I’ve been wanting to post here for awhile, and yet corralling my thoughts has not been easy.  I’m trying to learn how to put those perfectionistic tendencies aside and pull the trigger and post.  It’s better than not posting.

Now I gotta restring the guitar and head (schlep, always with the schlepping) to Grand Central station to take a train to Greenwich, CT where a dear person is lending me his car to drive to gigs in Gloucester, MA and Burlington, VT (thank you Dave!).  A quick trip which I’m really looking forward to.

Here’s something I posted on Facebook after a flood of well-wishes on my 42nd birthday May 3rd.

Thanks for checking in here.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes, everybody. 42 felt like a big one for some reason (I guess I have Douglas Adams to blame for that), as it becomes apparent that each year I am considered “young” by fewer and fewer people (evidenced by the young man on the street yesterday who, asking for a light, addressed me as “Papi.”) 

Yesterday I grabbed a CitiBike and rode over the Brooklyn bridge. I parked the bike and walked to the drugstore. 15 minutes later I realized that I had left my jacket in the little basket/doohickey of the bike and raced back to find a young woman rifling through the pockets (looking for an i.d., she said). She handed me my jacket, and, with a sideways Ellen Barkin smile, said “I woulda made off with it, but it isn’t my size.” I chose to believe she was kidding.

In addition to the lovely facebook greetings, I was feted in the evening by real friends, in actual time (and on Fri too). I had buttery mussels and mac and cheese. I didn’t smoke or drink anything harder than a Coke. I went to bed early and alone (save with a good friend and a dog in the house). 

Indeed, each year I have fewer and fewer vices in which to indulge. Still, I have those old persistent standbys: speeding, being late, not paying my taxes, fear, indolence, hopelessness, imbibing from my strange vanity/self-loathing cocktail, losing harmonicas, jackets, glasses, and Faith, and cussin’. I hope to kick each and every one of those habits eventually. (Except for cussin’. I’ll probably always cuss, because I need *something* to remind me that I used to be a rebel). Until those habits are kicked, I will lean on and draw strength from you, my large, far-flung constellation of amazing friends, asking for and hopefully extending grace in return. And I will keep on writin’ and singin’!!! (Also I need to find a manager). 

Thanks for being my friend and family, hope to see you soon,

<3   J

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