The joneses.

Oh, thank you!

Unfortunately, I'm swamped and trudging along with a heavy, stuffy head. I will look at this first thing Sunday, after I meed my deadlines and objectives (1 article that is taking a long time because I can't find an ethical way to frame it and about 12-16 briefs). This place is a mess. I wore msyelf out taking out the recycling. Then, I wore myself out taking out the trash. But now, I must run the boss about town on errands.

A new solo album soon is you bet.

Is stress my code name? I hope not.

I will work on tolerance and add Aristotle's Poetics to my reading pile.

I don't know what's going on with Depp. I don't know that much about his personal life, and from what I've heard, I'm not hip with his politics, but he is one awesome actor. I don't watch that many movies, but I saw him twice. Once was at a laundromat (Willy Wonka) and the other time was visiting somebody from church (Pirates). Both times, I thought he was a great actor, and I was astonished to find out it was the same guy. Then, he was all drunk at some awards ceremony, and I thought, "Wow! He's great at playing drunk, too!"

I can't think off-hand of anybody else that I really thought was a great actor. It's like drivers. I think I've only thought, "Wow! That guy is a great driver!" twice in my life. One dude was in a parking lot. We were in a tight space with only one way out. We had to rotate our cars together like a binary star. It occurred to us what needed to be done instantly and we did it. The other time, the guy seemed to have good command of what other people were trying to do, getting out of the way, helping weaker drivers, etc.

Anyway, I looked up a copy of Aristotle's Poetics online and read a few pages and thought, "This is good." It was stirring my brain from a long slumber. I would much prefer to be reading it, but I've got about 80 pages left of my police-and-racism book to finish.

Not a singer, I didn't know what Justin meant about hitting the note in the middle. At first, I thought he meant don't be sharp or flat, and I remembered times he was so right-on with his singing it was just thrilling. But then I wondered why anybody should want to sing sharp or flat. Then, the second sentence is presented as a restatement, and he's talking about songs that has such feeling, words that have such meaning, dreams that never die; and, "Oh, can you feel it tonight." I sure can, but then I started hearing in my mind the pop song, "Why Don't You Meet Me in the Middle," and thinking about the time a DJ at a radio station I've mentioned here before was out sick. The guy substituting for him said the guy was out with constipation and dedicated, "Stuck in the Middle with You" to him. I may be hopeless.

On the art question, I'm not going to pretend I understand what the Q or the A person is saying. I thought everybody liked some form of art. Art is capitalized. Since art is open to interpretation, I will assume they're talking about what we discussed elsewhere, that spiritual high that art can reach. I am suddenly feeling less incurious. This, too, is good. Je veux chercher le je ne sais quois.

On the trained musician thing, I observed a long ago that all the good guitarists, for the most part, were self-trained. If they weren't, it's likely they would all sound the same as their teachers. I always regret not pursuing more formal lessons on piano. I stink on fingering, so my muscle memory doesn't kick in because I'm hitting the notes with different fingers each time. Sometimes, I even turn my hand upside-down, which I heard one of the Marx Brothers did to be comedic.

As close as I got to a similar wavelength was yesterday I was thinking about how I used to always want to live in Arizona, but have now become a fan of rich biodiversity. I was thinking if I went to Arizona, I would have to live in an oasis, because, in my paradise, there would have to be date palms, right?