The music starts and I don’t realize I am silently singing along, emphasizing one particular… refrain:
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain
Were someone besides the dog here I am sure they would tell me a wry smile flashed across my face, but the dog is my sole companion and he doesn’t wonder or worry about my expressions.
He never asks if I am just writing or if there is anything more in the words that flash across the page and that is just fine with me.
If Stevie or Lindsay suddenly showed up I might ask them a few questions and or ask them what they think of Can’t Find My Way Home.
I might ask them about the secret worlds we never see and how it impacts an artist and a person…maybe.
It is hard to say because as loose lipped as some claim I can be I am also far quieter than ever before.
But then again, I am noisier than ever because I continue to be shown that tomorrow isn’t ever promised to us.
Some people say love the ones you are with and others say live a lie and burn in the fire.
The funny thing is that no one can say for certain whether one is superior to the other, at best they can only label them as…different.
Would Brother Pablo Understand?
If you are among the few who do more than scan the ‘graphs here you’ll know I talk about Brother Pablo with some regularity.
Sometimes I stick to his English writings and sometimes I read the originals in Spanish but I rarely know in advance which I will choose.
It depends on my mood and what direction I choose to let the winds of writing blow me in.
Some days it is easiest to just sit in the ship and sail with the evening tide and sometimes the obstinate and angry rebel succumbs to the need for piracy.
Within the quieter moments I sometimes wonder if Brother Pablo and I would truly get along or if we would decide the ties that bind us are not so…tight.
You never know with such things until you are in the moment.
I have heard stories of pen pals who wrote each other for years only to discover the person they thought they knew was nothing like they had imagined.
Sometimes they found they were better, more interesting and more real than they had ever thought.
I suppose that probably scared the hell out of some because when you have allowed yourself to be that naked with another you learn what real vulnerability is or so I would imagine.
But then again, that is my job…to imagine.
To imagine things others might not and then describe what I see in a way that allows them to experience it too.
Fighting The Monsters
The picture above doesn’t do justice to the Big Lug behind the little boy.
He weighed 120 pounds and when he wanted to move he could fly down the street.
One day the little boy opened the door and that giant fur ball decided he wanted to run and he zoomed out the door.
I yelled at my grandfather to keep an eye on his great grandson and flew out the door after him.
Jumped over the neighbor’s hedge and pushed my 30 something year-old body to ignore that we hadn’t stretched and kept moving.
The dog and I scared the hell out of some of the neighbors and I can’t say I blame them cuz they had no idea if the giant monster was friendly or if the dude threatening to turn the monster into a rug was sane.
Eventually I caught the beast and wrestled him to a halt.
I swear he laughed at me.
But when I told him to go home he didn’t fight and we walked back to the house.
“Daddy, you guys were fighting the monsters.”
I smiled him and said we always would, but that wasn’t entirely true because Moose is gone and I am not.
Granted, I am still here to fight the monsters but it is not quite the same without him. That isn’t to take away from Moose’s long lost little brother either, but he weighs 24 pounds so his impact is different.
That little boy helped me to my feet the other day and told me not to worry because he said if he was around he would help me to my feet.
I can’t run like I once did or do all that I once could but I can do enough not to need that kind of help.
But sometimes I wonder about genetics.
Sometimes I think about how easily life can turn things upside down and inside out.
More than a few friends have spoken about how they saw time take down their fathers and force capable and able men to bend and or require help.
It could happen to me.
That teenager might need to offer a hand one day but I don’t want it and I told him that.
Maybe not as gently as I should have.
Rage against the dying of the light. Rage against unfair situations, unwanted changes and rage against time.
Probably better to learn about how to adapt, pivot and adjust, but for now a little rage won’t hurt…much.