It's been a month away, moving about 20 miles closer to the Canadian border, concurrent with my country taking a sprint right into fascism, and the best most anyone near me can offer is "it is what it is." Were it a drinking game, I'd be dead or pickled.
But I cannot lose hope, because thre[s still worlds of music to uncover, and uncover it, I shall.
My mom came in from the East Coast to lend a hand on the unpack, and I played this for her as we headed north from the airport. She liked the Farka Tourés, felt ambivalent about the rest of it, but said it was nice to hear something she'd never heard before. "You have such interesting taste in music," said the woman who played me Smokey Robinson, Juice Newton, and Pink Floyd as a kid.
My point is, it doesn't have to be what it is. Spring is coming, and we will be renewed.
1 comment:
Terrific stuff. Thanks!
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