Simple's dead after a long while of being gnawed on by time and the gravity of the situation. He's pawing at Eternity, worn out, beating the mouse of foreverhood.
In 4 weeks, a family trip to the barrier islands of Carolina. Gullah place. Ancient land mass torn from Africa. Slave salaats performed on slow hills of sand. Wild horses and boars. Time is a goofball. No, time itself is G-d (Heschel).
My fingers are torn open. I am a horrible player. This pain - physical and emotional - is the craft entering me. "To learn a song takes years, not months." - quoth my inner Son House. I break with Yusef Lateef on the hi-fi.
Holiday crawls the country mile. Eleanor loves learning about the cycle of life. Ginsberg's chanting his "Kaddish" and I always break up ten minutes into it. I know where you've gone. It's good.
Impermanence means the zany horror that things disappear.
(!)
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