I took this picture of a pointless fence on a beach. It would be no good in a big storm, wouldn’t keep invaders out or people wanting to go swimming in. I wonder why someone put it there? Possibly for the sake of art?

Another thing, I remember once I was in the middle of writing a lyric to fit a new melody when a thought hit me. I started wondering when the first creature who decided to walk out of the sea realised that if it stayed underwater any longer it would probably drown. Motivation?

Life is like that sometimes. When you are stuck in the wrong place, you must do something else or drown. Then the words for ‘Forced Practice’ finally arrived. It’s only a short song. I hope you like it;

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  1. I love the picture cos I love old wood like that. I am always bringing home bits from the beach to make stuff. I loved your track too. You have a great voice and the style of this is right up my street. Your quote is also spot on at the end.

      1. How right. I nab them too. Cart them up to where we live, build whole paths with them and often think that thought when it rains but sometimes some look second best. Not many mind you.

  2. Great track… and photo!
    I’m not sure, but I think the oddly placed fence – this may sound weird but it might be to keep the beach from washing away… protect the dunes or something like that… there are a lot of beaches where I live, and you often see strange fences… like snow fences. Anyway, there ya go…

  3. Actually, this reminds me of the random fences I’ll see in Wisconsin’s North Woods. They’re not really tended, and over-run by forest, yet there’s a “No Trespassing” sign tacked onto a trunk. Who lives back there? Why the fence? What are they trying to hide?

        1. He was also obsessed with his mother, constructed “creative” things with human skin, and brutally murdered a girl in a hardware store…which is still a hardware store. His farm was burned and leveled by the town, and if you try to check out where such’n’such happened, towns folk follow you until you stop. (This actually happened to me. Yeah. Kinda creepy.)

        2. In London you can have a guided tour around all the places Jack the Ripper killed people. Odd the locals don’t see it as a tourist attraction where you are because it means Ed won.

        3. Oh it does. NO one talks about him there. There’s a sort of town-wide shame about him because he was always trusted to help watch people’s children, do handyman jobs, and the like. No one gets how someone like “that” could be in “their” little town. (and it IS tiny–under 2000, I believe.)

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