All I Want Is

What did you expect? It was Monday.

The MTV dragged. I felt kinda’ useless. I shipped copies of “The Desert Star” to everyone who pre-ordered it (have you?), and submitted it to CD Baby and iTunes. I did some reading on Bonaire (Abbi and I are going in July!), and generally muddled through. Then I headed home.

The warm spring day we enjoyed Sunday was long gone. It was cold and raining. My umbrella was broken. I got wet. The 1/9 was slow. When I hit the street, it was raining even harder.

A Nissan Murano backed into me as I waited on the light at 80th and Amsterdam. I picked up a six pack and pint of Hagen Dazs at the deli, and headed home.

Now there’s a Lean Cuisine in the microwave, and “A History of Violence” in the DVD player.

And it’s still raining.

There was a moment of clarity today, if only one. My buddy Rob called. Seems our mutual friend, Seamus (scroll down: he’s the red-headed dude in the water “demonstrating Navy SEAL training”), who lives in Dublin — yeah, Ireland — was out partying at some pub on Friday night when he heard a familiar voice on the stereo.

“What is this?” he yelled over the din.

“Some mix we made,” the barkeep answered.

“Who’s this singing?” Seamus followed up.

“Oh, it’s Benjamin Wagner, a singer/songwriter from New York City.”

Seamus, pretty shit-faced at this point, called Rob, then had ’em play a few more of my songs. In Dublin. Thousands of miles from where I write you from my desk.

Tomorrow’s a brand-new day.