stream-of-consciousness

19

And I thought back to when I was 19, and what I could remember of that: The Cure had released Disintegration and a roommate had the CD.

It was winter’s last gasp with wet snow in the lowlands and more expected in the mountain passes.

But if you put yourself in the eyes of the audience would it change what you do onstage?

It’s a game where there is no winning, only the joy in the odd and unexplained.

I started to learn that to write is to live, and you can’t do much of the former without the latter.

Early morning walks from the cottage in January as the light is coming on earlier day by day.

Knowing we had it good then but not realizing how much.

Who gets a day with nothing to do? What time is this?

The art is what you can’t explain about why it made you feel the way it did.

That jig-saw view of life taken apart, put back together.