Until I can discover that musical genius within (if she does in fact reside somewhere in there), and until I can play as below - I must be content with the knowledge that I have right now. One step, one note, one page at a time.
Interestingly, while waiting in the hallway for the lesson to start, I see a weathered, unassuming flyer clinging to life on the wall. It calls for interest in a writing group. I took down the number, I don't know if I'll have the balls to call it. But sometimes in this life, when we are scrambling for signs and direction, screaming "for fucks sake - will someone just tell me what to do here?!".. sometimes a sign so delicate can be found in the oddest of places. It gives me a chill to think this elaborate set of decisions and meaningless chance - could all have led to that single flyer. It could mean nothing, or it could mean anything.
Kismet is a keen musician, it seems.