I was talking with my friend Bird a couple nights ago, sitting in a disheveled garage on a moldy couch, drinking a beer and watching it rain. The crux of the discussion was fixed upon the notion of “My dream is to..” We engaged in an analysis of efforts expended towards goals vs. efforts spent reacting to other people’s goals, as in- everything else that happens to you. The bottom line is, there ain’t nobody looking out for your dreams but you.
I’m not sure where that leaves us, but I thought I would share it all the same. It sounded less Hallmarky in the garage. It even sounded tough, like Buzz Aldrin and the Intimidator chatting about how much ass they have kicked.
In this same garage, with this same rain, another couple of friends and I harrumphed and snorted about yet another friend who could not join us to sit on five gallon buckets drinking beer in the dank, flourescent-lit garage because he was wrapping Christmasd presents with his girlfriend. “Ha!” We laughed, “What a loser!” “Christmas presents? Girlfriends? I sure am glad that’s not me!”
The next night I was sitting on the floor making handmade Christmas cards with a lovely young woman and all I cared about was getting my hands on the bric-a-brac scissors.
You got a dream? Go make that shit happen.
And as the famous bluesman, Eddie Kirkland, so wisely said to me once, “Ain’t nuttin’ wrong wid dat.”
You watch out. She’ll keep you up all night making hats, if it’s the young woman I’m thinking of.
With a head like mine I could use some hats.
I think that should be the title of your autobiography.
That sounds like some lone wolf chatter to me.
People protect and support the dreams of their loved ones all the time, sometimes at great sacrifice to themselves.
I’m feeling the NASA space exploration, “follow your dream” vibe, you’ve been laying down. Your chops are as tight as ever.
I have only one wish for Christmas…a ride with Juancho, can’t have everything I reckon.
You and me tomorrow W.B.
Can you call me? I lost your digits.
I can explain my absence, just give me another chance!
We are riding in the cold dark night. The locale and tactical team is yet to be determined. So you have to ask yourself….do ya feel lucky punk?
No, actually, I don’t feel lucky at all.