Experimentation has produced results. I feel great. Healthy diet and exercise (within reason...I did eat a lot of Wendy's) along with forcing myself to write everyday and keep up routines has made life in general better. This will definitely have to continue. Tomorrow I go into the studio to finish recording the CD that will hopefully get Maria Lopez onto a record label. I imagine it will happen, and I'm going to hate the fact that I'll have four years of college ahead of me when it does. Jesse Harris must have felt the same way with Norah Jones' success. Only he was like 30 when it happened, and she ditched his ass. Ha. It strikes me as more and more of an improbability that I will ever reach any profound commercial success as a singer. I've always wanted to be a guitarist and rock out while somebody else sings. Conveniently enough, I'll get to do just that very soon. I'm playing the guitar part for Bohemian Rhapsody for choir. Mrs. T wants it ready in a month. I will have it, and I will do Brian May proud. I wonder if Cat Stevens will sue the Flaming Lips for stealing his song. I wouldn't, I guess. In the wise words of one Mitch Hedberg, "If a duck walked in to my supermarket and took a loaf of bread, I think I'd let him go." However that applies to what I'm saying... I'm writing a song. Check out this badass opening line: Let's escape this figure-eight and run away to hell. Figure-eight (monotony and repetition) versus hell (Arizona). But don't be fooled, I like Arizona. The best information I've taken away from the great Conor Oberst is that an artist should be able to use symbolism and allegory effectively. I probably overdid it with Sake, but recently I'm balancing my songwriting a lot better than I used to. Either way, hell is referencing the heat, not the place. I'm going to stop writing now, because I know I'm going to run out of things to say and start talking about how my dog is chewing his way through the house. Which, by the way, he is doing right now. And peeing. A bientot, chiennes! Sean