Back in crazy California after two weeks of treatment up in Oregon. Eat, work, sleep. I certainly hope there’s more to life than just that. At least, that’s our hope. Or faith? The assurance of things hoped for. The evidence of things hoped for. Faith should never be an airy, apple-pie-in-the-sky sort of thing (by the way, we make the best apple pies in the world at our farm).
Speaking of modes, I just got my brand new Apogee Duet up and running. The Duet, for you non-audiophiles, is an external audio recording interface. Very nice little unit. However, I’ve discovered that the slightly oldish keyboard I was using does not talk with my new Mac. Pity. Now I have to find a newish keyboard. Darn you, Roland, for crushing my dreams of recording! It’s only a temporary setback, of course. I’m anxious to get to work on my album of children’s songs about famous generals (or dictators). What child doesn’t long to march around the house singing about Josef Stalin? Actually, I think I’m going to tackle the generals first. I already have Napoleon’s song written (two birds there–general AND dictator).
“Napoleon Bonaparte was born on Corsica, the 15th of August, 1769…he went to France, to the military academy, where he learned about war and how to fight…tumtitum..hum hum…”
Not exactly Rogers and Hammerstein, but maybe I’ll get there one day.
I’d forgotten how absolutely dry and golden brown California already is by the end of April. This state is a desert. That’s the real reason why it’s called the golden state. Dead grass. Not because of dreams coming true in piles of gold coins. Don’t believe that for a second. If you want to live the dream of entrepreneurship and start the next GoogleFacebookAppleWhatever, go to Texas.
Go southeast, young man, and leave California to the dodo birds who want to tax drinks containing more than 25 calories of sugar. Sorry. I should not be maligning the poor dodo birds.