Summer seems to be bored with us and wandering off again.
It’s raining. The weed-riddled grass in the yard is jumping for joy inches a day and the trees are happily heavy with fat drops in the early morning when we shuffle around our messy kitchen in damp socks making coffee and excuses and eyes at each other.
The album is done, and here, and soon-to-be paid off with funds from my MINDBLOWING IndieGoGO campaign. The love and support that has surrounded and permeated this project from day one has been astounding, I’ve never felt so blessed in my life. I’m learning about accounting and taxes and licensing and copyright law and lots of business-y things I never really cared for. It’s more interesting than I expected, and the prospect of handling my own business for at least the first part of my career is enticing. It’s a lot, but a lot of good things.
Words and melodies and rhythms and swirling colors are coming back again, and I hope that new material isn’t far behind. I’m writing again, though still not full songs or complete ideas. Just words on napkins and rhymes on the backs of my hands. We’re headed back there, though, to the place whence the music comes. I’m just not quite ready yet to tell the truth. Is anyone?
We recently traveled to Oregon and Washington for business and pleasure. I was so ready to get out of Juneau, but I’m so ready to be back already. I missed the rain. I missed feeling happily heavy with the dewy feeling of fall and winter and whatever’s coming next.
This isn’t who or where I meant to be, and I don’t understand why things have happened this way. I am not as good or as sure as I believed deep down in my bones I was, but I think acknowledging my own existence is the first step in really participating in it. I am here, I am alive and I am tangible, breakable, visible. I am happy to be here. I am happy to be loved. I am happy to be at all. We are all so lucky to be.