Kat, I wish I could start over at 1 year old with a stringed instrument. My parents gave me one of those stupid xylophones which, even I, as a wee one, could tell wasn't in tune.

One thing that made me think of Rick yesterday was that joke you relayed from Art. He would have thought that was very funny.

These days, I hear music, watch films or TV shows, and read, and I pay attention a bit more. I write songs and consider what Rick would have thought of them. I spent a long time trying to write THE song before I realised there's no such animal. There's always something more to say or a different way to say it. I try to imagine what Rick would say about the songs. Most of the imaginary comments consist of something along the lines of, "That's nice." (This should be pronounced in one's head something like, "Oh. Isn't that special...") Fact is, he didn't like sappy, sentimental songs. He loved "Handful of Songs," though, because it conveyed a lot of emotion without ever crossing into sappiness. I guess I'm trying to find that line. Another fact is that the comments I imagine Rick would make are a lot tougher on me that the ones he really would have made, because, after all, it's my voice. The self criticism is something I've always been a little too good at, and he knew that. I think I need to try to honestly imagine the encouragement. He knew I was capable of criticising myself into silence. I think he hoped I'd find enough inspiration to keep pushing on. So far I have, but it's more like a flickering candle than a strong, steady flame.