I was stressed these last few days...
because the money is gone.
because my son is on the other side of the country.
because I have no car on this coast.
because I have no home or food on this coast.
because I'm behind schedule with this album.
because my cel phone expired.
But like a pollen storm it hit me square in the nose this morning:
I'm sleeping in a mixing studio,
and I'm waking up to the massive sounds that I've amassed these last two years
holding hands with each other and bobbing in time to my tempo,
exactly where I commanded them to bob. I'm hearing each instrument find it's home in the heavily populated neighborhood of each song that was once born in my head.
I'm thirty years old and I'm doing exactly the thing that makes me happiest in life.
At the end of each day I fall into bed (or couch, as the case seems to be) exhausted but full, as if every last cell was put to work.
How many people can say that?