A Rock. An Island.

I stayed up too late last night.  I blame drink, but I was showing off my musical "skills," too, playing my guitar and singing and showing how I could write a new song, but then I realized it had many similarities to the Simon and Garfunkel tune I had just played, so I played my new song and sang "I am a Rock" to the chords and it seemed a wonderfully beautiful way to change the song.  Then I played another and then I pulled up some songs on YouTube because I wanted to hear some of the lyrics and then it was late late late. 

I have a meeting at the crack of dawn at the factory today.  I am tired.  I will be more so. 

Still, I am told it was very enjoyable.  I don't remember all of it. 

Simon and Garfunkel were writing songs about the existential angst of the '60s, the deadness of the times.  You can feel the barrenness of things in them.  They also wrote some terrible schlock, but the good lines still resonate even if sometimes a little too slickly. 

I funked them up real good. 

But now I have to shower and make my way to the daily beating.  Look at the man in the picture.  He is a rock.  He is an island.