I have an indecision problem. And this problem is pervasive throughout my life as many of you who know me well know damn well. Miranda will ask me, "What are you making for dinner?" or "What do you want to do for your birthday (which is this thursday I might add)?" or Zach might ask me "Do you want to go to a show on Sunday?"
"I don't know."
And that's just the simple stuff. Of course there are far more relevant examples that I could make, but frankly, using them would make me look bad and stupid. Whether or not I am bad and stupid, I will leave up to you, my humble readers.
Now the reason I am even telling you this is that you are going to have to bear with me (or not, really) when it comes to naming my creative endeavors. I am a frequent user of "working titles," and I like to write songs that could be holed up with all diversity of pigeons. Double and triple meanings, agendas that are hidden from the agendas: This is just how I am. And who I am, I might add.
So, I know that I had posted a song and labeled it as "Well" a couple days ago, but that was a mistake. I actually meant to call it "The Stranger" in homage to both my psychopathy and my favorite rag. The Stranger is a local free weekly in Seattle, and it is the newspaper who's classifieds led me to a dingy, sweat encumbered and soon to be condemned little building in the stadium district known as "Hush Studios," the place that I actually became a musician by virtue of the fact that I was creating and performing music in real life and outside of my barracks. I will submit that I had been a producer and *chuckle chuckle* rapper (that's right, I said rapper (http://www.myspace.com/eequalsmcsee if you don't believe me)) up until that point, but I never thought I would actually end up doing that forever. I learned a lot from it, but it wasn't my ends.
So there it is folks, change order #1. And I may end up changing it again. You know, to keep you on your toes and such. The Stranger.