Some have said that suicide is the sincerest form of self criticism. ;-)

Also, being a folksinger with my traditional definition of what folk music actually is for forty years is some form of death wish---some might say ;-) So why did I enjoy it so much? Must be like ol' Doc Strangelove----"How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb!"

Recently, I sent an e-mail to old friend Anne Hills where I told her, "In a real sense, losing the ability to play my music was like a death of sorts for me." I don't see a death wish idea here, but in another real sense, what I'm experiencing right now is like an afterlife---and the only one of those, I am sure, that I'll ever partake in. As the gospel of Thomas infers, 'Heaven and hell is here on Earth--right here and now.'

Given the above, I can watch the travails of the world we're in now as they raise their variously shaded ugly and beautiful heads parading down the river of my life, and I amaze myself with my powerlessness and also my acceptance of the insane junk we all are drowning in. Somehow, it's all a real gas; sometimes pure oxygen, and sometimes a fart. But I breathe deeply taking in whatever wafts my way!

No death wish I don't think. Just reality---and all that that entails.

Art