It’s noon or so on Monday and I’m having trouble absorbing the facts. I am sitting at my desk, in my studio in San Francisco, California. I’ve uploaded and posted my notes about Sunday Soul’s broadcast last night, updated the playlists on this journal, myspace, facebook, treehouse, and everywhere. The sun is blazing in through my red curtains, making the room almost glow with this rich, thick light that always makes me want to get up and go outside like robot boy, without thinking… without a destination in mind. There is a cold bowl of coffee in front of me. I look at it, I pick it up, swish it around and set it back down. And with a sigh I struggle to be in this moment.

I flew to Tampa and played at the Kennedy. The next morning I woke up and went out to the beach/pool/river and played again. People dancing, friends and faces smiling. Connection and reunion was in the air, and everything went beautifully. I slept like a brick and woke up at three in the afternoon on Tuesday. I got out of bed, realizing what time it was I lept out of bed, nude, and went straight to the sink in the open bathroom and began washing my face. I heard the door open, and intuitively I turned to see who might be letting themselves into my room. A very short woman in a sky blue short sleeved dress and a white apron was standing in front of me. She looked at my penis, up to my face, and then in what felt like slow motion back down to my morning erection. I grinned at her stupidly and said “I’m late, I know. But I’m checking out now.” Her eyes darted back up to my face and she said simply “I come to check the mini bar ok?”

I spent the rest of the day hanging around the lobby of the hotel sipping an espresso and typing on my laptop. Simon and Nadia picked me up and after a nice Thai meal with Jask and Chang, we drove to Gainesville together.

I spent the next two days in Paradise. Simon’s home is an oasis. I took a lot of pictures, played with Nadia, swam in the pool, and reveled in the stream which runs behind the house. Once you enter the gates of Simon’s home, you are no longer in Gainesville… no longer in Florida… you are transported into a distant place where time stops, and dragonflies surround your head, fireflies light up your heart, and the music doesn’t ever stop.

Then I was at the Plasma Lounge mixing records at a little after midnight, then four men were carrying the table outside and I was playing beside a beautiful pool, singing, making it happen in my head, and in my heart. Then I was in the pool, and running back to mix out in time, still wearing the ray bans which Julie gave me, drying my hands with the towel to keep the pool water out of the DJ mixer. Next thing I knew it was 2:30 in the afternoon the next day and it looked like I was going to miss my flight home. Simon asked me to stay. Everyone wanted me to stay. I wanted to stay. I wanted to re develop the plasma lounge, get a funktion one sound system in there, paint the walls black, design all the flyers, and rock that place every night.

But the next thing I knew I was asleep in a tiny little jet bound for Charlotte. And then I was speed walking through the airport devouring an egg and cheese bagel. Next thing I knew I was looking out the little window of the Air Bus A310 watching the San Francisco Bay approach…

Calvin and Megan picked me up at the airport. They actually parked and were there, waiting for me as I walked through the gates of TSA. How wonderful. That never happens. I loved it. We collected my bag eventually and went out for pizza. On the way into town I held my face to the partly open window and inhaled the smell of home in the crisp air on my face. I slept a little, and then undertook Sunday Soul: 128. Fast. So fast. Too fast.

I woke up this morning feeling something like my soul has been divided into four parts. I exist neither here, nor there, or anywhere. I’ve attended to everything which needs to be done here at my desk, been out dropping off laundry, buying milk, bread and coffee. But somehow a little scrap of my soul got stuck on one of the branches which line that beautiful stream behind Simon’s oasis, caught fire from the sparks of dreamy love which dance between the flowers, lifting me higher and higher into the twilight sky… traveling north toward my son, breaking apart and raining down like unseen blessings…. further north, and as far west as land extends, and dancing there a while, laughing, before drifting to the poles until I am gone.

It’s nothing a few day’s rest won’t solve. I’m just not sure I want it solved.