We Deserve a Better Deal...

Joe Biden: "Donald Trump is the worst president we have ever had."

Amen, Joe...

So glad I missed that disheartening car-crash of a dumpster-fire last night. I grieve for those who watched that Presidential Debate, I knew it was gonna be a total waste of brain cells. Why bother? I'd rather stick pins in my eyes, or bamboo shoots under my fingernails, or you know, try a little waterboarding just for kicks?!

Torture!

Instead, I read a book about the band Portishead, a band from Bristol, England, and I DJ'd an all-Bristol CD mix on the stereo: Portishead (1,2 &3), Tricky and Massive Attack. It really was superb.

Anyway, checking out the news this a.m. Just as I expected (see previous post), a total shit-show.

My thoughts and prayers go out to Joe Biden. Sorry, Joe. Don't worry your time is near. The Toxic Clown's days are numbered. 

Word is Joe did just fine, holding his own under the onslaught from the loud, fat, ignorant Toxic Clown. That man is flailing, desperate. Sounds like at least he did accomplish one thing: he consolidated the loud, disgusting, ignorant, racist, no-nothing segment of the voting public. 

Luckily for us, even though they are loud, racist, violent and smug in their total lack of intelligence, they are out-numbered. The rest of us need to seize the day. Vote. Let's reclaim America. Let's imagine a better day and a new dream.

Biden/Harris 2020. We deserve a Better Deal... 

Count Me Out...

Fuck. I am not going to watch the Presidential Debate tonight. I mean, hell, I have already made up my mind, I am voting for Joe Biden & Kamala Harris, as soon as early voting starts here in the heartland. There is nothing that can be said to change my mind. And you know, it's just a spectacle, a faux-event, a tv show. It's certainly not a debate. It's not about the issues. I know the issues, and I know where these candidates stand. I cannot stomach watching the Toxic Clown Prez do his schtick.  Just not palatable. I believe listening to that man mangle the English language just makes us all more ignorant. Plus you need to work overtime counting the lies that come out of his slobbery mouth. I have had my fill of the the Toxic Clown. I expect Joe will do fine. But really it is like wrestling with a muddy pig. The whole exercise is ugly, and dirty. Just a tv spectacle that pretty much diminishes us all.  Count me out.

Yes. We Always Knew...

Turns out, of course that he's a complete fraud. He's been losing money for years. No wonder he's seems so desperate to be friends with powerful, monied folks like Vladimir Putin. Talk about a national security risk. Anyway, I'm sure you know who I'm talking about, our little Toxic Clown Prez. A "fake billionaire." He is an epic loser, and a con-man. Deeply in debt. Most of us suspected this a long time ago. It was totally breath-taking to watch the MAGA crowd make him out to be some kind of genius and savior. A total joke. He pretended to be a successful, powerful man on TV. It was all pretend. A charade. A con. Hard to believe anyone fell for it. And now it's been almost 4 years of him pretending to be President. I think we have all had enough. Turns out if you "elect" (or if he sneaks in because of a quirk of the Electoral College), a fraud and conman to run your government, you are basically totally fucked... who knew? Pretty much most of us...

Back to Basics...

It's funny. Before the pandemic our band was hitting a sort of peak. Playing some of the finest rock clubs in the land. We were having it and being seen by lots of folks. First class, professionally-run establishments. Great sound. Great crowds. A good time. Those times are gone for the foreseeable future. For us, and pretty much the rest of the world too.

The pandemic hit, and we were back to playing for ourselves, in the kitchen, in the bedroom. Close quarters, just the two of us, playing for our little birdies, our voices echoing thru our apartment.

Then we started to venture out, playing at the park with a couple of our fellow musicians. Masked, physically-distant. It reminded us of the energy, inspiration and good vibes of playing music with a group of people. All acoustic. 

I was starting really get back to an acoustic guitar sound. So organic. Yesterday, we finally played on the sidewalk in front of a record store with our P.A. all set up. Electricity. Totally juiced. The vocals up front, a bit of boost on my acoustic guitar, accompanied by a violinist and percussionist.

It was glorious.

Slowly building back up to that bigger sound. But, you know, it has been instructive and gratifying getting back to base, back to the basics. We were all masked. We all stayed a safe distance from each other. The crowd played by the same rules too.

It's the new normal. 

Tiny Adventures...

Every day an adventure...

I'm thinking life is made up of tiny questions & tiny adventures:

"How does my hair look today?" 

"Shower or bath?"

"What's for lunch?"

"Do I have time to lay on the couch for a few minutes?" 

"Bike ride?"

"Kombucha?"

"Stream a TV show or a movie?"

"I mean, what day is it?"

"No! Don't turn on the radio, I can't take any more, please!"

The Fall...

Fall in the Heartland

Daylight is slowly shrinking

Dark early to Dark early

Pandemic 2020 is as strong

and deadly as ever 

now bracketed by darkness

All the news is bad

all my friends and relations 

near & far

are freaking out

(of course, I'm freaking out too,

working hard, doing my best 

to stay calm and clear-headed)

Anyone paying attention

is in crisis

too much bad news

too much ugliness

too much 

pain

death

tragedy

madness

The Loud, Fat, Toxic, Clown Prez

is chattering away ceaselessly

Expect the Ignorant, Crazy, Desperate

Creep to continue to say Ignorant,

Crazy, Desperate Shit from now til,

well, probably until he croaks

We need to keep our heads

cooler heads are required

take in the news in small doses

It's OK to tune out

to seek

shelter & silence, to indulge 

in the fleeting pleasures of Life

Of course, Vote, encourage your

friends and relations to Vote

it is our one "sacred duty" 

in our Democracy

Let's care enough for our Democratic

experiment to save it

Biden/Harris 2020

Blue up & down the Ticket

Blue Wave is required now

Maybe Darkest before the Dawn?

It's OK to Hope

to Dream

to Imagine a Better World

Who knows?!

Maybe right around the corner 

In the meantime 

Hope

Courage

Strength of Mind

Contemplation

Don't forget to Breathe!

The a.m. soundtrack - "Buena Vista Social Club" (1997) -  There's nothing better than listening to a bunch of amazing musicians, Cuban Socialists don't you know, doing their thing, playing pre-revolutionary Cuban music. Inspiring. Collaboration, cooperation, social activism, socialized medicine for all.  Viva la revolution!

Autocratic Hell-Hole?

Tyranny of the Minority...

Is the Toxic Clown Prez at war with Democracy, and a Free & Fair Vote? Is this Toxic Clown Prez a "would-be, wanna-be, dictator?"

I suppose we will find out what kind of country we live in. What if Joe Biden clearly wins the election on Nov. 3rd, and the Toxic Clown Prez does not concede, does not recognize the vote, refuses to accept the result and the transfer of power?

Will we find out we actually live in an autocratic hell-hole? Is it possible the Toxic Clown Prez has destroyed our beautiful, democratic experiment in 4 short years?

Yikes. Who will stand up for our Democracy? Who will stand up and be counted? Vote. Vote Biden/Harris 2020. Vote like your life and this democracy depended upon it. Because, really it looks like it certainly may...

Working on Ourselves...

One of my favorite phrases is "the Good Work." I mean, the creative work. For me this has meant music, writing, theater. It's pretty open-ended. Work that gets you into something else. You put yourself, your mind, your body, all your mental and physical resources into creating something that didn't before exist. This is what I call a "flow activity," something that so engages all the senses that you lose yourself in the doing. Anyone can do it. It is recommended.

The Good Work is also working on yourself. You know, introspection, discovering who you are. "Know Thyself." It really is a lifetime project. We are all moving targets. Alive on a spinning planet. We don't choose our time to be born, or the era in which we live, but we must find our way in a strange and wonderful, and challenging land. A death-defying adventure: Life.

This morning, I came across an artist named Ree Morton, these lines are from her application for a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1976. "I learned to use power tools and to know the difference between needing help and just thinking I did." Also this: "I learned to take myself seriously. I learned to not take myself THAT seriously."

Yes. It's that kind of juggling act. The art of navel-gazing. To explore yourself, to understand your ideas, motives, emotions, pains, struggles, faults, flaws, etc. To take your self seriously, and to do the good, serious, work. To make choices. To try to make yourself a better Human.

And at the same time to not be too serious, or precious in the process. I woke up this morning with the idea of being "Radically Hopeful." Seems like an important choice. But really there is a whole list of radical qualities I'd like to aspire to:

Radically...

hopeful

honest

gracious

open-minded

contemplative

serious

kind

gentle

silent

observing

embracing

empathetic

compassionate

passionate

loving

mind-full

just

pragmatic 

You know the list can just roll out forever. Be better. Work on myself. Try to be and do the best I can. Try without trying. Be like the sky. Be radical in a decidedly un-radical way. Live with contradiction. And competing interests. And just juggle it all with a bit of humility, but determination too.

Creating, Dreaming, Breathing...

A voice on the radio tells me this morning that the Pandemic has been with us for 6 months. We are taking it seriously over here. Hope you are too. It's a nasty, scary thing. Doing our best to avoid it. We are doing all the things they tell us to do. We have altered our life-styles fairly radically. But, you know, it is all in the service of maintaining a life. You need a life to maintain a lifestyle.

There are some upsides. More time. Time seems to stretch out. Less idle chatter. More focused attention. Stopping to smell the roses. Long, meandering bike rides. Good, home-cooked meals. Once in awhile a pizza party. Music, lots of music (see previous post). Creating. Dreaming. Breathing.

Thinking of better days. But doing our best to enjoy the ones we have too.

Music Lovers Here...

Yes, we are music lovers here...

We are the kind of music lovers, that when our BOSE music system craps out, I mean, it starts acting erratically, rejecting every CD we put into it, spitting out CD's like an unhappy, spittoon-crazy, cowboy, well, we have a backup system at hand. Yes, indeed, we replaced and retired our BOSE system set up in the kitchen with a Tivoli Audio system that was sitting on the shelf collecting dust. And you know what? The Tivoli sounds fantastic. 

So we didn't lose a day of music in the kitchen. We fired that Tivoli up for cleanup time Friday afternoon, and U2's "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" (2004) brought me to my knees. Really. Mopping the kitchen floor, U2 blasting at maximum volume, there are a couple songs on the CD that always get me, hit me right in the heart. I know Bono is singing about his Father, I know he's singing about God, and the difficulty of being Human, and it gets me every time. So I'm mopping away, and tears are running down my cheeks. Now that's the power of music, right there. A deep spiritual experience. Tears and suds. That's clean-up time around here.

Saturday and Sunday we kept the music flowing. My partner was working on a painting in the kitchen and I was DJ. I spun these great albums. Every one of them fabulous, head-turning, groovy and enlightening:

Portishead's "Dummy" (1994)

Rye's "Woman" (2013)

Soccer Mommy's "Color Theory" (2020)

Angelica Garcia's "Cha Cha Palace" (2020)

Kan Wakan "Moving On" (2014)

I also snuck in another U2 record, "Joshua Tree" (1987). It's a monster record. So good. Every track, shimmering with intelligence, beauty, heart and soul.  I mean, it's almost a cliche to play this one. It was so ubiquitous when it came out. I sometimes take it for granted. Never mind, just put it on. Let it wash over you. As good as any album ever recorded. The real-deal. Oh yeah, it sounded absolutely killer on the Tivoli... "I still haven't found what I'm looking for..."

BTW- What's the soundtrack this a.m.? The Dirty Three.  I'm just running thru every record of their's we own this morning.  Glorious instrumental music. Breathtaking, soul-filling, healing.

If Joe Wins, the Toxic Clown Prez Promises to Disappear! Yay!!!

OMG. This is the greatest pledge our current Toxic Clown Prez has ever uttered. If Joe beats him on Nov. 3rd he promises to go away. Yes. Best news I have heard so far today. Let's make sure it happens. Vote Biden/Harris... Vote Blue 2020. To never hear or see the Toxic Clown again?! Mercy, that would be so, so wonderful. Good for the Nation, the World, good for our collective Mental Health. A good start to a new beginning, a renewed Democratic movement, and a Progressive future. More heart, humanity, compassion, empathy & love. PERFECT!

 

I’m Joe Biden and I approve this message. pic.twitter.com/TuRZXPE5xK

— Joe Biden (@JoeBiden) September 20, 2020

Time To Fight Tooth and Nail...

RBG was an amazing woman and Judge. A towering American figure. She will be greatly missed. Her passing reminds us that one human being can make a difference.

I expect there will now be a brutal political battle over her replacement. I hope the Democrats fight tooth and nail to prevent the Toxic Clown Prez's nominee, whoever they happen to be, from being confirmed. It should not happen.

Let's elect a new President, a new Senate and then confirm a new Supreme Court Judge. This is an existential fight. We need to fight for our Democracy. Democrats, stand up and be counted. Get Up, Stand Up, Don't Give Up the Fight.

Funny. Life.

Life. You know this rollicking, over-stuffed force that surges thru everything. Life. This overpowering phenomena that animates us, and animates everything surrounding us. We are just a little strand, a fiber of life. We have our little portion. Nothing special. Every insect owns a portion too. Every little critter, every little being under the sun. Every plant. Life. Energy. As Wm Blake once wrote: "Eternal Delight."

There is an ebb and flow. Maybe really we don't own a portion. Life/Energy flows thru us. We are just little vehicles, containers, or little packages that serve the ebb and flow. Sometimes we exude excess energy, sometimes we are nearly empty, needing a good recharge.

Funny. Life.

Renew, Recharge, Reimagine...

Quiet, concentrated listening today.

Yes. Take a deep breath.

Less  talking.

Try to still the internal monologue.

Tend to the silence.

Tune out the noise.

Seems like a capital idea.

Renew, recharge, re-imagine.

Sometimes Democracy Does Not Deliver...

No, unfortunately, sometimes Democracy does not deliver the "Best & the Brightest," instead, we get the "Worst, Dimmest & Most Toxic."

That Loud Fat Toxic Clown walking thru the ashes of decimated forests in C.A. was on the radio yesterday morning refusing to acknowledge the reality of "Climate Change." Can we re-brand it as "Climate Catastrophe?" Or "Murdering our Interconnected, Life-Supporting Ecosystem?" 

I mean, Shite. Find the dumbest, most pig-headed person in your neighborhood, make them President. He or she would be infinitely better than that Freaking Toxic Idiot. He must go...

Biden/Harris 2020... 

Test, or No Damn Test...

Great sleep. Disturbing dreams. That's new. They are also so mundane. So real-world. Sometimes I am working at a company I hate. Or I am engaged in conversation with people I don't like. Or I'm taking a test (damn, I'm always taking a test), and missing something important, like the location of where the test is being held, or, hilariously, I can't find a pen, or, well, of course, I don't possess any of the knowledge needed to actually pass the test. A mission of failure.

Still waters run deep. I think I'm doing fine. That all is well with the world, but my mind is a warring, whirling, disturbing thing. Yeah, and then making the coffee this morning, I think, well of course, the message is crystal clear: You Just Can't Pass the Test.

Seems so damn pessimistic. I mean, I think I have decided that that is a "lie in my space." Fuck that. I don't need to live up to anyone else's conception of what my life is supposed to be, or what my life means, or adds up to.  Even if these doubts, slings and arrows are coming from my own overheated mind, my own consciousness. My own "judgement." WTF?

I decide to choose a alternate narrative. At least in my waking hours.

The a.m. soundtrack - U2's "All That You Can't Leave Behind."  (2000). I play this one this morning as an affirmative act of defiance. I actually play the first track twice. Loud. In the kitchen. Feel the adrenaline rush. "It's a Beautiful Day." ! Exclamation point. This record looms as a major statement. It didn't seem like that when it first came out. But today, 20 years later, it looms as some grand opus of optimism, hope, grace. It acknowledges loss, death, pain, separation, but still the sound, the intensity, the passion in the grooves carries you, lifts you up. Recorded before 9/11, before the Iraq Debacle, before the Torture Regime, before "hatred of the other" became a national pastime, before the Economic Meltdown, before Obama, the Toxic Clown and the Raging Global Pandemic. Like they say, a more "innocent time." Although of course, no one was innocent then either. It's a beautiful day, you got a problem with that? Beautiful, yes, test, or no damn test...

A Break...

It is amazing...

a bit of sun

cooler temps

long bike ride

a sit-down on a bench

watching the trees sway

waves crashing into the shore

folks out and about

most with masks

physically-distant

all is good with the day.

a good meal

wrote a new song

read a book

listened to music.

i mean, yes things are dicey...

still, at least for one day, the motto:

"what, me worry?"

My Tribe...

When I am pushed up against the wall by the gruesome daily news and circumstances out of my control, I reach for a lifeline. I turn to Art. A great movie, (for instance, yesterday we watched P.T. Anderson's great magnum opus, "Magnolia"), or a good book (lately I have been reading r&r origin stories - Television, Patti Smith Group, Talking Heads, Ramones). I turn to My Tribe. Who and What constitutes My Tribe?  Artists. Creators. Filmmakers, Writers, Musicians, Poets, Painters. Anyone who does the Good Work of creative expression.

This has been my go-to mode most of my life. I mean, since I was a Wee Lad. It started with Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island." I found Freedom and Adventure in the pages, the words, the images conjured up in my head. Later it was the Beatles, Stones, The Who, Bob Dylan that totally captivated me, took me to other places beyond my little room.

I have spent most of my life in that land. It is a land without borders. It is filled with wonderful characters, I mean, Saints, Holy Fools, Prophets: Sam Shepard, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, John Lennon, Dylan, Patti Smith, Yoko Ono, Andy Warhol, Paul Bowles, Kurt Vonnegut, Joseph Heller, Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Jimi Hendrix, etc.

You can time-travel in an instant. Fill yourself up with the Power and the Glory of words, sounds, creative explorations of all kinds...

I recommend it.

Cascade...

"Cascade of Failure."

I remember being at the hospital and hearing a Doctor say those words.

One system fails, and it leads to other failures, a cascade, 

and then, finally, total collapse.

Feeling the effects of a World-Wide Cascade this a.m.

An Ecological Catastrophe

A Political Calamity

A Brain-Dead Leader

A Raging Global Pandemic

A Loud, Ignorant, Malignant Populace

Our fellow creatures are dying. 

Our Beautiful Little Blue Planet, 

our Life-Supporting, 

Interconnected Ecosystem is Dying.

Yes, this is a time of grieving.

No way around it. 

It's has been a week of darkness and rain in the Heartland,

raging, fiery, hell-scape in California.

Life. Love. Loss.

The a.m soundtrack - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds "Ghosteen."  (2019). An album of loss & sadness. Grieving. Sad. Gorgeous.

Messages...

I get messages when I'm sleeping. Don't you?

I don't know if it's just my own brain downloading info, or angels beaming to me, or if some other grand, invisible being is checking in. I mean, who really knows?

Last night I got some great song ideas. A little sonic to-do list. And I also got the message that: "Food is medicine."

I mean, I guess I already knew that. So it was just a reminder. The best medicine is food. A varied diet. I do think this is true. Best to stay away from the pharmaceuticals if you can. Go for organic stuff made by nature.

Nature seems to be wiser and older than us. And there is a payoff there. So good food, you know the stuff grown in the garden, the field, the grasslands. Vegetarian. Avoid that factory farm shit. And don't forget spices & herbs.  I do believe that garlic and cayenne pepper (for instance), are healing and magical. Really. I mean it. 

A Dastardly Bad Year...

2020.

No doubt.

A dastardly bad year.

Who knew?

We had hope

we had faith

we thought the year

would be a good one.

A year of clarity.

A pivot year.

And, you know,

it may well be.

Maybe darkest before the dawn.

This is a year of clear-seeing.

So much trouble.

I envision a decisive turn

to honesty, responsibility,

empathy, competence, good

government on November 3rd.

Voting Biden/Harris. 

The alternative is too, too gruesome.

In the meantime, we are swimming

in lies, incompetence, corruption,

complicity with evil.

We are still in the dastardly bad 

part of a dastardly bad year. 

YIKES!

Sometimes Hot, Sometimes Cold, Always Changing...

It's hot. It seems it's always been hot, and always will be. 

It's cold. It seems it's always been cold, and always will be. 

It's always changing. Sometimes slowly, sometimes in a flash.  We adjust in the moment. Don't even realize we are adjusting. Then one day we wake up and we realize everything is different, everything has changed; the air, the tilt of the sun, the temp, the cells in our bodies, the lines on our faces, the hairs on our heads.

It happens by the hour, by the day, by the month, by the year, by the decade, by a lifetime. Time. We have nothing but time, time is fleeting, time is ephemeral, time doesn't exist, time is everything, time is nothing.

Take your pick.

It's finally good sleeping weather around here. Long, restful sleep. Except for the dreams. Lots of dreams. Strange. Familiar. Disturbing. 

Last night, I was at a large building, supposed to take an important test. Can't find a pen, can't find the room, can't find the test, have no place to sit, don't really know what I'm doing, where I am, who I am. Frantic. Unsure. 

I finally get my hands on the test. It's in a language I can't read. Hah! So yes, I guess my dream was a message, or a display, a little performance. Reminding me of my life in the day-time world.

A bit like a stranger in a strange land, sometimes hot, sometimes cold, always changing.

Lost in the Rabbit Hole of Sound...

Yesterday, I got lost deep down in a rabbit hole. I mean, between a pizza party, watching the last episode of that glorious documentary on the Chicago Bulls dynasty in the 90's, "The Last Dance," (such a superb movie, inspiring, exciting, entertaining, heart-breaking, beautiful, oh so human, tells the story of an amazing group of human beings, changing the world. It's a world I know well, I lived thru it too, and now it's a time and place long gone, before 9/11, before the Iraq War, before the torture regime, before 8 years of Bush/Cheney hell, before financial crisis, before Obama, before the Toxic Clown years, before the raging global pandemic, a way of life that can never retrieved, except in film and memory), and a long, meandering bike ride on the lakefront, I was chasing sound. I am working on a musical project. Lost in the sound-waves, riding the vibes. It's all very spontaneous, intuitive, improvisational. I have no clue if any of these tracks will ever see the light of day, if they will ever find life beyond my own headphones. There is something so exciting about working on a project, something so cool about totally submerging into the flow. It is freeing. You drop your ego and give it up to the moments of sound. I love the process. First the inspiration, the exploration, the experimentation, the total abandonment of "play." Then there is the futzing, the editing, the culling, and trimming and sometimes trashing. You go thru the stages. It's all very satisfying. Finally, you have a few tracks. You think they're pretty good. You wonder if anyone will ever hear them.  Maybe. Who knows?

Living with Clarity

I slept. Had disturbing dreams. I dreamed I was back in business. Selling computer software. A fraud of a company. I felt like a fraud too. There are great chunks my life (decades long ago), where I spent time with people I didn't respect, didn't trust, didn't like. I did a lot of acting & pretending to get along. Years of Fear & Loathing. WTF was I thinking?

I mean, I was young, clueless, didn't really know what life was about, and how I was gonna navigate thru it all.

Not a very healthy or rewarding way to live, or to make a living. Living lies in cahoots with other folks lying too. I think much of our economy, most of the jobs available, are all about living with lies. The successful folks are ones who have perfected living with the lies. I found there were always much better liars than I. So even in that I felt a bit like a fraud and a failure. I couldn't really carry on the charade all that well. I think I lived with the fear of exposure. And the fear of realizing that I was truly wasting away.

I don't do kind of thing anymore. It's a soul-killer. The things I do are things I truly like to do. I keep it simple. Don't make lots of $, but I feel like I earn my money honestly. I think there is nothing wrong with working hard, doing a good job. 

I like living simply, humbly, honestly. I don't lie to myself or others. It's cleaner, clearer and just all-around healthier. 

Anyway, in my dream I was back in the fraud biz. And I couldn't hide it anymore. I was heading for a confrontation. A "come to Jesus" moment. The dream was about a reckoning. I didn't get to the end. Don't know how it all turned out. I have a weird a.m. hangover this morning. Glad to be alive, awake, aware. Living with clarity...

Time-Traveling...

Time-traveling.  

We all do it. I remember living thru the 1980's (just picking one decade out of many possible candidates). Now long gone. I mean, totally, that world does not exist. You can name Presidents, you can list events, but you can't really conjure up the days, the smells, the air, the vibes, the moments, the tiny tick-tocks in which you lived. The years are like passing rivers. They rush over you, you can't cling, you try to swim or float along, you are carried, sometimes you sink.

You look up and there's another decade, a random collection of years, gone.

Today we wake into The Raging, Global Pandemic 2020 (Year One). A strange time in which to find yourself. Lots of things you used to do, you don't do. You spend lots more time thinking about bacteria, and the danger of other people breathing on you.

Spending long days at home or riding a bike. Writing songs, playing music. Streaming movies. 

Life just ticks along. Everything is different today. And tomorrow will be different too.

We can open our minds, fire up our imaginations, put ourselves in other times and places, times and places in which we lived, we were there, but we are not there now. In fact, there is no "there, there" now. Oh yeah, there are some foggy memories. Events. Photos, movies, literature reflecting those times, but of course those are just glimpses. Not the real thing. The real thing evaporated moment by moment, then, and now. 

The a.m soundtrack - A dark, rainy morning in the Heartland. Listening to Natalia Lafourcade's  "Hasta la Raiz." (2015). A blast of sunshine. Gorgeous vocals, great band. In Spanish. I don't understand a word. The cover of the CD conjures up the past. The music mashes up sounds from the past, present, and future. The future is in the grooves. Great record.

Hope. Yes.

Hope. Yes.  Can't be afraid to Hope. I mean, you have to nudge Hope out there to conquer the Fear. You have to let it float. They will shoot at you, try to knock you down, try to steal that Hope and turn it to Fear. But you must hold on tightly. Keep it close. And at the same time let it loose, let it fly. Let it see the light of day and soar into the clouds.

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the Soul

And sings the time without the words

And never stops at all"

-- Emily Dickenson

Of Course the Story is True...

Is there really anyone on planet earth who doesn't believe this story is true?

Trump: Americans Who Died in the War Are are 'Losers and 'Suckers. Read it and weep.

Come on. Are you sentient and alive? Of course this man disparaged our fallen soldiers. Haven't you been paying attention? This creep, this toxic swamp of a human being, disrespects everyone that isn't him. Of course he would refuse to visit the graves of fallen soldiers if was going to get his hair mussed. Of course he would call the fallen ones, "losers."

If you know anything, you know this man goes out of his way to knock down bronze star soldiers, fallen heroes, anyone who normally, and rightly demands respect. Come on. I mean, even the folks who like this guy, know that this is how this guy acts.

No doubt. No kidding. Of course. It's a total shame and disgrace, but really, come on, that is how this human paraquat rolls...

Almost..

One day, the highlight is a conversation of art, life and what's it all about (see previous post). The next day, the highlight is almost swallowing a hornet. Yikes. 

Almost. I mean, we're sitting on a bench, sipping ginger beer, reflecting on a beautiful summer day. A "sit-down" in the middle of one of our rambling bike rides on the lakefront.

The cicadas are buzzing. The trees are swaying in the breeze. And yes, there are a few bugs buzzing around our heads. We have been forewarned.

I take a cold, refreshing sip of ginger beer, and I can feel something on my tongue, something foreign, something alive. Yikes. I have an immediate, instant, reaction. I spit out the mouthful of liquid onto the ground below. At my feet, there's a little, soggy hornet, soaked in ginger beer. One wonders if he feels like he hit the jackpot of sweetness and sugar, or does he too, realize he almost got swallowed into the gaping maw of death?

He staggers away into the grass. My friend conjures a dire picture with words: "You could have swallowed that hornet. He could have stung you. You know a hornet like that can sting multiple times. He could have stung your tongue, your throat, stinging you all the way down. Who knows, maybe you have a bad reaction, your tongue blows up, your throat swells, you can't swallow, you can't breathe, you turn blue, I have to call 911, the ambulance comes to get you... I mean, oh... my... goodness..."

I reflect on the scene of mayhem. Scenes of my life pass before me. Life. It's a funny thing. I realize I've dodged a bullet, instantly, luckily, escaped an existential threat. Shite. Just sitting on a bench, sipping a ginger beer, so innocent, so unaware. Danger lurks, even in a simple sip, the stinger is just a sip away. Everything hinges on one word. Almost. Yep. Almost did. But didn't...

Interview Yesterday...

Yesterday afternoon I was interviewed for an art project I am working on. Funny. I can really talk. I mean, once I get going, who knows where my mind will go? I was rambling on about the "singing Universe," about how everything in the Universe is musical; alive and vibrating. How Planet Earth sings at a certain frequency. How rocks & trees, and dirt, and stars and beings are all alive, made of the same stuff, both waves and particles, how every is connected. I was a on a roll. I talked about the fundamental mystery of the Universe, how we are on a journey of discovery. How meditation and contemplation has helped me focus and tune into this glorious reality.

Holy Shite. 

I sometimes forget all these ideas are trapped inside me. I talked about creativity, spontaneous creation, pure sound, dropping the ego and synching with a greater force. I talked spirituality, creative visualization, psychedelics, playing guitar, exploring new instruments, open tunings, fooling myself into an undifferentiated, unconscious flow. Yes, I talked flow activities. Getting lost in the moment. Being alive, aware, awake to everything. 

I talked about r&r, jazz, classical, r&b. I talked Kerouac & Zen. I talked basketball, Michael Jordan and the Bulls, Lebron James, social activism, and Black Lives Matter. I talked about the deep divide in America. Those with eyes and heads open and those deaf, dumb and blind. I talked about growing up in Catholic grade school. Rebelling against the Nuns. My insight that yes, indeed, I was going to hell. No doubt.

I recounted my adventures in Jamaica, in Edinburgh, Scotland. A trip to France. My hitchhiking adventures across USA. 

We connected, my interviewer and I. We agreed we were both committed to the Progressive agenda of Justice, Equality, Love & Empathy, Art. We talked Art. How it's important to do the work. The work is more important than the latest trend. That sometimes you tune out the noise, and connect to a deeper sound. We agreed the new "mindfulness" was a movement worth exploring.

Yes, well, the words just spilled out of me. Not sure what it all added up to. I can talk. My mind is a roiling landscape with lots of threads, detours, and rabbit holes. Afterwards I was tired, empty. I wondered what the hell was that? Did I say what should be said? Who knows? The words, they just rolled out...

One Large Swirl...

The Universe is one large swirl. Every day is "groundhog day." It's a mysterious place. The same, but different, but the same.

This morning, no sun, I wake up late. Later than usual. I wake to the sound of two little dogs screaming bloody murder at each other. It happens every morning, but usually I am already up and brewing coffee in the kitchen. This morning the daily bloody ritual happens right outside my open window. Two little dogs that hate each other. They yap, growl, yip, scream; pull furiously at their leashes, trying to break away and rip each other apart.

These little dogs do this every morning. You might want to ask why their owners do the same thing every day? Why do they bring these dogs to the corner? Why do these dog hate each other? Why is this little corner ritual played out every day? 

Who knows? Might as well ask why the sky is blue. 

The a.m. soundtrack - I have been playing this one every morning lately - "Cha Cha Palace"  (2020) by Angelica Garcia. A glorious, wild ass record. The music, moves and grooves. And so many great sounds. And so many great lines: "Karma is a Knife." "I don't believe in Death." "Lucifer is Waiting." Yes, Angelica is onto something really great here. A total knockout.