Neil Peart, Rush Drummer Who Set a New Standard for Rock Virtuosity, Dead at 67 – Rolling Stone
Neil Peart, the drummer and lyricist for Rush, died Tuesday, January 7th, in Santa Monica, California at age 67, according to Elliot Mintz, a family spokesperson. The cause was brain cancer, which he had been quietly battling for three-and-a-half years. A representative for the band confirmed the news to Rolling Stone.
There will never be another as great.
Updated to the latest WordPress 5.3 “Kirk” and trying out the default 2020 theme.
With a few tweaks, I think I like it.
2019-11-17 update: I don’t like numbers that descend below the baseline, so I’ve swapped the font from the default to Gentium Book Basic.
The Cursor blinks incessantly. Mocking me. Taunting me.
Blink. Blink. On. Off. On. Off. On.
On and on, marking the blank page.
The blinking Cursor makes me sad because no characters follow it.
Considering I used to write for a living, it surprises me how difficult it is to find my flow again. Granted, my decade as a newspaper journalist wrapped up more than a decade ago. In those days I would rattle off 400–1,000 words on some assigned topic after traveling, interviewing subjects, photographing subjects, and taking notes.
Lacking an assignment sucks away the drive to write; therefore, I need to take on the role of editor and some assignments for myself. Two things immediately come to mind and just as quickly get pushed out of mind.
- Technology – I love it, but the market for that seems saturated and with no audience there is little point to it.
- Politics – Sakes alive. There is plenty of cannon fodder strewn about to take this on, but anything I say paints a great big divisive target on my back (and front, sides, just one big target).
That leaves a third option more daunting than the first two. Fiction. I just need to set off down a path, follow it, and see where it leads.
Home alone yesterday and today while my wife and daughter attend a funeral for a family friend in Lexington, Ky.
Since there is a Japanese whisky tasting at London Calling, I'm spending a few minutes sipping some black Colombian coffee at Mad Priest before enjoying some of my favorite types of liquor. I'm more exciting for the December tasting with a round of bourbons from Buffalo Trace Distillery.
I also got to deliver gifts to my favorite people at the best bar in Chattanooga. Tonight I brought a cup of coffee for Kris (by request), a substantial portion of smoked pork for the crew, and a sample of Nag Champa. They burn incense in the bar and I figured they could use some of the best.
The Japanese have it figured out. If you can get your hands on Suntory, it's worth it.
Thinking about counts as posting, right?
Today is Sunday. Today is meat day.
The summer has just been too hot to stand by a fire in the Big Green Egg on our deck, but that isn't the case any longer. We knew mornings were going to greet us with temperatures in the high 30s so I bought the largest pork shoulder Costco had for sale.
Roughly 17–20 pounds of ex-pig is smoking on the BGE now. It should be ready to pull apart in about 10 hours or so. We can't wait!
I'm no artist so Inktober isn't my bag, but I am a writer at heart and every November I think about NaNoWriMo. Though I have never followed through with an attempt to write a novel from scratch in 31 days, I do plan to write something on this site every day for the rest of this month.
Length nor quality are concerns for me. My only goal is publishing something consistently every day. It may be a tweet-length thought, a standard 400-word article, a 1,000-word essay, or a 10,000-word think piece (although the latter isn't likely).
Buckle up with me, buy the ticket, take the ride. With any luck I will build up a habit this month. After all, the only way to be a writer is to write.
First watch this, which is apparently a real thing.
Then, watch this clip from Parks & Recreation to hear Ron Swanson sum it up.
Whimsical. Nostalgic. Damn near perfect.