After my work is done I'm going to start a blog about the bands I'm going to start.

Hundreds of bands. The entirety of my human, American, Washingtonian experience divided into a hudnred brands. Some for commerce. Some for art.

I'll write for a few weeks about how I'm going to start a hip hop group. My name will be Rob Banks. I'll rap about fuel efficiency over collages of traffic sounds. The traffic sounds will be edited by my DJ Collective, The Roman Year. The two members of The Roman Year are named J. Jason and DJ FM/AM. I saw their names in a graph at the bottom of a Washington Post article about the recession.

That was years ago, under Bush. I haven't started the band. I still remember all the words to Rob Banks' first rap. Yesterday I wrote the chorus. I still haven't learned how to make sound-collages, although I have a feeling I could do it in Garage Band if I gave myself a week without distractions.

What I woudln't give for a week without distractions. I wish I could take back every time I've ever thought I was bored. But then I wouldn't have daydreamed up a handful of bands to start.

I made a myspace pace once for Trivet Hegemony. I never had any idea what that was going to lead to. What kind of music would a band called Trivet Hegemony play, anyway?

I'm going to start a blues project called The Hurt. A folk group that sings socio-political songs in the tradition of Ani DiFranco, Pete Seeger or Bob Dylan. A lullaby group that sings about snakes, monsters and the pros and cons of world domination.

I'm going to try to play all the instruments and lay down some vocals for all of these groups and put them out on the web when they're ready or not. If anybody likes them, great. If not, at least I can stop daydreaming about it so much.

And after my work is done I'm going to head out to the open mic with my six string and play a few of my favorite covers. Maybe a little John Prine to start things off. Some Bill Withers to warm it up. A little Chris Smither for some rootsier blues in the mix. I've got to learn some Aretha Franklin before I get too old for new tricks. Brush up my Lucinda Williams. Of course I'm not going home without playing Poison. Because every cowboy sings a sad, sad song.