Another night, after another day...

...with as little to report as ever.

This is where one wishes for a good writer, one who can create drama out of each convulsive movement of the clock's second hand, who can see portents where the main character -- I was going to say "hero," but that hardly fits me -- sees only bleak and senseless waiting for things that never happen.

The summation of my day: I went shopping to spend more of my dwindling funds on cat food and inexpensive necessities at the 99-Cent Store. No calls, no checks, no emails.

I didn't write, either. I have assignments, but none were sufficiently inspiring to break through the fog in my mind. Besides, they are all for clients who already owe me money....

I was fortunate enough to talk to a couple of friends, and those were nice moments. Sadly, the one who is not involved in my business -- and, therefore, with whom I can talk about things that really interest me -- lives too far away for me to inflict myself on him and his family in person. Maybe a good thing; I suspect we might end up babbling away while consuming plenty of adult beverages as his wife taps her foot impatiently. But maybe not; she seems a sweet and understanding lady.

We talked about music. When my name goes up on the Great Scoreboard of Life (did Vince Lombardi say that?) music may well end up being my deepest -- and most frustrating -- non-human love. My friend is a talented performer; I am not. But our tastes are similar, and I never feel like the untalented hack I really am when we talk.

It's so refreshing to share an appreciation for Diana Krall -- voice and, well, other attributes alike -- but still be understood when I express a preference for Lady Day and Alberta Hunter. It's equally comforting to know that someone else would like to wind Kenny G's stupid soprano saxophone around his neck.

PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: If I were king, all soprano saxes would be melted down and the brass recycled to make more tenor saxes anyway.

ANOTHER PARENTHETICAL NOTE: Much as I despise RealPlayer, I'm having just as much trouble with WinAmp right now. But I digress.

Anyway, R. called to thank me for a set of CDs I sent him. They were the cream of my private library, and he reacted as I hoped: he dug the stuff. Now, he has auditory evidence of some of my musical influences.

It is a good feeling to share that kind of thing with those who understand it.

But now it's hours later, and I am still a million miles away from anything that would please me. Like jamming with like-minded friends, or -- and this would be better, but is destined never to happen -- laying down backup sounds for a vocalist whose voice would soar above my work.

ANOTHER PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: Through the years, my unrealized fantasy has been to be good enough at music to play solo gigs. Without knowing who this vocalist might be, you may judge that I was powerfully affected by the voice to want to play a subordinate role. But I also think my arrangements might have wrapped that voice in velvet....

Just writing all this stuff is bringing me down, and I was down far enough already.

Nothing in life is more cruel than watching your dreams die....

For the record, I have to drag my ass out of here at 6:15 tomorrow morning to do something for work.

The only consolation is that it may give me a few pictures to post, so I can stop writing -- at least for a while -- about the lengthening list of failures and regrets filling my ledger.

Perhaps it's time for you to return to your regularly-scheduled programming....

ONE MORE RAMBLING PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT BEFORE I SHUT THIS THING DOWN AND GO RAISE A SHOT OF BEAM TO OL' BLUE EYES: I have concealed the instrument I "play" (and which has consumed a substantial part of my life in one way or another) for a simple reason. Most people associate it with music that's far, far away from what it can do. I've been laughed at enough to want to again be dropped in among the accordion players, ocarina virtuosi and other curiosities.