Who are we? We are our stories.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Like a Stone, Buried in the Silt

Charlie Parr posted a note last night.

"Today is a day of regret, of questioning every move I make and almost immediately being disappointed with myself no matter what I do. Mom has had a heart attack, she's stable and evidently doing well and I'm eternally grateful that my big sister is taking care of her. On the other hand, I'm in LA waiting on a plane to take me to Australia for tour, my guts are twisted, my eyes hurt, I am confused and ashamed and don't know how to proceed. Mom wants me to go on, and said she'd see me when I get home in two weeks. My nerves about flying are kicking in on top of it all, but I'm listening to Michael Bloomfield and Willy Tea trying to stay calm and face the next thing. I feel like a stone, buried in the silt of a creek bed, flying miles above the earth."

His mother comes from sturdy stock, she is a Cole from Maple Island (Mn). Charlie may short on formal education, but even in his confusion and grief, he can turn a phrase - sounds almost like his song lyrics.

"my guts are twisted, my eyes hurt,
I am confused and ashamed and don't know how to proceed
I feel like a stone, buried in the silt of a creek bed,
flying miles above the earth"

Here's hoping the man's mother does well. - Gunnar

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