Can you hear Morrison? On one of his less drunken tour dates?
Say...Vancouver? Singing his heart out.
Fans are still making tributes to his memory. Hooking them together, amazing music and rare footage of his routine mayhem and foolishness.
So, yeah, we loved him.
Which brings us right back to the main question.
Who do you love?
And do they know?
Because nothing, luv, nothing is guaranteed, neither tomorrow, nor even the next moment. And in a hundred years, who's gonna care if you followed the rules dictated by society?
I'm not saying go all stalkery and psycho.
Just if you do, and you can look into the mirror at midnight, stone cold sober and say, "Oh, hell yeah, I love that f***ing fool.", then tell them.
They may be waiting, and just possibly, wishing they had the courage to do the same.
Go on. Grow a pair.
Cause the only real regrets?
Are things you never attempt.
I love a whole lotta folk, in a whole lotta ways. Love my daughter. Love her dad too, not in a "in love and starry-eyed" kinda way. Naw. More a "Oh hell somebodies gotta!" kinda way. Because beneath all the bullshit he routinely throws between himself and the world is something of worth. Just glad I don't ride the train to crazy town with him. Love my sister, even though she pisses me off on the regular. Love my Army-brother and his wife, and all three of their girls. Love my Balthazar. Shit, even love my daughter's stinky little dwarf hamster, Rhino. Damn smelly little fucker.
Not in love with anyone at the moment.
Takes about a second to fall.
And the next time I do?
Gonna say so.
Cause there just aren't any guarantees, are there?