NOT A-Paddlin'

It's been almost a week since the bottom of my kayak has seen any water except the morning dew. And I am worn to a nub with work and its utterly insensible paperwork. And I am trying to get everything together so I can get out of the country again. And the dishes are piling up and the dog hair is gathering in clouds on my floor. FML, as the young-uns say.


Yet as I go down the checklist, all is essentially well with my life, at least in all the areas that matter. I mean, last night I got to meet and listen to one of the great rock and roll heroes (at least in my world), Mr. Mike Watt, he of the Minutemen and the author of the rock and roll ethos of jamming "econo." I have life, love, song, and health...

But I ain't got paddling right now. There is no feeling of dread, of unease, or self-pity that a good five-hour fight upstream wouldn't cure. Scaring the fish, dipping my hands in the cool water to get a better grip on my paddle, watching the green come back to river shore, marking cloud shapes as I settle back in the seat...I just don't know when that's going to happen any time soon, though, and I imagine I will be at loose ends until it does. Peace.