New Music We Love!

I write about our band and music at r&r diary at whitewolfsonicprincess.com. This is a "cross-post" from yesterday, I thought it was worth posting here too. New music we love, from some really cool bands!

We love music, and are always on the hunt for new sounds. These four records have been on "heavy rotation" in our house the last few weeks.  They don't really have much in common, except they are phenomenally good. Made by artists with clear, inspiring musical visions.  Highly recommended! 

1. Montana Fix from the Gunnelpumpers - instrumental music of the highest order. Open-your-head music. An amazing, expansive mix of influences - classical, jazz, world music. The record is intense, moody, introspective, groovy, transcendent, atmospheric, mind-expanding. A great collection of grooves that roam across the sonic horizon. The collective vibe of this group is stunning. Inspired! 

2. Invisible Way from Low - A quiet masterpiece. Hushed. Two beautiful voices. Crystalline songs.  Hard. Diamond-like. A very unconventional drummer, and a unique sound. This record sneaks up on you. Can't shake it. 

3. Amok from Atoms for Peace - Thom Yorke's other band.  Groovier and looser than Radiohead. If you think that's a good thing, also add in Flea on bass guitar. Total funky underlay! Thom Yorke actually sounds like he's having fun, even if it's sometimes hard to tell. Didn't think Yorke really needed another really cool band. Didn't think it was necessary. Guess what? This is a great record! Didn't think it would fly? It flies! 

4. Go-Go Boots from the Drive By Truckers - One of their best. Great band. Three distinctive singers. A powerhouse r&r sound with a loose, damn the torpedos feel. The songs are stories, and there's some kind of loopy, gothic southern narrative thread.  Recorded on analog tape. You can hear and feel it. Warm, organic, kick-ass. This is soul music. Feeds the soul. Their cover of Eddie Hinton's song "Everybody Needs Love," is just the best.  Can't get over it. Love. 

Vacation

"Yeah, when I say 'I need a vacation,' I mean, a vacation from myself.  I mean, I'm not talking about a permanent vacation. Just a little break from myself -  a break from the seething mass of emotions, the whirlpool of thoughts, the never-ending internal monologue that just goes on and on, that just loops around and around.  I mean, even when I'm sleeping there is this wild kaleidoscope of images that flood through my brain. So sleep doesn't do the trick.

I'd like a vacation. Wake up as a little Korean woman. Or a Zulu accountant, or an old Mexican barber, a serious Serbian teenager, or whatever, you know? Someone else. Someone different. Wake up in another skin. With other thoughts, other emotions. Just for awhile.  Try it on for size. Maybe it'd be like going on a cruise, or something... a cruise in another being for awhile..."

You Are Badly Out of Tune My Baby!

We will be hosting a Rolling Stones tribute show in early June. We have been going thru Stones songs, and it's a real pleasure.  Working out guitar parts, transposing keys to make it easier for the singer.

I love doing these types of shows, it's a way of really studying a band or artist, and exploring how they created songs, and find out what makes a song tick.  My thing is we always want to interpret and make the song our own, and at the same time convey the essence of the thing.

Anyway our good friend Mr. Mo. is playing ukulele and he will be doing a couple songs.  He picked one that I didn't know, a poppy tune called "The Singer Not the Song." It is a nicely constructed pop song. But Mr. Mo pointed out to me that what's really remarkable about the recording of the song is how out of tune the guitars are.  I mean, badly, badly out of tune.

You wonder how this could have been released.  Did no one hear it? Did no one have the guts to tell Keith and Brian that their guitars were badly out of tune? Really?! Did they think it actually sounded good? Really? Kind of amazing...

Slamming Doors!

You can have an "open door" policy, but slamming doors, and burning bridges is part of it too.  

Ray Manzarek died yesterday. His legendary band opened doors for sure. I never heard another band quite like the Doors.  Jim Morrison's voice, Manzarek's organ, Robby Kreiger's guitar, John Densmore's drums. The sound came out fully formed. Their first album is just stunning. Perfect.

They burned out fairly quickly. Morrison was dead by 1971. But those sounds, those vibrations still live.  The Doors were not a feel-good outfit.  Lots of trouble surrounded them. And Morrison just imploded - a drunk, a junkie falling in on himself.

The after-effects of that band lasted for a long, long time. Their legend just got bigger and bigger. They are a darkness. They are still with us.

Addicted to Addiction

Addicted to addiction (see previous post).  Some of us have what is called an addictive personality and all that comes with it: impulsive, alienated, anti-social, sensation-seeking, tolerance for deviance, high value of nonconformance, weak commitment to goals... etc.

I mean what's the problem? No, really, I mean, of course, yes, I'm an addict. Aren't you?  I think most of us are addicted to something. And I know that much of my activity could probably be seen as addictive behavior.

I think the key to an interesting life is to pick your addictions wisely.  Hard drugs? Not a good choice. Jack Daniels Whiskey - are you fricking crazy?!  Cheap, dangerous thrills? Well, maybe.

I am certainly addicted to music. And coffee, and Pop Culture. And frozen yogurt. And literature. And asthma medicine.  And meditation. And well, just about anything that gets me motivated. I tend to want to swallow it whole. And gratify myself until I'm completely gratified.

I don't eat chocolate or cake often - but when I do, I want to eat every last piece, every last crumb.  As Oscar Wilde once commented: "I can resist anything but temptation."

I can see it's a problem. But it's also a feature. A curse and a blessing. Some of these addictions work and some don't. You want to seek out the ones that do... if you can.

Addicted to Love, Or What Else You Got?!

I'm nearly 400 pages into David Foster Wallace's "Infinite Jest." It is sort of like Melville's "Moby Dick," a monster of a novel. It tries your patience, and asks you to push past it.  And if you do, and I am determined that I will, I think you, I mean I, will be captivated. I mean, I am captivated. One paragraph at a time. I have swallowed it hook, line and sinker!

One thread of the narrative is about AA and it became apparent to me, that the AA's 12 step credo can be applied to everyone in our society.  It is an organization dedicated to helping recovering alcoholics but really, we should all be in recovery.  Our society is addicted to entertainment, amusement, shopping, the internet, pop culture - you name it. We all need our fixes all the time.

Our lifestyles are built on our addiction to cheap fuel: toxic substances like oil and coal, which are choking our planet. We are addicted to cheap labor, clothes and fancy gizmos made by sweatshops and third world workers barely making it. We are addicted to cheap thrills on cable tv.

Oh yeah, and don't forget our addiction to fast food: processed, chemically altered to hook us, advertised to death over the airwaves to seduce us with cool pictures and flashy packaging.

We have filled our lives with substances and products and life-choices that actually are harmful to us and to nature and to all it's wonder.  We are all "substance abusers" of one kind or another, out of control, out of our heads. Addicted!

We could use a little humility, humbleness. Admit we have a problem. And try to see a little more clearly, through more sober eyes and minds.  I was surprised by this thread of the book, but I can see it's a major theme.  Kind of blew me away. I love, love, love this book.  Kind of addicted to it too!

Higher Power. Yes. Of Course.

I've always had "issues" with authority figures. Especially the human ones.  Tuns out that human authority figures are really, really, human.  Which means that aren't always what they say they are, they don't always really know what they say they know, and they don't always act as they say they act, or as they counsel others to act.

So these figures of authority come across as poseurs, or liars or worse. And it's often these figures of authority turn out to be disappointing on so many levels.  And when another one falls, it just confirms all my suspicions about authority and humanity.

This has probably also seeped into my belief and trust in a "higher power." But you know, over the last 15 years or so, I have been able to kind of define my higher power as a very nebulous, amorphous and very much non-human force. And if we are talking about an abstract enigma, a force that just exists out there somewhere, kind of like gravity, or nature, or energy, I can believe.

I have experienced a presence of a higher power. I have had my little epiphanies. My spiritual mind-blowers. I do feel like I am swept up in an adventure that is much bigger than me. This is not just a belief, it's an experience.  This experience is it for me.

This was a long strange process. And it has nothing to do with an organized religion or creed, or dogma.  

Higher power. Yes. Of course.

Oh Yeah, Everybody Needs Love!

We recently purchased some new music. One of the discs we scored is the Drive By Trucker's "Go-Go Boots." It was released in 2011.  Just discovered it!  We own 6 other Truckers cds and this is one of the best.  No one quite does what they do.  Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley are just such two distinctive voices. Recorded to analog tape, the record just jumps out of the speakers.  The tracks breathe with vibrant life. And that organic drum sound is just the best. Highly, highly recommended.

There are two covers on the album, covers of songs by Eddie Hinton, a great lost voice. Here are the Drive By Truckers live on Letterman doing a cover of Eddie Hinton's "Everybody Needs Love." One of the greatest songs ever written. Yes. The Truckers do it right!

Happy

Happy. Joyous. Euphoric. Don't ask why. Don't probe too deeply. Probably can't be justified. There ain't no "why," there ain't no "how." It's kind of like you have a beautiful little cat. And you decide you want to find out how it works. So you take it apart. Dissect it. You end up with a dead cat. Better to just enjoy. The moment or string of moments. 

A New Beat to the Beat

Yes, so then it occurs to you, that what you did yesterday, isn't necessarily what you will do today. You can decide to continue to beat your head against the same wall, or try another wall. Or maybe pick a spot where there are no walls.

And just because that wall has always stood, it's not true that it will always stand. It can fall. It can disintegrate. You can watch it vanish right before your eyes. You may think that that is "magic" but really, sometimes a wall isn't really a wall. It just has the appearance of a wall. It may be a misperception. A misconception.

So you beat and you find a new beat to the beat...

I Can Eat Cake!

I can eat cake. I can eat it for breakfast. And lunch. Or, actually, I guess, technically, brunch. I realized yesterday that I was the kind of person who could.  I didn't know. I didn't think it was something I could, or would do. Not part of my normal eating routine. Not my self-image. I am a disciplined, smart, health-conscious eater. Have been for a long time.  I am not a person who eats cake. All day. Early in the morning. In the middle of the day. An irresponsible kind of person who just eats cake.

And not just any old cake. A big gaudy, over-stuffed chocolate cake, layered with cream, with strawberries, with thick butter-cream frosting. Also studded with these little buttery, creamy and sugary  doodads, colorful flowers, and little pretty things sprinkled on top. 

I just ate it. All of it. Ate it up.

And there was no guilt. No. I was surprised. I didn't know. I didn't  think I was that kind of person. And I was pleased. I was happy. I was actually giddy.  "I can eat cake!" And for some reason, it seemed like an important thing to know. I could do it, if I wanted to do it. And I did it.

Astrologically!

Person #1: "If you have an 'existential crisis' at the same time that I have an 'existential crisis,' well then, we can spin out together, kind of like two hula hoops, and then we can root to see who hits bottom first."

Person #2: "Astrologically, this is a difficult time for us.  It looks like Uranus is clouding the issue."

Person #1: "Indeed!"

It Felt Great!

whitewolfsonicprincess played a show at the Underground Wonder Bar last night.  We were in the basement. I love that place. It reminds me of another dark basement where we used to do theater called Cafe Voltaire, now just a distant memory.

The Underground Wonder Bar is just an amazing place, upstairs, downstairs, three stages. Music and performance every night.  Comedy, burlesque, theater, music.  Every kind of music you can imagine. And the place is a family business. Lonnie Walker is the matriarch.  She's a powerhouse singer, and just the nicest person. And her vibe is filtered down to everyone who works there.

Classy place. Cool people. And we were able to do two expansive sets last night.  The band was in fine form and we really put on an intense show.  Small crowd, just a handful of listeners, but they really listened, really tracked with us. It felt great!

We Get to Choose What Has Meaning...

This is how my life works. I wonder, does it work like this for you too? I focus on one thing, or get obsessed with some topic, or novel or person, or band, and then everywhere I look, everything I see gets reflected back through that lens.

Lately I've been reading David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. And everywhere I turn I see Wallace, or I see events in the novel that are reflected in the world... here's Wallace's "Commencement Address" from 2005. Astonishing. Beautiful. Essential...

THIS IS WATER - By David Foster Wallace from The Glossary on Vimeo.

Very, Very Funny! Marry A Man!

Between Two Ferns... this is very, very, very funny!

I woke up...

I woke up early today. Earlier than usual. I woke up with an idea. An idea for a "play." Maybe it's just a monologue. But I woke up with an idea and a character. A name. And that's how it starts. How it begins. How it's possible to happen.

So I fired up the computer, opened a page, and began to write. I wrote a title. I wrote a name. And then words started to tumble out.  Don't exactly know where it's going. But I'm glad that words have been put on "paper." Virtual paper. I woke up with an idea!

Think It!

Sometimes you think, if you think it, it must exist. If you think "aliens" there must be aliens. If you think "time-travel" there must be time travel. If you think "god" there must be god. If you think it. It exists. I mean, this is just a way of thinking. There are things that you think that maybe don't exist, or maybe we just haven't discovered them yet. We often think "destiny." Destiny!
des·ti·ny  

/ˈdestinē/

Noun The events that will necessarily happen to a particular person or thing in the future. The hidden power believed to control what will happen in the future; fate.

Synonyms fate - lot - fortune - doom - kismet - luck - portion Update: There are levels and types of destiny.  There's biological destiny: this sperm meets this egg, this being is the result. Hair color, eye color, height, weight. Mutations that are in-built. And this being born in a certain time and place will sleep, and talk, and dream. What does the being talk about and dream about? Is that part of the biological inheritance too? And how does the being occupy itself, what does it do, where does it go, what stories does it tell itself? Are there "spiritual" destinies too?

Work and Joy!

With any of these creative projects a weird calculus sort of kicks in.  You do the work. You enjoy doing the work. There's work and joy.

You take on new challenges, the work gets more intense, the work deepens. So it's incrementally harder to get to that joy level. Your perfectionism and professionalism dictates that the joy only comes when the work goes extremely well.

You shoot for the perfect performance, the perfect show. You shoot for transcendence every time. So anything short of perfect or amazing is sort of disappointing, unfulfilling.  It's a real trap. It's a way to crush the joy.

And the work without the joy is just a job. Still, you can't will things to be amazing, and joyful; you can't just conjure it up, those things descend like the rain, or like sunshine.  You must find the joy in the work and not the end result. You do the work and hope for the best.

You focus on doing the work. That is the joy. You can't forget. It's sort of a Zen thing.  The Work is the Joy. The rest is a sideshow.

The "Hard Cases" Open Your Head!

If I have a religion, it's probably that big, undefinable, all-encompassing one called "ART."  It's an amorphous, ephemeral thing.  Very, very subjective, but I know it when I see it. But it's also a constantly evolving, living thing. And my favorite artists are the ones who like to test the limits of ART.

I love (for instance) those "hard cases" (see previous post) that make you open your head!

Here's Steven Soderburgh on the "inevitability of art..." 

"It was on the wall of a cave in France 30,000 years ago, and it’s because we are a species that’s driven by narrative. Art is storytelling, and we need to tell stories to pass along ideas and information, and to try and make sense out of all this chaos. And sometimes when you get a really good artist and a compelling story, you can almost achieve that thing that’s impossible which is entering the consciousness of another human being – literally seeing the world the way they see it. Then, if you have a really good piece of art and a really good artist, you are altered in some way, and so the experience is transformative and in the minute you’re experiencing that piece of art, you’re not alone."

Yes, the experience of great art is transformative, entrancing, enlightening.  That's why I love it! And build my life and altar around it!

A man lives by his system and dies by it too!

Let's dispense with the Derby quickly... My horse got lost in the crowd.  A man lives by his system and dies by it too. Now onto other things...

I've been obsessed with two remarkable American artists lately. David Foster Wallace and Matthew Barney. Two very different men. Two very different visions.  They create all-encompassing worlds. Two hard cases.  They dare you to come along with them, but they make no concessions.

So unfashionable. So other-worldly.  You really, really have to work to try to track with them.  They are both amusing and inspiring.  But prickly. They don't make your life easier. They demand a different kind of perception and intention.

One is all about words, an over-flowing of words, a hurricane of words. Words from all directions, all corners. Strange words. Foot-noted words. Technical words. Obscure words. Convoluted words. Baffling. Puzzling. So many words. Finally you just have to succumb. Trudge thru. Go with the flow. Noodle the words. Bully the words. Let them roll. Let them take you. One word at a time.

And jargon. Lots of jargon. Medical. Technical. Intellectual. It's endless. Funny. Dazzling. Overwhelming. Stunning. Boring. Beyond boring. Fascinating. Enlightening.

The other guy is all about images. Structural. Cellular. Architectural. Bold. Beautiful. Strange. Off-putting. Long meandering scenes. No words. Or very few words. Discordant. Baffling. Unexplainable. Sexual. Explodes all expectations. His movies work like no one else's movies.  His movies are like sculptures.

Both artists have sort of hooked me.  I have been seduced.  Love their work. Hate their work. It doesn't matter. The work is amazing. Substantial. Beyond criticism. A man lives by his system and dies by it too!

Update: I'm reading Infinite Jest now. It's a major task. Just to track with it. It challenges you. Challenges your patience. Challenges your idea of what a novel is supposed to be. Challenges your assumptions about what's entertaining. What's stimulating. What's good.

And we just saw saw a couple of the Crewmaster movies again. We've done the whole cycle in the past. Challenges your patience. Put's you in a different world. Makes you wonder what is a movie. What is a good movie. 

Both works change you. Change your perception of time. Challenge you. Confound you too. Entertaining. But not too!

Lines of Battle - One Good Reason!

The Kentucky Derby is today...

I remember that guy who used "dope out" the Racing Form, who poured over past performances and made little marks on newsprint with a pen, highlighting key info.  I hesitated at going to the newsstand and buying a Racing Form, but then I remembered that guy who wouldn't have hesitated, and I walked over and bought a Form in memory of that guy.

And then it was obvious: I buy the Racing Form, I study it, I make my picks, I must make my bets. The first step requires each of the following steps.  A whole series dictated by that first step. You cannot make your picks and then not bet!  Worse than a mortal sin!

So after intensive study, I traveled downtown to place my bets at the betting parlor.  But it turns out all the betting parlors in the big city have vanished. One site is now a pizza place. Another is a Chick-fil-A. Hah! I am living in a past that no longer exists. It has been erased.

And my "system" is a relic from another time and place too.  Weird. Who knew I was living in a time-warp? So I made a call and someone else is running my bet for me.  And I've picked a long-shot.  There are many good reasons why my pick should not win the Derby.  And just one good reason why he will win.

I stake my hopes and my cash on that one good reason.  Lines of Battle - morning line 30-1 shot! That's my pick.  That guy I used to know, that guy I used to be, would be betting on him too.

Nice Game

Why do we remember what we remember when we remember? And why do we forget what we forget when we forget? Is everything recorded in our brains? Can everything be recalled, everything be erased?

I don't know.

I do know that yesterday I remembered playing this game when I was a young lad.  I lived in a little suburban enclave, where lots of other kids my age lived too. We played this game called "smear the queer." I don't know why the game was called "smear the queer." I don't think it was a "sexual" slur. "Queer" was more like "the weird one."

The "queer" was the kid with the football. The football would be kicked to the queer, and then the rest of the gang (anywhere from 5 to 10 other boys) would try to tackle him. If you were the queer, your mission was to run, evade, or plow through the swarm of tacklers to get to the "end zone." If you were successful you scored a point, and then did it all over again.

So the queer was the kid with something no one else had, and everyone else did their best to tackle this kid and basically pound him into the dirt. You wanted to be the queer, but at the same time you were marked out to be crushed. You were different from everyone else when you held that football. And no one liked you. Everyone wanted to destroy you. Still, if you had that football, you could score, you could get to the end zone, you could jump for joy.

Or, of course, you could be swamped, crushed, pounded. Left a broken thing on the ground.

Nice game.

Genuine Guise of Innocence

I guess we don't have to pretend that we know what we are doing, I mean, sometimes we do pretend that we know what we are doing, because we don't want to appear stupid, or clueless about our lives and about LIFE, but really, the pretending about the knowing is probably not necessary, or is at least sometimes not necessary.

We can be more humble about our not knowing, and admit to ourselves and others that we don't really know what we are doing. We may appear stupid or clueless if we admit this, but if we really are stupid and clueless, then maybe by admitting it, it's a more genuine, heartfelt way to be.  It's maybe a more innocent, naive way to be, but maybe admitting or experiencing this innocence, this naivete, is a good thing. I mean it might be a little embarrassing, but better to be embarrassed, than to pretend to be more knowing than we really are.

Maybe not pretending to be wise, is wise?  This genuine guise of innocence, naivete, stupidity and cluelessness could really open us up to a more genuine way of life.  Damn the embarrassment! Embrace the humbleness!

But of course, stupidity and cluelessness is no excuse. For anything!  We will be held accountable for everything we do. Everything. That's just part of this grand enterprise; innocent, clueless, or not. Accountable. Responsible!

Dedicated to the Cause

"We are dedicated to our cause, and we like to do the work.  Even when it's hard. Maybe especially when it's hard. That's what I like about us." - Sunny Jimmy

Physical and Psychic Whacks!

I guess it goes without saying, or writing, but maybe not, the psychic whacks are just as lethal and maybe sometimes more enduring than any physical whacks you endure.  I mean, it's hard to argue with physical pain: searing, stinging pain. And chronic pain is so debilitating and unendurable.

But chronic, long-lasting psychic pain is just as deadly.  And it's harder to document the healing.  Break a bone or get cut-up, and you can almost immediately witness a healing process. The psychic breaks and cuts are so ephemeral.  Invisible.  It's hard to document the state of the Soul.

So there's the physical thing and the psychic thing.  If you add them together you have a wicked brew. Watch out for those "soul-suckers" amongst us.  They are the "black holes" of the spirit.  They may smile and cavort, but they are deadly.  And they will try to make you a hollow husk of being.  Just because.

And how to heal? Quiet time. Meditation. A good sleep.  The healing is possible. But first you must realize you have been harmed! And then the healing begins.  And how will you know? How can you be sure?  Light. The Light!

No Hair-Shirts!

So yes, we had a ragged show (see previous post) on Saturday.  So, on Sunday, did we wear hair-shirts and lay on beds of nails? No, we didn't.  We did dwell on the "bad-ness" of the show, and recounted how things went wrong.  We mainly chalked it up to "doubt," and "miscommunication," on-stage.

It doesn't take much to kill the vibe of a show. A vibe is a delicate thing.  So even all that rehearsing, and confidence-building, and good technique, can be diminished by little intangible things.  That's sort of maddening if you are looking for consistency and excellence.

And the crooked "finger of blame" points right at me.  I was the shakiest of the shaky.  And since I "wrote" most of the music, my mistakes, my miscues and my uncertainty pretty much infected everyone else in my vicinity.

Anyway, like I said, all this was reviewed and digested.  But really we have to take it all in as a "learning lesson."  Shit. Our lives are just these long "learning lessons!"  We learned! And promised ourselves and others that that won't happen again.

Although at the same time I have to admit that there's always something, a seeming infinity of variables, that can bubble up and upset the apple-cart! Always trying to lug those apples around!

So back to Sunday. We did not do penance. No, instead we traveled to the big city and saw a cool and mind/mood altering art exhibition at the Cultural Center called "Prairie", and had a delightful coffee concoction at Intelligentsia, and had a wonderful, satisfying meal at Mia Francesca.  So no punishment. All pleasure.  And a little bit of fretting!  

And a re-dedication to our musical adventure! Damn the torpedoes!

Ragged Outing!

Our band had a ragged outing last night.  It's funny. Hard to pin down just why our performance kind of fell off the rails.  Seemed we were primed and ready for a good show.  And the last 10 or so performances seemed to just get better and better. 

Lots of little things added up to a flat performance.  And we actually had to stop one song and restart, and we still didn't get it right.  There was a big sound on that little stage and we were having problems hearing and tracking with each other.

I was having problems playing guitar.  Lights in my eyes, playing blind. Ragged and sloppy and unsure.  Doubt kind of hung over us like a toxic cloud.  And it seeped into every song we played. Very unsatisfying!

Lately our band has been on an upward trajectory, finding new levels of excellence.  Last night's show kind of threw a wrench in our well-oiled little machine. Rats!

The Great Pretender, Pretending to Pretend

Yes, here's the definition of denial in psychiatry: "denial /de·ni·al/ (dĭ-ni´il) in psychiatry, a defense mechanism in which the existence of unpleasant internal or external realities is kept out of conscious awareness."

We all need our defense mechanisms.  Otherwise, we enter the battlefield totally defenseless. And unfortunately, that means we will be chewed up and left for dead. It's just the way of the world.

Now I think you can play a double game. You can know of the existence of unpleasant internal or external realities, you can be conscious of them, but you can also pretend to not be conscious of them.  If you are a good pretender this could work. So in this case you'd know, but pretend not to know these unpleasantries.  

You would know, but you'd be pretending not to know. And to others it might appear that you don't know. They wouldn't know you were pretending. And they might actually help you pull off your own ruse. They would unknowingly help you in your deep denial. Unless of course, they were pretending they didn't know you were pretending. And then it would all depend upon whether they were good or bad pretenders.

Your pretending would be contingent upon their pretending.  A sort of precarious position.

You could also probably play a triple game: knowing these deep internal and external realities, but pretending to pretend that you are pretending.  And maybe you don't stop there.  You could take this pretending business to the outer limit, and your brain would get so full of all these pretending scenarios, you'd just kind of crowd out any and all unpleasantry that could possibly bubble up.

That's a lot of unpleasantry and a lot of crowding out! Basically your brain would become a raging ball of confusion.  But it could be a happy confusion. And you could pretend that that's a good thing! No, a great thing! Denial!

He Doesn't Need Our Sympathy!

I've been surfing thru the Rolling Stones catalog of songs. Preparing for a Stones Tribute show in June.  So many great songs. I love the early Brian Jones era Stones. And the post-Jones, Mick Taylor-era Stones.

I was thinking of doing "Sympathy for the Devil," off the excellent Beggars Banquet.  One of their great songs on one of the great, great albums (is that enough "greats?").  

I learned the song, played along with the boys.  Started to practice singing the lyrics, thinking it would be cool to hear our band do it.  But then, well, then, it just didn't feel right.  The fallen Angel of Light, the Dark Prince, does not need anyone's sympathy.

The Lord of Darkness is doing just fine.  Watch Jagger perform the song now, it looks so false.  The Stones do it as some big Stadium-sized anthem.  It's almost comical.  Some kind of strange, devil, puppy-dog, puppet show.

So hollow. So lame. Forget it!  I mean, if you believe in the Devil, it's just bad taste or bad form. If you don't believe in the Devil, it's just silly. And even with all the flash and technology, the Stones and Jagger can't really pull it off.  Jagger might believe in the man of "wealth and taste" part, but then the rest is just white-glove pantomime. 

The Devil's side is not the Underdog's side! It's like rooting for the Romans! Maybe Jumping Jack Flash would be the better pick!

Toxic Brain Shit!

Radical ideas.  They can overtake a human being.  Sort of like a virus.  Richard Dawkins invented the term "meme," to explain the phenomena.  Some of the memes can be very toxic.  Brains can go really, really bad.  Especially in the realms of religion and politics.   That's probably why in some homes those topics are forbidden at the dinner table.

These brains ravaged by memes can lead people to do some really heinous acts.  We see it all the time. We spend lots of time trying to understand these people. Understand why they do what they do. But it might be as simple as some kind of zombie brain virus gone bad.  The meme takes over. And the brain sort of hollows out, and the human being starts acting in weird ways.

Think of radical Islam like a toxic brain virus. Or Christian fundamentalism. Or Nazism. Or White Supremacy. Or Maoism. Or Capitalism. Zombie Brain infested people like to wield "isms" like machetes!

Toxic brain shit.  Once a meme like this takes hold no telling what a human is capable of doing.

The God Game. The God Lies.

"God," it's kind of a charged concept.  Lennon famously sang: "God is a concept by which we measure our pain."  I like that.

So many lies around the God thing.  Beware of those who speak for God. Or who say they know the mind of God. Or who tell you what God likes or doesn't like. Or who quote passages from books and tell you God wrote them.  

All lies. And you should watch your back around such people.

Beware of those who say they "love" God.  These are the types of folks who create mayhem for human beings.  Maybe there is an inverse relationship there? Some kind of formula?  

Love God = Hate Man.  Probably not that simple.  But so many folks use "God" to judge their fellow man.  It's a weird game. The God Game. The God Lies.