HOW DOES MUSIC FEEL TODAY? LIKE CRYING.

With the Flaming Lips at Madison Square Garden.

It is the season here in the Northeast that Robin Wall Kimmerer describes in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass as the season of fluorescent goldenrod and intense purple asters. The color combo was the reason she became fascinated with plantlife. I can see why.  I am trying to see all of it I can before I leave for tour on Monday. What if this is my last time I see it? My home is not a guarantee. This time of year for me is also the season of big spiders; the large yellow and black garden spiders, the golf ball sized barn spiders in my woefully empty barn, the masses of gumball sized ones that cluster around the security lights at the practice space. They are all terribly busy and I try to converse with all of them to let them know they are doing a good job. 

It’s so quiet here on the porch. The sun is gentle. There is a kind breeze. I’m trying to absorb it all and really feel it. It’s hard. My heart is broken sideways. It’s so empty here without the horses and Jerome. I was very recently dumped by a friend, and my birthday sucked. I know birthdays aren’t really for us but for other people, but this year it cut pretty deep. Lots of good things have happened too though, so I am not so sure why my ship is so lopsided.