Spring Re-String
Spring thunder booms like a cannon from a distant ship - still a ways away but getting closer with every morning birdcall and every extra hour of light. Today, the city is covered in ice and sleet and grey grossness. Cars are turtle shells of crystal freezers. People retreat and do not face it. They do everything they can to avoid the onslaught. But it still rattles their windows with beckoning branches that scratch like annoying arms from a winter record that keeps skipping.
With every day and every waking hour, we are getting closer to something - some final pinnacle. Whatever that is, none of us seem to really know.
Fatherhood is weird. Owning a business is weird. Getting old is weird. It's all a bit fucking weird. Your being and output and action level changes - and I would guess that even your DNA does, as well. You think less of just being - and more about all the things that need to be done.
Three more shows on early spring horizon and then a bit of a lull until Bluesfest Bonanza. Looking forward to working out tunes and seeing what sticks to the wall.
It's hard to be focused these days - but I'm thankful for music because it really does hone me into the zone of the moment.
Wakefield. Irene's. Pals.
Good vibes comin'.
