It’s been latched to me for days now – not sucking on my life force, but amplifying it, feeding it back to me more than it was. It was especially strong last night when I was trying to sleep – the little snatches of melody which I think ought to form a base for a cello piece. I wish it were a sonata but that will have to wait. I’d only be flattering myself to call it a sonata; as it stands, calling it a piece is probably pretty thick-skinned already.
Strangely enough, my ideas came to me in D-flat major. This is new territory – I rarely stray from my comfort zones of B-flat, A-flat, and E-flat.
I would be honored to have The Nice Pencil-Selling Guy read any such piece that I write.