8/30 I sometimes worry whether the seizure meds are slowing me down and chipping away at my intelligence. The science says no. What has by far the greatest impact on my thinking, my reasoning, my writing is the constant lack of sleep. On those few days when I’ve had a good night I am an entirely different person. Curious, enthusiastic, sharp. I need to find ways to get back to sleep.

As I was about to turn onto South Street, two police cars came up the road with flashing lights, no siren, at maximum speed, engines revving high. They were most likely headed into those few blocks on the East Side that push Newburgh’s homicide rate above that of Mexico City in some years. It’s no more than a handful of murders, but in a town of 28k they count for a lot.

I was so proud I could play the root in the left hand and 3-5-7 in the right with proper voice leading at 50 bpm. But over the last few days I had to admit that there is actually not much voice leading going on. Most of the time I am just hunting for a single memorized chord shape, no matter how far away it is for my fingers. So … back to untimed practice, and keep the fingers within a single octave no matter how long it takes. And that is about 35 bpm at best. – I am writing this down because it seems laughably, even embarrassingly simple to me when I sit at the piano. Only when I write it down do I realize the complexity of it.