I had to change the message on my cell phone. Systemic breakdowns can occur at any time, and although the emergency has been averted for now, I'm still unsure why I would continue to invest in life in North Bennington beyond the day-to-day. I'm going to be 64 on September 10, not to be confused with the British numerical ordering, which would read 10.9.1957.
Libby B. continues to assure me that I am no longer a solo artist. (And that everyone has my number.) So does the Hyper Sense Perception and good ole intuition. The argument against these assurances is that anyone picking up the HSP as intensely as my experience of it would be on the phone with me immediately, just to make it go away. I continue to rewrite songs and establish this rock&roll persona of beautiful divinity. The latest phase of esoteric yoga causes me to see through the antiquated belief systems behind even the most cherished of classic LPs - but I was born to rock, born to dance, born to look and feel and pamper myself the way that I do.
