Another week of sparse diary entries. Hmmm. A larger more pointed stick is required. This is a challenge that is proving difficult to meet amidst the chaos of changing times. And yet it is precisely at such times, that such a routine and any writings are of interest.
What can I say? E for effort. E for achievement. Must try harder.
And this has been an interesting week. I have found myself an unwilling participant in the creative process of King Crimson, and have tentatively spoken with Fripp, who is happily feathering his attractive new nest, about offering myself as a production partner for the new album. Only a madman would voluntarily enter the pain that is the inner workings of King Crimson in recording mode. David Singleton has also apparently bravely offered his services, if they do not conflict with his managerial role.
I heard the vocal version of Deception of the Thrush in my head today and it is breathtaking beyond compare :
"Love cannot bear that any soul be barred from Paradise.
Love cannot bear that any soul be barred from finding its place in Paradise.
Love cannot Bear.
Love cannot Bear".
I have no idea when such a song will find voice. But find voice it will.
