I'm in one of those moods where everything is mildly irritating. Whereas yesterday I walked around all day with words flowing through my head, inspiration, essays, lines of prose of which I could be proud (if only I'd write them down; I finally took some time to jot down a few words last night at the OK Go show), today I'm short. Ill-tempered. Uninspired.

It's definitely based, at least in part, on the fact that I have far too much work in front of me. It's June production time; that means I get to read, format and edit something like 50 articles in the next day. That, alone, is both tiring and daunting, no matter how fascinating the subject or skilled the writer. I have my own writing to do (yes, I'm late for my own party; what else is new?). And then, of course, there's the layout: all 72 pages, plus cover. It's the Twangfest issue; monster-big. Yowza. And you people wonder why I'm tired all the time.

I'm playing Bluebottle Kiss until Jim comes home (because, quite frankly, I play it so much he rolls his eyes), but even that's not budging my mood. Just don't call me and ask for something today; you'll have a much better chance of a positive response if you wait until next week.

NP: Bluebottle Kiss Gangsterland EP

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