A short time ago, the lead singer of the Dave Clark Five died. Over the weekend I found a couple of websites dedicated to the nostalgia of the Isle of Wight festivals. I was 16 the first time I went to those gatherings. I wandered home from that life changing event feeling like, at last, I had felt like I belonged. Sounds too plausible and trite but there it is. This year Bob Dylan will turn 67. I'm not any older because of accessing these facts and memories, but I am concerned.
The days go by with their numbers, adding up to a version of arithmetic that has been invented by us to keep us counting and adhering to the inevitable. The trials of daily work and the attention needed for success in these ventures are so very wasteful. I should be comfortable being just myself and living for everything I want and have. Every day needs to feel positive, creative. Something should grow and I sometimes lose that thread.
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