The Vibe is Positive...

I am big on vibes. Seeing vibes, reading vibes, exuding, and creating, vibes. I am a very public person in my little, progressive, blue-bubble neighborhood, I have a bit of a personal brand, and that brand is good vibes. I am a "good vibes Charlie." 

You know, even when I'm a bit low energy, or down, I can turn up the positive energy. It's often a shield and a protective mode, but usually my vibes are genuine. I can really turn up the vibes on demand. When folks come to see our r&r band, usually the first thing I hear from folks after a show: "I really love the vibe of your band." So, yeah, vibes are big part my life. I feel like I am a bit of an expert at the vibe thing.

When I say "expert at the vibe thing," I mean, it's all a fucking mystery to me too. I do think ever since I was a wee lad growing up in the heartland, I have been super-sensitive to feeling, seeing and reading vibes, ("Tommy can you hear me?"), reading the vibes of a person, a  crowd, a room.  Reading the good, and maybe more importantly, the bad vibes floating in the air. Early on, I often  ignored, discounted or just blew past those clear signals,  to my own detriment, which then led to much confusion, uncertainty and self-sabotaging. So, you know, it's a double-edged sword, not always useful or beneficial.  Still, I think over the years I have gotten much better at listening and trying to incorporate and act on the vibe.

This morning, one day before the 2024 election, you may ask me: "SunnyJimmy what is the vibe?"  Well, I am not afraid to say, the way I read it, the vibe is good, the vibe is strong, the vibe is positive, the vibe is Kamala. Really. Of course, folks need to vote, and I think they will. I think folks are going to be surprised by the overwhelming support for Democracy, Freedom, Hope & Joy that breaks across the land.

Everyone around here is nervous, anxious, full of worry and doubt. Folks are afraid to be positive. I do get it. Vibes are a slender reed to hang a life on, they are invisible, intangible, unquatifiable. Some folks don't believe they even exist. I am not one of those. Yes. This morning the vibe is Harris/Walz for America.

Bathed in Golden Light...

Ok. Not making any predictions about this coming Tuesday. You know, Election Day. Sure Democracy hangs in the balance, and the future of USA is at stake.  And the choice is so clear, Harris/Walz should win in a landslide, I mean, if we were a rational and intelligent species the choice would be plain & simple, so obvious, for all concerned, but, you know, it's more complicated than that, Human Beings are a tricky species, we often do stupid, evil, self-sabotaging things, maybe just for the soul-killing, blind-fuck of it all, so, you know, I guess, there's no sense in making foolish predictions.

Predicting is such a fool's game. I opt out. I choose to spend my foolishness on other things. BUT, (yes, there is another "but" here), my partner and I did a little Shaman Circle ritual yesterday. It is something we've learned how to do from some professional Shamans. Yes. I kid you not.  And it kind of leads me to think I kind of do know where we are all heading.

This year our Shaman Circle event moved to Zoom, because one of the Shamans came down with Covid. Bummer. There is something so amazing about getting together in a room with a group of Shamans and Musicians, and doing this little ritual called the Wild Hunt. We opted out of Zoom, just not our thing, so instead, we set up our own little cairn, we rang a bell, we lit a candle, we sat in a two-person circle, and we took up our drums. We put some music on the box, Promises by Floating Points and Pharoah Sanders, and drummed along for over an hour as if our lives depended upon it.

So exhilarating. My partner and I always "journey," when we drum. We close our eyes, we tune into the vibrations, and the visions just come. I think this comes easily and naturally for us because of all our years meditating and practicing creative visualization. Our inner worlds are quite vivid and entertaining. Really. Anyway. Pretty amazing. The visions are always different. I have had very elaborate journeys in the past, long, swirling, mind-fucking, and gob-smacking narratives. This time around it was total simplicity. I concentrated on my drum, beating this great-sounding little Tibetan drum; the sound, the insistent beat, was so captivating, and entrancing, I sunk into a very deep visionary state. 

What did I envision? Gold. Waves, oceans of Gold. I was bathed in a Golden Light. Surrounded by Gold, swimming in Gold. It's the highest vibration. I take it as an exceedingly good omen.  Both personally & universally. It was a total cleansing & clearing. My body was washed in the Gold, and rivers of good feeling flowed thru my whole being. I was totally lit up, every cell in my body ignited with a fiery, soothing Gold. Quite the thing. 

What does it all mean? Who knows?! If I were to hazard a guess: we are entering a new Golden Era of good feeling and positive vibes. Good times are the way. I mean, fuck, that's just me, you know? I mean, you are free to dimiss it, or interpret, as you see fit. Whatever. Godspeed, Dear Pilgrims.

Switched on High...

It is funny, in maybe not the funniest way...

The really great moments descend upon you, they flash by, and flush you, then float away, and disappear into the ether, ungraspable. Sure there is a residue of satisfaction, the warm feeling of the great happiness, but there is no holding onto its flashing beauty. It's a glimmer, a spark, a flame, an instant of perfection, that vanishes so quickly you are not sure it really happened.

The really bad moments can linger, longer. You carry the scar tissue, you nurse the broken bones, or just the deep soul-brokenness. You experience a deep loss as a permanent reordering of the Universe. 

So, you know, there is an uneveness in life. The good, the bad, the happy, the sad. There is no math here. You can't total and sum. You just experience what you experience. Hopefully you do it with all your senses and faculties switched on high. That's all you get.

 

The Big Sea...

We swam in the big sea, and it was exhilarating. All of our energy was focused on one big event, and it happened. The reception was rapturous. Maybe the audience was better than the band? I don't know, we did good. A few minor kerfuffles, but that just affirmed that it was a live performance. Nothing really threw us off. 9 musicians all bringing it to a room of devoted fans. The feedback loop was quite exquisite.  Lots of smiles, kind words and kudos afterwards. This morning it all seems like a strangely wonderful dream.

The Doris Day Moment...

Finally, you just let go the wheel. See what comes down. There is a point, a moment along the road, that you fly past, and then it's all pure ZEN. All that needing, wanting, grasping vanishes in an instant, and a certain calm clarity bubbles up. What will be will be. Let's call it the Doris Day moment. It's an acceptance, and an expectation. You hope you did everything you could do to make the moment count, but at same time you know there is so much that is firmly out of your control. The future is unwritten. You plunge forward, into a place of darkness and light. You wonder: What now?!

Refreshing. Renewing. Great Speech.

Kamala Harris' speech in Washington D.C. was a barn-burner. I mean that in good way; super-exicitng, glorious, intelligently-spoken words. Refreshing. What is she selling to the American people? Hope, optimism, a better day, intelligence, competance, responsibility, good government, empathy, compassion, hard work, diligence, freedom, prosperity, community, rule of law, democracy, good judgement, character, good cheer, joy. Yep. It's a pretty all-encompassing package. I, for one, find it completely compelling & irresistible. The alternative is not even conceivable, or in the realm of possibility to me. I think, I hope, and pray, that our "better angels" will bring us into a new era. A vibrant, lively, wonderful woman of color, kicks open the door, and renews our bonds to this great Democratic experiment we call USA. I mean, fuck, are you kidding me? Of course, the obvious, beautiful, life-affirming choice: Harris/Walz.

Easy to Sow Division, Harder to Build Bridges...

Early in our acting careers, well, you know, maybe not careers, more like in our "adventures in acting,"  a jaunt in the field of "theatrical," we learned that doing the big flashy angry scenes and monologues were so much easier than the quiet, internal, vulnerable scenes. Easy to show anger, so much harder to show sadness, loss, empathy and compassion. The really good actors could reach deep down into their reservoir and show the full range of human emotion. Being vulnerable, sad, giving, and quiet was much more powerful than walking around yelling and screaming.

Off stage it's also so much easier to sow division, hate, and tearing down others, than it is to build up, find solutions, and offer a helping hand. 

All of my "creative heroes," have made things: movies, books, songs, paintings, poems. I truly value the creatives. Sometimes my favorites will delve into the darkness, but just by going there it is an affirmation. It takes a certain creative fire and optimism to create anything.

So yeah, then there's politics, just another human manifestation of energy. There are the angry ones who want to tear down other folks, want to fan the flames of divsion, sow chaos, and discord. It's a tool and strategy that has worked in many realms, many countries, over many centuries.

Then there are those who are trying to fix and build things. Offer policies, try to build coalitions, offer a helping hand, trying to raise us all up. Bringing people together. Trying to build a more perfect union. Look to a better day. It's harder. Really difficult. Takes a special kind of human. Takes vision, compassion, empathy, and dedication to work. And it often falls short of the mark. Especially in a Democracy. Democracy is messy.  But really, these more optimistic ones are the folks who have our hearts and souls with them. For instance: Harris/Walz for America.

One Core Truth: Racist/Nazi...

The man who spews more lies than you can count; a river, a hurricane, a tsunami of lies every time he opens his mouth. BUT, there is one truth that always emerges, the one key truth in advertising. The Orange Toxic Clown is a dyed-in-the-wool racist, and in the late stages of his campaign, he has decided to go into FULL NAZI mode. Hah. At least at his core he is really being honest: Fulltime Racist/Nazi. 

I don't think that is America. I mean, it's a sub-current in our country, and the history of our country, but it is not the full story. Most of us know that we need to be open, inclusive, and supportive of a more progressive mode of politics and life. The darkness will not abide. I mean that's the optimist (see previous post), in me speaking, but in my core-being I do believe we will leave this shite behind and enter a new era of hope, good govermnent and repsonsibility. Harris/Walz for America.

Optimistic? Sure...

Yes. I am an optimist. No doubt. Ok. Maybe I do have doubts about pretty much everything. Maybe, probably, having doubts, hedging your bets is the intelligent way to go? There is no certainty, except maybe uncertainty. But when push comes to shove, I lean to the Light. What's the harm? Being optimistic, saying yes, and why not, and sure,  and being open, and opening doors and windows to new experiences. What if I'm wrong? Oh well. Keep plowing forward, right? Being pessimistic seems so nullifying. It seems like an abidication, a turning away from a full-fledged life. "Why get up?" Because, it could be a wonderful day...

Democracy Dies in the Boardroom.

Income Inequality is killing America. Yes. It seems the Billionaires are siding with and embodying Fascism. Bezos, Musk, and of course, Trump, the prime examples. The Washington Post Editorial Board was planning on endorsing Kamala Harris for President. The obvious choice for Democracy, Good Government & American Freedom. The owner, Bezos spiked it.  Of course, the Washington Post is a storied and gloried institution. It was their young reporters, Woodward & Bernstein, back in the 70's, who brought the Watergate Scandal to the world's attention. Stunning capitulation to the specter of Fascism in USA.  A non-endorsement is an abdication to the Bully. The $ are siding with the $ against Democracy.  What's the WaPo motto: Democracy Dies in Darkenss? No. Democracy Dies in Cowardice & the Board Room. Of course, I am an Optimist.  I mean, shite, what's the alternative? So, actually this isn't the death knell for our Democracy, no, it's a death knell for the Washington Post. The billionaires are badly out-numbered. They are not necessarily good or smart people. They just happen to have lots of accumulated wealth. Their loyalty is only to $. We will outvote them. Harris/Walz for America.

The Trickiness of Human...

One of my go-to themes: Human Beings are Tricky. It's a good one, validated every day. I mean, being human myself, I too embody this essential trickiness. You know the "pot calling the kettle black."

Throw in youth, or hormones, or drugs, or excessive amounts, or alternatively steep lack of $, and all kinds of mischief and mayhem can occur. Humans get weird super-easy. Too much time on their hands, too much of everything, or not enough of everything, can easily twist and twerk a psyche.

We are the species that has a very wide spectrum of traits. Think of the worst acts imaginable: Human. Think of the finest acts imaginable: Human. It's truly our cross. We are all crucified on the tree of deep contradiction and trickiness. Yes, indeed.

The Glorious Thing...

We ran thru songs with an incredible musician last night. Getting ready for a big show next week. Just three of us, acoustic guitar, double-bass and percussion. Two voices, male & female. Our own original compositions. Our own hard-earned truths embodied in lyrics and music. It was intense. Focused. Gratifying. It is truly the good work. Pure creative pursuit. It is the thing we love to do more than anything else. Soul-enriching for sure. We have created a large body of work. Getting it out into world is a whole nother thing. But the process, the creating, the melding different vibrations and energies together in a room. That's the glorious thing. 

I Took It Down...

I took it down...

Yesterday morning, walking down the sidewalk with a furry, four-legged beast. We noticed a Trump/Vance sign on the parkway fronting a massive lakefront mansion. It was an ugly, uncommon sight. I didn't think twice, I walked up to it and took it down. I looked up, the owner of the mansion came running towards me. Uh-oh. Funny. He smiled and thanked me. He told me that someone must have put the sign up as a joke. He was just about to leave town on vacation. He picked up the sign and tore it in half. "I'd never vote for or support that disgrace of human being." Hah. That's my hood. Happily alive in a progressive, blue-bubble.

It Felt SO GOOD!!!

Early voting commenced in our little, blue-bubble neighborhood yesterday. A gloriously sunny, blue-sky day. We gathered our wits together and biked across town to the Civic Center. The bike ride alone was a fabulous adventure. The streets were alive with activity, sunbeams glancing off every window. The lake was blue & shimmering. The trees and grasses looked happy. We just couldn't wait to cast our votes for Harris/Walz, and for Democrats up and down the ballot. We weren't the only ones chomping at the bit to do our very important duty as full-fledged members of USA. The voting place was jumping. Folks were streaming in from all directions. Long lines. Lots of smiles. It did feel like a celebration. There were no Trump signs, no Republican signs either. Anyway, it felt so damn good to vote for Kamala and Tim. After we submitted our ballots, a flood of positive energy flowed through our bodies. There was an electric zap of enthusiasm emanating from the crowd. Funny. One very old, wizened, scarecrow man, an old codger, came walking down the hall after voting, he wore a beat up old baseball cap. The words on the cap: "I like Ike." Ha. Thinking he probably didn't vote for the Dems, one man against the crowd, but who knows?! Ike and his brand of politics, is many decades, many felonies, and  public outrages from the toxic, orange, cess-pool of a candidate that is running this time around. A stark choice. No doubt.

Knowing & Not Knowing...

Ask someone something knowing there is no right answer, because it's something in the Future, and the Future is unwrttien, well, what do you get? Whatever that someone says will be their fears, their worries, their doubts, their hopes, their blind optimism, their off the wall guesses, their ignorance (or intelligence), their total or not so total unknowingness. So, you know, it's a bit of a futile exercise when it comes to what's actually gonna happen in the Future, but it is a very fruitful exercise if you want to know what's going on in that particular someone's internal world.

The Junk Phase of the Campaign...

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. I mean, often that is the case. Turns out lots of the trippiest fiction is directly inspired by true events. It does feel like the culture has titled off the edges. Fiction can't keep up with the crazy tilt of our lives on the planet. It's seems like not only is everything getting hotter, this little ball of confusion seems to be spinning faster too. 

What of theToxic Clown? Let's just say, he is now beyond the pale, beyond parody.  I do think his brain is total, toxic, mush. 

Yesterday he was in Pennsylvania, and he spent the first 10 minutes of his "closing speech," talking about the old golfer, Arnold Palmer, and the size of Palmer's penis. Supposedly a prodigious appendage. Like you really wanted to know that, right?! Really. I mean, you can't make this shit up. And what of the MAGA cult? They just lapped it up, like happy little puppies.

Weird? No, weird doesn't quite capture the gob-smacking idiocy, and the total crazy. How is it that this man is a serious candidate for President. I mean, WTF?!

The Trumpets are Sounding!

The Trumpets are sounding. Too old, even his team now says he's exhausted.  Too brain-addled.  Too corrupt. Too racist. Too ignorant. Too toxic. Too Facist. Too wrong for America.

Popular/Unpopular...

Ha. It's weird. Life often comes down to a popularity contest. I hate that. I often gravitate to the unpopular. In music, movies, culture I usually like to swim against the current. I think of myself as an unconventional person.

Still, it turns out sometimes popular also happens to be good, prime example The Beatles; wildly commerical & popular but supremely creative, innovative, sometimes almost avant garde.

But, you know, often popular is putrid, stupid shit, for instance I think of fast food. Cheap food. Empty calories. Folks eating themselves to fat city, chubby and diabetic. Yikes. And all the beef on the hoof helping contribute to climate catastrophe. A killing trend.

Politics too seems to be a popularity contest.  Democracy is good.  Everyone is free to participate. The theory: if everyone votes rationally, with intelligence, and in their own best interests you get rule by the majority and supposedly the policies and laws and the politicians should be popular and representative of the popular will for the good of the people. Nice idea. Not always the way it works out. You know, people are tricky. Being unconventional, I hope and silently pray that my choices are the popular choices too. Puts me in a weird mind-frame. At odds with myself.

Light-Bulbs Finally Going On...

 I couldn't have said it any better than these Republican voters in Georgia...

Republican voters in deep red Georgia say they are voting for Kamala Harris: “I won't vote for Donald Trump. Last time you saw him talking did you watch his lips? Were they moving? He's lying. [January 6] should have been a disqualifier. He's anti-American. He's trying to overthrow our government”

Amen Brothers & Sisters. As they say, "The truth will set you free." It seems light-bulbs are finally going on across the land. It a good thing to see. Did anyone say, 'Welcome Madam President?"

The Teeming Millions Flock to the Shite...

One of the most confounding questions floating in the air: "Why can't they see what I see?" We find ourselves surprised that so many of our fellow Humans Beings choose to see & to live in such a different world. The great song-writer, Paul Simon wrote that: "A man hears what wants to hear, and disregards the rest." 

Maybe that explains it. 

Psychologists talk about "confirmation bias" - "people’s tendency to process information by looking for, or interpreting, information that is consistent with their existing beliefs."

Right. The simple answer, they just want to see and believe what they want to see and believe. Damn the facts, the truth, the evidence from their senses five. It's a deeply ignorant, childish & corrosive way to live, but many, many adults seem to fiercely cling to that attitude. How many refused to get the Covid vax and died during the pandemic? How many follow & voted for the MAGA King even though he is an obvious conman and a supremely corrupt, authoritarian, blithering idiot?

I think the remedy is a bit of humility. Plus the desire and ability to learn from reality. Reality is a hard teacher, but all the lessons are good, true, real. Really. Sure it's a hall of mirrors, but there are moments of clarity and clear-thinking and seeing. Know that you live in the Cloud of Unknowing. That's a start. Best to keep your "beliefs," simple, open-minded, and subject to revision. What to believe in? How about a better day? Love? Compassion?

I swear I saw this quote on the cover Mad Magazine back in the 70's, but my Google search came up with this photo instead...

Right. Advertising. Propaganda. The Big Lie. The Right Wing in America has been selling a shit sandwich for decades. Think Rush Limbaugh, Fox News, Tucker Carlson, the whole subterranean B.S. ecosystem. Built on racism, fear, misogyny, xenophobia, white supremacy. Yikes.  Folks flock to this shit like flies. They so much want to believe in their right wing, wanna be facist, shit sandwich. They will take a big bite and tell you it tastes great. 

Amazing. Sure they are wrong. No doubt. A mind is a terrible thing to waste. Shite!

The Meltdown is Coming...

Ok. I am not one for predictions. Really. It's a fool's game. Best to see what's happening before your nose, and dealing with it as it is all transpiring in the moment to moment. But I do have a bold hunch.  Which I am happy to float this a.m. You know, feeling my oats, slept well, the coffee is fabulous, and I am blasting Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here"  (1975), at max volume in a fabulous mansion on the lake. So yeah, feeling pretty good. My bold hunch? The Facist Toxic Clown running for President is getting close to the "spontaneous combustion" phase of the campaign. I do think a very public meltdown is coming and it will be pretty magnificent and entertaining. Now, of course, his cult won't care, they will still vote for him no matter what, I mean, even if he dissolved into a pool of very ghoulish-looking, toxic liquid on stage, it wouldn't matter to the cultists.  But I do think the cult is shrinking on the margins, and that's important. For sure, the rest of us will turn to rationality, good cheer & good government. Pretty sure on that one. Harris/Walz for the win. Of course.

Uncertainty is OK...

Sure. What can go wrong? Well, pretty much everything. I think knowing that deep in your bones is a sign of intelligence. Does it come from experience, or is it built into our DNA? Who knows? Let's get the Scientists on the case. It's the kind of question that leads one to "I just don't rightly know." And that's ok.

This never-ending uncertainty, being the perpetual "doubting Thomas," is a sign of a troubled, anxious, unsatisfied mind. And that's ok. It's a mind-set closer to the reality of things. Sure that might mean you are often unsure, tentative, cautious, questioning, worried, maybe even panicky, sometimes lost, completely at sea, but you know, "thems the breaks."

Those other folks with all the answers, their unshakable beliefs, those so sure about everything and everyone, happy and super-motivated to impose their worldviews on you, and everyone else too, are living in some blindly-stupid, ego-saturated, power-trip, fantasy-land. They fiercely believe they know the truth, and only their truth. You know, for instance their God and only their God. It's a powerful thing. And can lead to so much mischief and tragedy. For instance they come up with crackpot ideas about a bully and a strongman who is gonna fix everything. Check out the History books for how that idea turns out. Those self-righteous, power-mad folks who want to impose their will on the world, well, that dangerous, soul-killing shite inevitably leads to death-camps, and suicides in bunkers. Fuck that Authoritarian B.S. 

We live in a Universe of Uncertainty. It's daunting, challenging, frustrating, disappointing, but also exciting. You know, the "Sea of Possibilities." Pretty much anything can, and probably will, happen. What happens? The good, the bad, the ugly. Life. Real Life. And yes, that's ok...

Alienated...

Yes. We live in our bodies. We also live in the Socio-Political-Cultural Slipstream. You know, just a Human Being living within the grand, teeming, over-stuffed, Multi-Billion member strong Tribe of Human Beings. Sometimes it's a great experience, sometimes not so great. Lately there is some major dissonance & chaos swirling around in this particular Human Being. I am picking up some disturbing signals. Makes me want to opt-out. I do not like the tenor of my times. I wonder: Who the fuck are these people? How have they all gotten so unhinged from reality? Why are so many of us bitter, angry, ignorant, racist, entitled, full of shit? And how is it so many Humans revel in these retrograde tendencies, and use them as  organizing principles? Nazis, Nihilists, Death-seekers, Righteous Assholes, Fundamentalists,  Sociopaths, Psychos, Egotists, Paraniod Schizophrenics, Crazed Conspiracists, No-Nothings, MAGA Freaks, etc. Yeah, I know a loaded question. I am in it, not really wanting to be in it. Whatever flaws I see are most likely reflected in me too. Still I try to overcome my own flawed thinking and feelings. It's an on-going project. I am of it, and trying to not be of it, at the same time. It's a weird condition to be in. Alienated from the Human Race. Alienated from my self too. What's the remedy? I don't know. Maybe try to find a bit of space, head-space; listen to some good music, pick up my guitar, strum madly. Stage a little mini-rebellion. I think of Melville's Bartelby: "I prefer not to." Silence too, try to swim towards some kind of Inner Light. Yeah, that seems like it might be a helpful way forward.

Nazi/Facist Rhetoric...

I am not going to quote the Man, the words are too harrowing, demeaning, disgusting, and over the top terrible. You know, the Toxic Clown now running for President as the "Republican," is doubling, tripling, & quadrupling down on the Nazi/Facist rhetoric. 

He has gone all-in for Full Metal Jacket Nazi. Sure, his speeches are filled with madness, idiocy, made-up b.s. confused, and confusing, word-salad, but then, he goes off on clearly Hitlerian-inspired garbage.

Yikes. Not sure if it's a winning strategy, but it's certainly a toxic-stew of racist, demeaning, dehumanizing, shite. Not fit for human consumption. I wonder what kind of country we want to be and to live in? I hope my fellow citizens will roundly & soundly reject this racist, inhumane, unhinged HATE. I suppose we shall soon find out.

Describing the World As It Is...

This excerpt from Ryan J. Reilly, author of The Sedition Hunters: How January 6th Broke the Justice System really captures the present state of crisis in the homeland...

The dangerous ones to the Fools and MAGAs are those people "who must attend to and describe the world as it is." That should be all of us. Let the Reality Seekers speak up, and unite, for a better day and a better world. Vote Harris/Walz. Vote for Reality! Let's try to all live in the real world with eyes, hearts, and arms wide open. It's a better, more soulful, more intelligent & responsible way to live.

A Doubling...

I often think of Dylan's song "Watching the River Flow." (1971). 

You know, that idea that you are on the "bank of sand," just observing,  always watching, the flow of Life. But that's not really how it is...

Turns out you are  simulaneously on the bank of sand and smack dab in the river too. You are watching the flow of Life, but you are also always flowing  in that river of Life at the same time.

It's an odd thing. A doubling: Watching & Experiencing. And Life just goes on...

No Time for Judging...

Not judging it. Life, I mean. It really doesn't matter, one way or the other, you know, the judging. Experiencing it, being in it, navigating, floating, riding, dealing with it, yes, that's the thing. Life gives you everything: what you want, what you don't want, the surprises, the annoyances, the beauty, the not so beautiful. Validating and invalidating moment to moment. No time for judging. It's Life,  baby, be here now...

Daylight...

 Daylight. We live for it.

Living in the Real...

Choosing to live in the Analog/Real world. Yes. Kind of going against the grain. Being real. Living in the real. Sure, reality is a hard teacher. You can't finesse the real. You just have to deal with it. There is the good, the bad, the ugly. Comedy & Tragedy. You get full spectrum of Life. It's worth it.

A Surprising Insight...

We unveiled a new song yesterday. Newly hatched. It's a fresh little beast. We had assembled our band in our rehearsal room. The band is an amazing collection of musicians who have acclimated to our ways of creation and destruction. They have the chops, the musical education, the long history of playing on stages in many different musical modes. We are always a bit intimidated by the musical alchemy of these folks. We ran thru the song a couple times, lots of parts, "movements," and tricky time-changes. We know, from experience, these folks can track with complex pieces. Which is so liberating. Often we start with a flimsy little construction that morphs into a significant piece of music. It's a very grafitying process. One of the players said something so perfect: "This isn't a song, it's a 3 act play." Yes, and it does reflect where my songwriting partner and I started in our long & winding creative journey. Our band was birthed out of a very nebulous, marginal theater company. So maybe there's a bit of continuity there? That was a nice, surprising, little blast of insight.

Drawing Imaginary Lines...

 "Drawing hard lines in the sand, always bites you in the ass."

A line from a good friend of mine. It's true. The Universe cares not one whit about your hard lines, whether they be in the the sand, the dirt, your head, or the imaginary space in front of you. Sure, in an emotional moment you may take a stand, draw lines, tell the world, and everyone in it, that you aren't crossing that line ever again.

But, you know, it's just vanity. You can draw lines all you want, you can tie yourself in knots, but all you really are doing is handicapping yourself. Closing doors and windows. 

Best way forward? Improvise. Be flexible. Be changeable. Try things. Let shit go. Float like a Butterfly. Sting like a Bee. Flow with the Tao. Be like Water. Transparent. Giving. Let it all come down. Be alive, aware, awake. Once the emotion drains away there is a bit of cold Clarity. "You are not your past."  Today is not Yesterday. You are alive now.  Live. Choose wisely Grasshopper.

The Heads Won...

That pungent, fragrant aroma, you know, from that really superb, primo-shit, floating up from every park bench, every open-windowed passing car, every avenue, every back-yard cookout, and every shabby alley, in our rocking and rolling neighborhood, reminds me of those years, long ago when young men and woman used to get busted, and hauled off to jail, for burning that wacky weed. What to say about these free and easy stoner days? Cheech and Chong won! And Peter Tosh, Willie Nelson and Bob Marley too, winners! "Legalize it, don't criticize it!" - Peter Tosh. Exactly. Kind of amazing. Some folks I know, victims of the War on Drugs, folks whose lives were shattered by Nixon's pernicious war, and the anti-pot hysteria, now long gone, would have been stunned and amazed by the ubiquitious nature of our current state of affairs. Folks from all walks of life, grabbing onto joints with both hands like a life-line, a new smokey utopia. Even the "straights" are stoners now. You know, what the fuck, all that trauma & drama, for what?! "Dave's not here, man."

He Was Desperate, He Committed Crimes to Cling To Power...

Some of Special Prosecutor Jack Smith's case against Trump's failed bid to hang onto power in 2020 was revealed in a filing yesterday. The narrative, & the evidence. is laid out in black & white. It is a long time coming. 

Some of the names and testimony are redacted, but a lot of it isn't. What does it tell us? Trump knew he lost the election, but he didn't care, he was desperate to cling to power.  And willing to commit crimes to do it. Jack Smith has the details, the receipts, the testimony. Trump doesn't have immunity for these acts, they were not part of his official duties. These were private acts of a desperate flailing scoundrel! 

The truth is the truth. What happened actually did happen. We saw much of it on TV. We heard about it during the Congressional January 6th Hearings. Finally it's all laid out in an damning indictment.

As Jack Smith tells it:  "Donald Trump laid the groundwork to try to overturn the 2020 election even before he lost, knowingly pushed false claims of voter fraud and “resorted to crimes” in his failed bid to cling to power, according to a newly unsealed court filing from prosecutors that offers new evidence from the landmark criminal case against the former president."

Of course, this alone should disqualify the man from running for office ever again. He truly is a disgrace & a threat to Democracy. It is up to the Voters to end this terrible chapter in American History. And then, let Jack Smith get to the task of proving his case.

Wall of Confusion...

Funny. I took on a "technical" opportunity for $. Be careful at the things you say "yes" to. I am definitely a bit out of my comfort zone, thinking that I could handle it. Turns out I stepped into a puddle, to find that it was really an ocean. I quickly discovered I really didn't know as much about the topic as I initially believed. Bam! Smack dab into a very sturdy, unforgiving wall of confusion.

Sent me reeling. I questioned my intelligence, competance, and state of equilibrium. I spent a long sleepless night fumbling, and tumbling, rocking and reeling.

What to do? I went back to basics. First I went with the premise: I know nothing. That was a bit humbling, but basically true, and a way of touching bottom and starting to work upward. I retraced my steps, went back to the documentation. Going one line at a time. I did a bit of searching, Googling, trying to get myself "smart." Grasping at straws in the wind.

This morning, after a very long, dead-man's sleep, I feel much better. Actually, quite refreshed. Maybe I haven't solved the problem yet, and I have no idea if I will come to a successful outcome, but now I know the contours of the task at hand. I am a bit more comfortable, and slightly more knowlgeable. Baby steps.

Knowing & Not Knowing...

Often you find out you don't know what you do know. Hilarity can follow. Or supreme annoyance. Or long chases down long & winding rabbit holes, with flashes of cotton-tails dancing out of reach in the distance. When all is said and done, there is just emptiness, dust and exhaustion. Nothing quite as unsatisfying as coming up hands-empty after a long, arduous road of seeking. 

Humans Always Reveal Themselves...

Live with dogs long enough and you find that they are super-good at reading people. Sure, most of them want to be your friend. They pay super-fucking close attention to every little detail of human behavior. They smell you, watch you, observe your actions. They can read you like a book. If your dog is acting strangely around someone that you, and they, encounter: be on guard. Some Humans just don't smell right.

I think I have gotten so much better at reading people myself. It's just the result of spending long days in the company of a wide variety of dogs. Something has been passed onto me by osmosis & example. 

Who knows?! Maybe I'm hallucinating, but I believe that my sense of smell has increased, it's now one of my strongest, most finely-honed, well-developed senses. I also seem to be looking thru the eyes of dogs. I see people in detail. All the unspoken signals seem so obvious & loud and clear. Humanity; I seem to be in it, but not of it. I have assumed some uncanny, canine-like qualities. I have tuned in to the lives of dogs, just as they have tuned into me.

Funny. People are easy to read. They are transparent. They always tell you who and what they are. All you have to do is pay attention. And try not to get distracted by the words they use. Observe with a dog-like determination. Most Human Beings are wearing a mask. A mask of subtle deception.

I have befriended and gained the trust of many troubled dogs; dogs suffering from PTSD; manhandled and terrozied by deeply troubled humans. I have also encountered a few (three) dogs over the last decade or so who wanted nothing to do with me.  I didn't take it personal. They were troubled dogs who bonded-deeply with their owners, and they were suspicious of every other living Hunan on the planet. They were super-viscious and agressive. Did I show a bit of fear? Maybe.  And well, who knows?! Maybe they were hostile to much of Humanity for good & excellent reasons? Once bitten, twice shy.

If you pay attention, look close enough, you can see all the human types on display: the sick ones, the ones hiding something, the bitter ones, the supremely sad ones, the miserable ones, the quietly murderous ones, the ones that would leave you bleeding in an alley gasping for air. Oh yes, there are the joyous ones too, the giving ones, the deeply loving souls. You know, you see, and read, the full range & spectrum of Humanity. It's important for survival to see in full-on living color. Be dogged in your attention and approach.

Web of Disillusioning...

You don't expect the unexpected. And when the unexpected (especially when the unexpected is disagreeable, and/or offensive), slaps you upside the head it's more than a wakeup call. It's an opening, a tear in the fabric of your understanding of the Universe. You may find yourself thinking: "If I was wrong about this one thing, maybe I'm wrong about everything?"

Existential Crisis, writ large, plain & simple. 

If the unexpected is agreeable, well, you often see it as a "gift" from the Universe. Feelings of joy and good cheer flow thru you. But it's the offensive kind of unexpected that seems to have a more profound and lasting impact.

It can send you down the rabbit-hole of doubt & uncertainty. You get caught up in the Web of Disillusioning. Yikes. What's the way forward? Well, it's Forward. One step at a time. You start a rebuild, a re-think. You re-formulate, and come up with some new dance steps.

Best response? Fuck it. Carry on my Wayward Son. Put on new shoes and Let's dance...

To Know...

Questions: Why do we read great novels, plays, non-fiction books? Why do we watch great films?

Possible answer: To know who you are, to know where you are, to understand your feelings, your culture; to find clues about what's happening, and what it all means.

So, you know, weird shit happens, and you can say: "This is all so Shakespearean." Or, "I feel like I'm stuck in a Beckett play." Or, "Is this a David Lynch movie?" You think of George Orwell, Hunter S. Thompson, William Gibson, Stanely Kubrick, William Burroughs, Harold Pinter, PT Anderson, Kurt Vonnegut and well, you try to puzzle it all out.

Seeking...

It is sort of funny. I'm just a regular guy. A Human Being walking & talking, navigating the days. Trying to get along, go along. Dreaming up a few big dreams, nothing too earth-shaking, you know mainly personal actualization kind of dreams; living a life as a creative, musical, and improvisational human being. I am doing my best to be a smart, careful, caring, consciously alive, aware, awake human being.

EVERY DAMN MORNING I wake up and I scan the headlines, I delve into the latest news, I tune into the radio-waves, I seek information, opinions, and insights from my fellow Humans. What am I seeking?! A chimera, a ghost, a shimmering apparition, a golden unicorn. Really, I suppose I am always on the hunt for Signs Of Intelligent Life On The Planet. 

The funny part?! It seems to be a very rare thing indeed. Really. I mean, surprisingly, ridiculously, rare. Signs of major HUMAN STUPIDITY seem to be on the rise and sprouting up everywhere. This regular guy knows he isn't the smartest person in the world, but often he is amazed at all the prominent, successful, newsworthy folks around him who seem to be deeply-corrupt, supremely-freaking, seriously-blithering, stone-cold, idiots. Wild.

Denial = Double-Edged Sword.

Oh yeah. You are the candle, (see previous post) and there are some hard truths you must contend with every day (see two previous posts ago) but, it's also true we are armed with mighty powers of deep denial. Another double-edged sword. You can decide you just don't want to know what you know. I mean, you minimize and power thru. Sometimes this a winning strategy. Defy the odds, defy the naysayers, hang in there and go for it. But then, there are limits to that strategy too. Finally you come up against the brick wall, and slamming your head against that wall is not advisable. It's up to you. How far will you push that strategy of denial? You get to decide, and then have to live with the consequences. Choose wisely, Grasshopper. It's a complicated Universe out there.

The Candle...

Burning the candle at both ends. It's that kind life for many of us. I think of the candle as our bodies, and the flame as the energy, or life-force that burns thru us. I think of William Blake's "Energy is Eternal Delight." Where does the energy come from, where does it go?

My last few days have been filled with furious activity. Activity adding up to not too much. I flash on Macbeth's "Sound & Fury signifying nothing." Although that seems a bit harsh. After all, it is my life. So maybe amend it to "Sound & Fury signifying a little bit of something." Right on.

Hard Teachers...

Untethered from Reality.

Why? Well, maybe it is understandable,

Reality, a "reality based community," a "facts-based worldview" these approaches force a Human Being to come terms with hard truths. If you live with facts, with reality, you have to deal with the deal. Even if the deal is a raw deal. You are forced to face up to the music, even if, or even, especially if, the music is raw, gnarly, inconvenient, not what you really want to hear; dissonant, noisy, and counter to your hopes and dreams. Facts and reality are hard teachers, they are teachers that encourage you to always be open to a re-think. Sometimes you have to adjust, accept limits, be creative, willing to adjust your life, your thoughts, your actions. Once in awhile, you get that sense that "everything you know is wrong."  And that is ok. Lately, you often watch the madness of the herd, you watch in amazement that your fellow Human Beings are willing to turn away from facts and reality to embrace the crazy. That is such an ignorant, soul-killing, deluded, insane way to live. You realize that facts and reality are humbling. Best to cultivate being humble. To stick to a determined humility. Feet on the ground, clear-eyed and clear-headed. As that great r&r sage and dancing fool Mick Jagger once wrote: 

"No, you can't always get what you want

You can't always get what you want

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometime

You'll find

You get what you need"

A Sunday Songwriting Session.

Songwriting session yesterday afternoon. These can be intense. We both bring something to the session. My partner brings the poetic words, a certain cadence or rythmn, and a beauftiful voice. She also brings her artistic sensibility: she knows what works, what's clunky, and what flows.

I bring the riffs, the little chord sequences, the picking technique. I was playing a borrowed 50 years old Martin guitar. So beautifully resonant, and easy to play. 

We have a little digital recorder that we use to record demos. The trick is to put words and music together, effortlessly. Finding the perfect match. Perfection is just an ideal in our heads, but we know when the magic descends. 

Sometimes, usually accidentally, it all comes together. Then we try to recreate that moment. The trick is to recreate the unconscious moment, consciously.  Not that easy. You can't try too hard, you have to let it happen. It's kind of a strange thing, getting back to something that just happened seemingly by itself.

We didn't quite get there. We got close. We recorded the basic song.  We now have all the parts, now it's the process of playing them and making those changes flow effortlessly. You know, we now have to practice to get to the point where it's just all there, totally second nature, muscle memory, embedded in our DNA.

We moved one sequence of words and chords from the middle of the song to the beginning, and that seemed all the difference, it seemed to make it all work quite exquistitely. Suddenly there was a flow and a build. We were so close.  We ran thru the song a couple times and just didn't quite get there. We will. We wrapped up the session a little frustrated. Close but not quite there. We will get together again soon and see if we can catch that lovely little butterfly without damaging it. Still, we can see it, flitting and fluttering before our eyes, just out of reach. Songwriting it's a challenging, fabulous, wondrous, thing. 

Simple Does It...

Doing everything you have to do, and doing those things the best that you can. Hopefully, you occupy your time wisely. Find the things you love to do, and do them with love and all of your focus and intention: Heart, Head, Spirit aligned. Simple. 

A Bit Loopy...

Ha. Funny. My little Garage/Punk, Punk/Garage band played a fiery set last night at a classic Chicago bar on Division St. I didn't break any strings, but my amp staring making weird sounds late in our set. Is that progress? I had my little tube amp cranked to the max, just a notch below smoking. It sounded pretty epic, and then well, it started to act up, it got a bit loopy. It was crackling and distorting, it sounded like a blown speaker, or a dying tube.

Maybe that place is haunted? Ghosts?

There is an air of mystery and fucked-up-ness at the venue. It's been around for 70 years, supposedly blues legend Buddy Guy played there and the great Chicago author Nelson Algren used to prop himself on the bar,  maybe worrying over a line, a paragragh, or a woman?  Strange things always happen to me there. One time, my boots got stuck the the carpet on stage, mid-set, maybe too much duct tape, or some mildly malevolent force? It was the oddest feeling in the world, stuck to the stage. I felt like I was melting into the vortex of hell.

I have to laugh. I am always at war with my gear. So yeah, my amp seemed to be sputtering, but we carried on, it just added a bit more color to the sound. This morning I tested out the amp, opened up it, checked out the tubes, took them out, put them back in, played along with a few of my favorite records.  The speaker, the tubes,  who knows?  Maybe operater error? All seems fine now.  Strange. A bit of a mystery there. Sound-Gremlins. Abusing musical equipment for fame and fortune.  It's a pretty cool way to go. Rock the Casbah!

Believing in the Good...

Surfing news of the day. Yikes. Let's just say the news is off the charts, over the cliff, totally crazy. Local, global, close to home, far from home, no matter. Kooky. Weird. Bizarre.

You wonder to yourself: "Has it always been this crazy?"  You know the life of Human Beings, and all the things they do and believe? 

Yes. Maybe so. Turns out we, collectively are the "problem," and we can be the "solution." We are the double-edged sword. We are truly the tricky, complicated, often quite contradictory, and self-sabotaging monkeys. We think we are the smart species, but you know, maybe not all that smart.

We can do amazing, positive things, but only if we roll our sleeves up and do the good work together. I know, not easy, some days that sounds very far-fetched. It seems we are always in a battle between the good, the bad, the indifferent, the ugly, the beautiful. But I think there is a long story of acheivement: good feeling, positive vibes, good acts, smart politics, progressive outcomes.

We will survive if we believe in the power of the good.  We make this world a better place if we believe in it, and work towards it. Positive. Progressive. Love. Always.

"Surrender Dorothy!"

Back to the power of no. We gladly took on a task, something we've done successfully in the past. We had meetings, we made plans, we started the work, and then we came up against a brick wall. The wall of unknowing. The hard limits of our own competency. We didn't know what we didn't know, and what we thought was going to be a smooth process turned out to be a hard-stop, dead-end. We spent two days pounding against that looming wall and ended up with a headache. One man's simple, intuitive task, can be a total hall of mirrors for another. The dread of failure rose up from deep inside and enveloped us like a black cloud of bad luck and deep futility. The experience stirred up all past experiences of failure and futility. A long, gnarly string of events over many years. We dreaded having to throw in the towel, to make the call, but finally we worked up the gumption to do it. We had to admit defeat, failure, complete futility. It seemed so personal.  We realized we were not as competant, capable and talented as we thought. A hard-earned admission. Afterwards it was like the cloud evaporated and a swift golden light engulfed us. Liberation. Salvation. A deep cleanse, a certain clearing. It was  a reckoning, a realization of our limits. It was totally humbling. Sort of embarrassing, but really there was no way of bluffing thru, no pretending. It finally did seem so right, and so true to admit total defeat. You know, "Surrender Dorothy!" This morning bathing in the glow of a sweet surrender. Relief. 

Excitable & Impressionable...

Closer to home...

I realize I am quite the excitable & impressionable boy. Always have been. So all this meditating, and determined chilling out is just a life-long pursuit of compensating for my usual, changeable, volatile nature. I am always searching for an agreeable steady-state. Trying live a life of healthy balance. But it's always a battle, and does not come easily. I often fail.

When I play music I immediately ignite. As a performer I run hot. As a guitar player I am  bit unruly, wild, unkempt, I break strings with an uncommon frequency, I mean, electric, acoustic, it doesn't matter, I am "the destroyer of strings." It can be annoying. But at the same time, it's what makes me a unique player. My guitar style is the engine for two quite distinctive bands. All the songs start with my simple, un-schooled, approach on guitar. Also, as a result of my string-breaking, I am also really good, and quite fast  at restringing a guitar. Practice makes perfect.

Lately I discovered that my flip-phone's (yes, I still use a flip-phone), operating system is named, KAOS. Ha. My companion laughed at that one. "Of course your operating system is KAOS. No kidding!" And I have a new favorite coffee brew: "Danger Zone." Yes. I mean, fuck it, why not? Live with heart, soul, and honesty, damn the torpedoes.

The Conductor of the Shit-Show...

Trump is the conductor of the Shit-show. His thing is to fling shit in all directions. If he gets called on it, he doubles-down, triples-down, quadruples-down. Everyone within his orbit gets soiled & slimed. It's just an awesome display of superior shit-slinging. Out of bounds outrageous.

The media runs with it. The Republican Party just goes along with it. Some are silent, some join in. It's a major disservice to our Democracy. Trump has found his own "mini-me" in his VP choice Vance. Vance is doing his best to fling shit too. His whole manner and approach is quite vomit-inducing too. You couldn't invent a better one-two-punch of shit & vomit.

I do think finally, finally, finally most of the Country is really tired of the Shit-show. Let those fools fling their shit, we don't have to play along. Giving them any of our attention immediately lowers one's IQ.

What's the alternative? Joy. Intelligence. Good politics. Competence. Decency. Common-Sense. Compassion. Empathy. Yes. Of course. Harris/Walz!

Playing in the Street...

We were back to playing in the street yesterday. There is something so gratifying & rewarding about playing music with our band so close to home, smack dab in the middle of our own neighborhood, surrounded by lots of friends and familiar faces. We are so lucky to know some truly wonderful folks.

We put the bill together, hustled our gear down the street, did the setup and takedown; you know the whole package deal. It's a bit of a circus. "Hey kids, let's put on a show."  It just happens that the street is bounded by the the train-line one side, and looming buildings on the other, which makes for a sonically resonant soundscape.

Lars Von Keist & Scott Free opened the show with a fantastic, dynamic duo set. Heartfelt originals played with fire and passion. Quite thrilling to see & hear two unique souls giving it their all.

whitewolfsonicprincess followed with a full set, old tunes & new tunes brought to life with two special guests, Rich Poston on guitar and Eli Wilson on sax. We felt good about our set. The mix was great. When it sounds good to us, it's easier to find that transcendence in performing. Afterwards smiles all around.

Then it was The Leisure Committe led by Eli Wilson on a classic, legendary, Mark 6 saxophone. A great, super-fun quartet. All great players. How to describe the music? Chill, Space-Age, Lounge Jazz. Great originals and a quirky-cool cover of Spy Vs. Spy. Perfect way to end the show. 

It was good one. That street has a bit of magic in the shadow of the fabulous La Principal restuarant. A thriving little scene. Yes, the Custer Street Oasis. Pretty cool, where the cool cats congregate.

The Hell of Being Him.

If you believe in Hell, (I don't, although in some cases it might come in handy), there is a special place in Hell for Racists, Nazis, "Neo-Nazis," you know folks who like to stir up the Hate and the Division; those twisted and broken people who actually want to attack, deport and persecute other people. Or those who use Hate and Division try to secure positions of power. It's ugly, dastardly, and so un-American.

So yeah, the Bully and his VP pick are stirring up the Hate & dog whistling to the Neo-Nazis.

This is pathetic and terrible. Hard  to believe that the two leading figures of one of the major political parties in America are now trying to incite violence in a small town in Ohio.

The Bully was humiliated in the Presidential debate, so now he doubles-down on Hate. You know, I don't believe in Hell, as a place, as another realm below, but I do believe in the Hell of a Sick & Twisted Mind. That is where the Bully resides: the Hell of Hatred; a Sad, Twisted, Small Mind. The Toxic, Racist Clown & Bully is already in Hell. The Hell of Being Him.

You do not want to be that man. He is in flames now, and he will burn those around him too. We can do so much better: Vote Harris/Walz...

The St. Francis of Assisi Method for Living With Other Beings...

I was in a conversation and this sentence came up: "I wish I was as good as he is at disciplining his dog."  Yikes. That made the hair on my neck stand up.

The whole concept of "disciplining a dog" creeps me out. I have lived with dogs all my life. I am not saying I am an expert, but I have lots of hands on experience (both as an amateur & professional) living & hanging with many breeds, types, sizes, personalities of dogs. 

What is my approach? Think of it as the St. Francis of Assisi Method. Caretaker & Friend to the Dog World. Ha. Not saying I am Saint-like, but I try to walk the walk of Grace, Kindness, Encouragement. Leaning to nurturing, loving, friendly.

How to relate to dogs? Honestly, carefully, consistently. Lots of smiles, terms of endearment. You know, lead by example? Walk and talk with a quiet confidence. 

Very rarely do I raise my voice. Maybe once in awhile a firm "no," or a tug on the leash. That's pretty much it. Pretty gentle. Instead, I am always armed with a kind word and a treat at the ready. I try to tune into my dog-buddies. I think they tune-into me too. 

I do know a few dogs who like to rough-house a bit; they like to wrestle and play. You can play being the "big-dog" with them, and they will love you for it. It can fun and entertaining.

Turns out if you give a dog your best, they will return it. Friend for life. No doubt. There have been a few exceptions over the years. I have had one or two dogs who took one look at me, and no way, no how, were we going to develop a relationship. Gnarly, agressive, violent. Their history, their trauma, their choice. You know, you have to "listen" to the dog. Sometimes all it takes is one look and you and they "know."

Some dogs have been thru such deep trauma, they may be unreachable. Or you know a long-term project? Not my thing. I find that the "problem" dogs usually have "problem" owners. A sticky wicket.

A couple days ago, my partner and were sitting under a tree, our bicycles laying in the tall grass. A woman and her sweet old dog walked by. The dog stopped  in her tracks, took one look at me, and immediately sidled up to me, sat down and offered her paw. How did she know I was a friend? Beats me. Maybe a 6th sense? Anyway, after a few minutes of basking in each other's auras, the woman was ready to move on. She dropped the leash and walked away. Finally, reluctantly my newly-made friend got up and followed her. The power of the dog.

Anyway, now that I think of it, kind words, grace, confidence,  treats, words of encouragement, not only the way to live with dogs, also the way to deal with Humans. The St. Francis of Assisi Method for living with other beings. Highly recommended.

To Know, and to Be True...

This line popped into my head yesterday, during a somewhat confounding conversation, and it's pretty much a touchstone, a bit of a guiding principle that I try to stick to for pretty much everything: "If you want to do it, just do it. If you don't want to do it, don't do it."

I know, maybe not the most profound sentence ever constructed, but it's a thought that rings true, and has worked for me over the years. The trick is to "know thyself," and to be true to that knowledge. I find that my worst decisions, the most unfortunate adventures were when I was influenced by other folks thoughts, wishes, dreams.

Doing anything to please others, or from some misguided sense of guilt, is just the worst way forward. Trying to read other people's minds, wishes, intentions, is a fool's errand. Stick to what you know, for instance, try your best to know who you are, be true to yourself, let those be the guide-rails of your actions. At the same time, know that there is so much you don't know about yourself and the world. Whatever you do know is limited and up for revision at a moment's notice. Still, the basic insight: know yourself, and to be true to yourself, and be honest and true to others too. Really. It's a good starting point.

Nonsense on Display...

I spent yesterday buzzing around town in my Harris/Walz t-shirt. Safe to say in my little blue-bubble town, that t-shirt made me a mini-celebrity. Everyone, and I mean everyone, in my hood was over the top happy and jazzed over Kamala's epic takedown of the Bully (see previous post). How to sum up the collective response: "She burned that mofo down!"

Could this be the end of the era of nonsense? Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. It would be exciting and encouraging if we could leave the stupidity, the gibberish, the nonsensical & toxic bullshit behind us. We actually need to continue to do the good work, of improving folks lives, making America a better place for all. 

The Toxic Bully is just a relic of a retro-racist-idiocracy that wants to divide people, and to use hatred and fear to gain power. It's so damn ugly. And quite confounding to see that it actually keeps some folks captive to the nonsense. 

It was awe-inspiring to see the Bully revealed as the fraud, the fool, the clown and the bad actor that he has always been. He was nonsense on display. To think that anyone could vote or support that creep is hard to get your head around. "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." Less nonsense, more common-sense, please...

"Donald Trump was fired by 81 Million People." - K. H.

We dreaded tuning in and watching the debate last night. We feel sorry for anyone having to get on a stage with Trump. He is the kind of person you would normally go out of your way to avoid. If you see someone like him in your neighborhood, you would just split, high-tail it out of there as fast your legs could take you. Having to listen to the man speak is like taking your brain out of your head, putting it on the ground, and stomping on it with big boots. Listening to his never-ending torrent of B.S. is like driving a nail deeply into your forehead and twisting it. He opens his mouth, and endless bullshit flows. He is a firehose of lies, stupidities, toxic shite. He is relentless in his toxic idiocy. One has difficulty keeping up with the crazy-ass lies, disinformation and outright insanity. Let's just say the man is completely untethered from reality.

We did tune in. We felt it was our duty. Post-debate: Josh Marshall has a bit of blow by blow here.

My take: it was a fabulous take-down of the Bully. Kamala Harris was magnificent; tough, on point, sharp, tuned into the issues, connecting with the voters, she showed she is ready to be President. She also exposed Trump as an old, tired, toxic Bullshit Artist. He blathered, he babbled, it was a torrent of total toxic shite. Oh he's dangerous too. A threat to our Democracy, and our collective mental health.

My favorite line, amongst many great lines from Kamala: "Donald Trump was fired by 81 million People." Amen!

BTW - after the debate the most famous, wealthy, charismatic and lovely Childless Cat Lady on the scene, Taylor Swift, clocked in: 

taylorswift

 7h

Like many of you, I watched the debate tonight. If you haven’t already, now is a great time to do your research on the issues at hand and the stances these candidates take on the topics that matter to you the most. As a voter, I make sure to watch and read everything I can about their proposed policies and plans for this country.

Recently I was made aware that AI of ‘me’ falsely endorsing Donald Trump’s presidential run was posted to his site. It really conjured up my fears around AI, and the dangers of spreading misinformation. It brought me to the conclusion that I need to be very transparent about my actual plans for this election as a voter. The simplest way to combat misinformation is with the truth.

I will be casting my vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz in the 2024 Presidential Election. I’m voting for @kamalaharris because she fights for the rights and causes I believe need a warrior to champion them. I think she is a steady-handed, gifted leader and I believe we can accomplish so much more in this country if we are led by calm and not chaos. I was so heartened and impressed by her selection of running mate @timwalz, who has been standing up for LGBTQ+ rights, IVF, and a woman’s right to her own body for decades.

I’ve done my research, and I’ve made my choice. Your research is all yours to do, and the choice is yours to make. I also want to say, especially to first time voters: Remember that in order to vote, you have to be registered! I also find it’s much easier to vote early. I’ll link where to register and find early voting dates and info in my story.

With love and hope,

Taylor Swift
Childless Cat Lady

Keeping it Simple...

Keeping things simple, and real. Sure. We all want to pursue dreams, but it's important to keep everything real. It helps to always be out in the world, you know, the analog world, the world of trees, grass, sun, blue sky. Doing simple tasks. Getting things done. A simple job, an honest buck. It is a way of finding a place in the world. Sure, it's low-tech, close to the ground. And that's ok. Maybe going against the tide, turning from complexity, sticking to a simple way of life.

Agreeable...

Yesterday. Beautiful out there. Lots of to-ing & fro-ing. If you looked at map of our travels it would just be a series of interlocking circles. Going nowhere fast, spinning, always spinning, wheels furiously turning. It was agreeable.

Non-Folk, Non-Fest...

There is a folk festival in our neighborhood this weekend. It is a two day thing. There is a bit of a buzz in the hood. A big operation. The fest took over our lakefront path. A bank of power generators, lots of fencing, big, fold-out stages, logistically a wide-ranging, quite impressive display. We walked on the periphery. Safe to say we looked like we belonged on a stage. One look at us you'd probably think: musicians. We got close to a stage on the other side of the fence and listened to some sweet harmonies, acoustic guitars and banjos. That's folk music, don't you know?!

My partner thought we should have been in the fest, we did float the idea, but I disagree. Our band has a few folk-rock elements, but really we are a gnarly beast of band that doesn't quite fit in anywhere, except in our own Private Idaho.

Later in the afternoon, we were on the other side of town playing in our own little rehearsal space with a few of our band members. It was exhilarating. We ran thru 2 hours of original music. We created our own little storm. We played to the walls. 5 musicians giving it their all. 

It was so satisfying. No audience. Just us. It was a non-folk, non-fest. It was just the best. Alive in our own little world. Damn the torpedoes.

To the Moment...

There is the long slog, the day to day knocking about, and then, once in awhile there is an unexpected  moment of transcendance. Those special moments just appear. There is no conjuring them, you can't make them happen. They appear, or descend or bubble up. You live for those moments. They light you up, they give everything a glow, but, of course, that light, that glow doesn't last, it always fades. It's just the reality. Nothing lasts, even the things, maybe, especially the things you really want to last. So you get back to the day to day slog, knowing that maybe, sometime in the future, that magic will happen once again. All you can do is be ready. Open. Alive. To the moment.

Power of "No..."

A long day yesterday. Blazing sun. A long, pointless, Sisyphean trek across town with a roiling, boiling, bubbling feeling of deep unease. Sometimes it truly is best to say, "No."  Say it with gusto. There is no sense doing anything out of a sense of guilt, or repsonsibility, especially if the responsibility is just a pose, or an idea of what's happening in other folk's heads. Also, sometimes, even if $ are tantalizing, you don't have to be a slave to the buck. Really.

We took a bike-trip across town to finally work up the gumption to say "No," and the deep unease vanished in an instant. It was like being born again. The Angels gathered around me and started singing a happy song, and all was right with the world once again. On the way back home, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few supplies. I opted to get a treat, a container of chocolate frozen yogurt.  Yes. Sometimes a small, seemingly insignificant thing turns out to be a big, sort of momentous thing. Chocolate, one of the wonders of the world.

I ate the whole damn thing in one sitting, and well, afterwards I felt like a million bucks. Every cell in my body jumped up and joyously exulted "Yes, thank you!" Turns out there is the power of "no," and the power of "yes," I mean, I suppose it's freakingly, glaringly-obvious, but, fuck, of course, choose wisely Grasshopper...

The soundtrack this a.m. - Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run," (1975). Glorious r&r. Every song on the album fully realized. A total kick of adrenaline. It just sounds so damn good. Energy is Pure Delight...

Simple Conception...

Some folks go in for the grand vision: Heaven & Hellfire. Gods & Devils. 

I lean to a bit more humble conception. All I have to offer, Grace & Light in a dance with a Heavy Clumsiness & Deep Shadow. That's it.

Vibing Along...

Rollercoaster. Yes. It's a wild ride. Up, sideways, down. Typical day. I think we all resonate at a certain frequency. Some of us have a wide variability. Some of us maybe a bit less. Who knows? How is that all determined? 

They say we all have a genetic component. And then you find yourself here now, dealing with the deal.

The highs are high, the lows are low. It is a grand symphony at play in our bones, muscles, tendons, all of the capillaries, and cells of our bodies. 

We play the instrument of ourselves. The days are long and the song refuses to remain the same. We are vibing along. Sometimes high, sometimes low. That's the tune.

I woke up this morning thinking of PT Anderson's great film: "There Will Be Blood." (2007). Blood, oil, religion. That's America. And then I put on a Grateful Dead record and Jerry and company remind me: "Wake up to find that you are the eyes of the world." Yes. Maybe a bit "hippie-dippie," but also perfect. You know pinballing from one mode to another...

It Ain't Easy...

Let's just get this out of the way. Being Human isn't easy. I mean, are you just born into it? Did you ask to be born?  Is this a gift, a sentence, a chore, a fabulous adventure? All of the above?

Being Human comes with lots of expectations, misunderstandings, trials, tribulations, detours, false exits, wrong turns, bad takes, learning curves, surprises, odd occurrances, deep insights, glorious epiphanies, little miracles, and major & minor debacles, slings & arrows, pricks & kicks. Think of your life as a symphony, a 3 act play, a long rambling novel, a weird skit, a throwaway article, a strange, captivating, and confusing poem. Illusioning & Disillusioning at the same time.

Your experience of Life is all your own. All you. Your time & place. It's strange, yes indeed, you are a stranger in a strange land; in this body, this mind, this location on a map. You make of it what you will.

We Imagine a Good Story that Ends Well...

We want to imagine that he makes it...

My partner and I were walking down the lakefront path with a furry friend, a large, athletic dog. Bright, summer day. The path alive with various kinds of people & dogs and modes of transportation: bicycles, roller-blades, scooters, skateboards. Furious, vigorous, summer activity.

We came to a curve in the path, under an enormous, looming tree; in the middle of the path, there was a tiny little baby black squirrel, sitting there, kind of helpless, maybe stunned, not injured, but crawling slowly, tentatively, totally exposed to the elements.

Our first thought: imminent danger. This little creature could be easily crushed, or eaten, or stomped on. I knelt down and scooped him up. I held him in my open hands. He was silent, soft, not moving or struggling, seemingly content to be in my care.

I carried him over  to the tall grass at the base of the tree. Our furry friend was pulling on the leash, eyeing that the little baby creature as a tasty morsel, or a new plaything. Blood, tooth, claw. We turned from the possible bloody murder, to thoughts of care, life and renewal. My partner and I thought: "Maybe his mama is nearby?"  We surmised that he had fallen out of the tree, maybe his nest was up there in the branches, maybe his brothers and sisters and his mama were looking down wondering what's next?!

At least that was our train of thought. On safer ground now, the little baby squirrel crawled to my black boot, and tried to climb on it. Maybe he was thinking that blackness was a friend or a safe harbor? I had a brief mad idea, what if we adopted him, raised him at our little sanctuary home? Maybe we'd be best buddies for life? A cooler, more rational thought prevailed. We put him back on the grass, left him there, and went down the path, hoping for the best for that little buddy.

Later, after a long rambling walk, on the way back, we stopped at the base of the tree to see if there was any sign of our little buddy, or any possible mayhem. Everything was peaceful, quiet and green. We did see an adult squirrel gripping the trunk of another tree, a few yards away, seemingly looking at us. We decided that was a good sign.

We decided that, yes, that must be the mama. The little baby was most assuredly happily reunited with his family. Safe and sound. We really wanted this to be a happy story with a happy ending. So yes, for sure, we think he made it. That's right. Give him a few short weeks, and well, he's gonna grow up to be a fully capable little creature, he's definitely destined for a great, fulfilling life of romping around the park climbing trees, eating nuts and berries. For sure. At least that's the story we imagine.Yes. Indeed. A happy story, a happy ending.

Aesthetically Pleasing...

My partner and I were on the lakefront path, doing a job, walking a strikingly-beautiful, exotic, standard poodle yesterday. I suppose the three of us stood out of the madding crowd. My partner is a gorgeous woman with a million-dollar smile, and a decidedly graceful & slim profile. She always dresses with flowery and flowing fabrics & colors. My standard summer wear: heavy black boots, black jeans, a black r&r t-shirt, I know, not very summer-like, but it's my thing. My hair, wild, unkempt, pretty weird. Anyway, yes, we definitely make an interesting picture, think: Beauty & the Beast with a Poodle.

We were chatting with a friend sitting on a bench taking in the grand lakefront scene; Lake  Michigan, a bold, overwhelming powerful body of water, with beach-folk frolicking in the waves. An uncommonly wonderful day, warm with a nice breeze, blue skies with a few fluffy clouds. A lazy summer day that just seemed to elongate. Pleasure. A day of pleasure and leisure.

A woman and her daughter came walking down the path. They took one look at us and stopped in their tracks. The woman smiled at us, beaming a one-hundred-watt smile. "Can we take your picture? You two are just so "aesthetically pleasing." Ha. We both had to laugh at that one. Maybe a nicer way of saying, "you two are such odd-ball weirdos."

It's funny, we live in a neighborhood where people easily use words like aesthetically, and actually know what it means. We've lived here a long time, and we still feel like visitors, marginal folks living on the margins. It is a neighborhood of wealth & education. We are basically genial hustlers hanging on by thin threads. 

Anyway, we posed, she clicked, and then they went on their way. Our friend on the bench shouted after them that the two of us had band, that we had an upcoming show in October on Halloween, and she added "I'm not their manager."  Funny. We kind of wished she was our manager.  We said our goodbyes and continued down the path. That was quite the little scene. It was an ever-expanding day. Definitely aethetically pleasing in all ways. A good one. 

Codes...

"We lost our shining, shooting star."

Faced with the deepest loss, tragedy, pain & suffering, what to say or do?

The deepest wisdom? Who knows? Words fail. Completely. We are left with cliches - "a hackneyed theme, characterization or situation..."

Right. No good response, no way around the soul-sucking loss.

"Carry on." Take in the loss, the pain, the suffering, the tragedy. Carry on. Seems inadequate. Paltry. Simple. Simple-minded. 

"Damn the torpedoes." They will come, from every angle. There will be those days you can barely face the sun the moon, the stars. Still, you face the day & night.

"Live life to the fullest." Right. Even with a heavy sadness, a pool of deep, lost-ness in the center of your being. You are forever altered. Live with heart, passion, total commitment.  Truly, madly, deeply.

"Be true."  Yes. To yourself, to the moment, to others, to life and love. No doubt. 

An attempt at codes for living.

A Flowering of Untethered Improvisation...

Open-ended. That's the way forward. Living with an open-ended attitude. I think so. There's possibility in that stance: open-mind, open-arms. We are in a dance with reality, we don't call the tune, the tune is called, and we swing, or flow, or not. "Go with the flow." It seems passive, but I think not. An active attitude of flow. This morning I am listening to Miles Davis' jazz masterpiece recording "Kind of Blue."  (1959). I have also been reading this fabulous book: "The Making of Kind of Blue." An in-depth exploration of one of the landmark acheivements in music, any kind of music. 

So yeah, I have been transported back to 1959, back to a large, high-ceilinged, Columbia recording studio, a converted church in New York City. This recording is still so alive, fresh, and yes open-ended. The names are all legendary: Miles, Coltrane, Cannoball Adderley, Jimmy Cobb, Bill Evans, Paul Chambers. I understand now that it's a prime example of "modal Jazz." Think of music freed from chords, leaning into modes, leading to an open-ended, open-minded flowering of untethered improvisation. It simple, it's cool, it's blue, there is silence and space. That is a super-interesting, ever-renewing, and ever-exploring example for living right there: a flowering of untethered improvisation. Can you use a fabulous work of art as a blue-print for living your life? Yes. I do believe you can.

Desecrating Military Graves = Craven...

What do Fascists do? They bully, and try to intimidate people to win power. We are watching our own particular brand of homegrown, American Fascism on display this election season. I mean, we have seen this show before, we can't turn it off, anyone remember the MAGA attempted coup? But now it's even more wacked out, unhinged, and totally untethered from reality.

So maybe you are a rotund, very unhealthy rich guy, who has had a checkered past, you know, lots of bankruptcies, and felony convictions, and judgements against, in courts of law for fraud & sexual abuse. Pretty much a scoundrel, a toxic fool, who has a rabid, violent-leaning tribe behind him. Typical Fascist shite.

How low can one go? Turns out we are in the desecrating of Military graves at Arlington Cemetary phase of low-grade behaviour. You know, this a guy who disparages folks who have served in the military as "suckers & losers." A rich boy who famously evaded the draft because of bone spurs.  A total phony. I kid you not. It is amazing this person hasn't been hounded out of public life long ago. Haul out your favorite descriptors: disgusting, craven, mind-boggling, pathetic, etc.

The backlash to this recent campaign stunt is brewing: "Donald Trump has no right to use our most hallowed ground for his political aims," Fred Wellman, a 22-year Army combat veteran, said Wednesday. "For a lot of us, and I'm not the only one, people are aptly furious."

What's that famous question? "Have you no sense of decency?" Obviously, that just rolls off this bully's back. What is a civilized population to do? We must defeat this particular toxic, Fascist shite at the ballot box. One vote at a time.

P.S. - Super-early in the morning here. I am typing into this Chromebook in a dark kitchen. Listening to Joe Strummer and The Clash's "London Calling." (1979). Yes. It's a masterwork. A superb anti-fascist soundtrack. Still matters. Maybe more than ever...