Monday, January 24, 2011

stranger

Been listening to this on my commute. I love my commute. Thirty-five minutes of driving and music, whatever I am into at the moment.

Ahhhhh, hah

Yeah.

I started to relax, not on vacation but in real life. I shook my arms out, kinda did a little back and forth with my shoulders, scooted my butt in the chair and began to write. Music is such an inspiration. And that song, that song rocks. The whole album does. It is Junior Kimbrough done by The Black Keys.

The deal is you stop worrying when you're in your car and you put on that album.

And you slow your mind down even though you're still doing all the same things. Well, all except one thing.

And it's good you got fired from one of your night jobs which was a volunteer job. 'Cause volunteer jobs which become so entrenched in your life that you obsess over them are not a good thing. 'Cause maybe when you're doing volunteer work and you want to do the very best volunteer work anyone has ever seen then you try too hard, you lose too much sleep.

And so when I was fired I was very momentarily all, Whaaaut???? I've never been fired from a damn thing in my life. What are you talking about? I work like a horse. I am a mule and you didn't have to buy me. Who do you think you are? Firing me by locking the door to the building and taking away my key?

And then in the very next inhale I thought, Shea, you prayed for this yesterday. You said, Hey, listen you, you up there. Whatever your name is, it doesn't matter. There, you up there. I got an issue. Wyatt's sick, Mama's worn out and I am gettin' no sleep. Willie, damn it, I don't know what's going on with Willie. Whatup, up there?

And up there said, Let go.

Fuckin', LET GO.

So I said, Okay, I'm letting go and that's the best thing I've ever done. In the very next breath.

It felt good to be fired.

And it feels good to come here and finally talk to you.

This is nice.

And Wyatt's better.

And Mama's better.

And Slater is safe.

And so is Willie.

And we're all here.

You and me.

And it's quiet, all but Billy Sue's snoring.

Gratitude.

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