If Bruce and I ever grab that cup of coffee I think I’ll ask him about this song and maybe a couple more.
And if I ever grab time with Willie I think I’ll ask him how and why he picks certain covers because I am curious about his thought process.
It is a Kentucky Rain kind of moment where I am wandering through a secret world wondering if I am seeing clearly or wearing a blindfold while I go about my business.
There is this funny feeling in belly and the fire isn’t burning in the traditional sense, rather it is a sort of tickle and I get this sense that if I step into it I won’t do the traditional dance because it won’t burn.
No, this time it will be a cleanse and there is no telling what things will look like once I step out of it.
It is a time of honesty, naked honesty.
About Naked Honesty
I was asked about it not so long ago because someone wanted to know if I was as hard as I appeared.
When I responded it was with a voice that sounded just like mine but with an edge that was familiar but surprising and I wondered when that man took over.
Don’t remember receiving any notices, bulletins, calls or emails. No carbon copies. or memos from the mimeograph provided any suggestion that change wasn’t just coming, it was happening now.
Not that I am complaining because I am not particularly bothered by it.
A business colleague called a few hours ago and asked if I would have a conversation with someone about a particular topic.
“Because you’re good at explaining things, your voice is much deeper and you give that hard look sometimes.”
“The one that lets people know you are very serious.”
I had to laugh at that because for the longest time people complained I wasn’t serious enough.
“You clown around too much Josh. Not everything is a joke. You are twisted blah, blah, blah.”
Surely there has to be a middle ground that I occupy. It is not all silly and not all serious or maybe it is to others.
Maybe that is all I show.
Maybe that is about all the naked honesty they get.
There was a time and a place where I could update three or four times a day, every day and people would ask me where the words came from.
How do you come up with so much content and how do you not get burnt out?
I never knew how to answer because it was like breathing for me. I didn’t have to think about it, I just did it.
That hasn’t been a consistent part of life in a long while and it is why some people have asked if I quit or if I did manage to finally burn out.
I don’t know how to answer because sometimes I don’t know where the words went. It is not writer’s block because I can still summon them even when I don’t really feel like punching the keys.
But there are moments where I just don’t feel like it and so I don’t but what you dear reader can’t see is the chalkboard in my head upon which the words keep appearing.
Sometimes I wonder if those who have been granted access into the private galleries could coax more out of me.
My best guess is if circumstances ever allowed for the right situation to appear it is likely that it could happen.
But there wouldn’t be any coaxing necessary because the fountain would flow.
I know this because it happens now regardless of the circumstances and situations.
There are ample opportunities in which I feel compelled to write with fiendish fervor because to not do so would feel like choking.