A Brief Visit From Me To Me

I need to write this quickly. I am in the midst of a battle against a disease (Crohn's....SEVERE Crohns's). It isn't fatal. But it narrows life. It drains color from it and replaces what used to be just living with unexpected and expected pain. With discomfort which is not quite pain. With a new distrust for my body. We are at odds. The reason I write this here is that I haven't played a guitar in weeks. Maybe a month. I don't work on them. I don't think about them. I don't delight in the feel of one in my hands. My life, as I said, has narrowed. Flattened. Washed out. There are cures and I not ashamed to try them even though, in research, it seems they are similar to doing away with your moth problem by burning down your house with you in it. No Moths. There. I need to stop before I want to stop writing. One thing...right before this became awful I got a Gould (sic) guitar that was handmade (it had to be) in Israel. It is quite the thing. Okay. Let me get off before I am someone else.