I was Thinking, or Not

So yea, here I am, not doing a thing, writing nothing, listening to the Velvet Underground, and thinking that it is all right. It is late and I have accomplished not a thing. I set out this morning to do some writing, and I just wasted a lot of time watching videos of how to write, like I don't already know. Had to switch to WinAmp and Shoutcast Radio, 'cause last.fm sucks. I like music to much, it is fuel, but often not for any quality in writing. What I want is a pastoral life, living in a small community, where I tend to my gardens (and animals) while I entertain myself with a small radio that only plays good music that I like, is that to much to ask. I do what I have to do to get by, work as I must to pay the bills, work with the land to eek out a little food and fortune, and sometimes write a few lines in an old ratty notebook. I love not to easy, but I hope I still make up for it in the quality of the love I do provide. I am often cold and wrapped in the sounds of si