In the words of Chuck Berry, "Same thing, every day...". I get up and check my memory and think that maybe something has faded. Just a little. I quickly check for overnight e-mails. I go to the antiquated answering machine, hoping against hope that a message was left so quietly in the wee wee hours that I slept right through it.
Then I busy myself with everyday humdrum while sadness wrestles to keep control. It usually wins. My pal, Rebekah, says that's the price I pay for being an artist.
I am facing this but without having the dog/Lindy to help but to make it unbearable....all I have is hope....
ReplyDeleteArt and music has saved me before, but not this time....I can't write or sing the sad songs now and I sure as hell can't sing the recent happy ones....and art isn't "fun" anymore......
ReplyDeleteA muse is critical to an artist....
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