The Truth

Everyone, right now, go and read Amanda Palmer's latest blog entry - Why Music Matters.

The essay that she's featuring is about the most important thing I've ever read as an artist. And I wish I was a musician (my earnest, generally terrible guitar attempts don't quite count on such a scale, and yet...) But it doesn't matter, music really is that important, to me and to everyone, and... yes. Just go and read it, it'll blow your mind.

I'm happy. Tonight was the first night I've spent at home this week (actually, my bedtimes have been between midnight and 1am) and I jumped into full-on domesticity. I washed clothes, cooked dinner (and some for tomorrow's lunch) and washed dishes. And looked after Tran's washing. And had some very enjoyable wine and cheese, and spent a large chunk of my evening singing in our kitchen, taking enormous comfort in my new spectacular speakers. We have such great acoustics.

Ah. I feel great. I think I want to write. Or, perhaps not, I'm really exceptionally tired, but I would like to read some poetry, and then I think I'll snuggle into bed and read for a couple of hours.

Mmmm.