Wow man, you never know where the inspiration is going to come from.
It blind sides you and that is what makes it beautiful.
I wanted to write this morning. It is a dark, dreary, rainy day. I am not going to exercise. Because I just don't fucking feel like putting in the effort.
I prefer not to waste these opportunities - if I don't exercise then I have loads of time available before I go to work. I do not want to sit here and piss it all away with despondency.
I do feel a little down. Which is strange. But I guess I am just a human being.
It's strange because I have a job opportunity. Interview on Monday. A little more cash, but more importantly the job would catapult me into an entirely different world, one I believe I could love.
Only problem is I always doubt myself, more so as I get older. My track record for making job related decisions is abysmal. I can't seem to find the right situation.
Then again, does anybody?
I needed to write today but did not know what I was going to write about.
Then I went to Joe Cicirelli's blog. salmagundi-joe.blogspot.com.
Joe is a friend of mine. Friend is a nebulous word, ill defined and even less understood. I have only known Joe for a few years.
I carry around with me a strong memory of support from Joe. My brother-in-law Sarge died on December 16, 2014 from lung cancer. He was fifty nine years old. My nephew Jonathan died on December 17, 2014 from a heroin overdose. He was twenty seven years old.
Those two events exploded Carol and I into a five day marathon of wakes and funerals ranging from Massachusetts to Maine, from which we arrived home after it all exhausted, emotionally destroyed and bitterly confused.
On my first day back to work, feeling shattered and shaky, Joe and my friend Rich Gulla showed up at the liquor store where I worked. We stepped aside to talk. It was difficult for me. The tears flowed.
Both of my friends were there for me, I could feel their empathy. Joe's son was and still is struggling with heroin addiction. There was a deep connection between the two of us.
The thread was there but we didn't push hard enough, we didn't "hang around" together.
We got together for lunch two days ago. Talked a lot. Effortlessly, comfortably. Joe told me about his blog, which he has been writing longer than I have mine.
Checked it out this morning. It is beautiful. Intelligent, well written, insightful, unpredictable.
I read through post after post and just shook my head with respect - this is a side of Joe I was not familiar with.
Then I got to the Warren Haynes video. Warren performing "Soulshine" in front of a large outdoor audience accompanied by his acoustic guitar and a harmonica.
"Soulshine" is an Allman Brothers song, one of my favorites. Don't ever ask me which Allman Brothers song is THE favorite - I could not make that choice. That would be like asking me what is more important to me - my heart, my mind or my soul.
I sat there this morning, listening to Warren sing, with tears running down my cheeks.
Crying because I love The Allman Brothers Band so much, crying because the song is so beautiful and meaningful to me. How cool that this moment came about through my friendship with Joe.
This friendship thing man, it can lie dormant. It comes at you from unexpected angles sometimes.
But it is truly a gift. Another human being who is not related to you, who has no obligation to love or respect you, but with whom you connect anyway.
This is life, baby - this is real life.
By the way I researched salmagundi. It is a salad plate of chopped meats, anchovies, eggs and vegetables arranged in rows for contrast and dressed with a salad dressing.
It also means a heterogeneous mixture.
I believe the second definition is what Joe is getting at but I do not presume to know.
If he confesses I'll pass it on.