The day the music dies

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.