Out of the blue. Thought I was done. Thought it was over. Some final edits, and my books are finally finished. All I wanted to do today was sit back and read the news. But Bubba’s news stinks.
Editing is often the longest and most demanding part of creating both writing and music because the work is rarely finished after the first draft or recording. A writer may revise a sentence dozens of times to find the perfect rhythm, while a musician may spend hours adjusting a single note, lyric, or mix until everything feels right. Even after a project seems complete, it’s common to step away and return again and again with fresh eyes or ears, discovering new improvements that weren’t obvious before. I had to go back. I didn’t want to, but I did. One last time. And that’s it.
It’s happened countless times with The Technossance Magazine and The Great Beyond. Every revisit uncovered awkward phrasing, pacing issues, unnecessary details, or subtle imperfections that deserve another round of attention. The creative process is one of constant refinement, balancing the desire for perfection with the realization that no work is ever truly flawless. I started the books wanting to do something different, and I did. But the writing and music took more revisions than my fucking novel.
It doesn’t entirely suck, though. It’s back to retirement and the good life. I have enough music for my own personal enjoyment. I just sit back, forget what everyone else thinks, and listen to records.
Today’s Top 5 Songs:
- “Over the Hills and Far Away” by Led Zeppelin ‧ 1973.
- “Start Me Up” by The Rolling Stones ‧ 1981.
- “Mony Mony” by Billy Idol ‧ 1985.
- “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays ‧ 2017.
- “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath ‧ 1970.
Music gets my mind off shit. Life can get messy. What about that messy man? The messy man had somehow accumulated more than 300 dirty socks, each one seemingly tossed into a different corner of his house. Some were stuffed under the couch, others hid behind furniture, and a surprising number had formed mysterious piles that no one dared disturb. Every time he thought he had gathered them all, another handful appeared as though the socks had developed a talent for hiding from the laundry basket.
Friends often joked that his overflowing sock collection deserved its own museum exhibit, complete with a warning sign for curious visitors. The man always promised he would clean up “next weekend”, but the mountain of mismatched socks only seemed to grow larger with each passing week. Eventually, he admitted that tackling the enormous pile would require determination, plenty of laundry detergent, and perhaps an entire day devoted to restoring order to the most chaotic sock collection ever.
Random Journal 
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