it's always about me

I always do everything in spurts. When I'm active and doing, I feel like doing everything I like. If I feel like flying, I also feel like writing here. Or talking to friends. Or playing guitar. When I'm not active, well I guess I don't feel like doing anything but eating, and perhaps watching TV. Why is it that when I'm down I want to eat? Anyway, I climbed out of the walls I'd built around myself to spend the weekend in Frederick. I call it Fredrock, or Fredneck. I was visiting my mentors, the VanKirk brothers. See the post about Malcolm. We moved an Aeronca Champ in pieces from their barn to the airport. We worked on their hangers. We worked in their storage sheds. We watched helicopters fly. And gliders. And Gyroplanes. We played with Steve's 1970 Bonneville street rod. When evening came on Saturday we had a nice long jam session in the hanger. We had drums, amps, bass, dobro, keyboards, guitars. Beer, Cokes. Video cam. Then on Sunday, another day at the Frederick airport. And a two and a half hour drive home. And my weekend was over. Now I'm back in my cocoon. Now the list of things to do to spool up the farm for spring grows longer each day. I do almost nothing. I'm back in hiding and I don't have to be sociable. Maybe by the weekend I'll come out and play again. I worked pretty hard before and I earned this nervous breakdown. I'm gonna continue to enjoy it. If I'm writing to you, I must be getting better. I'm going to get my guitar. I will try to find a pick. I will play and sing. But only prairie songs. Then we'll see about those chores. Gen Av Informal.