When I was a small boy, old people used to squat down to my eye level and ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, to which my answer was invariably, “a pirate.”
Unearthing buried bits of nostalgia from deep within and spreading the broken, jagged pieces out in front of you like a display of junk at a garage sale.
And show up in a place I never thought I’d ever be and have kids in the same room singing these songs I’d written so far away. To me, that’s so surreal.
I’d probably go to see Saturn first-thing and see as close to those rings as I can get and see if I can fly by one of them and try and put one of my hands through them.
