Stuff got stolen from my car today. Must have not locked it. An old leather bag,  Cleopatra bought in France fifteen years ago, and gave to me when we first met. It meant so much to me. Inside of it were about sixty of my favorite CDs that I cart to the studio everyday for inspiration. Nabukazu, Radiohead, Fatboy Slim, Sparklehorse, Foo Fighters. Meditated on it. Felt the sadness and let it slip away. A voice said, "You got caught in their karma. Don't let it get to you. Let it go." So I did. 

Miami is now ranked as the poorest city of its size in America. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Just drive around. You can’t go anywhere without driving through blocks and blocks of utter hopelessness, abandoned buildings, closed businesses, and projects. Bums and beggars on every corner. I thought maybe it was just me. Maybe cause I just moved here I was just making more out of it than it was. I thought I just had to get used to it. Which I guess I do.