Chilly Saturday night randomocity

I've been thinking about making music again.


It's been a while but that urge is starting. Problem is, the music I want to make will require a female vocalist--and, what's more, a vocalist with a really specific type of voice. I don't know anybody like that--or, rather, I don't know anybody like that who I could persuade to work with me.


What I need is someone with a sort of smoky, rough-edged voice. Think Melissa Etheridge.


If the muse gets more insistent and I just have to do something, I'll just record the instrumental tracks and worry about the vocals later. I do need to come up with some lyrics, though, as well.


Ah, the problems creative types have.


It's cold here, but not as cold as my internal thermometer seems to think it is. I hope I'm not turning into my dad, who kept the thermostat at his house at 80 and would have cranked it up higher if we'd let him.


Nothing new going on with me, as far as writing goes. I think The Sorcerer's Daughter is as ready as it'll ever be to start submitting, but the publisher I want to get first crack of it isn't taking submissions for another few months. So, that has to sit.


I really need to be thinking about another project. I've got a couple of ideas but nothing that has seized my attention yet. Something will, eventually, I'm sure.


I guess part of my malaise is the idea that football season is nearly over. It's going to seem like years before it starts up again.


Speaking of football, the Superbowl is a week from tomorrow. My prediction? Seattle - 24, New England 21. No, I'm not putting any money on it, and no, I don't especially care who wins. I've got not particular love for Seattle, and (unlike lots of other people I know) no particular dislike for the Patriots.


Just give us a good game, guys. That's all I'm hoping for.