Friday, February 17, 2017

In a world of my own creating, I would be meeting Keith Richards tonight for a drink.

We would sit at a bar and he could tell me what it means to be a survivor and how, in fact to survive.
And then he would probably laugh and laugh his deep slurry laugh and his face would show all of the carved-out crevices of the 73 years of a life that few have ever seen or lived and maybe, if I was lucky, he'd reach over and touch the back of my hand and say, "It's okay. I've seen worse. Trust me."

And if I had any wits about me at all at that point, I would thank him and say, "I believe you."

And that's all I have to say tonight.


  1. It's a sound plan....I've been waiting for decades for Gracy Slick to show up in a limo outside my door, crook her finger and say "Mike, it's your turn."
    Best of luck with yours.

    1. Ah well. You know. I just sometimes need a little Keith perspective. My son says that Keith is my spirit-totem animal. I believe it.

  2. Lacking Keith Richards to send you, sending hugs instead.

  3. Keith is there for you. He sure is.

    1. Well, at least in my mind. I can just see those sweet old eyes, those gnarled old hands.


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