Come and Get These Memories

They're under every bed in the house. The closets are full of them. There are drawers and cabinets and boxes, jammed full. One shed and a utility room behind the house overflow. Memories. Come get them. Not only am I selling everything right down to the bare walls, I'm selling the walls, too. 

Folks keep asking me, "Ronny, doesn't it kill you to get rid of these guitars, these mementos, souvenirs, tokens, keepsakes?"

Let's remember here that I'm the biggest sentimental fool to ever come down the pike.

Now I'm without a car for the first time since I was fourteen years old. Feels great. Of course friends have loaned me a car so I'm not huffing, puffing or hitchhiking. For now.

In March I began making new memories. Oh, I don't forget anything. I became the man that I am over a very long time. I don't need things to remind me of who I am. 

Meantime, if you need stuff- I'm your man. There are even a few guitars left!

 

Driving On The Left

Love is the answer. I forgot the question a long time ago. The only thing worth having is time and you can't buy it with any amount of money. It's hard to waste it, though. Most of it that goes to waste is spent at workplaces or in bad relationships or tilting at windmills masquerading as politics or religion. 

Don't let them trick you into believing that old apple story. Love is a whole lot better when you know for sure that it's naughty. 

While I'm preaching, (it is Sunday), do your best not to put too much effort into a pursuit of wealth. Financial, I mean. That currency is always going to be printed by the ones who control it. Don't let them steal your joy by diverting your attention from bliss. You know where your happiness lies.

I got good at waiting. Really good. Then I gave up, slowly but surely. I couldn't have told you what I had been waiting for. When it came, all at once, I was amazed. Go where it leads you and try your best to use up all the love.

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

 

Learner's Permit

One book and everything changed. Seems that maybe I'm not very good at accepting love, embracing joy. I've never been able to take a compliment with any grace. It's my good fortune that more folks haven't given up on me.

What redeems me, if I might be redeemed, is my sense of whimsy. I see the world as one of those cartoons where every character is some form of Goofy. Oh, I spend time wringing my hands. More than my share. My sense of lust is always on call, too. No clown with a squirting flower or a spinning bowtie, however, will ever have to work overtime for me.

Now, sir, I'd rather not study war no more and I sure don't have much time for world commerce. I'll keep singing for the same reasons that the birds keep singing. I love for a living.

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

 

So Long, Cowboy

 

Stuff. I've spent a lifetime defining my existence with it. Coonskin hats, cars, art, guitars, books and real estate. Now that I finally know who I am, I don't need this stuff. I don't want this stuff. I want to love and create. I'm dying to sing and dance, laugh and cry. I long to walk and read and take winter naps. Turns out fantasies are real. Who was it who said, "Thank god for courage at the right time?"

You dream for long enough and you realize that it's all real. It's all right in front of you. Miracles are real. You just have to believe in them.

Don't wait for luck. Grab it by the collar. Don't look for love. Love.

No Noose Is Good News

 

My heart always lead me to the music. My head frequently tried to intervene. Good sense tended to side with my head. Fortunately I've always put the heart in charge and she's never let me down.

These days, when I can sit quietly and patiently, life unfolds and everything is perfect. Wasn't it Miles who said something like, "In improvisation, there are no mistakes"? Same with life. Wrong train? See where it takes you.

Going where it's cold? Take a warm heart.

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

Sewing Angel Wings

 

In my dreams we seem to dance often. Slow. Close. If you dance close enough you cast a single shadow. Maybe it's a romantic's version of the blood brother ritual.

Just when I begin to worry that it's all been written, that it's all been sung, I hear those melodies that melt the stars. I'm gonna just sit back and try to act like I deserve all this beauty, all this joy. Here's to the ones who have waited.

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

Star-Crossed No More

 

It occurs to me, suddenly, that the stars are always aligned properly. Nothing changes but our perspective. Magic is always present. If you don't open your eyes and your heart, you'll never see it. If you don't share it, it really has no value.

The only sure-fire way to waste your life is to do what's expected of you. Do what they do. Do what they tell you. 

It's all easy and it's all perfect. You have to believe. You have to love.