My wife is away in China. And I am kind of lost. I have trouble sleeping. The only things grounding me are my daily yoga practice, my garden and my guitars. And, yes, spring.
Today, I have been tending my garden in the backyard, along with my downstairs tenant/friend/drummer, Jose Anibal. We have the drum set right here, I have my computer down here, my amp and my guitar, and the sun. We have been rocking it out to the enthusiastic applause of our four African neighbors. The tomatoes are gonna flow after this for sure.
This will be paradise perfect if only my wife, Libertad, were not in China. I miss her smile, her hands, her voice, her smell, all of her. She is the legged and roaming flower of this garden.
I feel insecure about my writing because she has not read it and commented.
I don't feel like commenting on politics that much. Only the oil slick is politically present in my brain, and the thought that my friends from New Orleans are moving out of there because it just too much.
Too much is also the fact that Ronnie James Dio, who gave us the devil horn fingers, died today of stomach cancer. And, that's how I feel: like a Rainbow in the Dark. RIP.
As you can see, I am rambling. That's what happens when Libertad goes to China, and when my guitars are near me. I feel no guilt though, this is who I am right now: incomplete and musical. And as Stuart Smalley would say: that is OK.
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