“When someone close to you dies, you are forced to see yourself. You see your own fear, the real stuff, the stuff you hid under a carpet somewhere. You think it hurts, but you can’t tell. Death as the path for all humankind is never more lucid than when a loved-one dies.”

- Ed RosenBerg

This past week I finally made the move to NYC. Not until recently had it felt the right thing to do. I’ve lived in Buffalo, Philadelphia, and Atlanta postponing the big move. I think it’s very important to ride the wave of life. Society likes to tell us otherwise. It feels great to be here and I’m glad I waited.

Atlanta will be greatly missed. It’s funny how the brain works, never truly letting go of certain things. I’m going to miss those unique moments, being on stage with some of the greatest singer/songwriters alive. The warm evening air gently blowing through my hair. A guitar softly playing with lyrics soaring over the top that hit right at my core. The poignant stillness in the air at the end of a slow love song and the communal exhale from the audience as the final resolving chord is reached.

I wish I had a soundtrack for my life, I absolutely do in my head.

The 15 minute subway ride to my office is a journey around the world. I fall in love with at least three women every morning, but only for a second. But I tell you what…I dream a thousand dreams in that second.

Are we all exactly the same? I’m beginning to think that no matter how wise or intelligent we might think ourselves to be that those might just be warm blankets to cover us and make us seem more than just procreating beings. But I hope not.

Walking down the street with you holding your hand, sunshine on our shoulders, the aroma of freshly cut grass filling our nostrils, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees beside us, sharing a vanilla ice cream cone in comfortable silence.

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Sunshine on my shoulders, makes me happy.
- John Denver