"Mad, Bad, & Dangerous to Know." - Lady Caroline on Lord Byron

The last few weeks I have been living with Lord Byron. Considered one of the greatest Romantic Poets in the English language. His first name wasn't "Lord," it was George. George Gordon Byron.

I have been reading this amazing, beautifully & brilliantly conceived book: Andrew Stauffer - Byron A Life in Ten Letters. A fabulous way into a life. Every chapter begins with a letter written by Byron. Key moments in his life. The story unfolds effortlessly. 

I was totally captivated. Another time and place totally comes alive. It is funny and instructive to find that all the human flaws & frailties were alive then, as they are now. We Human Beings have not really come very far.  The life is a long list of and litany of foibles & follies, mad quests, romantic absurdities, tragedy, comedy, outrage, and idiocy too.

Byron spent much his life romancing and pitching the woo to both sexes. With a special emphasis on married women. A lot of huffing & puffing, preening and mopery, chasing & swooning. Such a wild debauch of a life. It's amazing the Poet had the time and  the energy to actually write poetry. But he did. Lots of it. And he became famous for writing poetry that fascinated, inspired, entertained and outraged his social peers and the world.

As Lady Caroline Lamb remarked, Byron was "mad, bad and dangerous too know." By the way, so was Lady Caroline. What a combustible couple.

Anyway. A great read. I was often amused, confused, befuddled, inspired and appalled by Lord Byron. I hated to see him meet his untimely end. But, no doubt his life was totally power-packed. He lived it to the fullest. The man, his legend and his poems are still alive today. Amazing.

Ejecting Stars at Every Turn...

Yes, in a previous post I referred to myself as a "furious demon of optimism." Yes. It is true. I wear that personality trait & inclination like an ornamental helmet, or a badge of honor.

Why? How? 

Who knows? Maybe I was just born that way?

I was also trained in the habit. Trained and disciplined by influential folks around me. Seems I was always surrounded by folks who had a much bleaker outlook than I did. I spent lots of time in debate, in deflection, in denial. It was always a war of thoughts, ideas, ideals. A war of hope, and a war of dreams.

So, yes, thoroughly battle-tested. Comes in handy right up to this very moment. Every day the war continues. 

Bring me your pessimism, bring me your doom & gloom, and you will just fire me up. I will light up like a Roman Candle.  I will explode and eject stars. I absolutely will not submit to the darkness. No surrender here. As one of my favorite r&r philosophers once sang: "I won't back down."

Sure there are things that optimism just can't dissolve. We live in a Universe where Chaos, Death & Destruction are in-built into the fabric of everything. That's just the way it is. So you deal with that by just parking it to the side. There are some events that require a deep silence, a robust sadness. There is a sadness in the world that cannot be denied. There is no bottom to the well. But, of course, we don't have to dwell there. Know it. Experience it. And then carry on. That is just life, the way it is.

Do I have my dark times? Sure. I can crash and burn with the best of them. Usually the only way thru is by a concetrated and determined discipline; taking care , sleeping well, eating well, engaging in something that will captivate me via reading, writing, playing music, listening to music, totally plunging into enrapturing diversions. It's not always easy to do, but it is essential, and it always works.

There is always, the Light. Maybe that's what others think of as "god." I think of it as an animating energy that suffuses everything. It connects everything too. It's a deep mystery that enriches everything. You know it's a Yin/Yang thing. Once you've experienced that deep mysterious connection you are fortified and immunized against the purveryors of gloom. 

There is the reality: Here. Now. Alive. 

Containing and embodying all the hope, optimism, dream, mystery, beauty and bounty that one humble pilgrim can handle. Ejecting stars at every turn.

A Nuanced, Hushed-Beauty Approach...

Working on the art-work for our new album. Or let's say my creative partner is working on it, I, once in a while look over her shoulder to get an idea of the process and the progress of the graphics, the cover art, the inside booklet, and the liner notes for the CD. I offer off the top of my head comments and opinions. I have the easy part. We have a long history of creating work together. So it's not as annoying and potentially combustible as it may sound. We both trust each other creatively. 

The work is done diligently, and religiously, even though folks who ultimately will stream our music on digital platforms won't see it in all it's glory, won't really benefit from our all love and attention we put into this expression of our art.

Funny. We do it anyway, and damn the torpedoes. It is good example of creating without regard for popularity, fame, fortune, celebrity, etc. All of that seems impossibly out of reach & deeply besides the point too. I mean, it truly is "art for art's sake." A long-term labor of love that we do for love of the doing.

Yesterday the question hanging over us: Do we want to create an album cover that has maximum "impact?"  A bold, grab you by the lapels energy? Or a more nuanced, hushed-beauty approach?

Most of our culture in the moment wants to grab you, throttle you, demand you pay attention. For us, it's obvious, that has no appeal. So, that's an easy one, sure, let's go with the nuanced, hushed-beauty approach. Maximize the mystery, the aura, the quiet, stunning nature of the thing. Let the audience come to it, or not, on their own, with just a hint, a glimpse of exquisite beauty and energy inside the package and in the grooves.

Pure Zen Genius...

This was a moment of pure Zen-Genius. A rambling conversation about everything under the sun with my long-time Soul-Mate. It really does help to navigate thru life with a Soul-Mate by your side. Not an easy thing to find in this the big old world of toil & trouble, hurly-burly, lightening & thunder.

So, yes, a rambling & rambunctious conversation. I was being wildly-optimisitic. It happens, especially if the tenor of the conversation turns doomy. I can be a furious demon of optimism in the face of pessimism. It's probably both a good and a bad quality. No doubt. It can drive other folks completely bonkers. I find it sort of enjoyable.

In the middle of a sentence, said Soul-Mate whipped out a pen and drew a diagram on a piece of paper. It brought the conversation to a complete standstill. She shoved it under my nose. Nothing else left to say. Yes, of course, it's all there in one simple diagram. Truly, nothing left to add. My brain exploded in deep enlightened delight. Of course.  The whole shebang in one simple diagram. Let's call it...

"Everything Else and the Evil Forces."

The Swiss Army Knife of Questions...

Ha...

There is that eternal, very human question, always on the lips of anyone who is paying attention.

"Why?"  

It's a gnarly question, opens up a bottomless can of worms, and can be applied to pretty much any & every circumstance in the human realm. Often it is a completely, befuddling, gob-smackingly difficult and unanswerable question. 

Some folks will try their best to respond, and muster up a weak & paltry verbal balloon such as: "Well, because." Or even "Because I say so." Which is about the lamest of answers anyone can float. That's a bit of moral cowardice right there.

This morning, early, still dark here, the question burning in my fevered brain: "Why do people do the stupid, totally destructive, deeply self-sabotaging things they do to themselves and others all the time? You know, like every damn day?"

Aye, indeed, that's a loaded question right there, for sure. Maybe too early in the a.m. to be floating that one? I take a sip of coffee and answer to myself: "Well, glad you asked that bunky, I mean, shite, um, that's a very good question indeed. Can I get back to you on that?"

I mean, not to weasel out of an anwser, I can float a handful of obvous reasons for our obvious human frailty. A few pungent, odiferous answers: Stupidity. Selfishness. Greed. Bad blood. Bad faith. Fear. Loathing. Evil-intent. A nihilistic, death-conjuring wish to burn the world and everything in it to a crisp.

Like I said. Supremely gnarly.

Feeble and Confused & Tired, Not Like Jesus!

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, it's a long way to November. You know. Election 2024. Expect lots of noise and hurly-burly. It's gonna be exhausting and annoying, no doubt. I mean we are already annoyed and exhausted. It will all be racheted up as we get closer.

I do think it's important to call out the Bully at every turn. We are not only voting for Joe & Kamala, we are voting against a very pernicious, toxic, clown and a broken GOP.  

Love this... the game is alive, Democracy hangs in the balance...

Not Again...

I hear it is going to be a busy day for a very large, sloppy, super-annoying, always babbling and rabble-rousing malignant narcissist. My good friend in Poland is just as worried about this toxic clown as I am. I stumbled across this photo this morning. Sometimes one photo really does speak more than a thousand words.  Hard to believe this even needs to be said: "Not Again." Really...

Escaping Escapism...

Escapism: "a way of avoiding an unpleasant or boring life, especially by thinking, reading, etc. about more exciting but impossible activities."

Well, yeah, right?! Maybe that's why we have evolved & developed these over-active brains? It is no wonder that we all are searching for ways to escape the harsh realities of life, to conjure up & inhabit other worlds of fantasy and adventure.

Of course, there is no escaping life in all it's complicated, contradicotry, overwhelming complexity, but there are smart, challenging, and all-consuming diversions that can keep us fully entertained & occupied. Yes, you can live a life chock-full of diversions. No doubt.

Still, living life to the fullest means also dealing head-on with the unpleasant, the boring, the less exciting, and the completely, mundanely possible. That's a good chunk of life right there.

Escapism can be a good thing, and a bad thing too. Just like anything, it's about the doses & measurements. Too much escapism makes the baby go blind, leads to an unworldly madness, a certain unseriousness. A culture built on escapism seems like an abdication of the real, a certain imaginative death, a necessary opening to a world of rich fantasy, and a closing of the door to the incredily amazing real world right before our very eyes & noses.

Living in the real here now can be a healthy plunge, and a real-world escape too. Maybe not a paradise, but a paradox to inhabit?

Against the Wind...

Yesterday afternoon, reality hit us in the face, one little snowflake at a time. We were on our way to the tax preparation office. Paying our taxes. They say you can't avoid death or taxes. That is the way of the world. We are members of the working stiff class. We make a few bucks, pay our bills, keep a roof over our heads and put food on the table. And, oh yeah, make records and do our creative thing too. The money flows in and out like a rushing river. I have no idea how we make it, it is all smoke and mirrors, luck & pluck.

Anyway, we were on our bikes in a quietly raging snowstorm. The reality of cold, wet, snowflakes pummeled us in a heavy wind.  We were quite the pair out on the street. Dressed extravagantly in colorful duds, I wore a kooky-looing winter hat, my partner wore furry ear-muffs. No doubt we looked like silly, kind of out-there, mildy-eccentric characters on the move. Biking in a lovely snow-shower. The weather gods were taunting us and laughing.

A big black truck passed us by and honked a friendly greeting. Darkened windows. We had no idea who was inside. We smiled and waved. It cracked us up to think of what we must have looked like to those folks passing by. We both laughed at that idea. "We must look kooky!"

Against the wind, against the snow, seemingly against the odds, all to get to a little mundane office to crunch the numbers and find out what we owe in taxes to the U.S. Government.  Yes. Unavoidable. A gnarly task. The verdict? Not too bad. We made it thru once again. Surprisingly, it almost, sort of, felt good. Doing our civic duty. This week has been voting & paying taxes. That is what the common folks do. Being common folk. Slogging thru day by day. Alive in the Land of Milk & Honey. And wind & snow too.

Fear & Loathing at Mar A Lago

Shades of Hunter S. Thompson...

HST wrote brilliantly, and hilariously about the collapse of a President and Presidency way back in the early 70's. Tricky Dicky's days of cold reckoning. Seems that we are entering the days of a cold reckoning for an ex-President and famously corrupt personage.

“I feel a bit lightheaded; I think Trump really is broke.” I’m no Hunter S. Thompson, but I smell fear and loathing in Mar-a-Lago."  Ha. Ha. Ha.

It really is sort of a delicious story. I think it's a pretty funny and satisying series of events, because whatever pain and humiliation this particular fat bully experiences is just so richly deserved. You know living a long life of fraud and crime coming to a certain reckoning. It's a slice of beauty.

Two things can be true: This Conman/Fraudster is a serious threat to our Democracy. Serious. Not funny. And at the same time, it is all quite hilarious, and supremely, joyously funny to see such a Toxic Clown facing the music in a New York courtroom. Build your fame and fortune on an Empire of Lies, and then watch it all crumble and vanish when the bill finally comes due.

Next Monday is "posting bond day," for the MAGA King. 

"Soon, the public will find out if the mogul has no clothes. As Warren Buffet wrote in 2001 in his annual letter to shareholders, “After all, you only find out who is swimming naked when the tide goes out.”

Let's  check in with our current President, and see what he thinks of it all. I mean Common Sense Joe is a very empathetic, sensitive & caring Human Being. But, oh yeah, laughing at the plight of the Bully? It seems just pitch-perfect:

President Biden, speaking at a Texas fundraiser: "Just the other day, this defeated looking man came up to me and said: 'Mr. President I need your help. I'm in crushing debt. I'm completely wiped out.' I had to say, 'Donald, I can't help you'."

The Sea of B.S.

Yes. As Lou Reed once counseled, keep your B.S. Dectector on High at all times.  For those paying attention, it seems obvious that the Human Herd is happy to wallow in B.S. to an ever-expanding degree. Seems folks love to lie to themselves and to others. It takes time and dliligence and patience to wade thru the Sea of B.S. and to find those little nuggets of truth, you know, kind of like panning for gold, like those old 49ers who fled to the West to find their fortunes.

The 24/7, always on, firehouse of B.S. and disinfo is pretty damn impressive. And oppressive too. So much data, overflowing and swamping us. And companies, countries and bands of bad actors, and maglignant minds, love to swamp us with the B.S. They sell it to us daily.

And so many of us prefer to buy and believe the easy lies, instead of the hard truths. You know, it's tricky, often we end up slinging the B.S. to ourselves too. I suppose that's a Human Flaw tattooed on our hearts.  I have high hopes and low expectations that we can do better. Parse the B.S. and get to the real, raw essence. Finally, at the end of the day, there's gravity, common sense, reality, logic, intelligence, and the simple seeing what is before our very eyes. We can ask: What really happened? What is really happening now?

Not saying it's easy to do. But I do think it's necessary to live a life to the fullest. Otherwise our lives become just another exercise in B.S. And we end up truly, madly, deeply, lost in the sea of no return.

The Essential Thing...

My partner and I voted in the Illinois Primary yesterday. Democrat ballot. Voted for Joe B. and Kamala H. and a long list of local Democrats. There was very little drama in this primary election. Illinois is a sold-blue state, the Democrats do well here. Our town is a super-progressive blue-bubble in a solid blue state.

Maybe we live in a bit of an echo chamber?

Around here we love Democracy, Human Rights, Voting Rights, a progressive, inclusive, optimistic America. So, anyway, it was low-turnout day. The polling place was pretty empty mid-afternoon. But it felt good to do our "civic duty."

You know, folks have fought, lived, and died, just for the right to vote all around the world. It would be a shame to take that for granted, to not appreciate the honor and priviledge of casting a vote for one's preferred representatives.

I do think lots of folks are tuned out, and burned out, about politics. It has been a nasty few years of political discontent. And the media seems to just love to amplify the stupid shit. But I do have high-hopes for the November Election. As they say, "Democracy is on the ballot." The fate of our little experiment in government by and for the people is under attack. Commonsense Joe is "fighting for the soul of America."

We did a little essential thing yesterday. And we will do it again in November. High hopes.

I Dreamed of Bob & Neil...

Dylan dreamed about St. Augustine. Neil Young dreamed about being a salmon swimming upstream. I dreamed about being in a room with Bob and Neil. Neil appeared as he was when he was singing "Like a Hurricane" with Crazy Horse in 1977. Dylan looked like he was when he was singing "Idiot Wind" in Colorado way back in 1976.

Wow. Talk about influences and influencers. It's totally weird to me. My head in the clouds of another time and place, deep in sleep, head buried in my pillow. I suppose, over the years, "creatively," & "artistically" Bob and Neil really are the ones that inspired me more than any others. Two wildly creative, prodigious, mercurial, gnarly, confounding, inspiring, ever-changing, conjurers & spirits. The only others even in the near orbit for me: Kurt Vonnegut, Sam Shepard, John Lennon.

What happened in the dream? I took a chair in the audience with lots of baggage all around me. Lugging my stuff. Schlepping as usual. Encumbered with stuff. Neil said a few words on the mic and then took a seat behind me. He immediately pulled out a joint, lit it up, and passed it around. 

We waited for Bob. Saw a glimpse of him darting around in the wings. A hard to pin down, flashing presence. I was already practicing in my head how I was gonna explain to my friends that I was in a room with Bob & Neil. And, I mean, wasn't it just totally amazing?!

It was so vivid and real. To what end? Not sure. Maybe, you know, just human beings, in a room, being themselves to the max. That's it. Not a bad artistic, creative credo.

Lifestyle...

 "Lifestyle?"

Maybe not so stylish. Improvisational. Making it up in the moment. Off the top of my head. No grand plans. Making it, sometimes faking it, to make it. 

Head Swimming...

Head swimming. Thoughts careening thru my head at maximum velocity. Trying to keep my "sea legs" on terra firma. Unsuccessfully. Out to sea, adrift, floating, swirling, dancing in mid-air.

Not Judging It...

Life...

You know, I'm "just doing it." Not judging it. I suppose, it is best to leave the judging to others. But, I'm also into willfully, determindly ignoring any of those judgements from the peanut gallery. 

As Tom Petty sings: "You don't know what it's like, you don't know what it's like, you don't know what it's like... to be me." 

Is that arrogance? Nah. Just the truth. We are all alike in some ways, and so different too. We each have our own rows to hoe, and our own shoes to fill. So, yeah, just doing it, and damn the torpedoes.

Up late into the wee hours, up early in the wee hours too. It is not optimal.

I am not very good at the r&r lifestyle. I should try to sleep til noon, but instead up super-early to watch the sunrise. It is fine and good morning. Playing The Who's "Tommy" (1969) at maximum volume on the stereo system. The walls of this mansion are rocking. A great epic album about a kid who can read the vibes. 

Yes. Inspiring. And, well, you know, Just Doing It...

The Creative Impulse...

When it comes to my creative pursuits, the guiding principle and the fundamental idea has always been to put everything (heart, head, spirit),  into the process, whether it be the writing of short stories, poems, plays, or, the writing of song lyrics and guitars riffs; without fear or worries about how it all will be received. There has never really been a plan or strategy, none of this activity has been directed at a career. It has always been a pursuit of pure expression, total immersion in the creative process, following my intuition, picking up on the signs and wonders, absorbing influences, and then "doing it," with a "damn the torpedoes" approach.  I have always had "jobs" that have paid the bills, kept a roof over my head, put food on the table. So the work, the good work has never been about getting "butts in the seats," no worries about "attendance figures," or critical reviews, or any kind of professional recognition.  Some of that has come anyway. We have filled some big rooms. All of my plays ended up finding enthusiastic micro-audiences. Much of our audience for our work has been other creatives: writers, painters, photographers, poets, musicians, directors, actors, dancers. A contingent of creative subterraneans in our midst. Our band has slowly, very slowly, and organically, grown over the years. We often do have packed rooms of folks digging our vibe. And surprisingly our music has connected with people. But, you know, we have totally done this on our own terms, with very little help, except for the inspirers we work with, other incredibly talented creatives who have been attracted to what we are doing, and have joined us, giving their all too, in  pursuing the vision. Surprising. Gratifying. A bit mystifying too. And, of course, nothing is taken for granted. Happy to always be creating, to have my life organized in such a way that I can keep focused on that creative impulse. It's a little thing, and everything.

"Renters in the Land of Moolah!"

I get weird phone calls. 

I am convinced that these phone calls come from hackers and/or scammers who are trying to hack or scam me. Often a pre-recorded voice will tell me in a sort of pissed off, madly-determined voice that my "place of business" (you mean the bike/walking path on the lakefront?)  or my place of residence (don't they know I'm an air-conditioned gyspy?) is soon to be raided if I don't call them back immediately. Or I'm to be served with some kind of serious-sounding document. I never answer these calls, I always block them, but it's seems there is an infinite number of numbers from which they can send me these ominous, threatening messages.

It's all a bit tedious

Yesterday's call was different. A bubbly, wonderfully-friendly woman's voice announced: "You are are the Grand Prize Winner of the Publisher's Clearing mumble, mumble Sweepstakes." 2 words were sort of garbled. I'm thinking it's some kind of legal escape hatch?

Then the kicker, "You have won 11 Million Dollars!" All I had to do was call them back, as soon as possible. And, I don't know, probably reveal all my private, personal, very important info.

Ha. Well. I didn't call them back, but when I met up with my partner we did play that game of "what if?"

What woud we buy? Maybe a ranch, or a cabin in the woods? I'd definitely buy an electric guitar, maybe a vintage Gretsch White Falcon, you know, the same guitar Neil  plays on the electric songs on "Harvest"  (1972). Maybe we'd pay some bills, and get makeovers?! Ha. 

Anyway, it was cheap fun while it lasted. We capped off our little fantasy with a line that popped out of my mouth, that sort of describes our present predicament here in the firmament. Not really winners. Nope. 

"We are renters in the Land of Moolah." But, you know, no one can stop us, we are free to dream whenever it strikes our fancy.

The Bad & the Good...

Super-mild weather here yesterday in the Heartland. Very Spring-like. Everyone we passed on the roads and the pathways said the same thing: "Probably Climate Change, so it's bad, but love the sunshine and warmer temps, so that's good?"

Yeah, long-term bad, short-term good. That's the Human Thing in a nutshell right there. Two contradictory thoughts alive & simultaneously clashing in our neo-cortex regions.

What did we do? 

We took to the paths and biked to our "sun-spot." Our very own quite intimate sanctuary, with backs up against an enormous stone wall, facing a rolling, verdant-green lawn (it should not be green yet!) and a shimmering, golden-tinged lake and beach-front.

Bathing in the rays. 

We watched a woman doing Yoga on the beach. Seagulls swooping. Blue sky, gorgeous, wispy white clouds crossing overhead. It was a beautiful, Zen-scene, a little glimpse of Paradise, you know, damn the torpedos. We will probally all pay for this later, but for the moment? Priceless. 

So good, probably bad, too. You know, that's how it goes?!

Riding the Waves of Existence...

Bending the Universe to your own Will?

Hah. That's pretty ridiculous. Where do Human Beings get such silly ideas? Navigate around in the Universe for a minute or two, and you quickly realize that just isn't how it works.

You will be doing the bending. Best to be flexible, try to bend, not break. Arm yourself with a bit of humility, discipline, courage. Oh yeah, and Love. 

Love to be here: bending, morphing, evolving, floating, riding the variable waves of existence. That's it.

We Like to Fuck with Time...

Here in the Midwest we jumped up an hour yesterday. What used to be 5:00 a.m is now 6:00 a.m. Takes a bit of an adjustment, losing an hour;  the upside, daylight extends forward later into the day, the daylight window grows a bit longer each evening until we hit Summer Solstice.

It shows that Humans like to fuck with Time. And, yes, Time truly is Relative. Yes. We noticed. It was a cold, blue sky day yesterday. We rambled on the path, watched the waves crash into the sand. 

I am staying at a lakefront palace, acting as the caretaker. Taking care, oh yeah, for sure, that's a job.

We had a pizza party and listened to the album we recorded over a year ago. We are in the final stages of mixing. 9 songs, mixed and nearly ready for mastering. It has been a long, meandering process, one step forward, a step  or two back, a few false starts, dead-ends, retracing steps, and then, plunging forward with gusto. 

We started with two different mixing engineers, it seemed promising, and then, pretty stupid, frustrating, and "not working." We then settled on one mixing engineer, and he took the bull by the horns. All the tracks now have his stamp, his flavor, his spice. And it just seems so right.

Now we are listening to a very cohesive album of lovingly mixed tracks that flow well together. We've tried differents sequences, getting just the right flow. So damn close now. Think we are down to one last track, need to adjust the volume on a vocal here and there.  I hear two words in my vocal on one song, "She told..." that need to come up slightly.

Yikes. That's it. Then the mixing will be done. So, yeah, we listened on a maginifcent home stereo system, which brought out all of the power and nuance of these tracks. The reverb on vocals and instruments have such a beautiful, organic, moody, atmospheric presence now. It was so thrilling to hear our songs, and our band at a certain peak performance. Recorded and mixed with such a bold, artistic verve and panache.

That called for a pizza party. A celebration of our massive, creative undertaking and a concentrated, long-time commitment and dedication to the good work. 

This morning, in the afterglow, it's Meltdown Monday. I am typing on my Chromebook, listening to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "Murder Ballads." (1996). Darkly glorious. After nine wild-ass songs about murder, mayhem, blood, and splattered guts, the album ends with Dylan's strangely ethereal song "Death is Not the End." Anita Lane, Shane MacGowan, PJ Harvey and Kylie Minogue, among others, all  sing a line. A beautiful coda to the gory madness of being a fucked up, murderous, species. 

A big, fat, orange ball of flame is emerging out of a dark blue lake, shining like a primordial God hyped up on some illicit, electrifying, uncommonly powerful drug.

Yeah. I am ready for a new week...

A Purgation, A Purification, A Healing...

 Catharsis: "purification or purgation of the emotions (such as pity and fear) primarily through art, and, a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension."

Yes. We know the process of catharsis intimately. We often head to our rehearsal studio, and gather together the musicians in our band. We leave all the worldly hurly-burly, noise, and clutter, behind.

We focus on the playing of music, our own home-made, organically-fabulated songs. We explore the creative process and personal expression with a talented and dedicated group of folks. 

When it's good, which is often, it is very, very good indeed. Everyone in the room can feel it. The energy, the musical vibrations rocketing off the walls. We think of it all as a seriously joyful noise. A wonderful, often-overwhelming experience of the healing power of art & music. 

Fair to say that there is total love in the doing. And doing what one loves to do is the truly greatest endeavor a human being can do. It's a purgation, a release, a purification, a healing ritual, a spiritual renewer. 

Funny. It's everything, packed into a couple hours of very focused work, that more than anything feels like total lightening-like play. 

Walk in feeling tired, under-seige, burned-out, frustrated, whatever, walk out feeling transported, transformed, satisfied, happy, connected to everything. Unlike anything else. Highly recommended. 

Words of Endearment...

And another thing...

Words to live by from Common Sense Joe, "a future based on the core values that have defined America: honesty, decency, dignity, equality."

Yes. That's Joe and that's the best of America. 

Those are the words that totally vaporise the Republican Party. None of those qualities are alive in that Brain-Dead Political entity.

You know, WTF?! Hard to believe any of this is up for debate. The 2024 campaign will be sound & fury, idiocy & bad faith. The choice is so freaking clear. It's almost comical. Yes. Democracy is on the table. Easy pickings. Go Joe...

Common Sense Joe - True American Original...

"The Word." Great Beatles song. You can find it on their fabulous, masterpiece record "Rubber Soul."  (1965). "Say the word, and you'll be free..." Yes. The song and the album are oldies (but goodies). Words of description that bubble up: enthusiastic, alive, vibrant, beautiful, inventive, creative, unique, optimistic, hopeful, fiery, fun. By the way, the word is LOVE.

My partner  and I sat in the kitchen, tuned in the public radio channel and listened to President Joe Biden's State of the Union address last night. We listened to every last word. Funny, the same words of description come to mind: enthusiastic, alive, vibrant, beautiful, inventive, creative, unique, optimistic, hopeful, fiery, fun. Yes. We loved Joe's speech.

Yes. Joe too, is an "oldie but goodie." A true American Original. It was all there in his speech. Intelligence. Empathy. A fully-formed Human Being. Common Sense Joe, someone who still believes in public service, and doing the right thing, a human being that "talks the talk, and walks the walk."

Dylan's line resonates in my mind this morning: "Every word rang true as it were written in my soul." Yes. Heady stuff indeed. Joe has plans, and he's a savvy politician. He is fucking good at his job. A roll up your sleeves kind of guy who still wants to get things done. Joe Biden is a true American Hero. Might sound old fashioned and sappy. But it is madly & deeply true.

Sure it's a complicated, wonderful, maddening, and often, a supremely fucked up world we all live in. But we need those folks who still believe in a "better union," a better America. Folks who still believe in Democracy, Freedom, Equality, Propserity, Common Sense, Good Government. Sometimes Joe seems like that last good man standing. But behind him are millions and millions of folks who have not given up on the dream. "Say the word, and you'll be free."

Sleepwalking towards Fascism...

Morning news in America.

We are sleepwalking towards Fascism. How does our little experiment in Democracy die? Incrementally, tiny step by step;  a cocktail of inattention, total boredom, mindless zombism, bad faith, bad luck. And significantly, a completely broken political party = The Republicans. The only truth-tellers in the Republican party, are ex-members of the Republican party.

Darth Vader's (Dick Cheney's), Daughter, surprisingly, heroically, is one such truth-teller...

"The GOP has chosen. They will nominate a man who attempted to overturn an election and seize power. We have eight months to save our republic & ensure Donald Trump is never anywhere near the Oval Office again. Join me in the fight for our nation’s freedom." - Liz Cheney

Yes, as they say, "the stakes are high." You hope "the people," the voters are up to the task. "Saving our Democracy." Seems pretty damn important. Sure, lots of distractions, you want to think about other things, maybe you are burned out, tired of the whole political thing, but shite, anyone who values America & Democracy better get their shit together. Yep. Joe Biden, and the Democratic Party. The only way forward. Really. 

Grandly Majestic Unknowable...

Paying attention to the details. Yes. Never-ending. The details. The closer you look, the closer you listen, the closer you submerge deep into the essence of things, the more information, the more facts and details appear. Funny that. You can live on the surface of things, skate along, float over, skim & skip, but if you do, you will miss so much. There is a richness to delving deeper, deeper into your own experiences, into your own psyche. You can get lost in the details, there is danger in that, yes. You may find yourself dropping down into endlessly interesting rabbit holes, you may risk your time & sanity, getting trapped in too much minutua. The clarity and truth you seek can be overwhelmed by the relentless quantity of complexity. And really, it seems as you get closer to the essence, a mystery appears. The mysterious nature of all things is revealed. There is the infinite sequence of details, and then a vanishing point. Maybe at the heart of all things is a mysteroius nothingness, a great cloud of unknowing, and the grandly majestic unknowable? Maybe?

Hustle-Mode...

Scrambling, hustling, always be closing. Maybe it's in the DNA? Who knows? I find myself often in hustle-mode. It's one of those Sisyphean tasks that come sort of naturally. I don't really like it.  I can do it. I find it necessary. What is expected? Not much. Lots of slogging thru. Keep your eyes peeled, expectations low, hopes kept on a tight leash. Let's become a little hurricane of activity, then sit back and see what, if anything, trasnspires. It has panned out, infrequently, over the years. No promises to myself, or to others either. An open book. Blank pages. Waiting for the skies to open and flaming sentences to consume those pages of emptiness.

Beware the Ides of March...

Googling Google, with a dollop of curiosity, and with your Bullshit Detector turned up high, well, you may learn a thing or two.

"Beware the Ides of March." It's from Shakespeare's play "Julius Caesar." Things did not go well, oh so long ago, for Caesar in the month of March. 

They don't make them like Shakespeare any more. Talk about a prodigious genius, and a very influential playwright. Caesar, well, he's a common type: eloquent, an iron-fisted ruler, a domineering personality, willing to put the screws to many folks, bending them to his whims and rules. Some hailed him, others brought out the knives.  I suppose it goes with the territory.

The Ides of March is also a Chicago one-hit wonder band, "I'm your vehicle, baby, I'll take you anywhere you want to go..." 

Here in the Heartland it is already an uncommonly warm & unseasonably warm beginning to March. For sure as the result of human-made, catastrophic climate change. We enjoyed the sunshine and warmer temps, but at the same time we felt a bit uneasy, and wary. Beware, indeed. Yes, that peaceful, uneasy feeling (see previous post), still hung over us. 

Doing our best to keep it together. Maintain clarity, and a sense of calm. Still... you know... the Ides of March... beware, and be aware...

Peaceful, Uneasy Feeling...

How to pin it down?

The last few days, a feeling of unease, dis-ease, has settled upon me and permeated my being. I think of that ubiquitous, sort of annoying Eagles song, "Peaceful Easy Feeling," that seemed to always be wafting thru the air, but this feeling I carry with me, subverts it: "A Peaceful Uneasy Feeling." Is it just me? Or is it reflective of a wider, deeper, more universal malaise? I don't rightly know. 

Life seems to be speeding up around me, careening out of control. Maybe that idea of control has always been off-target? Whatever is going on, unease, dis-ease, or dys-ease, a little fluttering in the core of my being has taken hold of me. I think maybe I am onto something, or maybe something is onto me?

A Glimmer...

Funny. If you are the hopeful sort, it doesn't take much to light the match. A slight glimmer, a glint, a spark, a smile, a kind word, a sunny morning, a good sleep, an excellent coffee brew. That's it. Just the slimmest of slim reeds to grab on to. 

Knotty, Gnarly Conundrum...

One of the knotty, gnarly conundrums of an examined life...

Do we "make things happen?" Or do they "just happen?" Do we "just believe" we are free actors, doing free actions? It that really how our Universe works? Or is it all momentum? Fate? Destiny?

Is "what happens" the only thing that could happen? What of luck, random chance? What of Human will and intention?

How to explain the trajectory of a life? 

Hmmm... 

I don't know the answer to any of these weighty questions. Yesterday, I was "trying to make something happen." I've been there before. Often it feels like shadow-dancing. Casting shadows on the wall, wondering if anything will stick.

There are the fields of opportunity and the fields of futility.  Knotty. Gnarly.

Finally, just living the best I can, doing the things I do. And, well, of course, full speed ahead and "damn the torpedoes."