Twelve years ago I was sprouting new songs in my head like a vegetable garden on a chicken farm. Whatever that means. I was playing guitar every day, transposing the melodies & lyrics that were practically falling out of my head onto notes. When my future ex-husband crashed my house, the day I was laid up from crashing my bike, he found me sitting on the floor of my living room with my Takamine. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was working on this song.
But when I ended up in a band singing covers, that all changed. It was like my brain dried up. Sometimes I think now, if I water it with enough tequila or vodka, it’ll become fecund again. I know, I should be going for the real stuff. Coleridge would not be impressed. Recently I had some hope of cancer, which could be like today’s consumption (TB), but that doesn’t look like it’s going to be anything.
