Mea culpa. But at least tonight I am in that appreciative frame of mind. I bought a nice bottle of wine, some unhealthy but tasty dinner, and now I am both full of good food and a bit tipsy. Things seem quite clear to me in this moment: Love is all that matters. Relationships are everything. You are not your job or your possessions. This too shall pass (regarding tribulations, like getting an IRS notice that you owe $43,321 from a mistake in your 2010 tax return). Karma is real (what you put out there is what you reap). Killing other humans is wrong. There may or may not be a God but no one knows and so it's best to just be good for general purposes and not to avoid some supposed consequence when you die. There's nothing new under the sun. Bacon tastes good. Cats are cool. Wine is good. Reading and writing are the best things man ever invented.
Which leads me to Jack Kerouac. I don't know why I ended up being his number one living fan (I say that to be provocative, but it may be true except for John, Gerry, and a couple of others I've met). But I did. And I went with it, writing my book, meeting all sorts of mad people from all over the world, and generally giving me something to be passionate about that - so far, unlike being a musician - hasn't been taken away from me and, short of Alzheimer's (which I do fear), may not get taken away for the duration.
What a ramble. I hope it's semi-coherent. If it's not, I hope your IQ didn't drop from reading it.