A day, made

For one reason or another, this was one of those days when nothing quite went right, except discovering this by Tim Rutherford-Johnson, of The Rambler:

I love this post on “The Edge of the Beat” by Daniel Wolf: it just reads like exemplary, thoughtful blogging to me - it’s about nothing and everything, compact philosophy to keep the imagination ticking over, and loaded with astute observations.

The oddest thing about writing -- words or music -- is that response is entirely unpredictable. The items worked on most often drop like a lead balloon, uncommented, while other items, tossed together with half-a-thought go on to have substantial half-lives of response and controversy. Maybe this, learning to live with this arbitrary indifference, is the hardest part about being a composer or a writer or an artist of any other sort. But you get a few words like these once in a while and all is forgotten: Isn't life grand?

Perhaps it's time to rest on these bloggéd laurels and devote myself instead to cooking, croquet, and composing some Péchés de vieillesse.