaps I'm trying to strike an imaginary blow to the Coolsters by deliberately blogging about kids and felines. But there's nothing like kids and animals to snap you out whatever brainfuck you're ensconced in.
Over the past few months, I've had what seems to be a steady unravelling of confidence. Maybe this had been a natural correction of the blinding hubris it takes to finish and promote your own record. You finish with a feeling of great hope and victory; you bask in it for a few weeks; soon enough, the feeling of victory evaporates and, as you get rejected by your fifth folk festival, you're left wondering if you just might suck.
In this new, loser mentality, I started noticing things that had eluded me during the hubris period. My ass looked kinda big and my hair was all wrong. I might as well have been fitted with orthodonture and made to wear acid wash jeans and go back to junior high.
The natural thing to do in these situations is drink, and drinking is what most people do to forget that deep down inside them resides a little loser. But I can't do that. I don't do drugs, either. I don't know where to find them.
I know where to find kids and animals, though. And even a smidgeon of their love makes me feel so alive and so high.
So on we go.
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