I'll be honest, I have a stinking headache and no love for politics at the moment. So now for something completely different.
I have great respect for the creative spirit. I have no musical talent myself, but I've been writing since I could hold a pen. Or I used to write before I took these fun little pills that mellow out the brain and dull the senses.
Which brings me to where my brain is these days, which is thinking about the brain. In another life I would have happily gone into neuropsychology.
Wait that's not where I was going with that. Creativity. Right.
Hawksley Workman is one of the best artists in existence, in my opinion. I don't like every single one of his songs with fangirl obssession, but I do like many of them and you can't deny that the man has oodles of raw talent and the knowledge to craft it into something amazing. I've seen him on concert twice. Worth it.
I have a deep seeded love for the photography of Ansel Adams. There's a whole history there with my father the photographer, so let's just say that my love of the artistic form was born looking at black and white vistas.
Recently, I discovered Alex Cornish, and really recommend you listen to The Shame.
For any child that ever stared at the cover of the fantasy book they lovingly clung to, rapidly devouring each page, Frank Franzetta is a must.
And whenever I want to laugh, I watch Ingrid Michaelson being silly.
I know there's more, but I'm sleepy.
To be continued...
