I realised just how much of a working stiff I’ve become during a conversation earlier today.

I was complaining to Andrew at Bank Street about what a fool I was to have publicly committed myself to writing 100 songs. In truth, it has become a burden, a weight around my neck, something I just want to be over.

I don’t want to write another fucking song in my life. But I’m going to.

He asked me why I didn’t just call it a day right there. I was sitting at the desk in the small room with the books. I was about to start work on Song #56. He had a point — I’ve written a lot of songs by now. If the point of this exercise was to amass material, I’ve done exactly what I was supposed to.

I said that I couldn’t possibly stop now. My public are depending on me. Pah.

The truth is that of course I could stop now — no-one’s going to come arrest me.

What impressed me, however, and surprised me like a ton of bricks, was that I didn’t even consider quitting. In the past I definitely would have. There was another human being telling me that it was okay to stop at the halfway point. My mind would have leapt on that — using Andrew as the perfect rationalisation, an utterly convincing one.

And then when I regretted never pushing through to 100, my damned mind would have probably made it all Andrew’s fault. Which it of course would not have been.

Anyway, enough about how proud I am of myself — for one thing, you don’t want to read that. Also, if the Gods do exist, they consider pride to be the ultimate sin. I have 40 more songs to write — I’d need the Gods on my side, not working against me.

That’s right — 60 songs down. By the end of next week I’ll have my 100. I cannot wait. I don’t yet know how I’ll celebrate.

I didn’t write a post yesterday — I was far too busy. Well, that’s half true. I was busy, yes, with busking and Bank Street and going to the hospital and going for a couple of beers, but I can think of a couple of moments I could have squeezed my post into. Even if it had been at a drunk midnight.

I apologise to you, oh holy reader. It won’t happen again. Rest assured I have slapped my wrists on your behalf. There will be none of this laziness in the future. That I promise.