Henry on DJ'ing

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Disclosure: I like some DJ-ing. I think DJ-ing is an art.

Yet I'm closer to Henry's view on the matter.

Working too damn much

...but making good money.

Actually, the money hasn't been that great until now. I got my first real copywriting gig, and I think I charged too low, but the end result is it's more money per hour than I've ever made in my life.

Last year I went bananas reading all these self-help, motivational books and starting planning what I wanted to do financially with my life. It's nice to see things not so much coming together, but getting better, and habits forming that mean something.

The goal was always working for myself, personally controlling how and when I worked, and spending quality time with my family and friends. Lately it's just been WORK... but I'm starting to see some light at the end of the flashlight.

Today, for instance. I could afford to wake up and drink a beer for breakfast. Just one beer, because I don't have to think too much today. I can't tell you how good it feels, day or night, to be in the shower with hot steaming water engulfing your skin and the cold, hoppy goodness of a Lagunitas IPA sliding down your throat, generating a warmish glow in a very chi-ish place.

No. I couldn't begin to tell you.

What's up...

Damn what a holiday season. Six birthdays in the immediate family, Xmas and New Year's all in one month. Nintendo DS's for three kids. I'm a broke ass mutha.

Got sick with one of my vintage Coughs From Hell. Still don't think I've buried it yet.

The band's getting back together. Bought a new guitar and amp, heading to Texas in April. Maybe getting a band together here. Learning old songs, writing new ones, getting my musical chops back... however shitty they were to begin with. Sometimes I think the only musical gift I have is playing loud. But I love it.

Writing. Forcing myself to. Working 60 hours a week, four kids, force is the only way.

Oh, and a bright spot. I go into work yesterday, and Sharon's trying to score tickets to the Deadheads for Obama show at the Warfield Monday by refreshing Ticketmaster over and over again. I offer to help, she sends me the link and blam! we both hit the jackpot. So within ten seconds, I decide I like Barrack Obama, Bob Weir, Mickey Hart and Phil Lesh just enough to buy my own tickets.

The show sold out in nine minutes. Craigslist is littered with sad Deadheads looking to pay between $1 and $1,000,000 for a ticket. But I'm getting my Dead on, ya'll!!!