Weeknotes: May 4–8, 2026
Monday, May 4
Winter semester ends after my morning class. No homework for almost four months, a joy I never thought I'd relive at 49. I plant the morning glory seedlings along the back fence, then sit barefoot on the grass drinking a beer and reading Gavin Francis' Island Dreams.
All evening I play the bongos. I'm trying to match the random changes of an arpeggiated synth part I recorded nine years ago. I map it all out, edit together a take I like, then overdub three more on top of it. A storm cell passes and the lights flicker. Today I achieved all of the Four Rs: Run, Write, Read, Record. A banner day.
Tuesday, May 5
More percussion overdubs, this time using a DIY shaker made from a Smints tin filled with salt. Shaking it in front of the mic with my right hand, I mirror the motion with my left as a counterbalance to help keep rhythm. If someone were to look in the window right now they would see a blank-eyed automaton fluffing an absent pillow or maybe a toy monkey without its cymbals.
On a Top Chef nail-biter, Oscar is sent home, saving Last Chance Kitchen survivor Rhoda by a hair. Laurence and Anthony are cooking their asses off.
Wednesday, May 6
I wake with a mysterious bassline in my head and spend an hour before work recording a demo of it. Just a few weeks ago I'd have devoted this time to studying math lessons. I'm trying to parlay the rigorous work ethic I developed this past semester into my creative practice. I've recorded music every day this week.
At a local food bank, I meet up with some co-workers for a volunteer shift. Over the roar of industrial refrigeration, we receive a barrage of complicated sorting instructions, and I spend much of the next hour flagging down staff to ask about expiration date cutoffs, if empanadas can be composted, and whether or not soy creamers are put into crates alongside dairy. Every time I volunteer here, my takeaway is the same: we Americans waste an obscene amount of food.
Thursday, May 7
More studio work, editing and refining parts for the archival EP I compiled in January, then abandoned a month later. Midday, I bike into Depot Town to mail another postcard to my yellow scarf, still languishing in the Tom Cat Tavern's lost and found bin. At the co-op I buy coffee, butter, and some Himalayan cedar incense cones which are so intense I have to open all the windows and air out my apartment.
Later, I meet up with J & J at Cinemark to see the Iron Maiden: Burning Ambition documentary. Live After Death was my first Maiden tape — I got into them at their late-'80s peak. A bastardized version of "Wasted Years" was one of the first guitar licks I ever tried to learn on my old Peavey Patriot.
Friday, May 8
Returning from a run, my street smells of bright blossoms which make me think of lemon water. I mix an alternate version of a soundtrack piece recorded earlier in the day, then walk up the hill to the brewpub. I'm meeting Greg, but before long a group of friends coalesces around one of the long beer garden picnic tables. At home, I read the massive six pound Beach Boys coffee table book that came out a couple years ago. I'd meant to buy it when it was published, but found a copy in a thrift store yesterday. I never fail to get lost in the Wilson family saga. I had no idea Al Jardine played bass on so many songs.
Every year I grow four or five morning glory varieties from seed and note which ones grow fastest up my back fence. Here is the class of 2026.
L-R: Grandpa Ott, Flying Saucers, Clark’s Heavenly Blue, Choice (???), Blue Picotee