Note to Self

ummm, Emma?
yes, self?

next time you feel compelled to share your adventures in substances with the world, kindly save as a draft first, then when you are peering through your hang-over at the embarassment you have posted you can at least be assured that somebodie's granny in "Spokane" hasn't fainted from your amoral turpitude.

Just a thought.

For anyone who was subjected to the full onslaught of my screed, I apologize.

I heavily edited the previous post, and let stand what is left as a testament to Nancy Reagan. Just say no to drugs, kids. Or at least don't write while you are on them.

* * *

freezing in the park on Sunday for the Bluegrass festival. Polish dogs and orange julius, all access pass. Thousands of people, thousands of dogs. A surplus of facial hair, also coyboy hats, also really cute boys in shit kickers.

Emmylou Harris sings "Imagine" and we collectively choke up, she's got the voice of a weary angel, she calls it a secular hymn. It was amazing.