I sang again.

I think I’m getting better at it, sorta.

Most importantly, I enjoyed singing.

So here it is :

I still haven’t found something that’s like Riffusion in that it generates the music but instead of generating the vocals it uses mine.

So basically, I sing it, and it provides the music.

This is partly inspired by the fact that every single Riffusion song I have made based upon my lyrics has had at least one line where the “vocalist” gets the phrasing wrong or a lyric wrong or sometimes just sort of breaks down completely for one second.

I do my best to make sure my lyrics have the same rhythm and meter throughout but somehow when Riffusion does its magic something effs up anyhow.

So partly I want to sing my own lyrics so I can get them right god damn it!

Plus there’s the fact that I can sing okay. Presumably if I wrote the song I could make sure there were no notes that I can’t reach very well, so it could even make me sound like a much better singer than I really am.

Or am I? Gordon Lightfoot is a legend and he can only sing three notes.

Of course, I’m a much better songwriter than him, partly because I’m younger and hipper and partly because I’m more versatile but mostly because he’s dead.

Died in 2023 at the age of 82.

Not a lot of people who were famous in the Seventies left, I would imagine, seeing as they would be a minimum of 20 years older than me.

The Boomers are all in God’s waiting room now.

Oh, and I made a joke.

Spur of the moment thing, just decided it was time for me to make my first YouTube short and see what happens.

It was a bit of a hassle to make, so I will have to think about how much I want to do it in the future. I think it turned out pretty good though.

Good thing I’m naturally hilarious.

Come to think of it, it would be a hell of a lot easier to do via TikTok on my phone. It’s designed for the quick making of short form content and so I wouldn’t have to mess with a video editor, I could just think of the joke, deliver it to the camera, and forget about it.

Well, and add the tags. God damn tagging. That’s actually the hardest part for me. My mind does not lend itself well to coming up with a bunch of words to describe the thing I just did. It’s always a strain on my brain.

And not the fun kind like with a crossword puzzle.

And then there’s this, which made me very grateful for Doctor Costin.

Because according to that guy, psychiatrists are just pill dispensers today. Why spend one more second with a patient than is absolutely necessary for billing purposes when you can totally get away with just listening for a keyword that matches a medication on WebMD and make them go away?

Apparently guys like Doctor Costin, a psychiatrist who is also a therapist, are rare.

Certainly what Doctor Josef is talking about in that video matches my experience with most of the doctors around here. They practice turnstile medicine where their sole goal is to make that thing click as fast as possible.

Did they properly diagnose and treat you? Who cares, if they were wrong it will just make you come in for more office visits.

I’d like the option to wait longer for an appointment with a better doctor, please.

More after the break.

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Feeling kinda ragged

But does that mean I’m not OK?

God, I don’t fuckng know.

For one thing, there’s hypochondria. I had it really bad at one point around thirty years ago and part of the process of clawing my way out of that stinking hole of madness and malnutrition was developing a policy of ignoring minor aches and pains and other pseudo-symptoms and instead waiting for something serious and scary distinctly bad to show up before running to my local MD.

And that’s a policy I hold to today because the alternative is to once more enter that realm of whirling insanity in whose shadow I spent three months of Hell when I was in my early 20’s.

I can’t let my mind seize upon minor things and blow them into major traumae by sheer neurosis again. It is the panic and the self-scrutiny which made me so sick and I am not going into that bedlam again, ever.

But I pay a price for that and that price is my possibly not “catching some early” when medical intervention might do me the most good.

And I’m not happy with that but the alternative is far worse than some theoretical and unknowable increase in risk for God knows what.

I feel various forms of cruddy all the time. I’m not a healthy man. I haven’t felt robust and healthy for a very long time. I’m always kinda tired and sore and headache-y and out of sorts. I couldn’t possibly afford to take all that shit seriously.

That way madness lies.

You’d think feeling kinda shitty all the time would give me the incentive I need to get up and move around more and try to live a healthier life, but alas, no.

I’ve just gotten used to it. It’s my normal. Every once in a while the clouds part and the sun shines down from God’s heaven and I actually feel good for a while, but for the most part I live in an eternal fen of meh.

I’m not sick, but I’m not well.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.