someone made me cry last night. there was a knock on the door and when i opened it, there was a plate of spaghetti and meatballs on the doorstep. it's the second time that's happened since i moved in.
i haven't been out much because i've been getting ill spending too much time by the curbside, sucking poisoned air through my horns.
but this isn't to whine about that, this is to rave about how kind and generous people are that hear me play.
it astounds me because i sound horrible to myself. i was at my folks for my niece's wedding last summer and blew some flute for a little while on their patio and when i quit there were shouts from all directions begging me not to stop.
i play for a minute waiting for a bus and somebody hands me a dollar. nobody's telling me to get lessons or play somewhere else when they do it, which, like i said is really amazing.
when the rednecks drive by and tell me to get a real job, i can ask them why i should take a pay cut.
i stand in a checkout line and people pick up my tab. i could go on and on but i won't.
i'll leave the best of all and go.
when people start bopping with me. that's worth a million dollars a minute.