i'm sitting in a large brick warehouse. around the bed in the center of the room is a circle of white candles all glowing. across the room paintings hang on ropes from the steel rafters. along the other wall a rope runs the whole length of the room and on it are all the images of my journey held by wooden clothespins like memories hung out to dry...on the floor along the wall are my books, and here in the corner, inside a barricade of wooden desks i sit. around me there are computers keyboards and microphones all posed and ready for my use, but, underneath, i am still boiling from the road. i sit through conversations and dream of sunsets and cheap hotels...freedom...i know i am only obligated by myself to remain here but, i will finish my projects before i go again... alabama has been a tornado of unidentified flying emotions and confusion. i am no good in this world. i suck at being normal. i drift through it all still unattached, these illusions do not hold me any more. i feel it because i remember, but this is not my world anymore. i belong out there among the apparitions and coincidences. where every day is its own entity and plans are not important as present. detached from time and obligation and afloat in the vast soupy life-force on a raft of good fortune... sound like nonsense? it always does... regardless of everything else, time and space currently have me penciled in here in this brick warehouse which really isn't all that bad. i'm getting used to it...but driving on highways is still risky for me they lead back out there...but, i have built my lab now and i will begin the experiments that hopefully will lead to another musical medicine. i will finish what i have begun with these words and music and leave all of it behind me and fulfill my desert wish for peace. if it sounds like a suicide note, don't worry, its not. suicide is a cowards recourse. though socrates smiled when he drank his hemlock, the grail i am looking for is more powerful, it lies in living. it is past happiness all the way to peace... the same peace that runs through the limbs of a tree and mumbles in the dark water of a river