Wonderful and painful. One woman’s story to the soundtrack of the blues

Open Thought Vortex

Old dog on the end of a leash, at the end of his life walks on cold, crack concrete. Walkin slow movin forward gettin toward tomorrow. Winter at the end of a leash, limpin, slippin, sliding down.

Sometimes I feel I’m at the end of a leash at the end of the earth. A bag of regret – walkin without thinkin. Sleepin without dreams. Livin without life.

Sad People Blues

juke-jointI love these lyrics – always have. They came at me from the semi-darkness of a makeshift stage carried on the whisky stained vocal cords of a used up blues singer. Or maybe not. Maybe I never heard them at all, or maybe I made them up. Nothing is clear anymore. Nothing but the memories of the nights I spent, bruised and lonely, placated by the blues.

This in part I owe to my father. Who infects me with…

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