i continue to refine my routine for writing effectively. It has evolved into my spot in the garage, a retreat, not really a man cave. This is now almost a requirement since i got the monster microfiche reader. It sits atop the desk my father made out of mostly scrap wood for my daughter Sarah. She had it in her room until she went to Austin. i moved it to the garage for a work table, but i find it comforting to write on the desk he built.
Then i discovered i write better when i have some of my music playing: not the blues, not my idea of hard rock, quite often old jazz or some of favorite classical stuff, more often than not Handel’s “Water Music” or Dvořák’s 9th, “The New World” symphony.
So this morning, i powered up the monster, moved my laptop to that desk, and rumbled through my LP’S, found one i thought would be good to write by, and put on Chet Atkin’s “C.G.P.” (Certified Guitar Player). i was getting into it, even thinking i might get two installments on this website this week.
But i had to stop abruptly. The last song on side one is “I Still Can’t Say Goodbye.” It’s about a man’s father. Chet said it reminded him of his father. So he starts to play and sing. Now i’m sitting here in my space in the workshop side of my garage where my father and i worked on many projects together side by side for sixteen straight January’s and February’s when he and Mother came out to miss the Tennessee winters, sitting at the desk he made…
And Chet sings this song:
i’ll get over it, of course, but it’s gonna be a while before i start writing today.
And if you don’t want to get a little teary, you better not actually listen to this.