Let’s not split hairs between work and play. You’re here to explore. Are you building rocketships and carnivals? Then I’m here to help.
I didn’t pay much attention to Bowie growing up.
In my early 20’s, I put the finishing touches on an album, Bright Day for a Frog’s Rebellion. The mastering engineer John Mailloux remarked, “Oh man, you must love Hunky Dory.” I had the ridiculous task of telling him I’d never heard of it. (Made easier because I didn’t know how ridiculous it was.)
I’d like to speak with you. But I feel foolish, sitting here in Brooklyn, as I am my only audience.
Should I just talk to myself? “Hi Evan, you’re hungry and cold. Hurry the hell up.”
Or I could address some future multitude: “I hearby set out to preserve my fantasies and criticisms for all eternity.”
At least I won’t start with the dreaded, “I’m writing this blog to <insert overly earnest adverb here> be heard.” (Though what makes that line any worse?)