Artificial Colon-induced Importance

Triumph:
Paging through screen after screen after screen of emails till I found the ONE spam message that was preventing me from have a clean inbox. Ahhhhh. Unread? zero.

Triumph:
Stevie Ray Vaughn turns out to be the perfect music for right now. Shawn McDonald sang to us for 2.7 hours as I drifted through dim consciousness on the couch and Mom and Dad discussed every inch of the house plans on the computer screen, and I was looking for something quiet to follow him up. Quiet but not melancholy... quiet and happy or interesting and not sensitive acoustic.. but Stevie took things in a little different direction, and it's PERFECT. Thusly is the point of having 5247 songs to choose from.


Frustration:
Still unable to log in to my artistcollaboration ftp sites to upload new recordings.

Possibility:
Yahoo! domains for a few bucks a year. My own whole website? Hmm...

Resolve:
My savings keeps going up (I set it up to put half my net paycheck in there every week), but my checking account has trickled down. I need to spend less money. Small things, smart things, recognizing that this isn't as special of a case as it feels, but rather it's another $27 subtraction that I have a chance to cut out of my next bank statement. It's good to look over my account activity and see my spendings add up.

Discomfort:
The weird knot of pain between my right shoulder blade and backbone. For two weeks now it's been taking my breath away when I turn or move certain directions. Shannon and Dad's best efforts at pounding it out haven't helped, and it's sitting back there, a quiet little ache. It's like somebody implanted a marble back there and forgot to take it out.

Warm:
The fire behind me, the light oak cabinets and table and chairs, golden floor, golden brown couches, yellow light, soft shadows, sleeping beagle, carpet, blankets, brown bricks.

--JPB

Update:
Triumph:
Recording one of the songs that I sang into my cell phone memo recorder awhile ago. Many other songs still lay in there conceived yet unborn, but this one at least is out in the air, screaming a little bit, but kinda good looking. Looks a little like his daddy.

Helplessness:
It's late. Work is immovable. Nothing in the world can change the hours gone and the fewness of the ones that remain before then. I have rolled my dice.