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...

Whistling Past the Graveyard, Getting Browner and Lonelier...

Yes. Well. Yesterday was even hotter around here than the day before (see previous post). The "real feel" was over 100 degrees. I was in it for a brief time. Not a comformtable day. Not at all safe. We did luck out with a major storm system rolling in last night. The rains came, and cooler temps have descended. So, for now, the worst of the worst is past. Whew!

I came across this graphic and text this morning from Eco Warriors. Unfortunately this rings oh so true. It's kind of like "whistling past the graveyard."  We keep on & carry on, while everything gets hotter, more desolate and lonely. All that vanishing of Life -Forms is a crime against the essential mutually life-supporting ecosystem that makes life, life. We ignore all this at our own peril. Amen brothers and sisters...

"Problem is that after a few years, most people normalize extreme climate as normal They also normalize disappearance of world Bees insects birds wildlife, marine life, forests wetlands and their replacement with a sterile barren lifeless landscape as normal."

The Weather: Feisty & Often Dangerous...

The last few weeks around here the weather has been pretty much perfect. Sunny, warm temps, with nice breezes coming off the lake. A little bit of heaven day by day. Sunday was truly exquisite.  

Yesteday, one day later, what was the weather like?! Ungodly. Nasty.  Dangerous. 

Excessive Heat Warning: The magnitude of anticipated heat, combined with oppressive warmth at night will lead to hazardous conditions, particularly for the elderly and those with pre-existing health conditions.

Also there was an Air-Quality Alert: The Illinois Environmental Protection Agency has determined that an Air Pollution Action Day will be declared for the greater Chicago Metropolitan Area and is IN EFFECT UNTIL MIDNIGHT CDT TONIGHT.

As they say, "ignore at your own peril." I am not going to mention the elephant in the room, you know the thing we all seem to want to ignore. Oh hell, why not? Human-made Climate Catastrophe, anyone?! 

Luckily, for us, we had a day off, and we were able to stay inside with the A/C cranked, most of the day. We took a brief jaunt across town to get some supplies, and yes, it was truly, madly, deeply, excessively, oppressively, hot and nasty. We both got very hot and bothered, and dizzy, in a very short period of time. Yikes.

What to say? That's the new reality. Weather is feisty, and often dangerous. It was weird to see the lakefront, usually bustling with human activity, pretty much deserted. Eerie. It all looked magnificent, the water, the trees, the paths, but there was danger in the air, and there were no people to be seen. Strange new world. Yes, indeed.

A Perfectly Satisfied Laziness...

Post-farm (see previous post). 

The best day's after are when, the previous evening, you had a great r&r show. You know, a show where you became one with the moment to moment of performance, and you were able to transcend. It's like flying, your spirit is flying in a vast, unbroken, blue sky. Even if you went to sleep late, and woke up early, you feel alive, energized, satisfied and fulfilled. Best feeling in the world. 

The worst day's after, are when the show was bad; miscues, kerfuffles, bad sound, bad weather, broken strings, false-starts. If you went to sleep late, and woke up early, you feel bad enough, but the residue, the people-hangover, the hollow feeling of loss, the missed opportunity of transcending, the hard reality of a bad outing is the worst feeling in the world.

Yesterday was a "best feeling in the world day." Riding the vibe of a great, well-performed and well-received show.  Yesterday was a hot, sultry Sunday. We rested & relaxed. Feeling happy & fulfilled. It was music on the box all day: Robert Plant, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Steely Dan, Pearl Jam. We had a pool party. Staying at a fabulous mansion on the lakefront with a luxurious backyard with a glittering swimming pool. A sanctuary, a secret garden. We sank into unimaginable luxury as if we owned it all, and yes, like we deserved it too. Yes. Really. It was that kind of day. We ordered in Thai food for a late lunch. Sipped cold, non-alchoholic drinks. It was just the best of the best. Post-farm. Post-show. A day that glowed. One of those lazy, hazy, good kind of crazy days. Not a worry in the world. A perfectly satisfied laziness...

To the Farm...

We took a road-trip yesterday to play at a music fest on a farm, a secret place tucked into the verdant, green, rolling hills of Illinois. We trekked away from the lakefront, and headed West & North for about an hour and half. You have to drive miles & miles to get past the long, never-ending string of strip-malls dotted all along the way. It's not pretty, all the concrete, and pre-fab construction, the beckoning signs, the over-stuffed shopping centers & and mega-stores. You wonder who owns these places? Who are the folks who live out here? Do they really spend their hard-earned cash on all this fluff & stuff? How do they make it? Seems there is money. America is commerce, commerce on steroids. No doubt. It was all kind of interesting and baffling. So different from where we live tucked up against Lake Michigan. Finally, we left all that behind and the road got a little less busy, smaller, more curvy, and we were surrounded by lots of greenery, trees, grasses, fields & farms. We noticed corn fields, and soybeans, and lots of seemingly unoccupied land. We arrived at the farm. It was a home for a little ramshackle festival. Two days of music, camping, and hanging out. We were there to play a set of our homemade music, just two of us. We set up and played to the trees, the grasses, the hills, the water, the goats, the chickens, the ducks, the pigs and the kind and gentle folk who welcomed us with open hearts and heads. It was exhilarating. We created a bit of a storm and my partner and I "got there," the place where you lose yourself in the moment of creation. It took a couple songs into our set, but finally there was ignition and lift-off. Afterwards we were spent. Folks were complimentary, it was quite satisfying. Then it was the long ride back. Everything in reverse. It felt good to get back to the coast, back home, fronting Lake Michigan. We unloaded our gear, and hit the pillows. It was a nice little adventure.

I Recognized this America...

Yes. Watching the Democratic Convention this week was quite exciting. I am a born and raised in USA human being, born smack dab in the middle of America, spent most of my time in small communities, up close and personal to the rambling megalopolis, and great American City, Chicago. I have lived here all my life, and the theme, and tone, and vibe of the convention totally resonated with me. I recognized the America these folks were talking about. I am aligned with the vision. Sure, it was just a story being told, a picture being painted, a narrative, a vision, one that I know initmately. It's a story of hope, optimism, it's forward-looking, and most importantly, it's inclusive. Young folks, old folks, people of color, women, LGBTQ+, you know the whole beautiful rainbow and multi-cultural stew of humanity. It was a dream floated into the firmament, that we all can share. And the folks on that stage at the United Center, emobodied all of that. These were folks who have "walked the walk,"  folks who have rolled up their sleeves, and have done the work of organizing, voting, legislating. Practicing the hard-slog of politics. Sure, we all can dream the impossible dream, and then we  must do the work of realizing , making real, the possible. You try in your small way to make the world a better place; one smile, one gesture, one word, one vote, one act at a time. It's simultaneously a grand adventure, and a humble, homely approach at the same time.  There was a fabulous sound-track throughout. Beyonce's "Freedom," Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground," and Aretha Franklin's "Respect." On my own very personal playlist, I was listening to Donald Fagan's I.G.Y.  from  his great solo album, The Nightfly (1982). I.G.Y. is a song that bubbled up from Donald's childhood,  he is remembering being stuck in the suburbs on the East Coast in the 1950's, an idealistic, young lad, in his room, under the covers, listening to Jazz & R&B on his transistor radio, hoping to grow up, and maybe be somebody. The chorus: "What a beautiful world this will be, What a glorious time to be free..."  Yep. Exactly. I mean, that was what this week was all about. Harris/Walz. Of course...

Kamala Harris Meets the Moment...

Some times a person meets the moment. The right person, the right moment come together, and sparks fly, the vibe descends, and possibility & opportunity are suddenly flicked on and the Universe sparkles with energy & love. Exquisite.  Everything, absolutely, everything changes in the blink of an eye. A pivot point. A step along the way, that suddenly transforms the past, and blows open a new door to a wonderful, wild-ass possible future.

Kamala Harris is that person. This is that moment. It's worth watching this whole speech from last night at the Democratice Convention at the United Center in Chicago.  A pivot point, a turning to a new day and a new America. Kamala Harris for President...

BTW - From a musical perspective could the soundtrack of the convention have been any better? I think not. Beyonce, Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin. Superb. Perfect.

What is the Brand?

Yes. The Democratic Convention this week and all of the day 3 speeches point to a celebration of a certain brand of Politics. What is that brand? Hope. Enthusiasm. Intelligence. Grace. Empathy. Compassion. Pragmatism. Inclusiveness. Generosity. Freedom. Freedom to be the amazing beings we that we all can be. So refreshing. So renewing. So encouraging. So exciting. A coming together, not a splitting apart. A healing, not a dividing.

Yes. It's pretty vibey. And that's ok. Not only ok, but really, fundamentally essential. There is a serious purpose to all the Happiness & Joy. Doing the hard, good work, of fixing things, building, bonding & creating a loving community. As Barack Obama said yesterday,  we can live in peace with folks we disagree with. Live and let live. That's the way to a better world. Also as Coach Tim Walz tells us: "Mind Your Own Damn Business." It's ok. We are strong enough, and generous and kind enough to live and to let live. We don't need to fear the other. Humanity is a grand mulit-cultural stew of possibility.

So yeah,  be sure to check out some the speeches. A Coach (Tim Walz), A Singer (Stevie Wonder), Mayor (Pete), A Poet (Amanda Gorman), an Ex-President (Bill Clinton), some Republicans who have seen the Light of Day. Pretty impressive.  I endorse this Brand of Politics with all my heart & soul. This is the Vibe...

No More "Failing Forward." Post-Bully America...

Last night at the Democratic Convention, two of the finest Human Beings on the Planet: Michelle & Barack Obama. The best of America embodied in two amazing beings. So good see them, and to hear their words of wisdom. Refreshing. Renewing. Beautiful. Powerful. And they both eloquently, and gracefully, with humor and fire, called out the Bully.

One of my favorite lines from Michelle: 

Michelle Obama: "She (Kamala) understands that most of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward. We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth."

And this too...

Michelle Obama: "Because no one has a monopoly on what it means to be an American. No one.

Kamala has shown her allegiance to this nation, not by spewing anger and bitterness, but by living a life of service and always pushing the doors of opportunity open to others. She understands that most of us will never be afforded the grace of failing forward. We will never benefit from the affirmative action of generational wealth. If we bankrupt the business or choke in a crisis, we don’t get a second, third, or fourth chance. If things don’t go our way, we don’t have the luxury of whining or cheating others to get further ahead. No. We don’t get to change the rules, so we always win. If we see a mountain in front of us, we don’t expect there to be an escalator waiting to take us to the top. No. We put our heads down. We get to work. In America, we do something."

Amen, Joe Biden: The Best...

I crashed early last night, and slept in this morning. I think all of my creative efforts took a toll. Sort of hit the wall. Feeling happy and refreshed now. I fired up my Chromebook and listened to a few of the key the speeches from last night: AOC, Raphael Warnock, Hilary Clinton, & of course, Joe Biden.

Joe Biden at the Democratic Convention last night  - "America, I gave my best to you."

Amen, my friend. Joe Biden, a true American Hero. Last night the America I believe in, and support with all my heart and soul was on stage in Chicago, IL. Love to see it and hear it.

Better Than Drugs...

Our band played a concert on the street yesterday at the Custer St Oasis, next to the fabulous La Prinicipal. All day we monitored the weather. Hour by hour it went from sunny, to cloudy, to rainy, to sunny, rainy and back again. It was exhausting. We had no idea if the show was on or off.  Hours of indecision & uncertainty. "The waiting is the hardest part." 

We lucked out. By 3 pm or so it was sunny & blue skies. Our string of bad luck, bad weather, and bad sound, was broken. We schlepped our own P.A. to a few doors down to the end the street and set up under a tent. We do know our own P.A. intimately. We fired up an old iPod and blasted The Beatles "Let it Be Naked," (2003) on those powered speakers. "Naked" is a much better mix and production than the original Phil Spector version. Anyway, I do believe conjuring up Beatles music helped bring a crowd. It all sounded glorious blasting in the hood.

Every time we do a show, we wonder, "Will anyone be there?" The answer was a resounding "YES!" A fabulous gathering of folks; good friends, devoted fans, lots of familiar faces, new faces too. Our band was in fine form. We all really, really wanted to have a great show, and everything just clicked. And the audience was with us for the ride. When it is good, and this time it was more than good, it is absolutely the greatest feeling in the world.

A dance party broke out. The street became a launcing pad for transcendence. We all felt it. Just a fabulous happening. It's amazing when it all clicks. You never know, you can't will it, you just prepare, do the work, be open to moment, really "have it," and then, if it does "happen," well, you ride it for all you are worth. 

Afterwards, good vibes, good cheer, deep satisfaction. Then there was the taking down, the packing up, the schlepping. It's all part of it too. "How was the show?!"  Better than drugs.

Hard... But... True...

A young Quarterback blows out his knee, and is lost for the season. A young prospect, recently drafted and signed by an NFL team, is immediately sent to the doctors to go under the knife, and start a long rehab. Football is such a brutal sport. Life-altering injuries are a nasty part of the game. 

Maybe, probably, he will be back next season.

The young Q.B. posted the phrase "Amor Fati" on social media. It is a Latin phrase, one that is associated with the Stoics. Wisdom crops up in unusual, unexpected places.

What is amor fati? "Amor fati is a Latin phrase that may be translated as "love of fate" or "love of one's fate". It is used to describe an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good or, at the very least, necessary."

It kind of rings with my go-to phrase: Damn the torpedoes. You know, the torpedoes are coming, you just have to endure, and thrive. We all must deal with the deal. If we love life, and we do, then all of it is included, even the bad, the disfiguring, & the disheartening things. Hard... but... true...

The Long & Short of It...

Life. Long-form improvisation, long-form experiment. Of course, the improv and experiment can be halted at any moment. We get to play our instrument, to vibrate, to sing, but we don't call the tune. The tune just happens to be called. Is there a caller? Who knows? A bit of a mystery there. So, yeah, every day is a gift. What to do? Live to the fullest. We are all ticking along on our own personal time-lines. Born here, die there. It's a weird thing, no doubt. Where's it all going? Who knows? It just goes. Dylan: "Time is a jet-plane, it moves too fast." Right. "The Life You Save May Be Your Own." Own it. Do it. Be it. Damn the torpedoes.

A Woman President. It's About Time...

Yes. Thinking about Humanity. I flash on our early, hairy, ancestors as depicted in the opening scenes of Stanely Kubrick's masterpiece, 2001 a Space Odyssey (1968). Big Monkey-Man picks up a bone and beats the living hell out of another Monkey-Man. The others cower and bow down. 

The beginning of that power & dominance dynamic: Humans are "hierachical." 

So yeah, there is a continuum, a thru-line in the narrative: Big Monkey-Man, Leader, Chieftan, King, Dictator, Authoritarian, Pope, Priest, Minister, Ayatollah, Holy-Man, Mogul, Mover & Shaker, Guru, Cult-Leader, Hedge Fund Manager, Titan of Industry, Self-Made Man, Billionaire-Tech Bro. 

Almost inevitably these dudes betray the rest of us. Blimp-sized egos lead to all kinds of bad acts, atrocities, bad deeds, & bad-faith mischief. Power corrupts, don't you know?! The powerful ones think to themselves: "Lie, cheat, steal, of course! I deserve it. All those little people owe me."

Or something like that. It's all a bit silly. Comical.  The Age of the Big Man is over. We don't really need to play this tired, old game. The game is out of date, retro, soul-killing, ignorant. 

We can short-circuit this shite. Opt out. It takes a village. We turn from power & dominance, to nurturing & fostering. A global-village. As Rodney King once asked: "Can't we all just get along?"

So, yes, we turn to soft power: love, responsibility, intelligence, beauty, grace, leading by example. It's about time we elected a Woman as President. I mean, it is well past time. We need to get our shit together. We can do it. And it will be a beautiful thing. I mean, amen brothers & sisters. We can all work together for a better world, a better humanity. Put down that bone, that wounding weapon of destruction & instead, meet the world with a warm, loving embrace.

Reading the Room...

Vibes. Yes. It's all about vibes. What are vibes? "A distinctive feeling or quality capable of being sensed.

Right. Atmosphere. The aquarium we live in. Walk into any room and you can see, feel, sense the vibes. "Tommy can you hear me?"   Pete Townshend was way ahead of the curve on this subject. Any somewhat sensitve human being has the ability to read a room, read the vibes that emanate off other humans.

We are so conditioned to only trust the material world, but of course, most of the important things in our lives are invisible. Invisible doesn't mean doesn't exist.

This latest vibe tearing across the nation, the Harris/Walz tsunami , is an extraordinary example. A head & heart opening development. There is an electricity in the air. We all feel it, see it, can touch it. What does it all consist of? Hope, enthusiasm, positivity, common sense, joy, intelligence, the future, validation of the good, and the good work.

Really. It is as if a happy cloud has descended upon the land. Will it last? Where is it all headed? We shall see. I am not in the prediction racket, but man, does this all seem so right and true, and real and good. Yes, indeed, truly, madly, deeply.

Small Changes, Big Results...

What's the next big idea? Well. The next big idea is a cavalcade of small ideas. Turns out you want to change your life, you can do it in a million small, incremental ways. Quality of Life? Finding little fixes, new routines, new detours, adopt new habits, little experiments. The things we do, the things we own, make a difference. One day you wake up and everything is just slightly different. And that slight difference is everything. These summer days have pointed me in new directions. Do I have some simple tiny examples? Well, yes, I do...

100% cotton t-shirts. Really. In these days of brutal temps and ungodly levels of humidity, a blended t-shirt just doesn't cut it. Be aware of the fabric caressing your skin. A well-made, 100% cotton tee truly is the ticket to comfort and coolness.

Electrolytes. Hey, guess what? The life you save may be your own. Dog Days. You walk out in the furnace of a day, and sweat your ass off. You think drinking water is gonna help. Maybe a little, but really, you need electrolytes. Life-safer. No doubt. Experiment on yourself. It's true. The difference between a heat-stroked, numbed-out zombie, and a fully-functioning human. 

Sun-block. Lather it all over your exposed skin. I use a lovely coconut-scented brand. No burning. A must have, for sure.

Timberland boots. These boots are made for walking. I wear a pair of heavy Timberlands. Pretty sure they are reason I have no knee, ankle, leg problems. A solid base. Sure, it's sort of like wearing weights on my feet, but they keep me grounded, and provide stability, gravity. Well-made, a bit pricey, but so worth it.

Koss KSC-75 Ear Clips. Ha. Turns out the best "headphone," is not a headphone at all. It's an ear-clip. It's a unique device, in a catagory all by itself. It's cheap, less than $25. I have owned some great headphones over years, from some well-regarded companies: Grado, AKG, Sony, Audio-Technica, Philips, HiFiman. I have been on a journey looking for the best sound at prices I can afford. These ear-clips go toe to toe with headphones in the $200 range and up. Really. They sound amazing, full, rich, sound, and they are so comfortable, you forget you are wearing them. Who knew?!

Dean Markley BlackHawk Acoustic Guitar Strings. I've tried every kind of acoustic guitar string on the market. There are many good ones. These BlackHawks just sound perfect on my guitar. Again, it's been a long journey and on-going experiment. Small change, big difference. 

Wood-filler. Speaking of guitars. I own an old one. The bridge was cracked, and worn, with divots, and grooves. I was going to take it to a shop to maybe fix or replace the bridge. One day I got the brilliant idea of fixing it myself. The magic words: "Wood-filler" popped into my head at a band rehearsal, when another string snapped while we were playing. Yes, that bridge was eating up strings at an alarming rate. Anyway, armed with wood-filler and fine-sand-paper, I redid the bridge, filled in all the holes and cracks. And now it looks good as new. So far, so good, lately, it has been smooth-sailing, no broken strings.

Small portions. I am talking food here. Meals. Really. I think I've stumbled upon the secret to better eating. It took me most of my life. But I have finally arrived. Over the years, others told me the secret, I just didn't listen. And then, one day, I did. Small portions. It has transformed my life, one little bite at a time. Funny.

Anyway, there a million other little things I've tried, and tweaked. One day, I wake up, and I think, I'm not the person I used to be. I mean, in some ways, yes, and in some ways, no. That's just how the story goes.

They See Themselves as our Over-Lords...

So funny. Last night two very wealthy men with broken brains tried to have a conversation. And it was a disaster. A display of unmitigated stupidity. You might be under the impression that the wealthy folks amongst us are smart, or accomplised, or have some great intrinsic quality that the common folks just don't possess. Nope.

Really the only thing they have is more $ in the bank.  These two toxic fools were born with silver spoons in their mouths, they inherited great wealth and opportunity. They are two absolute train-wrecks of human beings. It is kind of funny how off the ranch, unhinged, and brain-scrambled these guys are. You wonder if they are on seriously debilitating drugs. Or is it just their over-blown, toxic, narcissistic, blimp-sized egos that ails them? It would be funny too, except they are both threats to Democracy, good government, and general well-being for the rest of us.

Their broken brains and stacks of $ are a threat to all of us. They think they should rule the world. They see themselves as our "over-lords." Sheesh. What total shite.

As AOC once pointed out: "Every billionaire is a policy failure." Yes. Indeed. The Billionaire class thinks they are a power beyond the rule of law, the tax code, good policy and good government. It's a global problem, too much concentrated wealth in the hands of a powerful few. 

This needs to be addressed. Power to the People.  Amen, brothers & sisters.

Chicago is a Jewel...

My partner and I rented a cool car and took a road-trip yesterday. A long meandering ramble thru the streets of Chicago. An amazing, over-stuffed, rollicking, multi-cultural stew of a place. A classic American city. I am reminded that it is the Cities of America that reflect the best of us. We had the windows rolled down, the radio blasting music on high. It was a kick just driving thru the streets on a sunny summer day.

We went all the way across town to Hyde Park, Chicago, where the University of Chicago resides. A very prestigious, historically-significant, institution. And the neighborhood surrounding the University is a thriving, exciting, well-appointed neighborhood. Magnificent old homes & buildings, shops, restaurants, parks, bike paths. The best of city living. It is bounded on the west side by some harder, down on their luck neighborhoods. The farther you get from the lakefront, the farther west you go, the less wealthy, and more downbeat things get. That's just the reality. The wealthy and the poor living near each other, with different sets of circumstances and opportunities. That's America.

We were there to visit a relative who recently got a great job and a new home. A house-warming party. We parked on the street. As we stepped off the curb, an old-timer, maybe the groundskeeper, or maintennce engineer of the surrounding buildings, spotted us and called out: "The Generation that Tried to Change the World."

That was a good one. It was odd to be seen that way. Made us laugh. I suppose we did look like we were from another time and place. And we did have a bit of that retro, what's so funny about peace, love & understanding hippie/bohemian vibe. You know, just us? I mean we aren't actually old enough to be from the original Flower-Power Generation, but it's true we probably resemble the type, embody the idea. Colorful clothes, headband, flowing hair; a happy-go-lucky, arty aura.

Anyway. We had a nice visit with some folks we've known for a very long time. Everyone was pleased to meet and greet, and to chat in a beautiful new apartment. I mean, it was a classic old Chicago apartment, they don't make like that anymore, hard-wood floors, lots of windows, a sun-room in front and a wooden balcony in back, everything fresh and renewed. 

We ate delicious homemade pizza, and had a few great, in-depth, engaging conversations with folks from cities around the country, New York, Memphis, Austin; funny, intelligent, rootless cosmopolitans. American Dreamers, all. We talked about music, politics (everyone so hopeful and happy about Harris/Walz), and every topic under the sun. Then, we said our goodbyes, and it was the long trip back across the city. Heading back, we took an alternate route, there was a palpable, carnival-like atmosphere in the air. The streets were still rocking and rolling with over-abundant life. It was all pretty impressive and yes, inspiring. Chicago is a jewel.

Back home, hitting the pillow, we decided, well, maybe, it's true, we are the kind of people who tried to change the world, but, course, it turned out, it was the world that changed us.

The Good Life: To Do...

When is it good? You know, Life?

When you are doing things. Seems simple, maybe even simple-minded, but I do think it's true. Being engaged, occupied, on the hunt, running down a dream, owning up to the moment, meeting the day with all your faculties focused on getting stuff done, throwing yourself into the tasks at hand.

Being busy, being born, every moment. There is possibility in that approach. Less time ruminating over the past, or speculating on the future, being alive in the moment, now. It is sort of a Zen way to live.

Every task can be approached with a fiery determination. Funny, it can be something really excellent like writing a song, or discovering a new riff on your guitar, playing music with your band in the rehearsal room, or alternatively, it can be bit more homely and practical, like mopping the floor, cooking a meal, rearranging your sock drawer, emptying the recyle bin. Doing your best, no matter what task, to be excellent in all ways.

Paying attention to the details, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential. Everything counts in this Universe. Honor the moments while you do. Yes, doing things, it really is the Good Life...

Reclaiming the American Dream...

Holy Shite. Do you feel it?

A feeling, an energy, a movement surging across the land. What is it? Exuberance. What is exuberance? "The quality of being full of energy, excitement and happiness."

Can it be that America is waking up to a new day? Something is happening.  Huge crowds. Excited. Loving. Embracing. Super-charged with a renewed energy.

Is this feeling, this energy, rational or irrational?

I'd say totally rational. Sometimes there is a moment, a time, where everything clicks into place. Everythng crystalizes. As they say, "consciousness can change in an instant."  The perfect idea, appearing at the exactly perfect time & place, the absolutely right person, or persons, meeting the day, and the moment, head-on in an exuberant embrace. 

Harris/Walz today is like The Beatles in 1964. I know, maybe a stretch. I am reaching back into ancient pop cultural history. Comparing a political ticket with a pop band, might seem a bit far-fetched, but you know, it rings true and resonates with me. It's looks and feels like the same overwhelming exuberance, springing up instantly before our eyes.

It's about the people, right? Connecting with the people. The people are ready. It's like they've been waiting in the wings, ready to jump up and reclaim their own excitement, their own hopes, their own personal dreams, and yes, ready to grab onto the Great American Dream once again.  "Dream, baby, Dream." The right phenomenon/the right moment. It is a magnificent thing to behold. Perfectly in time and in tune. "I wanna hold your hand..."

We Don't Have to Chase After the Latest, Stupid, Shiny Thing...

Chasing the latest stupid, shiny thing. 

Holy fuck. There are seemingly smart, well-heeled, fat and sassy folks who spend all their time chasing after the stupidest shit. And they are desperate to hijack our attention, and to fill our heads with this latest stupid shiny shit too. They want us all to wallow in the latest stupid shiny thing. Much of the media landscape, and much of our cultural conversation, is over-heated huffing & puffing about the latest, stupid, shiny thing. 

It makes us all so much more uncertain, confused, out to sea, and yes, it simply fans the flames of stupidity. We walk around asking ourselves, "Is everything and everyone really this stupid?" Yikes. It's actually a fucking business model. Make folks stupider for valuable prizes & cold, hard, cash. 

What a monumental waste of our time. We can choose not to play this very stupid and soul-crushing game.  As John Lennon once sang, just "Gimmee Some Truth." There are folks who talk the talk, and those who walk the walk. 

Best to tune out the noise. Lean to the light, and turn to those who actually walk the real streets in the real world. Folks doing real things with real people in the real streets. Yes. I mean, fuck, yeah, that is the way to some kind of clarity, I mean, it is just the smart way forward.

Something...

Something is happening. Yes. On the ground. In the analog world. You know the world of dirt, air, trees, buildings. There has been a seismic change in the vibe. It's pretty amazing, and glorious. Will it last? Who knows? Pretty sure things are changing dramatically. What we thought we knew, well, we just don't know  anymore. What is that in the air? Joy, hope, enthusiasm, intelligence, possibility.  Really.  The future? Maybe it isn't bleak? You can almost see  this positivity floating above your head. Something is happening. Yes. Indeed.

Yes. As They Say... "We are Not Going Back..."

Harris & Walz. Of course.

Puts me in mind of a few choice words.

Momentum. Another significant and very invisible force in our lives. A "strength or force gained by motion or by a series of events."

Pragmatism: "a practical approach to problems and affairs."

Optimism: "a doctrine that this world is the best possible world... an inclination to put the most favorable construction upon actions and events or to anticipate the best possible outcome."

Tim Walz quoting the r&r desperado Warren Zevon - "We'll sleep when we're dead."  Warms my heart, indeed. 

Human Humility...

My great insight & thought this early morning: "It is humbling to be Human."

Ha. Ok. Maybe not so very insightful or great. But it is an insight & a thought that has been hard-earned by experience. So it thuds to the ground before me with the force of truth. Yes. Indeed.

Humility: freedom from pride or arrogance. Well, yes, of course.

Sisyphus with a Telecaster...

Playing music with my vaunted garage-rock band last Saturday night. A small, long-time, hole in the wall, hard-core drinking-hole, in a newly revived Chicago neighborhood. What used to be a "no-man's-land;" abandoned store-fronts, burned-out cars, pot-holed-streets, is now an overstuffed, shiny, full-on mega-land of themed restuarants, with a bounty of overflowing money & youth. An urban play-land for the young & beautiful with $ to burn. 

The bar is always busy. Cheap drinks. A throw-back anomaly in the hood. Sports on the TVs. A small stage with a crappy P.A. ancient cables and mics. The clientele is decidedly young, with a few old-timers elbowed up to the bar. Everyone seems intent on getting trashed. 

The crowd was loud. They were there to drink and carouse, not to listen to music. We took the stage and decided to command the room by turning our amps up to max volume.  At war with the crowd. Guitars and drums our tools of sonic-destruction. We blazed through our set at a breakneck speed, with a few long, and crazed, instrumental jams. 

The vocals were buried in the mix. Terrible mics and cables. But the band never sounded better. We were unhinged, unruly, total, maximum r&r. Much sound & fury signifying not too much except the glory of r&r. Was it good? For us, totally. It was totally exhilarating. There we moments of complete lift-off. When we kicked into a bluesy, gnarly version of the Beatles Come Together, folks actually sang-a-long.  That was a surprise.

Aftwards a pool of sweat. Total cleanse. Too hyped to be tired. Think Sisyphus with a Telecaster, rolling that stone, no, levitating that stone up the hill, via the noisy vibrations emanating from my guitar; blazing into the night, blazing into the void. Damn the freaking Torpedoes...

Too Ridiculous to Be Tragic...

This is a bit of stretch, but I love it: Trump's Political Downfall: The Fat Elvis Phase.

Fat Elvis died for our sins by ingesting all the drugs known to man and stumbling around on stages around the land in front of swooning matronly ladies who tossed their extra-large underwear at him. An overstuffed legend sinking into the deepest of drug addictions, blubbering his old hits into a microphone. Too ridiculous to be tragic.

Trump of course is dying for our worst sins, he is imploding from embodying all the most deplorable, & despicable thoughts, tendencies and actions known to man. He eats racsim for breakfast. He lies with every breath. He is doubling down on his own hatred & idiocy. He is stumbling about on stages across America blubbering his tired routine of vile B.S. into a microphone for screaming, brain-dead MAGAs.

Yes, this too is just too disgusting & ridiculous to be tragic...

The Life of Vibes...

My co-conspirator and I are "vibes" people. Vibes = "a distinctive feeling or quality capable of being sensed." For the longest time we didn't know it.

Now, after all these years of being experienced Human Beings, we do. We now talk about how ever since we were little kids we were always feeling, reading, seeing vibes. It really has been a Sixth Sense in our lives. It could be why were attracted to each other. Oh, this one knows what I know...

It is a double-edged sword. Often experiencing vibes has been majorly confusing. Pushed us in ways we didn't understand. Lots of crazy flailing and flopping around. That's life. We often didn't know what was going on, didn't know how to handle this ability.

We are long-time meditators, and that practice seemed to hone our vibe-seeing, and vibe-sensing abilities. It made it all much more real. We got better at knowing what was going down, we could identify when the vibes were good or bad, and could almost see them, like vaporized clouds. Often now vibes have certain colors associated with them.

Some folks are black-holes of vibes. They just exude a blackness and they swallow up all the energy in a room. We can spot them a mile away. Some folks are positive-generating vibe-machines, walking, talking rainbows.

You see vibes flashing, like little embers, in people's eyes.

Check out Pete Townshend's great "Tommy" for a soundtrack about feeling, seeing, touching vibes. It all has spiritual component. Vibes connect you to everything in the Universe. It's powerful shite.

Of course, vibes are invisible, and, well, often other folks think they don't actually exist. We can't prove they do. We just experience them. Funny, all the most important things in our lives are invisible and unprovable, for instance: Love & Hope.

Vibes. Right. Life really is about vibes. We feel them and generate them. That's part of being a Human Being.

To Change or Not To Change...

Embracing change or clinging to an old picture?

If we are going make distinctions between Humans, maybe that's as good of a divider as any? I mean, I'm not trying to divide people, but looking to try to understand them. Understand myself too.

Are you willing to change? To morph, evolve when reality smacks you in the kisser? Or do you cling to old, out-dated ideas, feelings, emotions?

Are you willing to admit you were wrong? To change course? To re-think? To take the hit and then try to heal and grow? 

I am definitely changeable. Maybe to a fault.

The narrative of my life is a long winding road. There are elements that are essentially the same, I am basically a happy camper, with a sunny disposition. Even when things go bad, my dreams implode, decisions turn out to be dogs-breath, I still usually try to find the silver lining.

It doesn't always work. There are dead-ends, some events with no discernable upside. At those times all you can do is acknowledge the reality, take it in, try to process, and then, well, carry on.

Of course, the Universe is such a big, complicated, crazy, wonderfully wild and wooly place, there are always new avenues, new ideas, new things to try, and to do. Looking at the others, those who just cling to the past, to bad ideas, to ignorance, and double-down on their misfires, well, you almost feel sorry for those folks.

Not always. Sometimes those folks are truly the bad actors amongst the herd. And you think, "they will get what they deserve." I know, sort of sounds ominous. But maybe I mean: "Karma, Baby!"

Racist Flailing...

Oh my. That racist old man running for President came to Chicago yesterday for some determined racist-flailing. The Black Journalists who questioned him pushed the hot-buttons on that fat buffoon with a couple of smart questions, and the racist-shill-asshole just immediately jumped up and revealed his deeply sick & corrupt heart. 

Such a tired routine. Sure, his base is filled with racists, so maybe not so surprising. What a thuddingly bad display. Let me quote the fabulously great Arizona Senator/Astronaut Mark Kelly:

Sen. Mark Kelly says Trump’s remarks at the NABJ convention today were “the comments of a desperate, scared old man who, over the last week especially, has been having his butt kicked by an experienced prosecutor."

That weak, old man racist buffoon just can't help himself. Racist-Flailing. Yikes!

We can do so much better!