Spiritual teachers, address books, etc

In Holland we used to walk when things got bad.

(Our neighborhood was silent)
(So very silent)
(God I loved it)
(One day a bassist royally fucked us and we had 18 hours to find someone to be in Milan the next day/on the tour for weeks)
(It seemed like nothing would work and then it did work)
(We walked until our brains didn’t delude themselves into thinking they could fix it anymore)

Paulina calls these types of things “spiritual teachers”

(And there’s something so special, so effortless about Paulina, that you tend to agree)

In Holland we used to walk when things got bad.

In Pasadena we used to go to the mountains when things got bad.

(Before my kidneys decided to exit the arena)
(The mountains were truly my friends, a space of clarity, silence, peace)
(One day we went up there after a particularly horrendous Rainbow Blonde day, worked to the bone and beyond any recognition of ourselves)
(We drove until our brains didn’t delude themselves into thinking they could fix it anymore)
(It seemed like nothing would work and then it did work)

In Pasadena we used to go to the mountains when things got bad.

Paulina calls these types of things “spiritual teachers”

(And there’s something so joyous, so wondrous about Paulina, that you tend to agree)

But these days, knee deep in a kidney relapse, the fatigue relegates me more or less to my house. I cannot walk and I cannot breathe in mountain air. So I find joy in this little plot of land.

(On my birthday Dylan hung streamers on the porch)
(They work well for fatigue sitting)
(So does this beautiful guy)

When he leaves for tour I feel nearly certain I can handle this relapse.

(Paulina calls these types of things “spiritual teachers”)

On good moments I see minimal change as such.

(On difficult ones I cry over the sink)
(If I can make it there)

And, when it’s not 100 degrees out, I convalesce on the front porch.

(It doesn’t feel very suburban of me)
(But I figure the neighbors have already given us a wide berth)
(I find inspiration in the nature)
(In letters that I send out into the world to the people I love)
(In a gorgeous vintage address book I buy myself)
(Your girl, after all, remains the analog-est of bitches)

I’ve been wanting to write you for a long time
To tell you about spiritual teachers, the various versions of them, we have so much to catch up on

But for now a little note to try and reinvigorate th’ol ttalk
To get myself back to writing again

In Holland we used to walk, in Pasadena we used to mountain, today I write to you.

Thank you so very much for being here with me. More hopefully soon.

t