Steve's Online Diary
Copyright Comeuppance Ltd. 2002 - 2012 This diary may not be reproduced in whole or part without permission.
About that tooth. Check-up with dentist. The top-right wisdom is the problem. Lower two extracted many years ago, so the villain has grown a little longer than normal, much longer than had it been grinding down on another. Hence, it is loose and became infected last week with extraneous nonsense lodged in all the wrong places. Extraction today. And I have a horror of hypodermics. He swears I will hardly notice it being done. “A little pushing and pulling.....” Pain I can take. But needles. Needles I fear.
Slightly shattered. Ten tracks recorded, some sung, others waiting for lyrics. It’s like jet-lag. Coming down from the mad rushes of adrenalin that go with the producing/recording process. Been living-in at a residential recording studio. Odd to get up and share breakfast with the band. Odd, too, to share the dinner table each night, but they are all decent blokes and easy to get along with. I’m the one with the swimming head, tunes and words, production plans all juggled at the same time, so I’m the distant one over the boiled eggs and soldiers. Home for a few days, then to Germany, so the rush will re-start, and I’ll be all the better for it. Playing Live, that’s still number one for me. Berlin beckons and then on-the-road with the same decent blokes. Could be much worse, I know.
Read about Facebook unleashing freedom to steal identities, and how the Royal family had registered their names so no thieving cybersquatter could do so. Thought I’d best do same. Now I don’t have a clue what to do with it. I know I don’t want to twitter nonsense with near or complete strangers, so I imagine the site will lie there, dormant. Same with MySpace. The Imposter has been seen off , we’ve registered another and there it lies, dormant too. What do you do with Facebook? Has the word “friend” been somewhat devalued by tagging it to strangers who look you up?
Read somewhere, taking a late night pause from writing, trawling the web like a first-year student at a loose end, that someone (maybe in The Guardian?) was of the opinion that I was neither a cockney, nor a rebel. Occurred to me that Neil Young was neither crazy, nor a horse. Only wish I’d read the piece when it was printed.
Took a couple of weeks away from the study, but didn’t take a guitar. And I regretted it badly.
Thought Mahon, main city of Menorca, would have a decent music shop or two, but the only one was closed for its own holidays.
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