It's All About the Journey

He messaged me one morning "Good morning gorgeous" and I told him that he'd made me smile before my feet hit the floor. I've gotten a good morning message before I'm out of bed every morning except one, when he slept in and I was up early. He asked about my writing and I offered up this blog for him. I told him that it was full-frontal and intimate and that some people said that it was so much like reading my diary as to feel voyeuristic. He said that it felt like he'd then know me deeply that it would feel unbalanced. He said he wants to read it, but he wants to wait. So thoughtful and absolutely correct. So I instead asked if he'd like to read the music review I'd written. He did. So I sent him the Lance Roark one and he comes back so surprised that I knew John Moreland. Yanked something between my heart and my navel. So we decided to do this thing that creates a playlist of music, yours, theirs, and then adds ones from each that the other might like...

I was nervous to even go. It was my fifth concert in eight days. That combined with being a mom, working a full-time job, dealing with the whole house/yard work, working with the nonprofit, and dealing with some social and mental health issues, I'm tired, boss. I did have the sense to unplug from social media. I just cannot deal with it. It wasn't serving me and it wasn't serving anyone else. But music is the place I go when I can't find anything else to still me. It has been for a lot of years. I'm so grateful that I've found that place. Everyone needs a thing. I am tired. So I worked, hit the gym for a little warm up, went home, showered, and didn't bother, really. I wore gym clothes and sneakers, no makeup. I arrived and scoped out my usual location at the 40 Watt, over on the raised area by the far bar, in the corner. Fantastic view, not in anyone's way, wall to lean on. That last part was somewhat inhibited by that fresh tattoo. Had to be mindful. I...

The plan here is to do a day-by-day rundown of HeAthens Homecoming. I am optimistic. I guess I can start with Tuesday. I worked a full day, went over to GI Garage to work on the website for a couple hours. Trying to explain that we don't have rights to the domain was a little of a struggle. Yes, we can get it. Someone put a credit card in my hand right here and I'll do it now. So I did. We were able to recover most of the existing content. When I left, we were waiting on Google to do its thing so we can put the site up and start editing. We got the company Venmo and PayPal back up and going and just as me and Stephen were wrapping all that up, Red Rocket brings me a beer.  I went home and began to pack and finish the project I'd almost completed for the Nuci's Space auction. I don't think I bit off more than I  can chew, but I definitely should have buckled down sooner. That's okay, next year's is already in the works. By 10:30, I had gotten my zipper stuck ...

I've missed my chair and my ottoman. Nanny says "It's good to travel, but it's nice to come home too." I have spent the last five nights with the best group of people I think I'll ever have the fortune to know. We did some really good work. I am proud. Proud of them. Proud of myself. So proud that I get to call myself one of them. I've said for a long time I don't deserve them. But they keep me around, the best of them, so I must deserve them after all. Getting to know some of them has shown how similar we are in ways and how empathetic and compassionate these beautiful souls are, well, I think it's made me a better person. One more reason to be grateful for where I am. All of that has helped me be more of those things for others. And that is a gift I'll never be able to repay. I love these people. The house is very quiet. And empty. That's odd after barely sitting down for the past week. It hit me a little hard for a few minutes. Post show...

  Some nights are like this in Athens, Georgia. Some nights have to wait for the next morning. Sometimes life is that way too. You have to wait. You have to wait for time to be quiet in your mind to weigh, consider, decide. Sometimes, you have to wait for people who love you and people who know others to make things clear for you. "Yes yes and yes" Sometimes it happens on the day devoted to love. So sometimes you sit in your questionable Air BnB alone, but not lonely, and you cry a little over something that never could have been. Sometimes you're the kind to only cry for a second. Sometimes resolve can hurt, even if it's the best thing. Someone told me that this would be a learning experience for us both. She may also think that you were connected in other ways. Someone else said that maybe that soul you lost was responsible. Someone else may have said that you just don't know someone at first and they can deceive you. All of these people might love you. Sometim...

I held it together today, mostly. I had to drag myself out of bed this morning and I am not the kind. I usually hear my alarm before it gets loud and bounce right out of bed to start my day. I just wanted to hide under the covers, warm and familiar until everything stopped hurting. Spoiler: it never stops. I worked. I even managed to be productive. I cried a little, but not much. It's like everything is just right back to the surface with my own recent experience. It feels like the model I had for not being perfect and being weird and being brilliant is gone now. Like they were the couple that no matter what, and you could see those fault lines, would work it out because of their love and their passion and the weirdness and imperfection and brilliance. I feel a little romantically hopeless.  When I get anxious or upset, I itch. I know that's strange. And then I scratch in my sleep. Got myself good last night. Four inches of claw marks up my left arm. I told someone today that w...

 Some nights are like this in Suwanee, Georgia. I don't think my feet have been warm all day. I miss yesterday's sun. I feel like my body is healing. I still can't make it a full day without a nap, but these things happen. There are worse things. So many worse things. My heart and soul and mind are calm and restful. And that is some kind of miracle. I stayed home this weekend. Not a single show since Tuesday. Wednesday is my next one. I look forward to it more than I like to admit. Susto. Kid has it. Means "a traumatic event that makes the soul leave the body" in Spanish. Boy, can I relate to that. But rest was good for me. I needed it. And the boy needed his mama home. And here I was. He's in isolation from covid and I'm recovering from it. We both needed the rest and attention. Last night, I told him I needed a hug. He seemed kind of taken aback. I don't ask for affection much. I'm getting better at that. I do need it. The Grammys are tonight. My...

Some nights are like this in Suwanee, Georgia. Feet, ottoman. I can still smell my physical therapist's perfume. I've changed my clothes. She must be on my skin somewhere. I think she must have been black Irish by her claddagh ring and her dark hair and eyes a complicated shade of green shot through with milk chocolate, radiating. She's lovely. And helpful. Apparently, Chris nailed it with the scapular winging as the source of the problem. I've already been doing things that will help correct the shoulder. And rowing is great for it. Thank fuck. I am prepared to follow instructions and get back to the gym in 6-8 weeks. Then it was off to a whole other kind of doctor to have my face injected full of neurotoxin. There are a few blood spots and my forehead looks as if it may sprout horns at any second from the two injection points near my hairline. Vanity. I didn't even flinch. I usually don't. I cannot say the same thing for Monday, when I arched off the table dur...