Despite what it looks like with these stories, I think very little about my past.
What is done, I like to leave done.
Maybe this is me keeping a few memories for later? For a day when I will want to look back.
But, after I close this story, I won’t look back for a while. Not on this moment. This is the present. The first step. The first move. I am driving up a blank slate.
– keep telling yourself Rene…
– well… lately my past and future blurring together. All because of
When I started playing music, or thinking about music seriously, it was up to New York. And all the time back again.
So many things in my life have happened to me in NYC.
Letterman, Carnegie, and late night jams. And celebrities. And parties. And sleeping on floors. Food, food, food. And walking through the streets at night in the rain reading poetry in the geometry of buildings.
Each a life created of one mind. Intricately working away at the life of itself. The city.
Seen like a Texan. A strange place with its own center of gravity. A dark tangle of thoughts. A massive question on eight million foreign tongues, I don’t understand, and back I go into the think of it on the 14th.
– Do you want to know what it is like to be a cell in a body? Or maybe just part of a cell? The cilium perhaps? Or the atoms inside the cilium? Nyc makes me feel that small.
– and that’s a great thing… To know I am small in this world.
Small movements. And small works. That is everything in life.
I can marvel at the big pictures. I can know or learn or be aware of big trends. Cultures. Of stars and currents. And gravity. And ages and ages. But I can only work in small moments.
That’s how I feel now. Getting ready for what I know is a big show. (Big show for us). Big show for my family. Big for my future. And it is on a small scale. With small moments. And small movements.
A song. A verse. A word. A look.
They are all but small consequences to the world.
Everything to me is no thing at all.
What a feeling.