Any which way you look at it – the odds were never in our favor. We incarnate here knowing, or remembering should I say, that nothing lasts and everything dies. Life is ephemeral. Writing while nursing a hangover is a lovely reminder of just how fleeting everything is.
And so nothing matters but everything does. Each encounter, as it happens, as the second float by and me along with it, has a rose tinted edge to it. This moment here is important, I tell myself. Look at it, enjoy it, take everything in before the color is drowned out, before the sun runs out of places to linger, while the rain falls and my Mother laughs.
This is what being out of Lockdown and without Daddy feels like.
I live in my head a slight bit more now, oblivious to who looks, listens or cares. Making music matters more. Creating something beautiful and leaving this place, this rock called earth, in slightly better shape thanks to Music matters more. Perhaps because everyone I care for is in better shape.
And we should burn brighter each day. Take more risks and say fuckit-I-am-doing-it-anyway-so-piss-off!
Simply because time and each other is all we have. Time. And each other.
On a unrelated note, I have this dream of having a shed full of power tools. No joke. And different kinds of hammers, seeing that I can never track one down when I need it.
Yep, back into bed I go! Was it worth while, the whiskey induced hangover? Hell-bladdy-yes!! I loved every second of it.