No Reason

Sometimes you just have to write. Or I do, in any case. I think the same is true for everyone, though the activity may vary. Sometimes you just have to do something – maybe cook or run or paint – for no reason in particular. You’re just compelled to.

That’s kind of the best reason to do anything, though. For no reason.

I love music, and my favorite thing about it is to play it. I like listening to it and going to shows. But the absolute best thing in the world is to play it.

And sometimes the best thing in the world is playing it where no one can hear. You’re not playing for a crowd, you’re not playing for a promoter, you’re not playing to impress a girl in the back or the other bands or to make up for your various insecurities.

You’re playing because goddammit, life is short, so why the hell not?

The last time I posted here I was writing because I felt like writing. And that’s what I’m doing again today, although this time I have some sort of point.

I’ve been reading some Huang-Po, and I’ll probably write about that soon. I love me some Huang-Po.

But for now, nothing in particular.