TIED TO THE WHIPPING POST

Hello everyone, everywhere,

Last week was crazy for me. I’m back in the band. That’s good. But my great friend Mr. Terrence Delaney, the first bass player for Soulful Noize, has left the band to move to Calgary. Over the years I was hard on Terrence because I wanted him to be like me, but I’ve realized that I can only control myself. Terrence is Terrence, (and that’s great because I think one of me is more than enough). I know that I’m a better man for knowing Terrence. He tried–the best way that he could–to teach me how to slow down. I should have listened more, but I listened enough. This time, I’ll make it work, Terrence. For the both of us.  And I’ll always be looking in that corner for you.

Now on to the whipping post. Because I’m now on medical pot I had to go to Edmonton Friday night to see a new doctor at the clinic so I could get my order adjusted. Within one minute of meeting this guy, I was on the defensive. Had I been alone I’d have been thrown out of the clinic, but thankfully I had Michelle with me and she helped me to keep quiet. And luckily my doctor in Red Deer had written a strong recommendation for me, so I finally got what I came for. After that visit, I was reminded of my favourite Allman Brothers’ song, Whipping Post.

And now it’s time to close your eyes and your thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. And now, I’m taking you on a dark ride with…

THE TORTURED MAN

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He’s walked the road so many miles. He’s laughed, and cried, and faked a million smiles. The road gets colder as he finds himself getting older. And the reasons–they get older with him.

Once, a long time ago, the tortured man thought he had it all figured out. But when you’re eleven years old you don’t really have it figured out. So he spent his life with one foot on the ground and the other foot ready to go. He became a travelling man. He couldn’t sit still. His friends became like the colours of the leaves as the seasons passed. He’d watch them come and go–and that’s when he knew to come and go.

There is no rhyme or reason to how this man came to be where he is. One day he looked in the mirror and saw that he was getting old, and everybody was gone. And there was just nowhere for him to go. So the tortured man did what he always does. Packed up his roll and started walking.

That’s all.

(NEVER EVER GIVE UP)

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By jamesghutcheson

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