I am sitting in my 3rd Floor Moon room , home to the famous red velvet Oscar Wilde Love-seat. I am sitting, listening to the forgotten rain, rain that fell on many before me and will fall on many after, never to be remembered as it marches to the sea.
Thank you for letting me into your life - thank you for allowing me to dilute the poison of parknson’s with your love, and rest assured I would do the same for you. I only hope, for your sake, I never have to.
I make hay, but I’m no farmer!
I’m back - after 2 hours of well built, gormet, hand crafted and life renewing sleep ( I prefer quality over quantity) I truly feel physically fantastic right now..right now, so I am going to make hay while the sun shines. During these rare times - these golden, delicious, desert moments when parkinson's and all of the cheap baggage that goes with it become a distant nightmare (if only for a few minutes) - when I feel good like this I make hay - I create.
I create my rear end off, be it writing songs or recording music in my 3rd floor MoonRoom where I am closest to my muses, muses I have all to myself because all of the other creators in Riverside or either asleep or too drunk to be taken seriously. I make hay - I create - I make music...
Maybe I turn on the many colored lights in my backyard Gr00vyLand and go into my shed of redemption - inspiration - creation and paint, paint like a soul delirious with fever - burning with a passion that must be shared - a passion that cannot be put to bed - that cannot be lulled to sleep. I make hay - I create - I paint ...
Or, as is the case this night of forgotten rain, I sit at my well crafted Mac book pro and I make hay - I create - I write - I write like I have never written in my life - words pour from my fingertips - words into thoughts into ideas into realizations and back again. My lost but now found words are the foundation of my spirit, my connection to all that is real and unreal, words that now cannot be understood or comprehended by any other means. Huh? Wha?
My 17 year old orange cat - Chainsaw, also makes hay. He just entered the room trying his best to communicate with me. Most likely telling lies about his exploits down at he King St. party ghetto. He is trying as hard as he can, but I can’t fully understand him. I am receiving maybe 10%. Even if I did speak the language of Meow his old weak voice can only do so much, he realizes this so he gives up. He leaves the room discouraged - defeated - depressed and still drunk, he leaves the room and goes downstairs where I will find him passed out in my “Big Red Chair." Maybe I should get him his own laptop.
I have to be quiet during these late night sojourns into the nether regions of my mind. Very quiet... too quiet. I do so dislike using headphones, for music is designed to be introduced to the WHOLE body, not just the ears. But I use them out of respect for the others that call this wooden spaceship home along with me. This wooden spaceship that has the ability, the desire, the wherewithal and the time to take me any were in the universe I wish to go. It is so quiet that I can hear, through my redundantly insulated, soundproofed walls, the "Oh crap" birds as in “Oh crap it’s late I have to be at work in 2 hours. They don’t bother me in the least, for I don’t work anymore - I create - I make hay.
just say yes!
meet Andy Ward King, a professional musician and artist until a diagnosis of parkinons dsease at age 49 forced him into an early retirement., he now uses his music, his art along with the whimsical world he has created in this blog as therapy to ( as he puts it ) outsmart his brain and make the daily battles with parkinson’s a little bit easier, to give him that all important reason to get up on the morning, to make his life worth living. Andy has learned how to say NO to gving up \ NO to depression and apathy \ NO to following willingly the road of decline that stretches before him. he learned that to say no to all of these things all one has to do is say yes. Andy has learned to just say YES to life/\\