yet. tomorrow. two shows.do you ever wonder:
if someone were to place a real cap on your mortal years….like,
really just give you a concrete date: “your number is going to be up
when you hit 45”
that you would live your life that much differently. fight club
examined this for as split second. i’m in baltimore, i just took a
bath, and i found myself wondering.
if someone were to tell me i had ten years (exactly) – what would i do?
would i tour? stay put? travel unknown?
help the needy? stuff my face?
really hard to say. i think i’d spend a while figuring out, for sure.
the problem with this sci-fi fantasy is that knowing your number does
more than igve you a limit, it also gives you immortality for an
unlimited time period. this is irritating.
maybe what we need is a maximum. you have, maximum, 23 more years to
live.
GO!
23 is no fun.
what if
ok, you have 13 months to live.
really. you’re not impervious to obvious pitfalls (if you walk in
front of a bus, you LOSE) but as soon as those 13 months are up,
you’re out.
GO!
what do you do?
i took this photo tonight.
i captured everything i feel about being on tour again. i am feeling
better but not amazing. i have still have snot flowing out of my nose
regularly.
