“We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.” ― Charles Bukowski

I woke up this morning and felt tired. I rubbed my face over Light’s, as is customary for mornings, and felt it vanish, and wished I could always feel this way, no struggle. I am listening to Beethoven’s piano concerto 5, second movement, Leonard Bernstein, Krystian Zimerman, as I write this entry. Zimerman looks a bit like Obi-Wan Kenobi I think.

I know a girl, she’ll turn 24 tomorrow, I taught her piano for a while. Her father physically abuses her. I do not know how to help her. I feel her pain. As a musician I can never detach from the feelings of other beings, and I feel them so strongly. Detachment seems always to be the only logical conclusion to this journey that has lasted several life times and forms. I feel pain.