and by this I mean this: a 30-Day Song Challenge [thanx, moviediva!] -- why not just start now, where I am?

Day 1: A song you like with a color in the title.

For me, there can be only one, glaringly obvious choice:


The Big Blue by Sulk


Somewhere over the course of the past seven years since this song came out, it became my fave song of all time. As luck would have it, the requirement of a colour allows me to choose it to kick off my challenge.

I have listened to this song just about every day since it came out -- every single day. It has become my traditional way to start my day: I fire up the laptop, grab my brekkie, then settle in and play this song. When I only had a limited number of Sulk songs available, I would play their entire oeuvre every day. But now that they have twice as much sutff, I figure I don't always have that kind of time, so as long as I play some Sulk then I'm good. And eventually I got to the point where I usually just play one, and this is it.

The weird thing is, I still cannot explain to anyone why. It's not like I think this is demonstrably the greatest song ever made. But this is my song and I love it. Still not tired of it, I still listen to it actively and mindfully, I still sometimes air-guitar to it... I have never known another song to have such astonishing staying power for me.

preparing to ink my first page of comics this year

clean socks - a good feeling that never fails

atypical of what I've been doing, but I still kinda like it:

that the current pandemic is one of the most comfortable disasters ever

All our utilities still work. Food is still available -- maybe not every item, but the stores still have something to eat. Hell, we even still have internet, so a world full of info and entertainment. This is nothing like being wiped out by a hurricane or earthquake. Gotta keep this in perspective.

The life and work and artistry of Pat Metheny Group keyboardist Lyle Mays, who left us yesterday. Lyle was always one of my fave keyboardists, and in fact at first I was listening to PMG for him more than for The Mighty Pat, who took me longer to appreciate...

starting my morning with a rare winter sighting of a Backyard Bunny®

I am currently reading The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren, and am about five or so chapters in at the moment. Last fall I read my first Lauren book, Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating, and I fell for that book hard. I re-read it after New Year's and fell harder. So, in a sense, this current book has a lot to live up to, and I am beginning to suspect that it will not.

By the end of Hazel's first chapter, I was in love with her and couldn't wait to see what happened with her. (More to the point, she happens to be the type of character that I usually find irritating: the fact that I found her lovable instead is a testament to Lauren's skill.) Today, several chapters into Olive's story, I, well... I don't dislike her. She's okay, I guess. I'm interested enough to keep reading, but I'm not compelled. I simply don't find Olive as captivating as I found Hazel.

And this got me thinking: I will bet you that Lauren (both members of that auctorial duo) love Olive. They found her story compelling enough to want to tell it. But, so far, I am already convinced that I will like this book by the time I reach the end, but I won't love it the way I love Josh and Hazel. [The characters and the novel.] This one isn't connecting the same way for me.

Which leads me to further thinking: I like all my characters. I like their stories enough that I want to tell them. But this doesn't mean that other people will.

Does this mean I have failed as a literary craftsman? I don't think so. What it means, I think, is that it simply underscores the fact that not all things are for all people. Just because one Lauren novel is for me, and very definitely so, doesn't mean that all of them necessarily will be, or have to be. (Although experience teaches us that a creator who makes something that clicks for you is more likely to make other things that will also click for you.) Just because you don't like my book doesn't mean it's a bad book. It only means that it's not for you. 

In recent years I have come to rethink (very seriously) the whole notion of good and bad art. Good art communicates and connects -- with someone, somehow. But it will never do so with everyone. But we speak of good and bad art -- I have done so myself, long and often -- as if they are something far more objective than they can actually be.

Which brings me back to a point I keep returning to again and again in recent months: let people like what they like, and you go ahead and like what you like.

a day off -- managed to reschedule all my appts etc. so that I can stay home and try to get well