March 11, 2008
I am a victim of the Indian Summer. I am a victim of having spent my days lazily, on straw bails, frailing banjo - of being afraid to go inside where it was cold and dark. My tragedy was to ignore the tasks that I had set before myself. I have ignored my book for an Indian Summer and through the cold Winter. Now, the frost has gone away and the chill that occupied the corners of my studio have warmed. And here I am now, in Spring and I do not feel guilty. I do not feel guilty for having turned to my machines only occasionally since the Indian Summer. I do not feel guilty for the songs I have played and for the sun that I have consumed and that has consumed me. Because I am the victim of the Indian Summer that fell into winter and cooled the air of studio - because I am the victim of happiness. I do what I please. I have book to print and it is Spring now.
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