Driving in the car this morning, listening to Patty Griffin's live album, I had a revelation.
Emmylou Harris is sort of the ketchup of the music world--she goes with everything that isn't sweet pop crap, she adds flavor to almost anything, she's an American classic and seriously, who can ever have enough Emmylou?
At least I thought it was pop culturally insightful.
Other note:
I get all worked up in self-consciousness about writing, pour over words obsessively but recently there's been an outpouring of unexpected affirmation. It kind of makes me stop and say, "Wait...maybe I could do this." I wonder when that point occurs; where that moment is when the tiny specks of lives and futures seem to coalesce, like quicksilver. They pour and bead and flow, forming those days, dreams and asipirations into a strange, humming present. I hope to see that soon.
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