Four Days? I Just Don't Write Like I Used To.

My life has been devoid of drama lately. And this is a good thing, I suppose. But the thing is, I have nothing to write about. At least I don't think I do. I read the blogs of people I admire and find myself with writer's block. They write about politics or they write about our social duties and I just feel all diminutive in comparison.

Better stick to topics of music and family here. I can't get in over my head with these things. They are my rhythm and they are my life. I'd like to write about George W. and change the way that some of my readers view him. But the truth is that I don't have the stuff to back up my thoughts on our politicians. I'd rather just listen to Tom Waits sing about hookers, boozers, and the blue collared dreamers of the night.

I'd like to write an essay on the hell that the people of Darfur face each and every day while we comfortably go about our lives. Our enemies are the people who jockey for position on I-40 each morning as we make our way to our jobs, and our days are ruined because we left our iPods at home on the kitchen counter. To this, all I can offer is that if we care at all, we should voice our concerns to our congressmen. It's the least that we can do. We don't face our own genocide every day; the people of Darfur do. But after you write that letter, I really want you to listen to "Kerosene" by Miranda Lambert and tell me if it sounds like an old Steve Earle song. I can't quite place it, but it really sounds like something I've heard Steve sing before.

I'll continue to read up on issues of global and local importance as often as I can, but I continue to try to find my voice here. BB has kindly commented that she likes reading my take on music I like. And so without totally committing to calling this a "music blog," I will probably lean toward the music more than anything. And if I feel that too much time has gone by without giving a girl a good reason to say, "Awwww," I will post a cute picture of a baby Bez.