Letters from my third son - Letter One

SFO 5:30pm

My stomach is full of some food that came out of a bag with a symbol on it. I can’t remember what it was but wherever it came from its still the same as all the others. I sit here in an airport seat waiting to get my boarding pass to make it to the next spot for the hurry up and wait part of traveling. I stop to think are these shoes even ready for what is about to happen to them? They don’t even know what they are in for. I’m about to let them live like a young car thief lets his latest vehicle live. Taking’em to their limits, hitting corners hard, and running wild all over parts unknown. Just thinking about it brings a shit eating grim to my face. My Ipod Shuffle jumps from a serene track to a hard hitting deep cut from an album I once listen to over and over again in Paris.

I arrive a day late after a detour I took due to me being a new traveler (but that’s another story). Jumping off the train I laid my black & white shelltoes on the Gare De Noir pavement. The dank air of the station clings to me like a girls perfume after a deep hug. The Song is booming in my headphones, I try finding out which direction the way out to the street is. The track gets to that point in the song where is just vocal and one string. I walk closer to the train station door to get my first glimpse at this city I‘ve heard so much about. The morning sun is blaring threw every window I couldn’t even make out any part of what was outside. I make my way closer and the track starts in with that lone drum build up they always have. Every time the rubber from my shoes touches the ground the song gets more intense, as soon as I get to the door and feel the morning air. The track lets loose with and avalanche of instruments raining down along with a hard yell from the lead vocal. My vision of Paris was equally matched, a cavalcade of people coming and going in all direction, buildings big and wide that seem to go on forever in every way. It felt like being in one of those movies where a guy wakes up in the future and everything is alive and moving. I stared for a bit and then I took THE NEXT STEP.

For two weeks (not nearly enough time) I don’t have to worry about deadlines, my keys, Bombing, getting there, problems, Talking, gas, answering questions, perception, the future, expectations, trash day, staying sober, the past, how many licks it takes, the clock, them, my car, meetings, The snooze button, you, and the rest of the shit I left behind on the drive here to SFO. FUCK IT!!!! One last drag off this Newport before I head back inside and get ready for ANOTHER STEP