This is going to be some crap mix of thoughts. I didn’t post Friday freewriting yesterday. And I didn’t post Friday Freewriting LAST Friday either.

And I wanted — I made a commitment to myself — to post something every Friday, “no matter what.” No matter how thin my thinking. No matter how bland or boring or pointless or blah or benign or baseless.

I don’t know why I needed to use the letter b so many times.

Life is difficult.

Some say life is not difficult.

The lady next door. Her husband died of cancer about a year ago. She’s in her 60’s, I’d assume. He was from New Zealand. I wonder how they got the name Zealand. Was it once the land of zeal?

I think about my 20’s sometimes. I think about how little I knew. I think about my 30’s sometimes. I think about how little I knew.

I think about my 40’s sometimes. I think about how little I knew.

One day I, God willing, will be 64. When I’m Sixty-Four I might think about how little knew in my 50’s.

Next month me and Chris and Joey and Crystal. Might go back to Chapman University. We will sit on those same steps. We will pose for another shot just like this one. Or, almost just like this one. It’s been over 30 years. I have better hair now. Less hair. Better hair product today. Water-based pomade. I use Imperial.

Then we might go play some of those songs. Who knows?

Hair. Most people are concerned about how their hair looks. Gray hair. Bald hair. That makes no sense. Bald means no hair.

Writing. Why should I write? Why should I care to write? Why would I even put these stupid thoughts out there for the world to see? Nothing profound is here. Nothing life changing. So why make a fool of myself?

I like words about more than anything else. That’s why.

We are playing U2 songs tomorrow night at Beer and Hymns. Irish songs. Saint Patrick’s day. I wonder why all these holy holidays turn into reasons for people to do things so opposite. That is such a crappy sentence.

Celebrating Jesus rising from the dead? — we paint eggs and have bunnies and hunt for candy.

Celebrating Saint Valentine (who was martyred for his love of Christ) — we give out chocolates.

Celebrating Saint Patrick (another Jesus freak) — we dye beer green and pinch people.

Not objecting to any of the fun, but it just strikes me as odd. Some of these traditions strike me as odd.

Back to U2. Nobody should ever say that beauty is subjective. Some bands are better than other bands. Period.

The Beatles, U2, Radiohead — they are better bands.

And, man, the energy in many U2 songs. And the melodies. And the energy the energy the energy and energy of Edge and those soaring vocals and boy that bass. Where The Streets Have No Name — those 16’th notes. Oh my God.

I would call it an objective fact that their music (as a band) is simply superior to virtually every other band in the history of rock and roll.

It’s not subjective. You might not like U2; most do.

Wild Blue was no U2.

Aristotle held that those proficient in an art are better judges of that art’s beauty. Of course, that’s true.

Misty Copeland would be a better judge of a ballerina than my son, Edison.

LeBaron James would be a better judge of a basketball’s player’s skills than my daughter, Bree.

If Picasso was still alive, he’d be a better judge of art than you or me.

J.K. Rowling would have a thing or two to say about this post.

Come to Beer and Hymns. Tomorrow night.


A note on “Freewriting.”

Every Friday, I set my timer on my iPhone for 15 minutes. Then I start writing. I don’t stop. I write whatever pops into my mind. After 15 minutes, I go back and quickly correct all the blatant typos. Then I publish it on Paulosophia.

I started “freewriting” in the early 1990’s because I had read this short article called “Freewriting.” I was a horrible writer back then, with the most severe writers’ block. The article said you have to write WITHOUT STOPPING. For a fixed period of time. Even if you have to write the same word over and over again. Over time, you get better, and more confident.

Writing becomes as easy as talking.

I can’t count how many freewriting exercises I’ve done over the years. Thousands for sure. I still do them almost daily. My kids know them well. I hope you will, too.