When I was in the Atlanta airport I picked up Carlos Santana's new autobiography, The Universal Tone. I'm relishing it. As I type this I'm listening to Santana Live at the Fillmore, an astonishingly beautiful album of live jams recorded in late 1968.
In late '68 I was 15 years old and listening to other things. I caught up eventually, but then I'm still playing catch-up in many ways.
Still feeling punched in the gut by my sister's death. Tears are set off by the smallest things--a news story, a stray thought--whatever. I'm grieving.
Amy cheated death so many times over the last 25 years, It's hard to believe she's gone. She was a strong, brave girl.
I'm struggling to return to routines. Have been doing a lot of housework and yardwork. Hoping I can find a way back to thinking/writing soon.