May 26, 2007
I'd prayed before we met. Asked to be given whatever might be helpful. Whatever might bring more to our time together. That I get the fuck out of the way.
He's an artist, through and through, to the core. A holy man, to boot.
I don't say that lightly.
He's got a native sense in matters of the spirit.
I'm not saying he isn't a train wreck. He's fucked, just like you, just like me.
But he gets it, and gets it fast. And when he gets clean his eyes shine bright, a deep yet brilliant blue.