I've been tired of playing drums so I pulled out the Guild and found a space in which to maneuver with some ideas Rob had. At the end of our second burst of energy, I started thinking of Aaron Stout, and I felt a vastness stirring in me, with words to say and melodies to spit.
You left at dawn to be first in line for the beheading. You came back wide-eyed and asked me do you realize where we are heading. It's been hard to talk to you.
The words are not the thing yet. It's the feeling. Here's some more:
Okay, I can't think of it now, but this line - the one I can't remember - woke me from my sleep the other night and it was good. And it's somewhere in the dusty apartment I call my head. It went something something something something, "over the bridge unabridged, from 1 to 5."
Today was a day not to think about Motherlodge too much. I got up at 5:30 a.m. and went to the Fulton Street Social Security Office to apply for a Social Security card. With my birth certificate and marriage license I was approved. If I'm lucky I might get it before we leave for Louisville.
On the way out of the building, I was mocked by the security man at the door for not holding the door for a blind man. But I was confused. I'd just gone through applying for the SS card feeling like no one was going to be convinced that I was who I was. Walking out to see the blind man who had no regard for me, my first reaction was to feel even more convinced that I was not there. And on top of this, the guy was going in the wrong door. So I didn't know what to do - Do I help him go through the wrong door, or direct him to the - "HEY!" (before my thought was complete the security guard was on me) "That's great, sir! Thank you. Thank you for holding the door for him! Can't you see the man is blind?"
I had my reasons, but reasoning aside, as they say, the facts the facts: Today I stood aside and made a blind man open a door himself. I did some cool shit, today, too, but this is the story to end the day with.
And this completes today's blog from Ray - the guy who still sometimes thinks more than he acts.