Guitar in the Parking Lot
I drove to the gym, but was feeling too run-down and despressedy to go in yet, but fortunately I had my Firebird in the back seat, so I sat there with the door open, playing for a good half an hour or so. Music makes me feel better. Music makes me want to live.
Been pondering the possibility that I may remain a principled, idealistic bachelor the rest of my life — that I won’t cross paths with the right woman and that settling for less than the right woman is not an option. I think that could be okay. I have a mission. I have themes and stories and ideas to pursue and express. Art can be my mistress.
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