When a musician writes a song and plays the song with one instrumental configuration and then takes the same song and completely changes the instrumentation — adding numerous instruments or changing which ones are played — it is almost as though you are listening to a different song. Today I would like to show you the very same song — Too Much Time by John Vanderslice.
There’s never enough for anything in the theatre. Everything is a rush. Nothing is sacred. Covenants are daily broken.
Today we live in danger of surviving only in essences and not experiences.
In yesterday’s article, Smelling of Pencils, the comments discussion turned — as it always does — away from the main core of the argument of the article and into another realm. We shared a brief discussion about books and that conversation led me back into wondering about books and publishing and what makes up the essence of a book: The Author, the Reader, the Publisher? The book itself? The process of it all? What is a book nowadays anyway?