You wander.
We all do.
Uncertainty can often
blur your surroundings.
Unclear.
The map is always there,
the lines signify the path
you need to follow.
You simply have to find
the direction.
It is all in your hands.
© 2017 j.g. lewis
unclear
gr@ffiti
Anguish or confusion,
sometimes it is the way.
Anxiety takes over.
What else can you say
as you try to put aside all
the feelings that dog you
anyway. No pain today.
Try as you might to
see your way through.
No pain. Not today.
09/14/2023 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
There is very little that can be said about Eric Clapton that hasn’t already been said; except I saw him last night.
I’ve been listening to the musician, in all stages of his career, over the past five decades and he has been around even longer than that.
Through the years I’ve grown to appreciate Clapton more as a performer, recording artist, and as one of the greatest guitarists of all time, but I’ve never seen him live; until last night.
He was everything (and more) that I expected, playing selections from his lengthy career, and paying homage not only the blues artists who have influenced him but also to friends no longer with us.
Clapton and his band kicked of the Toronto concert with a cover of The Band’s The Shape I’m in, a fitting tribute to his longtime Canadian friend Robbie Robertson. Then, later, a tune he once recorded with Tina Turner: Tearing Us Apart.
The show was filled with both popular hits and selections you could tell he felt like playing. With a catalogue like Clapton’s there could have been even more hits, but he did what he had to do.
At age 79, Clapton’s seemingly effortless prowess on electric and acoustic guitar was both mature and effective. There were a lot of “wow” moments.
It was quite an evening.
What else can I say?
09/11/2023 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Posted on May 18, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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My jean jacket was taken from my car a few weeks back. Stolen.
The car was parked in its usual secure underground spot, and I may have accidently left the doors unlocked, but you would like to think you can trust your neighbours.
I also know, in the past, there have been incidents where random people off the street have managed to find their way inside our condo parking.
It’s sad, but unexpectedly expected.
Sadly.
The jacket will be missed. It already is.
It was a great jacket for cooler summer evenings, or an extra layer of warmth during the spring and fall. It was well worn, and well loved.
The thing about a jean jacket is that it takes time for it to be fully broken in, to fade to that right shade of indigo blue, and become that kind of soft. After all those years you discover more character in its somewhat threadbare looks.
This jean jacket was perfect in so many ways. It had inner pockets that could hold a journal, book of poetry, or even an extra camera lens (or sandwich) for when I would go out for a full-day adventure and wanted to pack lightly.
This jacket was washed and worn, and loved.
Of course, I was angry when I realized it was missing.
When the anger subsided, I realized it was only a jacket. It can be replaced.
When the stores are open again, and when I feel it is safe to go shopping, I will buy a new one.
Some people are not afforded that luxury.
This is now about forgiveness.
I hope my jacket was able to provide what was needed, and that it will be appreciated as much as I appreciated it.
I’d like to think the person who took the jacket needed the warmth and comfort.
05/18/2020 j.g.l.
