You’d think fame and brilliance would fix it

Cruising around on YouTube I found this video for the Alison Krauss-Robert Plant collaborative album “Raising Sand.” The remarkable part? Robert Plant talks about how intimidated he was, saying that he is used to hiding behind a microphone.

It’s funny. In the back of my head, I guess I assumed that after a certain point nothing would phase you any longer, that you’d become immune to intimidation, at least in your field.

But Robert Plant is just a guy with a great voice and a lot of history. He’s not Superman.

It’s depressing. There isn’t really a rainbow with a pot of self-assurance at the end of it, a pot of contentment. There’s always doubt.

Damn.

Could I be in a worse mood? I dunno. Try me!

See? This is what happens when I get confident. I feel good. Life is going just fine. We start making plans. Then Steve is gasping for air and taking nitroglycerin and I want to put my head between my knees to just lie down on the floor somewhere in a blind panic. Yeah, panic makes me lie down. I’m awfully good in a crisis. Nerves of pudding, me.

He’s okay, but I’m back to feeling like the rug under my feet has two big, hairy hands gripping one end.

I don’t get to have a normal life. I miss what I’ve never had.

I was thirsty and wanted a drink

So I drank a beer.

I now feel like I could sleep for days. Eek.

Jacobs Field has been renamed Progressive Field. From the way Clevelanders are moaning, you’d think it was Enema Park or Monistat Stadium.

I am here, by the way. I just don’t seem to have anything to say.

Steve is scorching something in the kitchen.

I did hang the pan thing.

I didn’t buy a banjo, though I still might.

Now my blogging has worn me out and I need a lie-down.