A Little Blog Cabin

I knew I had to move away.
There were too many obstacles in the way of my art. Too many big city distractions that lured me from my writing: parties, women, meetings, subpoenas…
I had to move away.
Artists through the ages have felt this same need to simplify their lives; to sacrifice the luxury of their surroundings in purer pursuit of their muse.
In fact, most great works of art were created in a vacuum, free from distraction. I did not own a vacuum, so I decided instead that I would move up to the country.
And while that decision seemed bold to some, it felt quite natural to me. I've never needed the fancier things in life; the gadgets and gizmos of the modern man. I am a simple, country bumpkin at heart. All I need is a soft ground to sleep on. And my music. And a storage facility for all my other stuff.
I headed North, and settled down in a little log cabin by a lake. It was an idyllic writing environment and I set to work immediately, being sure to prioritize my time.
Using the bark from an Elm tree, I fashioned a durable guitar case. Next, I decided to build a guitar, and when I was finished with that, the songs came fast and furious. Songs of great loneliness. Songs of boredom, and isolation, and overwhelming regret. In my sweet solitude, I was prolific; completely at one with my art.
I needed no one, and yet, the animals and insects all gathered around to hear me play. I tried to charge them a cover, but to no avail. Either way, I knew the tunes were good. I was in my creative element, and I had to get these songs down on tape…
I wired a friend to bring up all my old recording gear, and I found a beautiful piano at the local pawnshop.
There was a property for sale down the lane that was more of a summer home than a log cabin, but that would better accommodate my needs. And it had wireless Internet, which was great for keeping my friends updated on my simple country life.
And it had an awesome Jacuzzi on the back deck.
Some time later, my friend Tad, who was a graffiti artist, faxed me to say that he too was moving to the woods to hone his craft. The timing was perfect.
I knew I had to move back to the city. There were parties and meetings that I had to attend. And this country bumpkin was dying for a latté.
So I sold Tad my little rustic hideaway. And I threw in the security system and the jet skis for free.
I learned a lot from my weeklong stay in the woods:
I learned that you can cook fish sticks by rubbing them together.
I learned that robins are wonderful singers, but that they have poor microphone technique.
And I learned that when I am free from distractions I am a much more focused writer. And I learned that when I am free from distractions, I am a much more focused writer.
I end this week's Blog with another interesting musical fact:

- There were very few F Sharps used in 19th century classical music (an
overly competitive Beethoven hid the note under his wig) -


Anonymous said...

Thanks for writing this.

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