I spent most of my day at work today planning my day after work today. Things are starting to get a bit real now; that lovely, lazy period of nothing-to-do is about to end soon and I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a long, long day.

So I decided to leave at 6 today and get home by 8. I thought I’d meet my nephew for a bit and start on the Split album art and practice violin and go out for a walk after dinner. And on the way home I sat on the floor of the train and looked at people’s feet and wondered how much you could tell about a woman by how prettily kept her feet are. And I thought that I would blog about it when I got home.

It’s almost half past eleven now and barely 3 hours since I got home and 2 since Tink left and I only just managed to start on the Split artwork before dinner. And I was tired and I just wanted to pass out but I have a violin that needs practicing and I thought I ought to give it fifteen minutes at least.

It sounds a little bit better today. But it’s still a horribly demeaning process, this whole violin practice thing, and I still can’t bring myself to keep at these sounds till they start to sound a bit more like music.

I have work to do at work now, Zonk, and an album artwork to finish on the side and more freelance work coming in next week. And the world’s most difficult instrument lying in it’s case in my closet because it makes such stubborn sounds when I do gather the will to drag it out.

And a guitar that suffers such neglect..

When do I ever get the time to paint again?
How many hours in a day do you need to really do everything that you need to do? How long does it take before you give in or give up or burn out? How do people do this everyday? Also, why?

And to think that I’m only just starting.

Goodbye Zonk. I really need to go sleep now. Tomorrow, if I find the time when I’m home, I’ll tell you about toes. And what I think they tell you about the people who come attached. And hopefully my violin will sound almost nice and the album art will be nearing completion and God in His Fucking Heaven will care enough to stop all of Time for just a few hours so one measly person can get all of this done and not fuck up with work,or with sleep, or with Life in general.

Until then, goodnight.

PS: I was reading up about violins and I found this somewhere on the internet:

 If you practice while you’re tired, you may run the risk of slipping into poor playing habits.

What the fuck is anybody supposed to do!? Aaaaaaaah!


Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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