Bugolgi Apparatus

One life to live how many artists have I met disguised as bankers how many directors droning in front of a monitor how many drinks have I had with middle aged persons imagining a future that never happens the brave die once cowards every morning if you opened your heart and no one cared it would still be there if you sang a song and people talked would you still be there you take measures your mental congress cuts your budgets you die of a billion paper cuts paying dearly for everything you wanted to say yourself with a wallet full of excuses and a generous retirement plan

If you have a strong aversion to practicing, it might be because your instrument is not sexy enough. You must feel the pull of its shape. You must want to hold it in your hands and play with its strings. Many times, I've pussied out at the last moment, not buying the object of my desire, but some lesser thing. I jab of guilt mixed with shame (that I'm wasting all my money on some fantasy) does me in when I reach for my wallet. So I bring the ugly thing home and resentment sets in. I become a super procrastinator and will go to a store and buy cookies, check email, watch youtube, do everything but what I set the time aside for. Only now at 47 do I realize the error of my ways. Never again. Debt or glory.