Two words

Morning becomes...

jbg

Slowly

The moon's not a lot But it's all that we've got And the sky is painted in chrome When the light shines Maybe we'll find The difference in being alone Time is passing as we sleep The days are falling into weeks And I'm still disappearing Slowly All hope is lost All the lines crossed It feels different than before "Love is still here" Is written in tears But maybe love's not enough anymore Time is passing as we sleep The days are falling into weeks And I'm still disappearing Slowly

jbg

Dream Rabbit

September weather in Chicago can eat you alive. Some people thrive on rainy, windy 60 degree days. But these days also fill some of us with unrest. Of course, some of us thrive on days full of unrest... I awoke last night at about 2... the TV was still on, muted, and the screen cast its ever changing patterns of silent blue-tinged light upon Hendrix, asleep on a chair in the bay window.

The wind hissed through the cracked windows. Hendrix twitched, letting out a muffled sleep-bark, no doubt in response to some dream rabbit. I fumbled with the remote, trying to change the channel from a real estate-themed infomercial to something more suitable for sleeping... like televised poker.

The sleeping pill I popped 4 hours earlier rallied and I closed my eyes just as John Juanda made some sick call and spiked a pair of aces on the river to win a big pot. Just before I drifted off, I remembered the song I was working on earlier that night before I fell asleep...

I heard the chorus in my head, loud and clear. I imagined I was singing it in the studio and at some point, imagining became dreaming. I wondered if I was twitching in my sleep, chasing my own dream rabbit...

SLOWLY Time is passing as we sleep The days are falling into weeks And I'm still disappearing Slowly...

jbg

A Dog's Life

On the anniversary of what is surely the worst day most of us have lived through, I thought it might be a good idea to break my silence and write about some of the positive things that have been going on for me lately...

But before that, I'd like to share one simple personal memory of September 11, 2001: I spent the day wishing that I was my dog.

You see... to Hendrix, that Tuesday was as good as it gets. I came home from work about 7 hours early and sat on the couch all day watching television, with him curled up next to me, scratching his head. He was thrilled. He could do that every day.

To him, 9/11 was an absolutely wonderful, peaceful, serene day.

Oh, to be Hendrix. Except for the part about being neutered.

jbg