Last night was the longest night of the year and lord, it felt like it. For some reason, I was overcome by sadness. It has been a long, hard year, no question; not for me personally, but for the world I live in. I am part of this world; maybe I feel its pain.
(Strangely, amidst the human chaos, it has been utterly beautiful in southern Oregon. No serious fires near our home, no terrible smoke, day after day of beauty. Given recent events, you'd think it would start raining down fire and brimstone. Give it time; Trump's inauguration is still a month away.)
Anyway, last night was rough and for absolutely no reason. I guess I'm just tired. People keep telling me I look tired, which does nothing to make me feel better. Why do some people feel the need to be brutally honest about something like that? What does it serve? If you can't say something nice, keep your fucking mouth shut.
Alright, that's enough. I need to marshal my strength. Guests are coming, I'm playing music tomorrow. Time to shine some light.
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