Half-baked ideas

My head is forever thinking of things to write, maybe the first or the last sentence or two. They travel into space and don't return. There's not enough RAM to store them for the length of time it takes to get out of the shower, dry off, and get to a computer or pen.

My plans for projects are forever just plans, cards on kanban boards, children desperate for attention.

The stories of my past are down there, buried under layers of dirt, and I'm shoveling more on top every day.

I know there were great writers with family and day jobs and two businesses to run. I wonder if they were genetically predisposed to not need more than three hours of sleep, or exercise, or Bupropion, Fluoxetine, and Aripiprazole.

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In Florida, after college, a few friends and I formed a band. (I was the drummer.) We were sitting around my house and my (now ex) wife was talking about how there should be porn for Christians (I think she was really just imagining soft-core porn, not knowing it existed). Thus the band name "Christian Porn Machine" was born. (Previous to that we were called "Revolution Rock Show" but that was kind of a one-off [as the name might suggest]. Other bands I've manned the traps for: "Swan Dive Skies" in college [a wanna-be The Ocean Blue], and "The Freakin Hott" [a wanna-be The Dandy Warhols] later, after I had returned to Florida and was in the middle of my divorce. And of course, I played drums on some of my own records.)

A little later, she and I had moved to Arlington, Virginia, and we attended an in-store appearance by Chuck Palahniuk (then and now one of my favorite authors). I got three books signed. One for us, one for my best friend back in Florida, and one signed "To Christian Porn Machine".

The remainder of Christian Porn Machine moved to Boston and continued on with a different drummer. 

There you go,

abrahamKim

...it's not really a long story.