Friday, November 24, 2017

Nervous Norvus Dreams

Hank Williams broke hillbillys' hearts all over the world when he sang, "I'm a rolling stone, all alone and lost." Muddy Waters wailed, " Sure 'nough he's a rollin' stone," and put Chess Records on the map and on the charts. Bob Dylan roared, "How does it feel to be without a home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone?"

Me? I wake up from confusing dreams about Nervous Norvus. I ache for the last woman that I ever fell in love with and long for romance that was never meant to be.

I've never been in step, even with the ones out of step. My naiveté is pure and that's nothing to brag about. I've been some places and I've seen some things. Nothing changes much. I'm going easy on myself here. I'm sensitive, too.


Thursday, November 23, 2017

Barn Doors and Starlight

These are the wildest times that I've lived through. Maybe I'm thankful for that. 

A couple of weeks back I had to take Jamaica to the vet. She was sick all over and she had pulled her ACL. I couldn't help thinking that it was her last ride. She's twelve and she's big.

We just came back from a good, long walk. This may be the best thanksgiving ever.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

My Utopia- An Invitation

My dreams have always been about living with all of the folks that I love around me. My utopia, my commune, is in my head. It always has been. It has taken a long time for me to realize. We all carry a universe folded up in our head. Funny thing is, it's the same universe.

Wake up. Pay attention.

The songs that I bring you are the soundtrack to the "movie" that is my universe.

I know about heartache and sorrow. I see blowhards and charlatans on TV pushing their politics and their religion for money. I wring my hands over war orphans and stray dogs and cats. My "movie," though, focuses on the tap dancing. Romance. 

The Jesus that I read about as a kid hung out with prostitutes and kids and thieves. He turned over the  tables of the moneychangers and the ones who sold doves in the temple. Did I mention that I was in Alabama?

You are welcome in my "movie" anytime.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Frames Of Mind Falling

My obsessions are fading. Finally. So many of the things that I have believed in exist only in my mind. When I'm gone they may not exist at all. That's okay. If you can't burn, smolder.

As much as I babble about love, it's compassion that I'm always looking for. I suppose that you can't have one without the other. I don't know.

"Write what you know," they say. I don't know much.


Monday, November 20, 2017

Jacks, Rubies and Diamonds

So as I continue to sit and mourn the fading of rock'n'roll it's hard to ignore the benefits of the fading of the culture that I was born into. 

Let me just put on my warpaint, heat up my tofurkey and give thanks to Donald Trump, Hugh Hefner and Roy Moore for ending the rule of old white guys. I can't say it's been good to know you.

I still wring my hands and cry over the demise of polar bears, tigers, elephants, desert tortoises and bonobos. I have mixed feelings when it comes to human beings, the only species with the potential to save the joint. If you've ever doubted the power of greed, take another look.

Before the midway closes down let's have a good time. After all, this could take a while and there are a lot more good folks out there than bad ones. Always have been.

Oh, my soul- there's still a whole lotta' shakin' goin' on!

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Take Good Care Of Us

Our destinies are intertwined. My well being, my joy, is in your hands. Your decisions affect my life. We're all in this lifeboat together. 

When it's all said and done everything is beautiful. You have to look through a lot of smoke, though. All you need to know has been programmed in your heart. Well, not literally. We pretentious poet types talk about your heart. We're really referring to your consciousness.

I'm off to Kentucky so if you don't hear from me for a few days just know that I miss you.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.


Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Aim Low, Don't Shoot

When you have everything, you're left with nothing to want. You find yourself worrying about losing what you have. Nothing lasts forever.

The lucky ones know love.

Nothing lasts forever.


Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Stationary Feast

Second chances, second acts. I thank my lucky stars for opportunities to fix things. I don't have any problem apologizing. I regret things that I've done wrong but I don't think I have much trouble admitting it. I hope not. I'm stubborn and I know it. Everybody couldn't have it wrong! There are lots of big things that I have changed my mind about over a lifetime. I'm probably not finished changing my mind, either.

There is certainly nothing to be proud of about prejudice. I'm prejudiced. Without justification I think women are superior to men. I think that most of the apes are "smarter" than human beings and I like dogs better than most humans. Cats, too.

Without starting a complete inventory here, let's just say that I'm usually with the underdog. We sit at the kids' table and we have more fun.


Sunday, November 12, 2017

Today's Earnings

We're all just along to make the others' journey to the end a little sweeter. Another lesson that I've learned from my dog. I can't sit here today and write all that I have to tell you about it. I can't write and cry at the same time.

Let me just say that if you open your heart wide enough and pay attention, there's nothing that I need to tell you.

This life stuff's easy. We struggle to make it hard.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Snake Legs

If there was a historic Jesus, and evidence leads me to believe there was, he would be appalled at what is now referred to as the evangelical church. I don't want to be unkind here and I try hard not to judge. At this point in my life I understand that bigotry is almost always based on ignorance. That saddens me but I get it. Meanness? Thats's harder for me to swallow.

A preacher. I was supposed to be a preacher. Every aptitude test said so. The guidance counselors were always more surprised than I was.

For me it was air force pilot, indy car driver, wrestler/villain or juvenile delinquent. Then, finally, rich and famous rock'n'roll star. Only not rich. Certainly not famous. Oh, yeah- not a star, either.

Hard to believe, I know, but I digress.

If you ask my friends, I preach. I don't mean to but I preach. It just all seems so easy to me. Everybody's been hurt and everybody needs love. Feed the hungry. Take care of the ones who can't take care of themselves, human and otherwise. 

It's all kindergarten stuff. After the golden rule not much else matters.

Friday, November 10, 2017

Pulls On The Leash

Well, sir, I've seen Loch Ness but I've never seen the monster and I've talked to ghosts but they've never talked back. I've watched the Midnighters twist at the mic right next to Hank's. I've been to Manhattan, I don't know how many times, but I've never been in the empire state building.

Maybe the saddest people that I can remember being around were Elvis and Janis and Jimi.

There's a reason that we don't know everything.

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Give It All Away

When I put the seashell to my ear, of course, I hear the ocean. When I look into Jamaica's eyes I see the universe. When it gets quiet enough I feel all the love in the world in my heart. All there's ever been, all there ever will be. It's like water. It just circulates and recirculates. That water from the mineral spring that ended up in your Topo Chico went through Nefertiti and Rasputin while you were still stardust in diapers. Yeah- we're drinking the urine of the gods and the riffraff.

If you think that this is all about you, you're right. I have tried desperately not to bother you with my drivel and I have failed.

The love, though- what about the love? It's never wasted. You don't need to conserve it. Tip well.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Gettin' Good At Feeling Bad

Living long has its benefits. Besides the obvious. The beauty of despair is subtle. Memories of a broken heart are bittersweet- to be savored.

Honestly, without unrequited love what would I have written about?

Oh, a few people hack up another few. That's just history, bad TV and an overactive, underdeveloped imagination. Rock'n'roll, of course. That's always on my mind. In my heart.

Mostly, though, I obsess and I write about love-gone-wrong.

"Write what you know," they tell you. "Write what you know."

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Evolution and Love

As social animals we evolve along two distinct lines. As some kind of primeval ooze our needs were low. By the time that we were primarily prey we began to develop aggressive genes to keep from being eaten out of existence. To thrive we began simultaneously to develop loving genes so that we could cooperate and live in groups.

First thing you know a couple billion years slip by. 


Cowboys and Indians. Sunni and Shiite. Republicans and Democrats.

You don't need to be a scientist to see that the aggressive team is winning. At the peril of our existence. Maybe the planet. 

That's nothing new. We've been working at putting ourselves out of business since we climbed down from trees. Now, though, nuclear weapons are in the hands of lunatics. Mean lunatics.

Oh, they're out of fashion. A smart tyrant would wage cyber war on his enemy. Our tyrants aren't smart. Sadly, they're out of fashion, too. Little hands, big bombs.

Our team needs to step up the love game pretty quickly.

Born In Love

The birth certificate says Birmingham but I was born in love. I never planned to grow old. Truth be told I never planned on growing up. Can't say that I much care for adults. Now that there's nobody to tell me to go to bed I like to go to bed by nine o'clock.

If you have a fire in your soul from the beginning, you're doomed to a certain life. You don't dare mix with the other ones with that fire- you'll burn everything down. If you put on a bridle to go a little straighter, you'll eventually gnaw right through it. One way or the other folks around you get singed.

By definition I suppose I'm just lazy. This living just wears me out and I don't have energy left for accomplishment. Don't pay much attention to me but keep an eye on me.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Friday, November 3, 2017

No Club- Lone Wolf

Anarchists were bad guys as I was growing up. I'm an anarchist. I don't hurt anybody. I don't even speed. No one in Washington, D.C. or Tallahassee has any interest in my well being and they have made that very clear.

Oh, I've no interest in overthrowing any government. I've pinned my hopes on leaders before. They killed them.

My anarchist ways extend beyond the government. I'm a musical anarchist. I had dinner one evening with Lucinda Williams right after the Americana Music Association was launched. As a charter member, I was elated. Finally a club for me. These were "my people."

Lucinda was not so excited.

"What if you were British?" she asked.

I might as well have been. When they started their own chart my CD's always broke into their top ten. It didn't take long to notice that I was never invited to work any of their events. It didn't take much longer to figure out that these were just folks trying to take the power away from the old bunch.

Now I'm not complaining here although I know it seems like that's all I'm doing. I like it out here. I'm an anarchist and I'm proud of it. I'm not a bad guy.

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Modern Miracles and Sins

Squirrels don't go to the office. Whales don't retire. Giraffes don't worry about what to wear. I no longer fall for the "fact" that we're above the other animals, that we work based on some noble ideal and that our occupation defines our existence, our identity.

Squirrels do work of course. They build nests for their families and put away enough acorns to get through the winter. They spend most of their time chasing their pals 'round and 'round trees. Dodging Toyotas. Mating. To coin a term, squirreling.

Friends of mine spend a third of their time at some endeavor that they hate in order to pay for an automobile to get them there. They complain about the boss or, if they happen to be the boss, complain about their underlings.

Marketing and peer pressure combine to convince them to spend money on clothes, not to cover their horrible nakedness or to keep warm, but to make them look like all the others. They like to spend some more on scents so that they will smell like the others and jewelry to make it appear that they have more money than the others. Jewelry just like the others wear.

Most of them work hard to pay for houses that they can't afford so that they will be in school districts that enhance the offsprings' ability to continue all this. 

I could go on. And on. I won't. I've got a day of squirreling ahead of me.

This sounds smug, I know. Just keep in mind my big hero, Lincoln Perry. If you know him at all you remember him by his stage name, Stepin Fetchit. In the '30's and early '40's he made millions playing the supreme shuffling stereotypical negro.

When pressed about the dignity of his endeavor he explained, 

"Like Chaplin, I played the part of a simple, sincere, honest and lovable character who won sympathy from an audience by being tolerant of those who hurt him so that he could be close to those he loved."

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Somebody's Gotta Do It

Well, sir, I've just trick or treated with all the neighborhood kids. I'm full and I'm exhilarated. I believe I'll eat what I want, when I want, from now on. I suppose that's nothing new. What this culture  considers growing up has never much appealed to me.

Don't have thanksgiving plans yet. I'm certainly thankful, though. If it turns out to be me and Jamaica here at the house it will all be the kids' table. I'll tell you that. We'll both be Indians, too. I don't are much for pilgrims.

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Love Withheld

The poets and the comics- they're the sad ones. They see humanity with x-ray specs. Every lonely face is a reminder of all the sorrow and all of the empty hearts out there. It's all in the ether.

Forget cowboys, mothers, don't let your sons grow up to be poets. 

As I look around me I'm reminded that the phenomena continues. Oh, and mothers- good work!

Monday, October 30, 2017

Audio Games

They wanted to know if I believed in magic. I did. I suppose I still do. It finally dawns on me that rock'n'roll is just what we called it. The music didn't die. We're down to two of the originators now. Down from three just a week ago with the loss of Fats.

Fame and fortune never really called to me. Good thing I suppose. I've breathed the rare air of truth. I've seen more of the world than I had ever dreamed about and I've met so many wonderful folks who believed in the magic, too.

It's like ghosts I guess. It's there if you believe. I believe.

Fats Domino hasn't come calling in dreams yet. He will. Maybe I oughta' leave him out some gumbo.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Only One Side

We'll always have poets. We'll always have soldiers. I'll leave this world more as less as I found it. Some days that seems fine. Adequate, I suppose. On those other days I wring my hands over my failure to "save the world."

Don't misunderstand, I haven't given up. Sometimes it seems, though, that the mess is getting bigger as the clock is running down.

War has never been more fashionable, mostly with folks who will never fight in a war. In this country and all over Europe we find nostalgia for all things nazi. Amazing.

Xenophobia and homophobia and outright racism are back as though they merely went away temporarily like short skirts and long hair.

Nobody has to write a "Greed is good!" line for a movie. Paul Ryan says it on the evening news every day. The Catholic church locked up Galileo for his belief that the earth revolves around the sun and jackasses have been proudly denying science ever since. Are you listening, Mr. Pruitt?

My apologies to jackasses. I should have typed idiots.

These days I manage to maintain a reasonably even keel. I have to admit, however, that I'm pulling for a revolution. Good ones aren't fought with guns. Love can be subversive.

Friday, October 27, 2017

Lightning and Diamonds

Devotion. What a beautiful concept. So many times I've boasted that I'll tell anybody anything. Now I find that my heart is full of secrets.

Oh, they're not big ones. I didn't kill anyone. I don't wear frilly lingerie and I've never been abducted by aliens.

Most of my mysteries involve matters of the heart. My line of work requires a dangerous degree of passion. The world's a better place when I keep it to myself.

I'd tell you my secrets but then I'd have to kiss you.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Broke, Fix It

Some of us can find an excuse to avoid action, no matter what. Put me down as intellectually curious, short on ambition. 

Sometimes I wonder, "What if the injuns had whipped the cowboys?"

"Would we all speak Navajo?"

I suppose I've spent more time pondering the nature of love than anything. There was a time, a long time ago, I thought I knew all there was to know about it. I probably took it all for granted for long stretches. 

Poets think broken hearts last forever. I'm not a poet but I play one onstage.

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

No Excuse

Everybody has his own story about when the wheels came off. Nobody argues that everything is fine. Elvis has definitely left the building. So has Jesus and Marilyn and Buddha and Bruce Hampton.

As nearly as I can remember, the last time that we had four years of peace was under President Jimmy Carter. We still make fun of him.

We're down to Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino and two Beatles.

Raise heroes. We need them.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Black and White

In 1947 Birmingham was waiting for its cinematic moment in black and white. Schools. Music. Neighborhoods. Water fountains. I was born in Birmingham in 1947. In color. The soundtrack was in 3/4, waltz time. I hit the pavement in 4/4. It's all about 2 and 4, buddy. 1 and 3 are just along for the ride, to trick the chumps.

We moved to Florida when I was six. I've always told the story that the move was my idea, that a precocious first grader tricked his single mom into moving to the sunshine state. Palm trees. Beaches. It's only lately that I've come to figure out that I was played. Thank goodness.

Turns out all they told me about time speeding up was true. Maybe I shoulda' played more slow ones.

Now the road narrows and the sun starts to set and I'm so very grateful for the love I've known and the music I've heard. 

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Monday, October 23, 2017

Enemies and Spare Change

Maybe I don't wear well. Pretty sure I'm way past my expiration date. That's okay. I just keep reminding myself how much Japanese culture reveres age. Sometimes I remind myself of my Native American heritage. Of course I worry that the neighbors may take me to the park across the street and leave me for the alligators to eat if I get the flu this year.

Old white guys are out of fashion. Thank goodness.

If you know me, you know of my fear of acceptance. Fashion. Approval. No need to worry. As I measure success, though, I'm gold.  If I don't have it, I've had it.

You can quote me- I've had it.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Ideas and Ideals

Nobody bolts fenders onto Buicks in Detroit and nobody has for years. Decades. I can't remember the last time anyone asked me, "Floor, please?" as I stepped into an elevator. I pump my own gas and you do, too.

We still identify with some occupation. Most of us do.

Greed and technology combined to kill most professions. In the case of rock'n'roll it has been both with assistance from old age. The Beatles quit touring in 1966 because it was no fun playing in baseball stadiums where they couldn't hear themselves.

Mr. Jagger, who studied at the London School of Economics, continues to cavort with his old friends at arenas and stadiums. His old friends are really old. An audience of a certain age pays ridiculous sums to see them before they croak. Somehow it makes them feel younger.

No-one has referred to his little combo as the Rolling Stones in years. They've just been the "Stones" for decades now. 

Oh, wait- I do. Of course Ricky Nelson will always be Ricky Nelson for me.

I'm no luddite. I embrace the technology that makes my life better. I never wanted to see my rock'n'roll in a stadium. I don't even want to see sports in a stadium.

Of course I like to think that I'm not greedy, either. I never studied economics anywhere. I'll gladly play you my rock'n'roll in the living room.

Saturday, October 21, 2017

Big World, Little Moon

Well, it seems there's the world and there's the world as I think it should be. I took a class in college, Idea Of Utopia. The University of South Florida had an Idea Department at the time. We read utopian novels and discussed them. 

Novels? Novels! 

I thought I was getting my foot in the door to change the world. I just naturally assumed that we were signing up to learn to end war, feed the hungry, put a roof over the heads of the homeless. I was ready for lectures about Gandhi, Buckminster Fuller, Shirley Chisholm, Wendell Berry- you know, the good guys.

We have more than enough resources to make heaven on earth. Every argument against this simple premise is based on greed and fear.

Don't fight just because they fight. Don't hate. Don't lie. Love just as hard as you can.


Friday, October 20, 2017

Port and the Other Side

It's a quiet life. Is that good? Well, sir, I guess it depends on when you ask. I think I'm being retired. Funny thing is, I was just getting the hang of it.

I've always said that I wish I played in a rhythm and blues outfit that worked five hours a night, six days a week. Maybe four sets a night would do now.

Oh, I suppose that I could sit out on the front porch and sing to the stars and the frogs. Maybe I will. The frogs always sing for me and the stars seldom fail to provide me a show.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

The Angels' Share

Love, like energy, cannot be destroyed. Lust, of course, can be satisfied and nobody's passion lasts forever. My point, if I have a point, is to urge you to love freely. Often.

Do I sound like a broken record?

All you need is love.


Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Things Wear Down

Impulse diversion. That's my tactic. If I can wait it out maybe I can avoid indiscretion. That's pretty much all that keeps me in pants.

Life is happy, then it's sad, then it's over. My advice is to develop a thick skin and a good sense of humor. Do as I say, of course, not as I do. The idea of thick skin is just creepy. I know enough about hurt feelings to write a book. 

My routine is to get up early to check our culture's new low. I sense a shift in the pendulum's swing. The evening news is full of nazis, lunatics and pussy grabbers. We've got an orange villain dealing with commies and his buddy, a talking turtle. Now, though, finally I think I hear the cavalry.

Thanks, Harvey!

Monday, October 16, 2017

Mind Life: Me

When you're fourteen years old and the King of Rock'n'Roll leisurely hangs around with you things change. Of course things are changing for a fourteen year old, anyway. My first conscious re-invention kicked off then and I've been working to find out just who I am ever since.

Some folks need a mirror just to be sure they're there.

We put together an image for the others. We need the validation, if not the approval, of other people to be sure that we exist.

My mother was named after Maxine Elliott, the great stage actress. She married my father, W.S. Elliott, making her, that's right- Maxine Elliott. Talk about your re-invention!

Is that why she married him? I wasn't there. I've married for dumber reasons.

Kind folks have attempted to help make me a finished project for years. I can remember three bandmates borrowing a Nehru jacket for me at a photo shoot in Manhattan. They were less worried about my image than theirs, looking back.

Aunt Jo is one hundred and one now. She's been reminding me to "hold my shoulders back" since I was five or six. I wish I had listened to that advice.

I only spoke to W.S. once in my lifetime. That phone conversation happened about fifteen or twenty years ago. He told me to be a good boy. I'm trying.

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Me and the Boss

It occurs to me that if, in fact, we're all made of stardust, then we're all "aliens." Recent visits from friends who have gone on have convinced me of the existence of ghosts. They're real. They are created in my mind. Like reality. Like love.

Life on earth, the "real" one, is just a big reality show. No wonder whatsisname is president.

Take your reality down a peaceful path. Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war. Try rock'n'roll.

You gonna listen to an alien who believes in ghosts?

Friday, October 13, 2017

Nothing To Defend, Nothing To Protect

Somehow I've always worried that maybe all would be revealed right at the end. The very end. It's just occurring to me what a snob I am.

Jack Purcells, artichoke hearts, Chartreuse, blah, blah...

None of it's cool. You've never heard me say cool. You never will. Gigs. I don't play gigs. Of course I don't play much of anything these days but that's another story.

Levis. Why would a man ever wear another brand of jeans? It's just wrong. The quality goes up and down. I suppose that's another cost of living a long time. They're seldom fashionable and haven't been for years. I can relate.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Shorter Days, Longer Skirts

Hampered by a lack of conviction, I scarcely notice the slow turn of seasons. I hope they make a movie of my life and I hope Walter Brennan plays me. Well, at least the last parts. I know, I know- he's dead. Well, they're not gonna make any movie about my life.

I'm not about to waste my precious time on a screenplay but here's the outline for the life, itself:

Marriage (ad nauseam)
Old Age
The End

There won't be all that much sex and even less violence. Good teasers for the coming attractions reel, though:

Shook the hand of the King of the Cowboys
Dined with Big Daddy
Worked for the Russian Mafia
Shook the hand of the King of Rock'n'Roll

I've gotta tell you the truth. The previews are better than the movie. 

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Burning States

Babies and puppies and kittens- we all love them. Maybe it's the big eyes and helplessness. Those are two of the big design elements.

If you squint just right you can see the child in anyone. The cataracts may make it harder to see the twinkle but it's there.

Sometimes I'm frustrated that we all tend to identify as black or white; old or young; Democrat or Republican; even male or female. As I watch, heartbroken, the crisis in Myanmar, I find myself wondering, "Why don't these poor people just decide that they're not Muslim?"

Oh, I'm not pulling for the murderous Buddhists who are killing them. I'm not for any of these "teams."

I'm naive, not stupid. I know that genetics is the answer to my simplistic question. Seems funny to me that pretty much every religion teaches that we come from a single descendant or pair of descendants. There's only one team.

Okay, there you are. That's my core belief. Today.

Monday, October 9, 2017

All The Money In The World

Missed opportunities? Dying young? Nose to some grindstone?  

From the outside it was dark. Threatening to most parents. My single mom brought me Little Richard records. She took me to see my heroes. I should mention that most of them were colored. I should mention, too, that most of them are still my heroes.

They called it rock'n'roll. It was love.

Of course it was appropriated by "business men." I just call them crooks. I'm including Alan Freed who claimed to the end that he had coined the term, rock'n'roll. If you believe that I've got a Pat Boone 45 to sell you. Prime the pump, indeed. I remember Mr. Freed's Top Ten Rock'n'Roller list for 1956. Seemed odd to me that Elvis wasn't on the list. Still seems odd.

Don't get me started about DICK Clark!

We're divided again and it's scary out there. We're losing heroes but we've got replacements coming. Come on, rock'n'roll, save us again.

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Paper Cuts and Auto Parts

Something in the ether recharges my cosmic batteries from time to time and I'm whole again. Younger than before. A force wakes me up from mundane dreams and I'm on fire. Passion takes over with no hint of negativity and I'm new.

It would be nice if it didn't come at 1:30 in the morning but I'll take it when I can get it.

Friends die. Heroes die. I mourn rock'n'roll. 

Fate awakens me to remind me that the reports of rock'n'roll's death are greatly exaggerated. Rock'n'roll has to stand for something, stand up to something. What would Superman have been without villains plotting evil? You can't do battle in tights for truth and justice without bad guys to destroy.

Maybe I never get gold records. Or the girl.

As long as Moriarty dabbles in radio, sabotages elections, invests in arms manufacturing and runs the NRA- I've got my work cut out for me. Wake up. Love. Harder.


Thursday, October 5, 2017

One Of Those Kids In One Of Those Bands

Boy, howdy, I'm one lucky hick. Some stars live only a few million years. We're pretty sure that some  of the "big" ones last for ten billion. Lately the sky seems to be full of them around here. I feel good about it. Seems like I didn't see many for a long, long time. Knowing that we're made of their dust, it's reassuring to have them around. Of course we all know that most of the ones that we see actually burned out and died long ago.

Elvis died when he was forty two. Marilyn was thirty six when we lost her. Lottie was closing in on a hundred when her big old heart gave up.

I've not accumulated much and I've achieved almost nothing. I'm leaving no Elliotts. My good, true fortune, I suppose, is that I've lived long enough to see how easy kindness comes. Love requires no effort.