[He's uneasy suddenly, giving Dave a mildly skeptical look even though his expression otherwise tells nothing. The books go away, the CDs and tapes are stacked on the desk.]
I don't sing. [It's not as much of a protest, though the end of the sentence ends in a higher tone more like a question.] And I don't write. So...[Shrug.] Sorry dude. I'll try really hard to make something up later.
[He doesn't share much of what he writes anymore. He only plays when he feels like it. And it's a stupid cycle because he still loves it, but it's not something he wants to dedicate himself to when he's still deciding. So. music is a passion but it's not the thing he wants to focus on. Not today.]
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I don't sing. [It's not as much of a protest, though the end of the sentence ends in a higher tone more like a question.] And I don't write. So...[Shrug.] Sorry dude. I'll try really hard to make something up later.
[He doesn't share much of what he writes anymore. He only plays when he feels like it. And it's a stupid cycle because he still loves it, but it's not something he wants to dedicate himself to when he's still deciding. So. music is a passion but it's not the thing he wants to focus on. Not today.]