Thirty-five started with a bang.
Thirty-five so far has been: a cold in the head at the worst time, traveling to a lovely island to play music, double-accordion jamming on the ferry ride home, a cd release party in a blue taffeta dress watched by family and friends. It's been: getting to play in and play out my birthday, with gigs on either side of it, like a cushion. It's been sleepless nights and stuffy noses and hot sex and being broke and cakechipswinetequilashotsvodkawaterwaterwater.
I've packed more living into the past 48 hours than I often do in a week or more.
I want the whole year to feel like that.