picking his ass and singing the blues
My internal clock is all screwed up. Can’t keep my eyes open at 2 o’clock in the afternoon and can’t close them at 2 in the morning. On top of that my birthday month is poised ominously on the time horizon. My seventy fifth year is now almost completely in the rear view mirror.
In retrospect not a bad year, with the high light being my visit with my daughter and son in law and the grandkids MAYA and SASHA for seven days in December in the wonderful city of Montreal.
I have scanned forty five Blues negatives and am pleased with the results. Have to quell the temptation of fooling around too much with Photo Shop and getting side tracked with design fusses.
Most of the old blues guys are dead and gone and I had better get a wiggle on with this book before I join them.