I had a dream I was able to fly now I have chained my bead to the ground. I like walking dreams better.

I suppose it is submerged memories that give to dreams their curious air of hyper-reality. But perhaps there is something else as well something nebulous gauze-like through which everything one sees in a dream seems paradoxically much clearer. A pond becomes a lake a breeze become a storm a handful of dust is a desert a grain of sulphur in the blood is a volcanic inferno. What manner of theater is it in which we are at once playwright actor stage manager scene painter and audience

All during that prison time I really lived by prayer. Be in prayer always were told and back then I was.

Prayer aint weakened by distance.

So for me the creative world isnt what you do after your day job though many professional musicians do this to make ends meet but its something that IS a job. Perhaps thats why Im not as disheartened by the more cold blooded aspects of the industry. Over the course of watching my mother navigate the creative world Ive seen just about every trick pulled that could have been and Ive seen her deposit the checks received for a job well done. When I recently asked her why she chose the creative world she said Early on I decided that if I had to work I was going to work at something that I loved.Im glad she did. As difficult chaotic dysfunctional and crazy as the world in music and the arts can be I always knew that they mattered deeply to her as they do to me.

He would pray...for everyone who knew pain which meant everyone who wore a human face.

I had a dream about you. We sold love like a couple of roadside lemonade-stand vendors. Your love was organic and mine was made with yellow tennis balls.

I had a dream about you. You wanted to make love to me and I wanted to sell you a talking mannequin that looked like me. You said you didnt pay for sex and I said I didnt sell to just anybody. But we both knew we were both lying.

I wanted my sons to know that whatever kinds of prayers we utter not matter how wretched God hears them even when we pray badly.

I had a dream about you. You wanted to be like Amelia Earhart and I took you to mean you were trying to find yourself. Then I understood what you were telling me and I sold you an invisible airplane.