Tomorrow, Ben Franklin returns to the Hudson County Pigeon Club in Hoboken to start vocal tracking and mixing of our record. I can't wait to show "everyone" [all ten people who sorta care] what we've been working on, and how great I think it is [also a dubious prospect, but we live in hope, yes?] I couldn't be more excited. It's actually a problem. I shouldn't practice any more singing, I shouldn't post any new notices about our show this coming Saturday until I get home really late tomorrow night with the early mixes we're going to put up and make available at the show....
So I guess I'm going running, then.
When I run, my mind wanders, it goes blank; I think of the past, I think of my breathing, I don't think of anything. Sometimes my mind wanders to very embarrassing old memories, the kind that will spur you to run faster, just to move on from the spectre, even though the mental and physical acts involved are pretty disparate. But I wouldn't say it's a problem I have with running, just something that happens sometimes. Sometimes my knees hurt, sometimes it's hard to breathe, it's the same thing, really.
Off we go, then.