Shit shit shit.

This is what I felt like when the Fm thing popped into my head. Crap. This is a good idea, too good for a goob like me, and it’s going to take a shedload of work to do it justice. CRAP. I feel like someone who dug up the Koh-i-Noor and is now whining about all the time it’s going to take to cut and polish the damned thing.

And I dug it up because I was looking for something to go with that stupid, goddamned Ebm thing! In 4/4! The only effing thing in 4/4 I’ve ever written. It’s a great little idea, but it seems forever doomed to be a little idea, because this thing doesn’t go with it.

God, this sucks. It’s like that freaking stupid coda in D mixo that I worked up, wrote something all around it, got to the end, and then found out that the coda didn’t even fit. So the whole raison d’être for that piece got stuck in a tupperware and crammed into the back of the freezer in the end anyhow. At this rate, I’ll have an equally long collection of pieces I’ve written alongside all the abandoned catalysts for their having been written in the first place.

Shit. I have too much to do now at work, and now I’ve got this stupid chunk of crystallized carbon to grind up. Fucking thing. There is something mentally off-kilter about creative types (or possibly just me) when we spend our lives hoping for The Great Idea to arrive gift-wrapped in our brains, and when one does show up, we whine about how it’s going to take sooooo much tiiiiime and I’m not goooood enouuuuuuugh. We make no sense.