Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

So it is that I'm sitting at the keyboard listening to The Stooges blast their furious enthusiasm all over Raw Power, the album Bowie produced and whose intensity he was accused by many of muting. I agree, but the remaster is almost too hot in the mix. Whatever. I may just be a sourpuss.

And so it is that I'm loose from yoga. My practice has expanded, my body has become leaner and better toned. And I feel stronger than I probably ever have. Whether it's the case that what I just laid out is apparent to the observing eye, I can't really say. Judging by recent photos, I look pretty much the same as I always do, despite my clothes feeling looser. Oh well, in the end it can't be about that anyway. Vanity must be brought to heel if a true yoga practice is to be embraced.

Raw Power has left the building. In it's place appears Buena Vista Social Club. I don't know, man, Raw Power starts off well, but my interest in the rest of it always seems to wither. So it's Buena Vista, an album I truly, truly love but listen to not nearly enough. Perfect summer music? You betcha.

The last few days have been low key. I haven't played much music; I needed a break after recording that last song. How I feel about it changes by the hour, but I tried to get it right; it's the first song I've written about my dad. Time has helped, but the ache of grief still resonates.

Alright, you indefatigable searchers of the truth, I'm about to explore other options.

G'night.