Self doubt vs. all the clout.

My brain waves are evening out considerably. I'm holding the reigns of a new reality. A renewed reality. Through minor phone prodding, I was able to raise my friend Eddie. I thank god he got back to me, because the nervous part of me easily feels snubbed. My heart worries that even my closest friends could harbor some resentment that untended might boil into a firm dislike. Only a careful counter-logic can confirm that I am looking into a funhouse mirror of self doubt. 

Earlier today, I was in Home Depot to get a cheap tube and some clamps. A sad song by Madonna began as I walked through an aisle of storage containers. The song was far too heavy for the moment, and I felt blessed to notice this fact. I belong nowhere in particular, and I am free to put my feet anywhere I see fit. For that moment, I was a fly on the wall witnessing an absurdity, and I did not want to be anywhere else.

I met up with Eddie at his docked domicile. I remember when his son was a baby that I once spoon-fed some barley soup. Now he is nine. We all bicycled for a quarter mile with a stop in the middle to admire some spear guns. 

At the Gas Monkey bar on Duval, Eddie's son got chicken fingers, and Eddie ordered the recommended sandwich. I got a tall cup of beer and we all watched their friend play a Feist cover among some others. Richard Rawlings himself walked by, below, and I assured myself again that the stool I was sitting on was the world's best perch. Here. Now. Let’s do this.