The brisket I smoked over the weekend was tolerable; disappointing, but tolerable. I should not complain. So, I won’t. How’s that for a surprise?!
As I type this, I’m listening to loud and intensive music. Earbuds, of course; my wife is fast asleep and this stuff would jar her out of her slumbers if I were to play it over the speakers, loud and intense as it deserves to be played.
I feel alone right now, but connected to people who wrote music I hear, music that rips into my soul the way I wish my writing would rip into someone else’s mind. Maybe it does and I don’t yet know it. One day I will.
I think I’m so very close to being able to write what I need to write, but I’m not there quite yet. When I get there, it won’t surprise me, but it might surprise someone. I just don’t know. Who doesn’t know me the way I know myself?
My sister-in-law, a woman I’ve grown to love, gave me an early birthday gift a few days ago. She bought me beer at a local brewery, after which we went to a tattoo/piercing place. I have talked about getting my ear pierced for a long time and she listened; her birthday present to me was a local brew (liquid courage) and a piercing. We drank the beer and went to the piercing place; they don’t do piercings on Sunday! We’ll go back. I love feeling loved.
The world could change tomorrow. It could become ugly and dangerous and awful. Until then, I’ll love being in it, with people who matter.