September 4, 2013 - Washington DC. An old stomping ground of mine, often revisited. I'm a little tired tonight. Meshing lives - my long-time commitment to juvenile justice reform (through Reclaiming Futures today and tomorrow), colliding with the fading memory of the work in Vermont at the studio....
Last night I visited with my old friend Sarah Morgan for a great conversation about life and love and the difficulties of the things we navigate between our public and private lives - how much do we share out there with the public? How much do we hold to ourselves? I talked with her about the entry I had written earlier in the day and how I hadn't felt it complete. On one hand, after dropping off my girlfriend Sarah Sledge at the airport, I had become angry from the cacophony of sound and fury rolling over the airways as I drove to DC - the dialogue of war. On the other hand, I was still immersed in the beauty of the recording sessions - Dennis Lind Beery's deft hand, the patient joy of his lovely bride Amanda, the way they welcomed me and later Sarah, when she arrived to record, into their home. But I found my time limited and so chose to write about my anger and not the recording we had all done and the joyous evenings we had shared. I ended with a quick end note that there would be more to come. This is that "more".
Later in the night, while doing paperwork and preparing for today, I listened critically to the cuts from the music we made this past two weeks. I was taken by Sarah's haunting vocals on "Time" and my clumsy rendition of my Irish-like ballad "Calling of the Sea", I agonized over the placing of words in the wrong place in "Eddie's Song" (an older, longer version is still number 369 out of 3573 - still listened to on Neil Young's "Living With War" site!) and then listened quietly as I heard how Dennis had transformed some of my songs - discerning their essence, from the forced place I had so often played them.
I was struck, in the end, by the fact that I'd even completed this phase of the effort. I say that because it has not been easy getting here. I have been discouraged and daunted by the demands of other friends, life and the efforts I keep trying to hold together in all the many and varied aspects of my life (often written of here - though not always). But through the patience, counseling and guidance of Shannon Flattery and Tim Mason, and the encouragement of my editor Keith Liles, I finished "Six Truths". Through the generosity of Dennis Lind Beery and Amanda Beery I found my footing in the studio. And, underscoring it all, steady in her support, encouraging before I ever got to the studio, or saw a draft proof of that book, my girlfriend Sarah Sledge was there quietly reminding me that the faith she had in my ability to do these things was not unwarrented, but real - and based on something she saw in me that I had difficulty seeing clearly myself. As I told her two nights ago, I could not have gone this far in these efforts without her words and unwavering support. I'm still going down a road with this CD that still has a great distance to travel, so I can't give away all of the liner notes for the eventual disc, but I can see that this journey has an end, and I see my way to that end through the soft touch of her hand. For that is the nature of love.
I'm not very comfortable writing here about my personal life, and usually do so only as a reflection or a memory of those I've known, so I ask your indulgence in that. But know this: while I may not always acknowledge the debt I owe to so many of you, or the depth of those feelings I may feel, I am this way because I don't particularly feel as though I fit in a world of tweets and posts. I like to write letters, keep a journal, write on lined paper, collect old books and maps and smell the mustiness of time. Even this entry is odd, but inspired by yesterday's and a knowledge that many times acknowledging a thing matters more than I may realize.
This is a public document, not a private note, or a call. Even so, tonight, with these words, I'm thanking all of you right now, right here, before it is all a fond memory that I write about reflexively. And for Sarah - I thank you most of all for making so much of this possible with a simple belief and a real love for a man who may not always know how to best express those same feelings so publicly.