I Am No Longer A Snot Factory.

God, has it been *10* days since I last said hello? My little corner of the net has all kinds of dust and lint on it.

It's 4:30am. I have the Doobie Brothers playing on my computer. It's freezing in my apartment.

Where have I been the last ten days?

My recording sessions didn't really happen. Lots of stuff that couldn't be helped. I was a mass of disappointment. And phlegm. I got sick and was down for the count until midnight tonight, when I decided I had to do something productive. I have a list of *20* emails that I have to return before I sleep. I finished email #12 and decided to check in.

These days find me reflective and more than a little sad. About lots of things. I hate approaching you with less than a cheerful attitude, but it has to be said, I'm feeling the knocks.

I have been reading. Perfume by Patrick Suskind, which wasn't even on my list of 75 books. I'd heard so many things about it that I had to pick it up. Suskind's descriptive power is incredible. I am also reading A Confederacy of Dunces. This book has me laughing out loud on the subway. Ignatius Reilly is so brilliantly absurd - I don't think I've ever been so hilariously repulsed.

Netflix sent me 12 Angry Men. *Great* movie. I don't watch a lot of "classic" movies, to be honest. I was really surprised how much I liked this one. So many great character actors in one place. There were quite a few actors there I'm more familiar with as older men. Jack Klugman was there, looking very young and vulnerable (and oddly attractive. Almost like a cousin of Michael Penn!?!).

I started a short story, but stopped after a page or two. It needs a twist of some kind.

Anyhow, I'm trying to keep my wits about me. The plan of the moment is to record the drums in Canada in February. Which maybe isn't that far away after all.

Jules