Yes

Turn your head from the microphone, sacred mumbler. Rattle and hiss like rolling the dice at the back of your throat and then tilt back and yell a yell so huge it might just gather rain and flood us all with a deluge of your innocence. "I'm dizzy from all this spinning..."

The opportunity arose and finally I said yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Last night - an acoustic evening with Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds. Bought my ticket a few hours before the show - 10 rows from the front, smack in the middle, a direct line of vision to watch the man squirm with the rhythm of so many apparations.

"Grave digger...when you dig my grave...could you make it shallow..so that I can feel the rain."

He sang Crash and then it all went violet for Where are You Going. More than two hours went past and it was a dream.

It's all a dream I tell you. Spending all those hours perched against immortality like wedging the car against a hill in San Francisco and just walking away, leaving the whole scene to fate.

I believe in everything. It's written in the sand; the sky took a photo before the sea washed the proof of us away. Always and forever.