I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you said about what I said about musicians struggling, and in many ways you’re correct, but I think what I meant was that musicians struggle as they’ve always struggled and that universal helplessness––mostly on account of the fact that they’re lazy and can’t get out of bed in the morning without a marijuana cigarette, three coffees and a call from their manager’s assistant––allowed me to place the word “musician” because it suited the meter of the sentence far better than what I was really thinking, which was plumbers. Carpenters, on the other hand, have been absolutely thriving since the explosion of the internet, which is demonstrated easily by observing our peer group; take our friend Michael “Yeats” Yates for instance. The only thing he made out of wood pre-Internet was a signal of desire and now he’s a prolific and widely celebrated practitioner of the Ligneum Arte. Hard to say what the parallel is, but it’s irrefutably there. So with that cleared up I’ll now retreat into a befuddled state of nudity and red wine.
(Robin wants us to laugh, love and smile, so get on with it.)