Wednesday afternoon I was at the grocery store with Dear Old Dad and I got hit with a bad migraine. It hit so hard and so fast I just about fell over.
It’s so late Wednesday night right now that its Thursday morning, and I still feel like hammered #$%&. I am going to give my brain a slight break and turn off the computers for the day. Stay offline and focus on writing.
If my brain pain and the weather allows, Dear Old Dad and I are planning to visit special place for me, and it’s jut down the road from Crisfield, but I never get to visit now that I can’t drive.
I have other news to share, but it’s late enough to be early and my head hurts really bad. I’m going to watch a bad horror movie. Nights like this call for the big guns, so it’s either The Abominable Dr. Phibes or The Green Slime.That will work as well as meditation to get me rested so that I can write tomorrow.
Thanks to all of you for the kind comments on my recent videos. You are all such amazing people. I will have to work harder to measure up to your kind words.
When you do all of your work in pencil, and you sharpen those pencils in a super-awesome machine) those pencils eventually get too short to use.
I picked up a fresh box of Mitsubishi 9850 pencils a few days ago, so I have plenty to work with. I am just wondering what to do with these pencil stubs. Throw them away? Make them available to Patreon sponsors as souvenirs when the book is finished?
It sure feels good to be writing again. I’ll be posting a new chapter soon. I am also working on a new project with Dear Old Dad that should be a lot of fun.
I am still working toward my goals, and I am still okay.
Dear Old Dad can tell you that once in a while the pain I deal with on an everyday basis gets to me. If it isn’t that then it’s the nightmarish amount of technical stuff I have to handle with on equipment that will stop working if I look at it the wrong way. Add in nonsense from angry people at random intervals and there are moments when I throw my hands up in the air and wonder why I do this job.
I was having one of those moments a few days ago when I ran across an email John in New York sent us in 2008:
Dear Pat and DoD,
I just got married last weekend and although I’ve only been playing for about 6 months, I belted out a version of “The Wild Rover” at my big fat Irish wedding. This was my first performance in public. It was one of the scariest things I have ever done (and I’ve jumped out of airplanes). The worst happened: I forgot some lyrics and was about 60% as good as I am in private on the banjo. Guess what? No one cared. The crowd was so into it that they filled in what I forgot and helped me along. This was by far one of the highlights of an awesome reception. I want to thank you guys for all the services you have provided that enabled me to do this (and put that look of sheer joy on my new wife’s face).
Letters like this – pictures like this – moments like these are why I fight through my hearing and seizures and strokes and everything else that gets thrown in my way.
I have a lot of emails, cards and letters like Johns. Stories of men and women who took up the banjo to sing to, for and about the people that they love.