Up Late

Wow. It's 3:06 AM and I show no signs of fading. It all started with Guy Reed's email and link to this article about my most dependable creative hero who, at 80 years of age, is about to publish what he says will be his last book of poetry which makes me weak. Go here to read about Jack Gilbert. It inspired me.... and maybe, you too.

I've been musing about things and things, drinking Jameson & ginger (ale) and resisting sleep because I just don't want this night to end. It's a painful, blistering, blissful night. The candles on the dining room table have burned out and I wrote lyrics to some music I've been working on and the whole song just took on a life of its own. I don't know if I'll be wrestling with it in the coming days or weeks, but it has asserted itself tonight.

Brent went to bed early, possibly coming down with another cold or flu in his weakened state from the last cold or flu he contracted. I can hear him coughing upstairs. I should probably take some vitamin C and go to bed too.