I've been up most of the night, as I have most nights, practicing, playing, recording music. It's a habit I've grown into after my day job. There is something comforting about being the only one on this road at this hour, traveling out of the city with the truck windows down, towards my country home, so late at night, so early in the morning hours.
It's after 2:30 a.m., or perhaps after 3:00 a.m.; I don't really know. I drive past many outdoor lights of tract homes. Some new age atmospheric sounds play from the cassette player as my left hand moves through the passing air like some young child's arm hanging out the window while thinking about flight.
I am amazed at how much I can accomplish living on little sleep. The life of a night owl who holds a regular day job is like walking between two worlds. I wonder how long it will last.
Sitting here some twenty years later, I can almost smell and taste the air coming in the window of the truck from a point in time that has long since passed. It is interesting how a song or a setting can bring memories into the forefront of our minds.
As I now type words through the night that appear across this back-lit, thin tablet’s screen, Buddhist-inspired music plays from its speakers via my voice’s command. To some past self, right now, I have time-travelled into the future. So this is the wonder of a changing world. This must be the beginning of the path towards rural life nirvana.