Swan Dive

On October 1st, there was a fire at my condo.

It was started by a young guy who had just moved into a neighboring unit with his girlfriend the night before. In the morning, he got up, went out on his porch, smoked a cigarette and dropped the butt into a wooden planter. The cigarette smoldered, caught and after all the smoke cleared, resulted in the loss of eight units, including mine.

I was home when it happened, in a co-writing session with my friend Georgia. She said, “Do you smell smoke?” After that, it was a blur of fire trucks, flames and news crews. Before my unit filled with smoke from floor to ceiling, I managed to grab my ’38 Martin guitar and my laptop.

The weeks since have been full of mixed emotions. Sadness at losing my home. Anger at the kid who started it. Frustration at dealing with all the various players, post-fire, from insurance adjusters to clean-up crews to property management companies to contractors. Relief that the fire didn’t start in the middle of the night. Gratitude for all my friends and family. And also, a weird kind of exhilaration at the new freedom that I’ve been handed. What I call the bohemian interlude.

I’m currently renting a guest house from some old friends. What it lacks in modern conveniences, it makes up for in funky charm. There’s also a chicken coop just outside my door. Having no experience with hens, I was surprised to learn how sweet they are. When I come in the gate, they run up to me, like puppies. Of course, they’re probably hoping for treats, but two of them will let me pet them. I was already veering towards vegetarianism, but the chickens give me one more reason.

The guest house has been good for songwriting. I’ve finished three new tunes since I’ve been in there.

But I must admit, there are moments when I really miss my home, and feel a kind of deep loneliness unlike anything I’ve ever known.

I guess I’ll get used to it. I’ll have to. I’m told that my condo won’t be rebuilt until March 2011.