March 11, 2009

I’ve been with Jon all week, working on tracks for the new record.  He wants to go back on tour.  Start another round next year.  I know part of it is for me.  If I’m working, I’m working.  Totally engrossed – I don’t phone it in.  If I’m left to my devices, who knows what could happen?

I have something to say, though.  Directly to you.

I think I’m done with you now.  It’s been more than three months since Jennifer was killed.  I can say that now without wanting to put my fist through the nearest smiling face, or pour a bottle of whiskey down my gullet.  Jennifer was killed in a horrific airplane crash.  She hasn’t visited me again since that last time; I don’t know if she will again.  And I think I’m okay with that.    I think she thinks I’m moving on.  I’m not, not quite yet, but I’m moving along.  There’s a difference.  She knows that, but she trusts me, and is leaving me to find my way.

I still miss her like crazy and think of her a hundred times a day, but the music is back, and I’m laughing again.

I’m still seeing Dr. Washington.  He is helping me.  I told him about the Dr. Santa thing, and he laughed.  Said I wasn’t the first to make that connection, and thanked me for keeping the Christmas jokes to myself.  He said that the journal thing was up to me; if I wanted to keep it up, he’d be happy to talk about anything I wrote about.

But I think for now, Asshole, I’m all set with you.

Thanks.