My musical well has completely run dry.
It’s been eight months since I came up with a melody.
Razab would say it’s our middle-age contentment. And he’s right.
The misguided Weltschmerz of our teens; the misplaced angst of our 20s; heck, even the white-collar ennui of our 30s — plenty to mine there.
But your 40s are when you realize you’re really not that unique (and you’re fine with it); when you mute your outrage because nothing is just black and white; when you’ve kind of figured out how to balance kids and career.
When a perfectly fine Friday night is hot wings in hand and “Shark Tank” on TV, it’s hard to come up with decent songs.
… It’s a pretty sweet trade off though.