“It’s not often, but sometimes, I feel compelled to put my face on a post, to let anyone who might care, that I’m here. I’m not just spouting off, or fluffing up, but I’m deeply sunk & operational inside my complicated physical reality. For me, what rolls out of my design mind & fairy tinged imagination is often too hard to execute, but by then, I’m fully engaged and there’s no turning back. Plan B and Plan C, and often Plan D, are normal to me. I don’t get what I want, without painful restructuring, as a matter of course. Perhaps that’s why, the high points of my day, always settle around the simplest tasks. The moments I can just be, and not have to scheme, contort or be more brilliant, and can whole heartedly, relax. I guess weird karma comes in all shapes and sizes. I have no corner on that market. It’s a huge day, of the summer kind. It knows no bounds, not really. I’ve had to cancel a landscaping job, to accommodate travelers, today. I’ve mowed, and mopped, & sent greetings to folks who are in transit. I’ve dealt with toxic spray paint, dragged wet rugs across the yard, organized trash to secure it from bears. I’ve answered calls for help around plants & gardens, washed out compost buckets, and scrubbed down toilets. In passing, I’ve glanced at my guitars & mandolins, about 100 times. Going up and down stairs, is part of my fitness regimen. The goldenrod in the field, is on fire. I’ve burned bridges, tried to hold on, & refused many invitations that I know could never be fulfilling, for anyone. It’s a more practical time of life. The tomatoes in their green, farm standard box, have started to mold, and the stains have seeped into my raw wood counter top, newly installed. I can understand why they did that, but I’m a little miffed. I’m aggravated by the tire pressure light, still going on, in my truck. Not having anyone working with me in free partnership, is getting a little old. I fucking can’t cook every meal. But that’s the skivvy. I’m # 1. I do love myself, for that. I’ve figured out so many things, this year. Some things, I didn’t want to know, but on the average, it’s better to know. The big diggers are coming soon, to scrape out some space between my buildings, so we can build a deck. & I so look forward to more stones, more insulation, more stability, more ease, and a stellar woodshed, eventually. In the meantime, those 5 cords I needed to buy early, I did, knowing full well I’d be itching to stack it. I’m itching, all right. I’d like to do everything up to my own standards, one day. In the meantime, I have no where to stack anything, until the builders show up. Until the floor gets laid. Until the tapers come. Until Lance gets back to me about the worms in the barn board, and the beams he knows I’m looking to buy. Until I have another body here, to help me lift things. Until, until ... and then again, nothing is really wrong. I’ll be opening my recording studio this winter, and be warm. And I’ll be able to unpack all my books, that have been in boxes, for three years. I’ll be sitting by the wood stove, plotting podcasts, music videos and lush orchestration. It won’t really suck, in any way, shape or form ... for the record.”
