So the band played on Live Earth with motherfucking Madonna.
Reminders are everywhere. I can't listen. I can't watch.
That world is too chaotic for me right now. I've been choosing quiet vacations with my husband over traveling with gypsies. I'm hoping to locate my zen. The music and bright lights fatigued and emotionally drained me to the point of near ruin. If you ever want to put your head through a blender, do what I have done. Then listen to Julio Jaramillo's "Fatalidad" on repeat and you're well on your way to the padded cell. That Ecuadorian knew pain. Gypsies too, apparently.
Yet I think of the invitations I declined in Italy, Croatia, and NYC, and I'm still nostalgic for December, March, and April. What wild disregard. What heartache. But I can't deny that in those moments, I was living. I smile when I think of what adventures they were. Almost enough to mask the sadness.
Will I be ready for more in August?
10:27 p.m. - 2007-07-13