Fact (sorta) You’ll see.

I’m supposed to transfer my novel from word to html before finding a proofreader. HTML is a good format before putting it into AZW3 or epub. Instead I had an imaginary conversation with Paul Simon because I need reprint permissions for the parody lyrics of The Boxer I’m using in one of the later chapters. Somehow, we turn the conversation to guitar playing. I’m not very good (hell, I’m not good at all), and I like to throw in half steps to the standard blues scale. I think they sound good, but they really shouldn’t be played. Anyways … I started writing this song.

These half steps I play are a lot like me.
They seem to fit in where they don’t belong,
Like heavy metal riffs in a county western song.
It might be me, but I might be wrong.

I don’t know what I’m going to do.
It’s a bright sunny day, but I feel dark blue.
‘Keep playing bright notes. Tryin’ to lighten my mood,
But I can’t seem to shake these Schoenberg blues.

Fact checking politicians,
Those lying sons of bitches.
Say they love America just to increase their riches
I wanna give’m all a swift kick in the britches.

I wanted to go all the way, but didn’t get far,
Singing half backed lyrics on a broken guitar.
Seems no one wants to listen unless you’re a star.
Oh, I wonder, oh I wonder who you really are.

I might return to this some day, but, right now, I’ve got work to do.