Sometimes when life has you running around New England and you're balancing on the tightropes of instability and you haven't really eaten anything all day and you're worried about where you're gonna live and if you have enough resources to follow through with all your plans and you're tired from shoveling all the snow and your tub's backed up and the Man keeps tryin to bring you down and you wonder if you're working to live or living to work and some bitch who isn't even paying attention doesn't say "thank you" when you give her her god damn vegan gluten-free organic falafel sandwich and you want to hate her so bad...
Sometimes you have to take seven minutes to just stop. Close your eyes. Breathe. Listen to the slow blues. Listen to that blues harp, let it infiltrate those open sores of this material world, and let yourself escape, let yourself have those seven minutes of pure human emotion, remind yourself that this is what keeps you connected, what validates all your plans to begin with. Never end a sentence with a preposition, unless it's a continuation of James Cotton's voice, which he rarely uses because of cancer, and count your blessings, count them all, because in about four days you get to LIVE the melodic line that happens around the 2:30 mark. Slow down, and surrender yourself to the colour blue.
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