empty, taxes, and musicianship

I haven't had much to write lately, or time to write it. Activities on the agent front have been consumed with Obi-Wan's failing health. I was the Agent B ambulance again yesterday as he needed ER attention. He was back home in about 4 hours.

All that to say...I have been empty word-wise. Although I have found plenty of words to share on the blogs of others. But life ain't all about homely chicks and epidurals.

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For eight years of marriage, this time of year has always served as a bold reminder of how the CEO has provided for us the previous year.

Yes, tax time makes me tally up just how little money passed through our hands last year. We are so freaking below the poverty line that our culture would assume we shouldn't be breathing.

Yet, we had our second child born to us and we were freed from all debt last year.

Our tax guy can't figure it out. Welcome to my world, tax guy.

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Looks like I could be on the verge of income-making again with the only god-gifted talent I have: music.

The fair mother city is brutal to musicians. Which is why I like it here. My act would be a dime-a-dozen in Austin. But here, you have to really fight just to make a decent side income with music. That forces musicians to either a) truly create and stay on their toes or b) accept the fact that you suck.

I'm not going to fight. Instead, I'll keep playing at open mic nights and so forth and see what happens. I recently had to turn down a cool-sounding art show opening gig because of a previous booking: a (good paying) gig straight in the belly of religion here in the fair mother city. Less vague references on that as it develops...