The date is set. My song cycle debuts ten days from now. And what should be a joyous day quickly turns frantic. There are preparations to be made--flyers to produce, costumes to procure, and above all, songs to be learned. For in all my haste to create new stanzas, I have not made time to memorize one single line.
Back when I was a mere dilettante, playing at music, and writing a song every week or two, I could spend days just basking in the presence of a new number. I would run the lyrics over my tongue again and again, finding the breadcrumbs which led from one line to the next, until the whole thing was laid out before me--no longer a map, but a set of backroads I had traveled extensively.
Now, instead of a rural hamlet, there is an entire metropolis bubbling up from the paper scraps that litter my floor and tiny desk. I wade through them, trying to find some landmark, some key that will make sense of this disorienting cityscape I've created.
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