I'm so bored. Basement, work, upstairs, kids, basement, work, upstairs, kids -- meep-mop-meep-mop-beep-boop-beep-boop. I feel like I'm just pissin' away my days. I mean, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow and... oh wait, no I couldn't. BECAUSE I DON'T EVER LEAVE THE GODDAMN HOUSE!
I tried looking up some things to do on the ol' internets today. I had this whole fantasy that I would learn woodworking and start building furniture and shit. There doesn't seem to be anything around here, though. There's some whittling club in Lansing but I'm afraid that if I sit around carving sticks all day, I might just whittle me a pointy stake and just jam it through my neck.
I did find a ceramics class that starts up this fall. Do I want to make ceramics? Bowls and pitchers and ashtrays? I don't know. And, more importantly, do I want to meet people who make ceramics? I imagine a bunch of weathered hippies with gray pony-tails and sandals with socks and felt, Navajo-inspired vests, or something. Bleh.
I think the not-playing-music-anymore thing is my biggest dilemma. I want to start recording my own songs but it's just me... there's no one going, "Dude, let's record some tunes this weekend!" It's just me going, "Boy, all these mic cables sure are tangled. Maybe I could untangle them and record something... or I could clip my toenails. [pause... long inhale/exhale through nose...] Toenails it is."
Maybe, in my ceramics class, I could mold some ceramic friends who could play in a band with me. Let's see... there'll be "Clay" on bass, "Bowl-y" on guitar, "Plate-y" on vocals and I'll play drums. And we'll call ourselves... THE I AM AN OLD MAN WITH NO FUCKING LIFEs.
I think I'm gonna get started on that pointy stick.