That's the Formula!

We did our Sex, Drugs & R&R show last night. It's a lot of work to put these things together. 9 performers, 30 songs, lots of set-up and take-down, and major schlepping of amps, P.A. system, etc.

Even-though you do all that work, it's best to keep expectations low.  You never know how it's all gonna turn out, will people actually come out to see the show?  It's always a mystery.  So you put as little thought and energy as possible into speculating about it.

You do all the work to make a show successful, and then just let the chips fall where they may.  Turns out this one worked out beautifully. A full room, lots of great music. A satisfying set for our band. Smiles and good feeling all around!

Low expectation - High Satisfaction! That's the formula!

The Secret Word is...

Yes. There is a secret. It's the secret to the whole thing.  We live it. We embody it. It is encoded in us and manifested by us, and by everything we think and touch.

It's Darwin's Dangerous Idea.  The secret is evolution.  It's helpful to go back to definitions.

"A process in which the whole universe is a progression of interrelated phenomena."

You got it!

Human Rights for All Humans!

It's been a hot topic at the Supreme Court this week. And in all the headlines. And for many of us this topic is such a "no-brainer." Of course, Gay People should have all the rights and responsibilities as anyone else. Marriage? Sure.

This got me thinking about how this all came about.  It really was because of a some brave and forward-thinking people who realized that it was time to "come out of the closet," back in the 60's. And it was time to be vocal and "proud" to be the people they really were.

Once the closet door was opened, it became clear that lots and lots of people were gay. And they were not strange, or weird, or really any different than anybody else.  Or maybe some of them were strange and weird and different, just like everyone else. And they deserved respect just like anyone else.

Some trace this all back to the Stonewall Riots.  It was a significant event.  Gay folks standing up for their rights.  These were brave souls who risked life and limb to stand up to the Cops.  And now these many years later these brave souls are vindicated.  And those standing against the Gay movement are really just retrograde, bigoted folks.  People without a leg to stand on, except of course, blind ignorance and intolerance.

Human Rights for Humans! All of us!

Public/Private

Yes, I love performing. I love getting up on a stage. I love playing guitar, making music. I love acting. I love the public nature of these things.

I also love meditating alone. I love getting lost in my own head, my own space. I love reading a book. I love sitting in a quiet room. I love thinking. I love writing. I love being alone.

I love the public/private dichotomy.  I don't think I could love one, if I also didn't love the other.  The public and the private, they feed and energize each other.

Equality! Of Course!

All this talk of equality... in marriage... and in life... got me thinking.

Of course we are all equal, I mean, of course we are all unique, and we are all coming from different circumstances, and have different levels of abilities and opportunities available to us, but beings with life streaming through them are more the same than different.  

Some of us are, as Wm. Blake once wrote, "born to sweet delight," and some are "born to endless night."

But of course we should all be treated equally under the law. We should always strive for a society of equality, fraternity, and justice.  The circle of equality always needs to be expanding and inclusive.  

It's better for all of us if everyone is treated with respect and dignity. And we all have the same rights. Each and every one of us. 

U2: "One, but not the same." Any differences should be honored. Celebrated. Of course!

More Rehearsing!

More rehearsing.  If you do theater or have a band, you rehearse. Or you should. You spend lots more time rehearsing than performing in front of people. What drives you? The imperative "not to suck."  So much of performing is about confidence. Knowing what to do, without bothering about the knowing. And it's not a "mental" knowing. It's a body thing. A muscle memory thing. And if you are really, really well-rehearsed, you can then "let go" into the moment.  That's when you can be free in the moment of performance. So you rehearse to get free of thought, to get to that place of unconscious knowing in the moment of spontaneous creation.

Or something like that.  

We spent last evening in our kitchen.  Two guitar players, three voices, a violinist arrayed next to the refrigerator, the stove, the dishwasher.  We conjured up a sonic hurricane.  It blazed through that little space.  And it was good. I mean there were clunky moments. But the work was to get through those moments of hesitation, of uncertainty and to push through to some certain clarity.

The essential good work of trying to be good. Good without trying.

Sex. Drugs. R&R. Blasphemy!

This coming weekend we are doing a covers show, "Sex, Drugs & R&R." There will be 9 performers: solo acts and bands, doing 30 songs "dedicated to life's essentials."  whitewolfsonicprincess will be closing our little mini-set with the Patti Smith Group's version of "Gloria."  It's off Patti's debut album "Horses."

Patti's album was one of those seminal moments in r&r.  A collision of garage rock with prophetic, visionary poetry, served up by one of the most charismatic, shamanistic, little scarecrows of a front-woman ever conceived.  Patti must have been dreamed up by some poetry-spewing, sacred monster.

Check out The Patti Smith Group debut on SNL in 1976 here. Riveting. Astonishing. The essence.

Anyway, we ran through our own version of Patti's song yesterday in rehearsal.  It was so exhilarating to bash through those three chords.  And when the Lovely Carla intoned: "Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine," I really did get a little chill up my spine. 

What's funny and coincidental (Although, really is there any such thing as a coincidence?!), we will be playing this song a day before Easter.  Love it! Sex. Drugs. R&R. And Fucking BLASPHEMY!

Days. They are Ours.

Days. They are ours. And we only get so many of them.  And the last one, is it written, recorded somewhere? In a book? Carved in a tree, or a rock? The last day? Or is that still to be written?

We have these days. Horrid ones. Middling ones. Good ones.  And every variation of those tones. The horrid ones would be when something terrible, something irreversible happens.  Think death, or disfigurement. Or dreams gone up in smoke.

Middling ones. They are deceptive. Lots of days go by where it seems nothing of import happens. But that can't be true. There is life and death every moment. But there are those days when nothing in particular touches or holds you. You are getting thru. Going through the motions. These days count. They are just as valuable as any other day. But they pile up and sort of pass by.

And then you have a good one. A really good day. How do they happen? An expansive feeling of well-being. Well-rested. A good meal. No cares or worries. Even chores seem fun and exciting. Somehow all the black clouds of existence sort of vanish in the light of the sun. You are engaged. Happy. You take your hands off the wheel. And are sort of carried along in the rush and flutter of life.

Yesterday was a really good day.  Just wanted to mark it!

UPDATE: I re-read this post and I thought, "Sunny Jimmy, why can't you be more specific? Why was it such a good day?"

1. Well, I was well-rested. And it was a Saturday, and it was "clean-up time" in our household, which means rags, mops, elbow grease. Now this can be a chore or just a mindless responsibility, or it can  be a Zen-like pleasure.  It was Zen. Very Zen. Doing simple tasks as well as you can.  Polish the chrome and porcelain and take satisfaction in a clean counter.

2. "Clean-Up Time," reminded me of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's great record "Double Fantasy." Just one of the all-time great albums.  Stands up to anything. I used to skip the Yoko songs and now they blow me away.  This is perfect Saturday morning chore music! Swept Away while sweeping away!

3. We had a phenomenal meal at Joy Yee Noodle. I had the Black Mushroom with Chow Funn noodles.  Unbelievably good and satisfying.

4. We had a short kitchen session rehearsal and went over cover songs for our show next weekend.  Everything sounded really good to my ears!

5. We went to a really cool play by Theater Oobleck.  It's about William Blake, or at least Blake is the jumping off point. And it jumps off wonderfully. Another great piece from Mickle Maher.

6. Bedtime! That was a good day. Hit the pillow and out!

The Pope Talk Stirred Me Up!

All that "Pope talk," reminded me that I was brought up "Catholic."  And what does "Catholic" mean to me? Sin, suffering, guilt, thorns, blood, nails, and wooden crosses.  Oh yeah, and betrayal. Being Catholic was not a cheery thing.  I was convinced early on that Hell was my fate. And Heaven just didn't seem real. Hell seemed real. Not Heaven.

And I felt sorry for Jesus.  He seemed like a nice enough guy. Maybe a little full of himself. And his recalcitrance shepherded him into a world of shit.  I didn't want him to suffer. And I guess I did feel guilty.  How did I contribute to his suffering? Beats me. "Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine."

But somehow I was implicated in the whole sordid mess. And when he died, and he incubated in that cave for three days, and then shot up to Heaven, I don't know, I just didn't buy it.  Seemed like the grown-ups were lying to me, trying to put a gloss on a really, really bad story. Kind of like when my Mom told us our dog Prince went to live with a family on a farm, when the truth was (and it only dawned on me many years later) that Prince was put down because he was a very, very bad dog.

I never really believed that Jesus ascended to Heaven, but I did, for a long time, believe that Prince ascended to a Farm!

So the whole thing kind of fell apart for me. Yes, I liked that message of Love. I liked the idea of Forgiveness, but the whole dogma thing seemed like some elaborate shell game, and somehow I was being bushwhacked.  So by about the middle of third grade I was already an "unbeliever." I went through all the motions. I tried to keep to myself, I pretended I was invisible, and hoped for the best.

And what do I think about the new Pope? Same as the old Pope, and the one before him.  He's a guy ruling over a very, very corrupt organization. Backward, closeted. And a cover organization for abusers of children.  Kind of an evil thing there, don't you think? Turns out the Catholic Church is the exact opposite of what it claims to be.  It's certainly not a road to any salvation. The believers seem like they are being duped. No thanks, not for me. I'll invent my own hell, and my own heaven, and I will gladly live with them both.

Mirror-World vs. Flesh and Blood World

Maybe this is all so obvious, it doesn't need to be written... but what the hell... it's on my mind.

Of course, it is understandable that people want to live in the virtual landscape that we have created; our vast mirror-world.  It is a bubbling paradise where the present just expands exponentially every second of every day.  No one dies. Or if they die, they are not gone, they are not silent.  They are trapped in the mirror. The past is just as alive as the present. The past is the present.  There is no need for a future.  The present is one second away from being more encompassing - more present.

We offer the best and the worst of ourselves to the mirror-world.  And best and worst is the same thing too.  It's all just part of  the stream of consciousness.  We can float, pick and choose - that's our freedom in the web.  We don't have to stay anywhere, we can float anywhere.

Our flesh and blood world is no match for the vast mirror-world.  In the flesh and blood world we bleed, we break bones, we get tired, we die and are gone, silent - forever.  Now these things can happen in the mirror-world, but they are just another image, another event that can be repeated over and over.  So those moments are no longer just discrete moments. They are part of the present stream.

So yes, consequential events happen in the mirror-world, just like in our flesh and blood world, but they aren't the same.  They are now just images, just like any other image. They have no substance, no consequence. They are "dream-like" and they can be repeated, they can run backwards.

So we live with both worlds. All the time. It has changed us, this world/mirror world existence.  It just is part of our reality now.  And it has changed us too.  In ways I don't think we can even pinpoint.

Mixed Signals

Mixed-Signals? Yes. All the time. Isn't that the cloud of unknowingness we live in? Mixed-signals all the time.  A world of confusion. Everything. All the time. We must deal with it all. Navigate through it. Sift through the chaos, the controlled chaos.  Swim in the slow motion confusion. We are armed with that amazing, marvelous brain (see previous post), but then we are inundated, overwhelmed with an endless stream of contradictory information. Mixed-signals.  We do our best to make a life out of that mad, Tower of Babel-ness.

A Broth of Biological Molecules!

This guy is trying to build a "virtual brain."  Not sure if it's a good idea or not.  My brain can't really see the point...  

But this description of a what a brain is, sort of captivated my own brain: 

"The brain contains nearly 100 billion neurons organized into networks with 100 trillion total connections, all firing split-second spikes of voltage in a broth of complex biological molecules in constant flux."

Kind of mind-blowing. I can blow my own mind, by contemplating the complexity of a brain. That's a strange kind of self-referential mind-blowing-ness.  And it's all sort of amazing that we have evolved these complex organs all just to navigate this world that we have created for ourselves.  And what do we do with these brains of ours?  

Don't ask.  It's all so weird.  There must be some grand purpose.  But we spend so much time muddling along doing very stupid, mindless and pointless things.  It's all a little befuddling.  All that firing of voltages, all those neurons, all that stuff floating around in a biological soup, sitting up there in our cranial closet.  

Searching for a purpose? Trying to justify an existence? To what end Pilgrim?!

Social Media

I have a small toe-hold in this vast social media landscape.  And I'm a little ambivalent about it all. I do think the real action is in the flesh and blood world. And this mirror-world is a dazzling diversion from, and abstraction of, that real world. But it is all so vast, there is so much "life" out on the web. It's seductive, and all-consuming.  It has become almost an obligation to "check in." Of course, you can be selective, you can "pick and choose" what to pay attention to, but paying attention is time, and time is an exhaustible resource.  Of course, time doesn't really exist on the web. Time is ever-expanding; past, present, and the future, (or no, maybe Johnny Lydon was right, "there is no future," only the ever-expanding present), is there all the freaking time.  It's all a very grand illusion. Sometimes you think it's a magnificent illusion. And sometimes you think it's a very destructive and malevolent illusion. It's just another way of killing one's own autonomy and integrity.  All part of the business of demeaning the validity of one's own existence.

Our Way!

Yes, I guess there are those who, when they play cover songs, try to play them note for note.  It's almost like there is a "score," and you are being faithful to it.  And then the joy of listening, would be that the audience hears exactly what they expect to hear, when they hear it.

This seems so pointless to me.  Like working a crossword puzzle.  Everything neat and in it's place.

If you are going for a "note for note" experience, hell, why not just listen to the original? I have always approached cover songs as "raw material," a starting point, subject to interpretation.  If a song is really, really good, it will hold up, and then the joy of listening would be to hear the song in a new way.  Maybe a big production number would sound new and refreshing in a stripped down mode? Or maybe it's the other way around?

Anyway, yesterday we ran through a bunch of cool cover songs with our band.  And we did make the  songs sound like our songs. That's the way to do it!

Covering the Covers!

Yesterday, we had an intense rehearsal going over cover songs we are doing for a show at the end of the month.  We kind of deconstructed songs, and worked on parts: harmonies, guitar parts, etc. It was fun and exhausting. Our band is pretty much dedicated to original work, we have a vision, and our mission is to bring that vision to the world. But I like doing these covers shows because it brings out lots of performers and fans, and helps to sort of build a local scene.

The challenge of the covers is to do them justice, but also to kind of make our own mark on them. It's a cool process, and when it works, it's very rewarding.  Yesterday the hours just flew by.  Spent about 5 hours working on little parts. Really worked on harmonies, not something I'm very good at, and worked hard with another guitar player on meshing our two styles.

The list of songs we're planning on doing is pretty wide-ranging: A Day in the Life, Carmelita, Seeds and Stems Again, Venus, Gloria ("Jesus died for somebody's sins..."), and These Boots are Made for Walking.

A Simple Story

A man came... don't know where he came from. A man went... don't know where he went to.

Create/Destroy!

One thing you learn from many years of doing theater - you create and destroy.  You develop a new piece. You put together a group of actors, a production, you run the show, and then "blow it up." Destruction is part of the process.

You have to clear the energy. It's the only way to evolve, the only way to do a "new" thing, even if there really is no new thing under the sun.  I do have a knack for the destruction side of the equation, sometimes my ability to destroy is more finely-honed than the creation side.

But they go hand in hand.  It's the same urge. To create the new, to destroy the old. To foster growth, to cut out the dead wood. And just about like anything else, you need to find the balance.  And you need to not get too attached, even to the things you want to be attached to.

So yes, sometimes the destruction, the letting go is hard.  That might be a clue that you are on the right track. And the creating part can be hard too. It's best when it's not hard either way. But the process is the process. That's just the way.

It's all just a vibe!

I wrote about tuning a guitar here.  You can tune a guitar, but you can't tune a fish... right? Well actually that fish is tuned to it's own frequency.  Everything living, everything in the universe, has it's own special vibration. Tuning is a complex issue. I mean, you think it's pretty simple. Tune your guitar strings to certain frequencies, certain vibrations and then you are done.  But guess what?! There are many variables and options, and you are never quite there.

And even inanimate objects are vibrating... according to a musician friend of ours, the Earth itself is vibrating and emitting a sound sort of like a gong!  It's at a frequency that we can't hear, but it's there, doing it's thing... strange, cool... weird... vibrations!

Higgs Boson - Sort of Fascinating!

I love reading complex scientific topics, and then rendering them in my own cracked waring-blender of a brain.  I take all that complexity and nuance, and make it simple and comprehensible. And probably absurd too. I discard what I don't understand, and pretend to understand what I think I understand.

This Higgs Boson thing is pretty weird. The search for the "God Particle." The mysterious force that holds everything together.  Supposedly if this force didn't exist, everything would just be a big undefined mess of atoms.  Or something like that.

This New York Times article explores how some brainiacs, science-nerds on the hunt with this very large "collider," have finally "discovered," it. First someone comes up with the idea, they develop a theory, they in a sense invented it, and they look for it, find a way to prove the theory. Then they discover it!  That's the scientific method, the human way.  

What's it all about? I don't know.  But it is sort of fascinating!

Full Spectrum!

The highs are high and the lows are low. I guess you can't really expect more or anything less than that. A full spectrum!

A Little Movie About Essential Things

We re-watched one of our favorite films last night.  "Donnie Darko," is a strange little movie about essential things.  It's a small movie about the big things in our lives. And brings up questions such as: What is a good life? What is our purpose on earth? Does every living thing die alone?

You might think this film is just a teen comedy, or a movie about a paranoid schizophrenic... but it's not, or if it is, it is also so much more.  It also features one of the all-time great soundtracks...

And the movie makes me go back to definitions of atheist, theist, agnostic... 

And I reaffirm my own commitment to mysticism... - 

A belief in the existence of realities beyond perceptual or intellectual apprehension that are central to being and directly accessible by subjective experience. 3. Vague, groundless speculation.

Music is a Branch of Magic

Hell, yes, I have glimpsed Hell, or no, really, not just glimpsed, I  have spent a good amount of time in my own personal Hell.  But unlike Dante's version, it was a temporary state.  I wasn't condemned to be there forever.  At least not yet.

So yes, I found life after Hell.  And ended up in some kind of Utopia.  Yesterday, I found myself in a different room, a clean, well-lighted place.  Nice hardwood floor, white walls, with a great sounding P.A. system and a full drum-kit.

And 4 dedicated players.  A singer, a guitarist, a drummer and a violinist. Never had this combo of players together before. And we ran through a set of songs. Some old, some new. And everyone was together, in the moment, creating something bigger than ourselves.

There was such passion, and love. It all came out in waves of sound. It overwhelmed us, enveloped us. We were together. Not alone, not trapped in the past, or pining for some unknown future, just in the moment of creation.  Lost, lost in the vibe. It's an amazing state. It is a little Utopia that is just kind of conjured up by a group of human beings giving their all to something else.

And music is such a healing power.  It really is, even though it is sometimes devalued, it is so ubiquitous, taken for granted, music and music-making are branches of magic. I believe.  And just why do I believe? Because I have touched it. I have experienced it, I have lived it. And it has changed me. Healed me. Yes, really, the process, renews the spirit, feeds the soul, it's kind of a religious, ritualistic thing, it's own sort of magic. Yes.

That's Hell!

Dante spent lots of time describing hell and all the levels of hell.  Levels and rings.  9 levels.  Lots of rings. It's a very complex place.

My idea of hell is lots simpler.  Hell is a room. And in this room you are strapped to a chair. And you are forced to watch a movie (your eyelids are pinned back like in A Clockwork Orange). The movie is a highlight reel of all your bad decisions, accidents, fuck-ups, wrong turns, failed ventures.  Everything is beautifully edited by some expert, tormenting video genius.

So all the scenes of your humiliation come flying by and you live and die with every moment.  It's all so real, and still so fresh. And you really re-live these moments.  And there are two phrases running through your brain as you watch these images.

1. "I have no one to blame but myself."
2. "I will get what I deserve."

That's hell.

Coveting is Bad For You

The Ten Commandments? I can't list them.  I once knew them. Had to memorize them. I'm not Googling them now.  I don't really care.  I do know "thou shalt not kill," but then it became clear that there were so many exceptions (chicken & livestock, insects) and loopholes (war, self-defense, act of passion) that even that one seemed pretty lame.

"Don't covet thy neighbor's wife." That's another one.  Coveting is probably not a good idea. But our society is pretty much driven by coveting other people's stuff - wives, Cadillacs, diamonds.  I mean isn't coveting basically the driver of our economy?

I think for awhile I did covet Brad Pitt's girlfriend, but then I remembered that she also used to date Billy Bob Thornton and that pretty much killed my coveting urge. Anyway, I found myself in a major coveting situation a day or two ago.  I was over at a client's house and I noticed an old guitar case sitting in the corner.

I opened it up. It was kind of like that scene in Pulp Fiction, the glowing suitcase. This was the glowing guitar case.  There it was, an amazing, beautiful-looking old acoustic guitar. I could tell it was something special. Old wood, custom neck, extra-wide fret-board.  I picked it up. I could tell it hadn't been played in long time. I tuned it up and strummed.

Took my breath away.  I own two nice acoustic guitars, and I realized that this was a completely different kind of instrument. Mellow, powerful, rich, complex.  Old wood. Old spruce.  That kind of wood no longer exists.  Anywhere on the planet. Anyway, I found out the background on that guitar, it's one of a kind. And my neighbor ain't giving it up.

So I had a day or two of coveting. And then well, I have to forget it. I put it back in it's case and put it out of my mind. I just had to block out the whole episode.  I went back to my guitars and convinced myself that they sounded just fine. They were perfect for my uses. I actually need a cheap guitar, I do. It's better for me. I convinced myself. Sort of...I mean, hell coveting is bad for you, right? I'm fine. Really. Guitar, what guitar?

We Should All Be Ashamed!

Charles Pierce pretty much says all that can be said about Bush's Debacle - The Iraq War 10 years later... it was a horrible, shameful episode. And we were all demeaned and damaged by it.  A crime against humanity...

Charles Pierce: "This is the one event on which the country's chronic historical amnesia cannot be allowed to bring itself into play. The country was lied into a war by a raft of criminals, greedheads, and geopolitical fantasts. These latter were enabled by a cowardly political opposition and a largely supine elite press. Hans Blix was right. Paul Wolfowitz was wrong. Robert Fisk was right. David Frum was wrong. The McClatchy guys were right. The late Tim Russert was wrong. Eric Shinseki was right, and Anthony Zinni was right, and Joe Wilson was right, and George Packer, Michael O'Hanlon, and Richard Perle were all wrong. George H.W. Bush was right (in 1989) and his useless son was stupid and wrong. There is no absolution available to any of the people who helped the country down into this epic political and military disaster no matter how lachrymose their apologies or how slick their arguments. 

George W. Bush should spend the rest of his days dogged by regiments of wounded veterans. Richard Cheney should be afflicted at all hours by the howls of widows and of mothers who have lost sons and daughters. Colin Powell — and his pal, MSNBC star Lawrence Wilkerson — should shut the hell up about how sorry they are and go off to a monastery somewhere to do penance for what they didn't have the balls to try and stop. This catastrophe killed more actual people than it killed the careers of the people who planned it and cheered it on. We should all be ashamed. And we're not."

Snow. That was the day...

Some days of course it doesn't matter what kind of glasses you are wearing. Rose-colored or not.  Doesn't matter.  We had a slow-motion blizzard here yesterday. And I was in the middle of it.  All day.  Slogging here. Slogging there.  Slogging through the white stuff. If Samuel Beckett had written a little existential play about snow, and the slogging through it, I was in that play yesterday.  And Godot was nowhere to be found.

There was a beauty in the whiteness as it swirled around my head.  Made me dizzy.  Almost drove me mad.  And just why was I slogging? Don't ask.  As Van Morrison once sang, "There ain't no why!" Or maybe there is a long cascading avalanche of "whys," but to get to the bottom of it all, is well beyond me. I am all about self-reflection, self-examination, but really how do you explain your existence to yourself?

I guess you can fudge it, make up some grand theories, or project some great payoff in the land of angels. But when you are skating on the thin ice of the day, dancing with the snowflakes, shoveling great accumulations of the stuff, well, utopias and far-off pay-offs seem like the stuff of dreams. And sometimes those dreams just can't find a home in your over-whelmed little noggin.

Snow. Lots of it. That was the day...

Rose-Colored Glasses

Heard this NPR radio story yesterday.  Seems we over-estimate positive results and under-estimate negative results.  Hell that seems to be my whole life imperative.  Yes, I see life through rose-colored glasses.  I think it's probably the only way to get out of bed, to give anything a try.  

Now this may not be "realistic," but that kind of realism seems like a buzz-kill.  Yes there are risks, yes, there are negative outcomes in the future, yes, I may be setting myself up for disappointment and disillusionment.  But that's OK. I just have to re-adjust those rose-colored glasses every once in awhile. 

I mean, I think we need to try to see things clearly, but nothing wrong with a tint of rose...

 That's life baby.  It's beautiful, right?

And it Was Good

Last night we floated around in a hot tub, water temp at 104 degrees.  The temperature was in the teens outside the tub; the air around us was cold, it was a brittle and clear March evening.  We could actually see stars up there in the black sky. The Big Dipper, the Little Dipper.  Always seeing patterns everywhere we turn.

And we talked about music, and vibrations, and creative collaborations, and how strange and ephemeral life seems to be. We felt pretty happy and content in that little tub, at least for awhile, but our conversation was all about how happiness and contentment were very unstable states and how everything can change in a blink of an eye.

So we were in the moment and outside the moment simultaneously.  That's kind of how it goes. Still there's no denying those hot jets of water did their thing. And it was good.

Chuck - "Don't Try."

 

I came across Charles Bukowski at a very impressionable time. I was young lad trying to be a writer.  Bukowski's poetry, his personal history made such a huge impact on me.  Influenced my writing, influenced my drinking habits.  It wasn't all for the good.  There were those "Jack Daniels" days that kind of sent me off on a weird tangent.  Some crazy adventures and lots of stupid stuff too.  I look back now and think how lucky I was to come out of that madness fairly unscathed.

But it was just part of living.  And maybe that was the most powerful inspiration I got from Bukowski.  He lived a hard life. A brutal life. And he made poetry out of all that hardness.  He did it with clarity and humor.  And no bullshit. And sometimes his poems and short stories just knocked me out.

"Don't try," is on his tombstone.  It's sort of a motto, I guess. Sort of a way to live.  You don't try, you don't over-think it, you just do it. You carry on, and all those hard times are just part of what you use. And that's clean, and pure, and it is what it is.

The Big Show

It's LIFE itself that's the amazing, enthralling, confounding, and mysterious thing.  It's so big and rambling, always morphing, seems as if it goes on forever, and manifests itself in infinite forms.

We have a slice of it, we embody it, but our paltry little share is just a tiny, microscopic piece of such a grand, incomprehensible thing.  It's easy to miss it, even as it looms and throbs and animates all around us.

Maybe we have to turn away.  We have to consciously forget.  Just to be able to carry on.  We dazzle ourselves with other entertainments.  The the big show is LIFE... but it's just so damn big, it's over-stuffed with all that "needing, wanting, grasping," and we arrive well after the beginning, and exit well before the end...

Still we are here now. And we do have piece of the grand thing... we are free to do, what we can, with what we have...

Eaten Even as We Eat!

Pop, Capitalism and Junk Food.  

Three phenomena that go hand in hand.  They are voracious. They swallow everything. They feed us, and they make us fat.  They absorb us. They suck all the oxygen out of the air. They fill us. They fill our heads, our pockets, our bellies.  They deplete us too.  We are just fodder for the engine. We are mulch.  We are eaten even as we eat.

We have created these three perpetual motion machines.  And they never pause, never stop... it's hard for a human being to keep up. But we try!