a not-so-satisfactory reading
experience—finally not willing
to go all in, or not knowing how—I
experience—finally not willing
to go all in, or not knowing how—I
played my fiddle this morning: “Cotton-eyed
Joe,” “Lily of the West,” “Fire in the Hole,”
and later on I’ll try “Eminence Front”
and “What Is the Soul of a Man?” on the
Joe,” “Lily of the West,” “Fire in the Hole,”
and later on I’ll try “Eminence Front”
and “What Is the Soul of a Man?” on the
mandolin. And it’s warm today—I
can
write on my back porch in my dishabille,
so I’m writing this now, and I’ll probly
post it in a few minutes. But I’ve got
write on my back porch in my dishabille,
so I’m writing this now, and I’ll probly
post it in a few minutes. But I’ve got
a few syllables to go. Now is
when
imagination must come into play.
imagination must come into play.
