When I write a song, I feel a level of satisfaction in many ways. One of them is just the fact that I’m not done…. kaput…. over. When I’m done with a song, it truly is bittersweet. The sweet is that I’ve written another masterpiece of Mozart or Mccartney calibre. The bitter comes a few days later when I would sit down to write another brilliant evocation of the triumphs and turmoils of human existence through pop music. I would sit there and for the first little while, nothing of substance would come to fruition.
At this point there would be a part of me that thinks, irrationally of course, that this may be the last song I ever write. Maybe my creativity is gone. Could there be any more melodies out there (or in here)? As these thoughts went through my head, I would sit with my guitar in frustration and a fear that my livelihood, my life ahead of me will be different now because of my sudden creative paralysis. Lately, with Vienna Circus back, I haven’t had this problem at all. For all the times where I have no idea where to go next, there is always a parallel universe, whether later that day or next month, in which our hero has written 4 songs in one day.
I have proven to myself enough times that even if nothing is happening at this moment in time, all I have to do is trust that it will end up the same as it always has, with me standing atop a mountain with the greatest song ever written.