I’m Bruce Hilliard and I’m sitting here playing covers and reciting Sir Paul McCartney.

Stuck inside these four walls,

Sent inside forever,

Never seeing no one

Nice again like you,

Mama you, mama you.

McCartney wrote this song in response to drug laws that criminalized him and his friends (including fellow "bands on the run" Eagles and Byrds). "We're not criminals," he explained. "We just would rather do this than hit the booze - which had been a traditional way to do it. We felt that this was a better move."

So, we’re not incarcerated, maybe the contrary. This is a chance for us all to rise above and figure out what we would do if we didn’t have a choice and had to relive Groundhog Day like we did when it was normal:

Woke up, fell out of bed

Dragged a comb across my head

Found my way downstairs and drank a cup

And looking up I noticed I was late

Found my coat and grabbed my hat

Made the bus in seconds flat 

I don’t miss traffic. I do miss the gym. I don’t miss having to be on the clock everyday. I do miss get togethers, live music and holding the door for someone.

I am a little awkward with this. I’m walking on the sidewalk, see someone and walk off in the grass like I’m on crack. I feel like I’m snubbing people when I really want to run up and say “hey, what’s going on?” April slipped by.

So, I started on this song about being awkward. It’s still in it’s puppy phase. It starts out like March did. Came in like everything was ducky and went out like a chicken with its head cut off.

Come May 15th I'll be bugging everyone. Thanks so much for listening.

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