November 9, 2007

Dusky brownish twilight. I must hit the road toward Waynesville for tonight’s performance in five minutes. I was frightened in my house for a moment, frightened at the brown, quiet isolation. I have professional life and I have solitude. . . but where the mid-ground? Where has intimacy gone? It shouldn’t be frightening, but for a moment, it was. What if it were twenty years from now, and the twilight gathering like this, and me facing a night without a show, alone, no hope, no remembrance, of anything else? I guess it’s time for some fresh air. Onward.