I received a lovely compliment on my guitar playing this afternoon. Thanks, Miquel (sp). The truth is my playing is pefectly awful but when you begin your career practicing on a ukalelee (sp?)your grandmother sent you from Hawaii, you pretty much have a good deal of relearning to do in terms of technique.
Had a very enlightening dream last night. I was in a car that was driving itself in circles and my body was paralyzed. I knew the car was going to be crashing into these gates that resemble the ones you jump while horseback (do those have a special name? did I ever know that?) I kept trying to get my foot to move toward and push down on the brake pedal but it would not. Miraculously, the car jumped over the gates and I was saved. I knew I had been given a wonderful break (!). But when the car finally stopped, I could not breathe and a clear liquid that turned into what could only be described as weighted bubbles began to come out of my mouth and I realized I was dying. There was no white light, no joy - granted I was not yet dead. Just fear and what I felt was a true understanding of the nature of what death truly ist. I'm keeping that part to myself.
Man, the book I'm reading now, Machete Season: The Killers in Rwanda Speak by Jean Hatzfeld is a profoundly confusing but insightful. I concur with Susan Sontag who wrote in the introduction that understanding what happened in Rwanda is a moral imperative and this book is crucial to that understanding.