A golden morning light comes streaming in thru the big kitchen windows facing East. I am in a new place. Another magnificent, quite beautiful home. New assignment, new little furry friend. A new day, new reality. Everything is different, all the little details have been scrambled: this stairway, this bed, these pillows, this coffeemaker, these mugs. Maybe that is a good thing, you have to adjust, you have to adapt to new surroundings. Maybe it clears the cobwebs? All the things you take for granted can't be taken for granted because everything has been altered, reconfigured, and rearranged.
Make a routine, break a routine.
Of course, everything is here, at hand, a bounteous, treasure-filled life. This home is luxurious, and well out-fitted. No challenges here. Living is easy. Eyes open or closed.
The basics are the same: coffee, music, writing. I lugged my guitar over here. A little digital recorder at the ready, just in case inspiration strikes. I am not making any promises but often a new place, new surroundings lead to new riffs, new songs, little breakthroughs, who knows?
In some ways my life is so very simple. Be aware, alive, awake. Always be moving. Keep my guitar close to hand and just play. Always have music in the air, and playing on the box. There is so much trouble in the world, but no trouble in this place of magnificence. For sure, an odd, marginal way to live, an intermittent Gypsy-like, troubadour existence. It's a life. Small, intimate. All mine.
