The part of my personality that makes me a sloppy, typo-prone writer and wreaks havoc on my desktop or work space is related (via some weird deal with the devil) to the impulse to write songs. I'm not sure how it works, or even if it does. But, as I run around trying to get the right stuff into the right bag for a three-week excursion, I am so glad no one has ever handed me the keys to anything too important.
I don't invite chaos, but I create it unconsciously. In fact, some pretty good artists have worked out of it to find new ways to organize expression. Take a look at Picasso's studio; it looked like a bomb went off. Some people think his work has that same quality, but I'm a big Pablo fan. You can't reorder the universe without first taking it apart. Not to compare myself to one of the inventors of the 20th century, but I might have him beat when it comes disastrous workspaces.
This carries over into my hunt-and-peck-ish keyboard style. For someone who likes to write things other than songs and is lucky enough to have a fine e-mag like this one to publish them, I must admit I am a proofreader's nightmare. Already, we have had to retroactively correct the word "blob," which I mistakenly used instead of "blog" in part two. Before it was fixed, it was transformed to "blab." Funny choice, but it makes as much sense as "blob."
On to my disclaimer. I promise will read and reread these things multiple times. In doing that, I will find most of the typos or bad paste jobs. But I won't find them all. I never do. That is because, even though I know when I start that I am looking for mistakes, before long my mind will wonder and somehow I'll find myself in the backyard with a spatula in one hand and a sock in the other. I won't know why I am holding either of these, but luckily, I have learned to laugh at myself. So know who you're dealing with and please, if something should slip by my minders at this fine organization, don't blame them.
Tomorrow at this time, we head over to Frankfurt. Then it's their problem.