The Eye of Something

Not sure what it was. Felt like a downdraft. A strong series of wind gusts, cool, perhaps up to 40-45 mph. But we heard no thunder, there was little or no rain. Just wind from a storm far away. This is my life, kids.

I was running a little late, sadly, to a reunion meal, supper with my lovely wife, on sabbatical starting this week after years of work (I was glad to see her), and with 2 of my 3 daughters -- the wise pregnant one, and the fun bright musician one.
They ordered for me. Flounder. (not an instruction, it was the meal). And for themselves, they all got that chopped salad which is pretty good at the Belmont. We're outside in front of the blaring speakers, I complained a little, not much.
There were umbrellas supported by the tables, lotsa folks, happy hour. Dale Watson starting in 30 minutes.

First here's our food, incl. my flounder with sides (a really good corn souffle), and the 3 salads. Then within moments, the wind. Every umbrella went down, chairs, tables, glass smashing all around us, the PA speakers swinging wildly (the band came in second on that score). But me, I'm just eating my flounder --- focused see. I'm eating my flounder and people are dashing and yelling, crisis. No no I say, let's just stay and eat. Our table is still here. We don't need the other tables.
Danger, danger! No, no. More glass smashing (you know how I love that). Bird with Strings was blaring "I'm in the Mood for Love" (best version ever done). And I was Calm -- in the eye of the thing.

Megan insisted on protecting her unborn nephew (and thus the mother thereof), and I was reluctantly shuffled inside -- where no disaster could possibly intrude. Then Jon Blondell sat down with us.

This is my life, kids. Stuff is flying all around me (The World is Exploding All Around Me --- with Love, yes Bob, and Love's companion, longing, agony. A new word: longingagony. Love.)
This is what the world does. Earthquakes tidal waves melting glaciers wars pestilence bad bestsellers bloody machetes.
I, I captain, I felt utterly exempt, safe. Not my time. I can eat the glass if it flew in my flounder with no ill effect.

I am completely innured to crap flying around my person, and I am in the eye of the storm at all times. I am indestructible, It seems. And I can succeed at any endeavor.

I don't care where it rained or where the lightning struck. It did not strike me in the eye, Corn souffle in the mouth.

Later fear drove us to set up inside, then embarassment lead us to set back up outside, A little extra offer, but we're pros.
Only bad thing : the reverb can on my old amp is busted again, Bummer. Post it, dumb flounder!

Because I love you

I will give you everything I can spare and then some. Because in the giving I feel so unbelievably good.

Freckles are powerful and will overcome drug addiction. There is a river called time, and we can get separated in the currents, but with focus, desire, and a little effort, we can wade back to each other and help with the not drowning. The river becomes ours. We will be cool in it in summer, and watch the snow fall slowly around and in it in winter. And melt.

When we started, we were wild. We neither had nor needed oars, compass, life vests. A compass would be nice, but vests are totally not happening. Your soul holds my soul's hand. Arthritis be damned. I will play you Irish music if you wish. Perhaps your mother would have liked that.
Perhaps she still does. I can offer lots of music. I can offer my spirit, my life.

The darkness comes from the place where there is no love, where the river goes underground into the dark, and, to be honest, I get scared. I reach for your hand. If it's not there, I wonder.... I lose hope. I am not enough for me in the big-ass river of time. It's too long. My arms are long enough to hold you. But you have to be close, and call for me a little. At least a little.

Because you remember to, want to.

The Stuff you can Count on

ones and zeros
cheerios
applesauce and redi-whip
hair and grass to grow, up to a point
losers to be sore
winners to be sore
oboists to be wealthy
Oprah Winfrey
all computer operating systems equally
batteries
wars to fuck things up in mostly unpredictable ways

AND WHAT YOU SHOULD NOT COUNT ON:

people (they will come through in the end, but often you'll wish they had just stayed where they were)
wolves
religious people
atheists
corporate sucesses who write books that Oprah likes
live sound people
lists to be exhaustive
marijuana to always be okay
America to always be strong

marriage, love, divorce

marriage is
love is not
divorce is

and it's all life and death
they are

the idea that we can be non-harming is a potent and potentially harmful idea, as ideas go
the idea that I love you is sweet
when I have the idea that I no longer love you, that sucks, for both of us

so, I love you all, forever

and since you don't exist, I can be lying, and it doesn't suck!

why should I do tomorrow? Other than that I have no crystal ball. Brighton? A young man named for a town by the sea. I thought for so long it was oneith by land, twoith by sea

revered the story

actually I was more of a Civil War guy, partly I guess 'cause my dad worked at Gettysburg for awhile and there are pictures of him at the scene of Pickett's Charge.

I feel like trying Pickett's Charge right now. But I'm not out of ammunition and I'm just not quite that crazy, at least not in that way. Plus I feel all out of shape from this prolonged laryngitis. Hard to yell "Damn Yankees!"

I'm Sick

I have a cough and cold. I am pretty good at taking care of myself once I get like this, but I do not feel good about it. Worry.
For instance, I have a small supply of excellent cough suppressant which has the salutory side effect of reducing congestion.
But if I over-use this remedy, will it inhibit my body's "natural" defense activities? (I am likely to abuse it, since I feel like total crap, and it has a feel-good side-effect too). O well. Perhaps one of my readers will come over, make me tea, feel my forehead, and look down my throat. It's a slight jump from breathing down my neck---- kidding, nobody does that.
Fortunately I only have 2 recording sessions and a 4-hour restaurant gig scheduled for tomorrow. Most likely I sub out the gig. There's got to be a jazz pianist out there who wants a hundred dollars.

Snot so bad.