A Bleak Series?

Closing out 2022. Fuck. It was a bear of a year. No doubt. I saw a few folks out on the hustings yesterday, folks I haven't seen in quite awhile. They all looked a bit rumpled, ragged, beat. I am sure I looked the same to them. Is it possible 2022 aged us, you know, more than just one year, maybe like a bleak series of years?

Maybe.

The last few years have been a bit of an ordeal for all of us. Typing now, there is a flash of victory: Survived. Maybe that's enough. Still conscious. Still walking around. Still dreaming. There is possibility in that. 

Out of Tune, Back in Tune...

Sometimes things don't work out. As Henry Rollins once sang: "Sometimes happens all the time." You know, you get locked into a loop of failure. Suddenly you are out of tune with the Universe. All wrong notes, lots of dissonance, flirting with chaos at every turn. I'm not thinking of apocalyptic failures, just an accumulation of little fuckups, a mole-hill of fuckups. There really is only one way forward. Take a deep breath, still your warring mind, and decide to take one tentative step at a time. Pay attention to all the little details. Do one thing at a time. Logistics suddenly becomes super-important. You can re-tune yourself. Tune in to the true. Even in the middle of the madness, it helps to remember that nothing lasts. The next moment could be gold.

The Schlepper's Way...

Schleppers got to schlep. That is the schlepper's way. No sense in resisting, that just saps your energy. Carry the load, do it gladly, no questions asked.

You will be rewarded. After a day of constant, willy-nilly, here and there schlepping, sleep comes easier. You may not feel satisfied, or gratified, but maybe a little cleansing emptiness opens in the core of your weary being. There is a glimmer of light in that emptiness.

Last night, in deep sleep, it was Nick Cave's voice rising from the void, swirling in my head, probably as a consequence of my current, very fruitful and rewarding obsession with all things Nick Cave & Warren Ellis and the Bad Seeds too.

"It's only Love, with a little bit of rain."  

That is a great, resonant line for a long-time, dedicated Schlepper. Think of yourself navigating a landscape of love with a gentle sprinkling of rain. Sure. Why not? Thanks Nick...

Ode to the Dread...

I must admit yesterday I was filled to the brim with dread. It was a complex dread mixed with a dash of optimism, after having re-emerged healthy, after a bounce-back bout with covid, (Paxlovid is a life-saver, but also can lead to a rebound-case),  I was "negative" yesterday, which is "positive," and health-wise, body-wise, I was feeling pretty damn good. Except for the cloud of dread.  

Why the dread? I had a gig (booked months ago), with my long-time "most dangerously under-rehearsed band" in the USA. The last time I had a r&r gig I got sick with covid, and the sickness and return to health was a bumpy ride. So the thought of going into a small saloon with a crowd seemed daunting and maybe kind of stupid. But, lots of people were counting on me. I may not be the greatest guitar player in the land, but my band can't make it without me. Really, no one else knows my parts. They would be DOA. I helped put the bill together, so if I opted out, not only would I be disappointing all my bandmates, but also the solo opener, and the closing band too. All wonderful musicians and superior, classy human beings. If I cancelled, I'd be killing the gig.

So, with gritted teeth, mouth and nose covered by a mask and a bandana, I made the gig. Small, comfy room, nice crowd. There were only two of us wearing masks, me and the girl behind the bar serving up drinks. I was a bit nervous, jumpy, but, of course, playing r&r is one of my loves. 

How did it go? It was magnificent. We were under-rehearsed, and for some reason that made everything fresh, and dangerous, and our ragged, jagged set rolled out beautifully. I was playing thru one of the house amps, a vintage Fender Deluxe, they really don't make them like that any more, and my Telecaster never sounded better. Wearing the masks kind of freed me, and focused me. Plus, for this gig I decided to wear glasses, something I never do. I think I looked like an old, weathered, desiccated, brought back from the dead Buddy Holly, big fat black glasses. R&R nerdy. The revelation? With glasses on I could actually see my fret-board and the set-list. Clarity. Clear-consciousness. 

Anyway. It was exhilarating to do the show. All my dread evaporated into the frozen night. "Hey, hey, my, my, rock and roll can never die…"  - Neil Young.  Exactly! You know, "rust never sleeps," damn the rust!

Angels Amongst Us...

Thinking about Angels. I haven't seen any of those classic, old-fashioned ones, the ones with wings that we all think of when we think the word "Angel," you know the ones hovering over and around Human Beings as depicted in Wim Wender's "Wings of Desire," which was admittedly inspired by the poems of Rainer Maria Wilke. 

I do love that Angel imagery. "Wouldn't it be nice?" I think Angels reflect our better Angels. If we could imagine the best of a human being, we'd come up with something like an Angel. Not overly emotional. Silent much of time. Observant. Kind. Graceful. Seemingly carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, but lightly, even sort of fashionably.  That weight gives them gravity, but, of course, they can defy gravity. We hope they are living amongst us. We imagine them. We imagine ourselves, and others being that good, beautiful, resilient, quietly powerful.

My thought, yes, of course, Angels really are living amongst us. They are rare. But the do exist. Just like us. The wings are metaphorical. You can't see them, only imagine them, or if you squint really, really hard you can make out a hint of a feather, the invisible outline of a wing. My Angel is the Human Being kind, living far away, in a much different land. A Soul Friend (Anam Cara), someone who would order up a pizza and have it delivered to your door when she realized you were sick, down & out, and grappling with forces beyond your control. Someone who always has a kind word for your weary ears. Someone who has endured her own hardships with grace, and an unbearable lightness of being.

Yesterday, this Angel commented on yesterday's post. She reminded me that Mother Nature (Gaia), can also be difficult. She is a hard Mother. It's true. Mother Nature, she gives us everything, and snatches it away too. Life/Death, Spring/Winter. The Rising/The Falling. Human Beings have a Love/Hate relationship with Nature. No doubt. Sickness, disease, nasty viral creatures are all part of Nature. 

It's complicated. Sometimes it takes an Angel to remind you that there is more to the story, without lording it over you. Just a bit of wisdom sent your way on wings of kindness.

For the Butter...

My friend and I chatted over the phone yesterday. A long, rambling conversation about many things. At one point, she asked me, but more in an asking the wind kind of way:

"How did Human Beings get so disconnected from Nature?"

This is one of our great, never-ending, sort of maddening, and kind of numbing, dead-end conversations. We are both deeply concerned, and worried sick over our Species relentless destruction of our interconnected, life-supporting, Web of Life, and although we try to limit our carbon foot-prints, we are vegetarians, we recycle, we compost, we don't own a car, we rarely ever fly in an airplane, we try our best to avoid plastics of all kinds, we have a garden, we commune with trees, we write and sing songs about Gaia, we know deeply in our hearts and minds that it's not enough, not even drops in an ocean, adding up to absolutely nothing in the bigger picture. Still, we do our best to be responsible, sensible, caretakers; Citizens of Planet Earth. We can't imagine any other way. And we hope beyond hope that maybe somehow, magically, our good practices multiply across the globe. One of my go-to quotes: "A change of consciousness can happen in an instant."

Still, there's that question: "Why?" 

We are Children of Mother Nature. We live and survive by the good graces and bounty of beautiful Gaia. Why are we so intent on disrespecting her, and destroying her?

Yesterday, my short off the cuff answer? THE ONE TRUE GOD: "Money."  Can it really be that simple? We all only really honor one God on Planet Earth: Money in it's various guises. Seems too simple an answer, but, you know, it has the hard ring of cold truth.

And then I quoted Black Philip (the Devil figure?), in that great, creepy Robert Eggers movie "The Witch." (2015)

Black Philip: "Wouldst thou like the taste of butter? A pretty dress? Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"

Yes. Of course. We all love the taste of butter. We do want to live deliciously. What will we not do to live deliciously?

Open to the Real...

Not down. Just tuned in, and open, to the real this morning. 

Today we pretend it's Jesus' birthday.

Jesus was born poor, and died, poor.*

Also, thinking...

Rust Never Sleeps.

Things fall apart.

Entropy rules the roost.

The center sometimes will not hold.

Everything is moving.

You make plans, but no one is listening.

Best to go minute to minute.

The a.m soundtrack - No music this morning, my head is overloaded with my swirling, hurly-burly, thoughts about the "historical" Jesus.  *Yes, he was poor, and a good friend to the poor. He was a child of refugees. He was a working man. He lived in a commune with other men. He spent most of  his time with fishermen, lepers, liars, criminals and prostitutes. He was not a friend to rich folk, or to church folk. He fed the poor and needy. Jesus was fond of a free lunch: fishes and loaves for everyone.  He liked a good party: he turned water into wine. He was basically a socialist, sort of a hippie. Jesus was a Jew. Money was not his thing. He preached Love & forgiveness, and "turning the other cheek." Maybe he had a bit of a Messiah Complex? No one is perfect. He paid dearly for being who he was. He kind of summed up the Human Being dilemma/conundrum: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."  Aye. There's the rub.

The Narrative Stage...

Narrative. As soon as we get to the narrative stage, which happens in a blink of an eye, we are telling the story of our lives. All those sense perceptions we are given by our senses five, are translated into interlocking threads of a story.  

"I saw this, I said that, this happened, and then that happened and well, I was never the same again." 

Events. Great and small. Tiny, epic. When it happens directly to you, it feels important. Primal. Essential. Bad shit, good shit. You take it all in, and deal with the deal. What can we endure? What we can.

Rewritten on the Wind...

Well, you make plans, but they can vanish in an instant. Best to be ready to improvise at the drop of a hat. Life really is a long-form improvisation. Whatever you have in your mind, you must be willing to morph, to change, to evolve, to back-track, re-think, re-formulate, come up with a new plan, which of course, may also need to be rewritten on the wind.

Tired but True...

My mind is swimming in tired phrases this morning. Tired, but maybe true?

The calm before the storm.

That was then, this is now.

The end is near.

Whatever happens, happens.

No one knows nothing.

Liars gonna lie.

We don't see things are they are, we see things as we are.

Fuck it, damn the torpedoes!

Fool's Game...

A fundamental problem with our discourse...

It is so easy to float a lie. It takes work (time+energy+curiosity+logic+commonsense), to debunk it. 

This explains so much of the confusion and idiocy in our political/cultural/social air-stream. Idiots floating big lies that sit out there like enormous blimps on the horizon. The bigger the lie, the more work required to take it apart. Also, of course, the big lie is often seductive, it's the falsity that some people desperately want to believe in. An intrepid truth-seeker has to take the time to sift thru the evidence, discover the facts, and shoot holes in that blimp until it finally comes crashing down in flames. And often the truth is messy, complicated, inconvenient, hard. By the time a full debunking happens, many folks have already swallowed and digested the lie, and have moved on to the next idiocy. It is not an easy thing to change a made-up mind. Sometimes it is pretty damn-near impossible, like arguing with a very dense boulder. I mean, arguing with an Idiot who thinks they know what's what, that is a fucking fool's game right there.

The USA vs. Donald J. Trump - Facing the Music...

The January 6th Committee delivered their report yesterday. A pretty comprehensive overview of what happened on that terrible day. You know, basically confirming what we all know. At least those of us who have been paying attention. But, you know, even the ones who want to pretend that it didn't happen, know what happened. They are just burying their heads in the sand. Trying to "gaslight" the rest of us.

Jan. 6 Committee's Elaine Luria: "In summary: President Trump lit the flame, poured gasoline on the fire, and sat by in the White House dining room for hours, watching the fire burn. And today he continues to fan those flames. This was an extreme dereliction of his duty."

Criminal Referrals from the Select Committee:

The 1/6 committee refers Trump and his Henchmen to the DoJ for

• 18 USC 15129c)(2): obstruction of the vote certification
• 18 USC 371: conspiracy to defraud the US in the form of obstructing the certification of the election
• 18 USC 371 and 18 USC 1001: conspiracy to present false statements — in the form of fake elector certifications — to the National Archives
• 18 USC 2383: inciting, assisting, or aiding an insurrection

Why did Trump unleash the MAGA hordes on the Capitol? Maybe as simple as this:

Former President Trump told his then-chief of staff “this is embarrassing,” and “I don’t want people to know that we lost.” 

What a fucking narcissistic Cry-Baby. Trump just couldn't stomach the reality that he lost fair and square to Joe Biden. So pathetic. The Cry-Baby was willing to burn down the Constitution, trash our Democracy, just because he was embarrassed. Yikes. It's time for the DOJ to charge this very sick, deluded and corrupt human being for crimes against U.S. Democracy. Let it come down!

Idiot Tales...

So much of our lives, quoting Will the Great, are Idiot tales of "sound and fury signifying nothing." We must navigate the waves; gravitate to the silence, seek the quiet spaces in between, eyes peeled for the something in the nothing.

That was Then, This is Now

Finally, totally, completely post-Covid. It's feels marvelous. Can it be by getting sick, having your immune system kick and in do it's work, the sickness finally runs it's course, you suddenly revive and feel better than ever? Sort of like a Lazarus  thing? Dead  >  Living. I was blind now I see. I was lost now I'm found. I was sick and now I'm ready to fly. Ha. Sure. Why not?

Bono on My Mind...

I finished the Bono book, "Surrender," and it left me in my own little existential crisis. I was thinking of writing about the book, and my reaction to it, for a few days after putting it down, but I hesitated. I thought, "Do I really want to knock the book, or judge the man?" I mean, I think I like, and admire this guy; I absolutely love much of his work with U2, and I applaud his work as an activist for human rights, the poor, and those with AIDS. But at the same time, I find Bono and his pumped-up, blimp-like personality a bit repellent. Really the title should be "No Surrender." This fiery little Irish man is unrelenting in his ambition and quest to conquer the world.

His unbound, untethered, always pushing forward ambition is quite off-putting. Think of the shark in Spielberg's movie. It may be that Bono's constantly striving for more, his rarely ever being satisfied, may have been a big reason U2 became a monster success, and also propelled Bono into the corridors of power around the world, but I find myself turned off by his glad-handing, over-driven, bible-verse-quoting, pumped up Evangelist, and knock down every last door Salesman. I couldn't help asking myself: "Who the fuck does this guy think he is?" Even if his intentions are good, (and they usually are), his over-heated methods leave me cold. Bono is a world champion name-dropper. He has rubbed shoulders with pretty much everyone. You get the sense he is always measuring himself against the famous figures he meets. Not pretty, a total turn-off.

Turns out the answer of who he thinks he is, was revealed in a session with a hypnotist. Bono has a huge, life-long crush on Jesus. In fact, it's obvious Bono has his own, self-admitted Messiah Complex. The way Bono tells it, Jesus is his special "best friend." I think it's clear Bono thinks he and Jesus ARE EQUALS!  Ha. Ha. Ha.

So funny. Dig deep enough into the molten core of Bono's psyche, and you find the inconsolable pain of losing his Ma at young age, and the unremitting rage in his life-time war with his Da. They drive his audacity and his risk-taking. He is fundamentally a melodic, raging, holy fool. A blessing and a curse.

So, yes, artistically, musically, poetically, Bono's drive has paid off big time. There is just an after-taste of distaste when you observe how he sees himself, and how he leverages (often admirably),  his fame & celebrity, the Full-Metal-Jacket Bono, propelling & promoting himself, and his causes, out into the wider world. Bono is no hypocrite. He does put his energy and his $ and cultural capital where his mouth is, he just can't stop himself from over-flowing, relentlessly.  A river runs thru him.

These songs titles from other artists popped into my head while I was reading the Gospel According to Bono: "I Want to Be Adored," (Stone Roses), "It's All Too Much" (The Beatles), "Everyone Wants to Rule the World," (Tears for Fears), "Amazing Journey" (The Who), "Who are You" (The Who), "Mr. Big Stuff" (Jean Knight).

Luckily. I can separate this man from his work. My conflicted feelings about the man, do not put me off from U2's best work: "The Joshua Tree," "Unforgettable Fire," "War," "Achtung, Baby," "Zooropa," "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb," "All that You Can't Leave Behind.," "No Line on the Horizon." A pretty damn amazing discography.  Some of the finest music ever recorded. No doubt. I still often, even obsessively, spin these discs, and I do enjoy them immensely. A fucking great band. Bono is lucky (he admits it), to be making music with Edge, Larry Mullen Jr. and Adam Clayton. It's the sum of the parts that creates the bigger magic. U2. Yes. Quite the journey & story. But for me, the best of U2 is to be found in the grooves, not in Bono's wooly, never to be satisfied mind.

Easily Over-Look...

You know we look for that burning bush, that lightening bolt from the sky, the moment where our head is split open-wide and the Universe reveals itself to us in all it's fiery, powerful, illuminating meaning & glory.

But, you know, I think we easily over-look, the glittering speck, the brilliant cloud, the enveloping fog, the tiny glint, the homely mud & stone of insight. Moments of illumination so insubstantial, ephemeral, transitory, infinitesimal, that we don't even notice them, or if we do notice, we don't realize what just happened. A dream, was that a dream I had? What was that flashing, sparkling, little thing in the corner of my eye?

The a.m. soundtrack - Captain Beefhart's "Mirror Man" (1971). One the great American odd-balls. Captain Beefhart pushing the envelope. These are long bluesy jams. Beefhart sounds like a scattered Howling Wolf to my ears. A bit more avant-garde arty version of the Wolf. Pretty cool shit. Not easy listening. Noisy. A bit dissonant. Spiky. Elemental. Raw. Mud and stone of insight, indeed.

Swimming Towards Health, Thoughts on Bullies...

One upside dealing with a nasty virus?

More time unplugging. Reading. Listening to music. Thinking. My body is a battlefield, my immune system is busy gathering forces to knock out the intruding virus culprits. Wading thru waves of congestion. Finally, this morning, I feel like I am emerging from a black cloud, or a dark wave. My energy ebbs and flows. This morning a bit of a surge of energy, and that seems incredibly positive.

Swimming towards health.

In the middle of it all, I disconnected from the wider conversation. Too much energy to engage with the madness swirling in our culture. Taking care of business seems to be the business I want to be in.

Still I came across this quote from Brianna Wu, it seems so smart and on-target:

"That’s this era of politics. Grievance wallowing. We all do it. But the billionaires, and the shitty comedians, and the Nazis and the men who genuinely think they are too smart to be sexist are drowning in it." - Brianna Wu

Yes. A scourge in our public square. Loud-mouth bullies, armed with $ and the glare of celebrity and notoriety.  Bullies. Punching down on women, people "of color," LGBTQ+, etc.

Funny thing about bullies, at heart they are total cowards. They have to win all the time. Once they "lose" the game is up. Bullies have to pretend to be all-powerful, they can never lose, it's all a big lie and a bluff. My very personal experience: one lucky punch, one bloody nose, and those bullies will scatter, clam up, and never bother you again. I don't think it has to be a literal punch in the nose. Calling out their cowardice, laughing at their foolishness. There are many ways to escort the bullies out the door.

The Vibes...

 String-Theory - "String theory is the idea in theoretical physics that reality is made up of infinitesimal vibrating strings, smaller than atoms, electrons or quarks. According to this theory, as the strings vibrate, twist and fold, they produce effects in many, tiny dimensions that humans interpret as everything from particle physics to large-scale phenomena like gravity."

Maybe not surprising Human Beings love music. Maybe Pete Townsend's rock opera "Tommy" ("But what it's really all about is the fact that ... he's seeing things basically as vibrations which we translate as music."), was right about the vibe thing? I mean, science and spirit tells us it's all about "the vibes." Everything in the Universe is vibrating. The Universe is one massive vibrating instrument. We are all notes and tones and vibrations. Some days we ring out with melodic joy and wonder, some days, it's all cacophony. But, you know, it's all vibes, baby!

Energy Ebbs & Flows...

Energy ebbs and flows. An invading energy enters, it's like a tornado inside. Once the storm passes, everything is rearranged, you must pick up the pieces, put everything back together. 

The Universe consists of a multitude of energies in a multiplicity of manifestations. As the great visionary poet William Blake said in "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell," - "Energy is Eternal Delight."

A simply profound line from one our great artist/poets. So, yes, all is energy, and energy is eternal delight. The Universe = Delight. Even in the sickness, the darkness, the wreckage, the refuse, the tumult and hurly-burly, there is a mad delight. We are just one manifestation among multitudes. We are the Marriage between Heaven and Hell.  We contain the sun & moon, the light, the dark, and all in-between.

It is sort of a mystical idea. But one shared by our greatest genius scientist too: 

“Everything is energy and that’s all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want, and you cannot help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics.” — Albert Einstein

The Marriage Between Art & Science, Poetry & Physics.

Kicks, Licks, Ticks...

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."*- Friedrich Nietzsche 

*This would be in line with the Conan the Barbarian approach to life. But, maybe it's worth pointing out  that poor Friedrich had a mental breakdown at age 44 and died at age 55. He liked to write about the over-heated concept of the "Super-Man," but it turns out he was a sensitive, frail, and vulnerable human being just like the rest of us.

"Friedrich Nietzsche's disease consisted of migraine, psychiatric disturbances, cognitive decline with dementia, and stroke. Despite the prevalent opinion that neurosyphilis caused Nietzsche's illness, there is lack of evidence to support this diagnosis. Cerebral autosomal dominant arteriopathy with subcortical infarcts and leukoencephalopathy (CADASIL) accounts for all the signs and symptoms of Nietzsche's illness."

At the same time, I do think we Human Beings are all quite remarkably resilient. And I take Friedrich's line as a supreme affirmation of our spirit of resilience. Maybe it's a bit of a bluff, but maybe its a useful one too? It is amazing how Human Beings carry on from life-altering illness, trauma, tragedy, maiming, losing limbs and other body parts, etc.  The will to carry on and to live is strong in our species.

"What doesn’t kill you just makes you crazier..." - Nick Cave

Yes. This rings true to me. We are all on a crazy-making journey, and everything that happens makes us crazy in our own unique and special ways. So, yes, everything that happens to us, happens to us, and that helps determine who we are; not only by what happens to us, but how, and if, we deal with it all. Like they tell us, it's all a test of character.

We all become character actors at some point in our lives.

I tested Covid-Negative today. It does seem like some kind of victory. Just to survive. My body and my mind took in, and took on, that nasty virus, and it seems to have run it's course, and like that old Timex commercial so memorably put it, I am another entity that can gladly claim: "Takes a licking keeps on ticking!"  Whew!

Alien Invasion...

A viral infection like an alien invasion. A live virus settling in a new living host. The host becomes something different. We call that sickness. You read - "Viruses: their extraordinary role in shaping Human Evolution." You wonder will that virus change me at some fundamental level?

"Around half of the human genome is made up of millions of DNA sequences that can be traced back to long-dead viruses or similar ‘jumping genes’, known collectively as transposable elements or transposons."

I think of Jeff Goldblum in "The Fly." There is something so primally creepy about the idea of a foreign viral code, making something new of a Human Body. Maybe primally creepy because it's true. What we are today has been shaped by viral invasions over millions of years. We become beings, a bit strange, and oddly funny too. "What is this strange thing I'm becoming?"

On my lips this morning: "I was sick, but now I will be well."  I'm pretty sure you can't will yourself to  wellness, but maybe that kind of thinking is a good mind-set to have in your kit-bag. I am willing a future that is not here yet. I guess that's another way saying I am harboring a nasty virus and a primal hope. We can go many ways in this primal game. 

Avenging Angel of Sickness...

Is it "ironic" or just an instance of supreme bad luck? 

Doing the thing we love to do most in the world, hosting (a week ago), a r&r show, playing music for a roomful of enthusiastic people, has resulted in an unwanted visit from the Avenging Angel of Sickness. She has invaded our bodies and our home. Yes, that nasty virus that has been navigating the globe, has finally found us. Luckily, both of us, my companion and I, have been vaxxed and triple-boosted. We were originally quite militant, and always, usually, relatively, quite careful over the last few years, but maybe, obviously, we were just not careful enough; we let our masks down at the wrong place, wrong time.  Sickness was in the room with us that night. Unaware, guard-down, we failed to dodge that pesky, troubling, little viral beast.

The Avenging Angel pronounces: "You once felt like that, you will now feel like this!" Sicker than a dog. Sicker than a very sick dog. Yes. Quite the state of sickness. Word of advice: If you can avoid this thing, you should. Pretty sure I feel as sick as I've ever felt. I flashed on being a Freshman in High School with walking pneumonia. That was a difficult time in my life. This morning: Difficult Time Redux.

The good news? 

I think we will live. At least, the signs are encouraging. We are taking all the CDC recommended remedies. We know that many, many people around the world, and those close to home too, have had a much worse time with this thing. The virus has unleashed death, destruction and lingering sickness worldwide. Maybe this recent strain is a bit milder? Maybe all that vaxxing, and boosting helped fortify our bodies with the anti-bodies necessary to put up a fight, preventing the virus from being totally deadly to it's current hosts? The jury is still out. We shall see. Hanging in. There are glimmers of light, thoughts of renewing and refreshing are dancing out there on the horizon. In the meantime, every free and easy breath now counts as a win. The breaths are coming fairly free and easy now, which is a major relief. "They" tell us that in every trauma  there is a lesson.  Today's lesson? Breathing is good!

Brave & Determined? Stupid & Risky?

"Take the Bull by the Horns."

Why was this phrase in my head last night? I don't rightly know.

It seems like a stupid and risky thing to do. I mean, if you were thinking of literally doing it, taking a bull by the horns. A bull, a wild animal, much bigger and stronger, than a human being. Would a smart person really put themselves directly in harm's way? The Cambridge Dictionary tells us it means "doing something in a brave and determined way." One person's "brave and determined" is another's "stupid and risky."  I mean, I guess it really would depend on how it all turned out. You know, after the dust settled? Would the bull and the human find peace? Or would there be blood?

Action > Reaction = Consequence.

Of course, this idea is not just a literal idea, it's metaphorical. Directly tackling a big problem or obstacle or nemesis. Isn't it obvious that the consequences of the action reflect on how we'd describe the action?

A peaceful standoff? Permanently maimed? Trampled underfoot?  Iffy...

Fail Better...

"Try again. Fail again. Fail better." - Samuel Beckett

Improvise!

Improvise! Life is long-form improvisation. There are challenges, obstacles, dead-ends, rabbit-holes. There is a vast landscape which we need to navigate. There is the sea of possibilities. Yes. Indeed. We have to deal with what we have to deal with.

Calm, Clear-Eyed, Cool...

I have to say that much of our current cultural/political/social conversation actually makes me feel better about myself. There is so much stupidity and idiocy running rampant in the human herd; the river of knuckle-headed-ness is over-flowing. I can't help but feel relatively intelligent, level-headed, common-sensical, rational; fortified with a clear head and two feet solidly planted on the ground. It almost seems like a new militant, radical stance: Calm, Clear-Eyed, Level-Headed, Cool...

A Really Bad Idea...

A really Bad Idea...

"Terminating the Constitution?"

Yeah. No. A Really Bad Idea. I mean, I know there is a whiny little baby-man, a multi-times loser screaming and ranting and throwing a tantrum at his garish, glitzy, no-class, faux-castle in Florida. He's typing with his greasy, fat fingers into his smart-phone, typing really stupid, dumb, crazy-ass shit.

It's not funny. Not smart. You know, it's gruesome, ranting, baby-stuff. There will be no constitution terminating any time soon. Even though there are thugs and lugs who would gladly try to make it happen.

That Cry-Baby Dude is pretty scared. The walls are closing in. Think of that time when Macbeth watched Burnham Wood marching forward. Those bad faith lawyers hired to save baby-man's fat ass have basically "shot their wads" into the void of pointlessness. We are getting closer to The Reckoning. I mean, really. Finally?! Maybe!?

Common Sense this A.m.

Yes. It is amazing, and a bit sad that this has to be floated into the conversation. You would think President Joe is just stating the obvious, and we could all agree best to get past that "demonic figure," but the political/cultural dialogue America in 2022 is a bit twisted, strange and retrograde.

I whole-heartedly & enthusiastically endorse this tweet from Joe...

 

Running Free...

I am paid good $ to spend an inordinate amount of my time with dogs. It's not a bad way to make a buck. Sometimes too, less time with Humans seems to be good for the heart, the head, the soul. These little furry beasts are some of my best, most enthusiastic and happy of friends. I do think sometimes I get a bit feral & rambunctious, when I match to the energy emanating from the canine beasts I hang out with. "If dogs run free, why not me..." - B. Dylan.  Yeah. Why not me?

Toxic Males...

I am usually an early morning writer, today, stuck in an undisclosed location with bad, low-tech in the a.m. I finally came up for air this afternoon.

The phrase kicking around in my head today: Toxic Aggressive Masculinity. It is celebrated and monetized in this wide-ranging, anything goes, dystopia. Being confined to the football field, or the wrestling ring, it sort of makes sense. 

But being a Loud, No-Nothing, Freakishly-Aggressive Male in the mainstream cultural air-stream seems quite ugly and misplaced. Don't need to mention names. You know the assholes I am thinking about. Throw in enough $, give them a tv show, record contract, or podcast, hitch them to a political movement, and, well, fascism, lawlessness, general mayhem, chaos, and disorder seems imminent. There are folks, clearly, unwell people, I mean folks with seriously toxic, defective, sadly-poisoned minds, who are getting way too much attention for saying really, really, stupid corrosive, soul-killing, shit. Gob-smackingly bad.

Cooler heads. Clearer minds. 

Our nation, and our culture, turns its lonely hearts, eyes, and ears to you.

Bees, Ants, & Me...

Projecting. 

Can we imagine ourselves as a "busy bee?" A "devoted ant?" You know just a little being doing its thing? Unaware of the grander theme, just living life in the moment. A dedicated purpose: build the hive, create the colony, support the Queen. No ego. No doubts. No worries. Knowing that we are just one little being in the great sea of beings. One of a generation that will give way to the next generation and the one after that too. Can we simplify and live like that? Is it possible to get our heads around that? Living a simple life, part of a fabulous, wide-ranging, fabric of being. 

OK. Maybe that doesn't sound all that ambitious. As that song tells us "Everyone wants to rule the world," but what if you don't? What if you choose not to want what everyone wants? What if you realize that the  dream of ruling over others is a grand illusion? No sense in living a life with delusions of grandeur. 

Ok. Maybe this kind of simplistic, simplified, thinking is impossible for Human Beings. We have big brains straining to do more. We believe, and maybe we do have a higher function kind of brain. Our consciousness, our minds are filled with ghosts, chimeras, shimmering visions, nightmares, guilt, worry, doubt, elaborate dreams, silly delusions, crazy-ass plans. We conjure up friends, enemies, grand narratives of success and failure. And we just don't know what to do.  How do we apply ourselves? We often ask: "What's it all about?" "What is the meaning of life?" "What is my purpose?"

This morning, I am thinking the trick is to find your inner busy bee, your latent devoted ant. Pick simple tasks, maybe even mundane tasks, find a simple job, or series of jobs, and do them, to the max. Surrender to the moment. Damn the torpedoes.  

The a.m. soundtrack - The Smith's "Strangeways, Here We Come."  (1987). Are The Smiths the greatest band ever? Maybe. Is this their best album? Maybe. It sounds amazing this morning. Recorded beautifully. Lush, full, shimmering, intelligent, graceful, catchy, funny, powerful. A band at the peak of its form. I am of the mind that every Smith records is great. All the studio albums, the singles, the live tracks. Just tremendous work. Great r&r music. No false moves. This was their last studio album as a band. A fabulous statement. Thrilling. Beautiful. Rousing. One of the best from one of the best.