And You are In It...

And then you realize you are in a speeding car with a whole bunch of crazy people - people shouting and arguing about really stupid things. And the brakes don't work, and the accelerator is stuck, and the steering wheel is actually just a prop.

And you're in the back seat, you 're strapped into your seat, you're chewing gum furiously, you look out the window and the landscape is just one long blur, one long smear - there's what look like the shapes of trees and buildings and burned out malls and lots of rust and dead stuff.

You can't see what's behind you. It's just a blur. And it's all just gone, gone, gone.

You can see something ahead, it looks like a brick wall, no maybe that's just a hallucination, it might be a cliff, there's lots of blue sky and it looks like the road ends.

And there's some ominous looking clouds - it may actually be a funnel, "oh shit" heavy weather. And the funnel is massive and it's heading your way, and there's all kind of debris, jet trash, broken TVs, cables and strings and garbage, lots of freaking garbage.

Spinning like some Horror-Show Carousel. There's some kind of creepy circus music coming from the funnel. You realize this is your world. And you are in it.

Playing an Empty Room

We had one of those long, rambling, totally intense rehearsal sessions yesterday afternoon. It was so absorbing. Like falling into another zone.

Time just dissolved.

There were moments of beauty and of dissonance too. We played for each other. For an empty room. And that was enough. No, it was more than enough.

Destroying the Irreplaceable

"Mother Nature on the run in the nineteen seventies..." - Neil Young

I guess by now, we've run her over, stomped her into the bleeding ground, and left her in a million tiny oil-saturated, globally-fired pieces...

Jimmy Jammer & the Jams - "Big Box Store"

Hey I wrote and recorded a song a couple of days ago called "Big Box Store." It is now available on Amazon for $0.89 cents. It will soon be available pretty much world-wide at other fine digital sites and download outlets including iTunes and Napster, etc.

Check it out if you are so inclined!

Maynard G. Krebs Universe

If you listen to those wacky scientists, we started with a big bang, and this big production number has been rolling out ever since.

The longer it rolls, the more entropy gets employed, the more entropy in the works, the more things break down and get wacky.

Starts out all bright and shiny then gets all kind of "beat-nik."

I dig it.

Unthinkable

Of course the unthinkable happens every day. Who woulda thunk it?

Days of Reckoning

And then there are those days of reckoning. You don't always see them coming. And sometimes you do.

See them coming or not. It don't matter. Finally you have to reckon with them.

The Waiting

As Tom Petty once said, "the waiting is the hardest part."

Waiting for the "other shoe" to drop in a universe of shoes.

The Dog Star Rages

The Dog Star rages. And we are left with the Burden of the Mystery...

Clip their Wings

Don't want to do it. But the Lovely Carla tells me it's time to clip the little birdies wings. They've been just little "too flighty" lately. Me too.

Any little thing can set them off. They start flying around like the world is burning. And maybe the world is burning.

Still, maybe it's for their own good. Put a little damper on their flight worthy-ness. Slow them down a little, bring them down back to earth.

Maybe they'd thank us, if they could.

Wounds

Some say that adults are just damaged children. Often it seems so.

As my resident house poet (Dylan) puts it: some are "wounded in love," some are "wounded in hatred."

I'd also add: some are wounded in laughter, some are wounded in remembering, some are wounded in forgetting.

It's a big old world. Lots of wounds all around.

Good To Be Wrong!

I like it when Physicists use the language of the poets and the mystics.

For instance, there is this one talking about "the arrow of time," and describing how the arrow tends to go in one direction.

I like it when Physicists wonder why "we remember yesterday and not tomorrow..."

I like it when a Physicist conjectures that the reason the Universe seems to be getting crazier is because of entropy.

I guess, I like this stuff because science doesn't really debunk the mystery of the universe, it actually increases the freaking mystery of everything.

Which for me increases the opportunities, the sea of possibilities. Maybe everything I know is wrong. That would probably be a good thing!

Reminds me that there's more than meets the eye. I like that!

The American Con Game!

I love this line from Kevin Drum's post, because I think it applies to Amerika as we know it now:

"A large part of the activity of the financial sector seems to be a machine to transfer income and wealth from outsiders to insiders..."

It's all just an elaborate CON GAME. Ånd the same con is carried on by the Food Industry, the Drug industry, the Religion Game, etc

We are a society that has gotten expert at hustling itself silly. We are actually entertained by the hustle. We are the happy dupes looking to be duped, over and over.

That Explains It! Approximately!

Ok, now I've circled back to Plato and his realm of ideas. What a long strange trip it's been.

So yes, I'm thinking there is this Realm of Ideas. It really exists. We can only access it through our brain-waves. Our brains are receivers.

So there's the world of Ideas, Ideals. And then there's the world we live in. Everything in our world, our realm, is an APPROXIMATION.

Everything we do in our realm is only an attempt at realizing the IDEAL. And the process goes on and on, as long as the universe exists.

Nature knows. It continues to churn out forms that don't quite measure up to the ideal. That's what makes the world go round.

It could be frustrating. Always trying to reach the ideal and always falling short. Aye, there's the rub!

Every Thing Counts

It has slowly dawned upon on me. I mean, after a long string, a long, slow, meandering string of days...

Everything counts. Every thought. Every word. Every action.

And we are the result of the count.

Our bones, our blood, our flesh, our brain matter reflect the count.

I guess this is sort of my version of existentialism. Every. Thing. Counts.

Elites Beating On Elites!

Goldman Sachs Busted! It's good to see one group of Elites, going after another group of Elites.

After all these years of rich and poor people ganging up and beating on poor people (Why would poor people beat up on other poor people? No one wants to be poor, no one wants to identify with the poor!) we finally get some rich people beating up on other rich people.

And not a moment too soon.

Maybe this all goes nowhere, I mean, Goldman Sachs will have a team of the best lawyers in the biz fighting tooth and nail, or alternatively negotiating some slight tap on the wrist.

But it is good to see someone throw down the gauntlet. See, I'm an optimist, hopefully not a sap. And clearly these guys are crooks! They are not the best and brightest. They are craven greed-heads feeding at the trough.

And we are such a rich-obsessed, celebrity-crazed society, we actually end up applauding, and lauding these wealthy criminals.

As Woody Guthrie once sang, "Yes, as through this world I've wandered, I've seen lots of funny men; Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen."

And that fountain pen skullduggery draws real blood and devastates real lives...

Convergence of Some Really Cool Souls

We had a kickass, packed to the gills, standing room only show last night at our humble little performance space.

There was lots of love in the room. You can't just manufacture all that good feeling on demand.

It was all just a little happening. A mirage, a convergence of some really cool souls all there to listen, chill out and have a good time.

Plus, we finally had the mirror ball up and spinning around. I mean, come on, how you gonna beat a mirror ball?!?

Hey All You Appalling Offshoots - Dig It!

“For all our supposed sophistication, a human is still an animal, a primate,” Mr. Lorentz said, as sunset flashed pink over Bergdorf Goodman. And primates, he added, “are probably among the most appalling offshoots that exist of mammalian evolution.” The more time one spends around other species, he added, “the more you realize how foolish humans are.”

Tears for Stalin!

You see the Tea Party rallies and you think George Romero's "Dawn of the Dead."

We've seen these brain dead zombies before!

Turns out lots of Tea Partiers are nostalgic for the George Bush years.

Reminds me that people cried when Stalin died!

Here's Rick Pearlstein on these swine: "they are the same angry, ill-informed, overwhelmingly white, crypto-corporate paranoiacs that accompany every ascendancy of liberalism within U.S. government."

A Rat in the Vat

Words. Names. I don't know, sometimes all you have to do is pay attention.

For instance, Dodi Fayed.

Dood in Dutch means DEAD. So with a little creative transcription: the beloved, ill-fated Princess Di was dating a guy named DEAD Di.

Someone should have pointed that one out - maybe she'd be alive today.

And now we have a Pope named RAT ZINGER. All I can say is, of course.

Everything Goes Wrong At Least Once

You know, in theater we say, "You don't really know your show, until everything goes wrong at least once."

And the thought occurred to me, even as I hoped it wasn't true: "You don't really know your life, until everything goes wrong at least once."

Hopefully things "going wrong" is something you learn from and survive to tell the tale.

Of course, there's wrong, and then there's dreadfully wrong. That's a whole nother can of worms...

Mr. Mo Mojo

If you say "yes" you end up in places you didn't necessarily know you'd end up in. Sometimes this is good, sometimes not so good.

Yesterday it was good. I ended up in Mr. Mo's living room, listening to Mr. Mo and his friend from Madison, WI running through pop songs together. Mr Mo played guitar, piano and ukulele. Mr. Mo and his friend sang and harmonized like the Everly Brothers or John and Paul at their best.

It was a truly virtuoso performance. They ran through a mind-boggling catalog of songs: Beatles, Harry Nilsson, Beach Boys, Kinks, Simon and Garfunkel, Roy Orbison, the Archies, Abba, etc.

I think my favorite was Mr. Mo singing "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" to his own ukulele accompaniment, although "Strawberry Fields" and "Penny Lane" were pretty amazing too.

Who knew Mr. Mo had it in him?

Freedom in Increments

I guess I was thinking about Dylan's line, "If dogs run free, why not me, Across the swamp of time?"

Although it's a nice rhyme, the reality is that most dogs don't really run free. Except maybe in brief increments. Freedom is kind of parceled out.

That goes for us too. Freedom is kind of illusory. It's parceled out for us too. It's another chimerical state we pretend to stake our lives on.

Coyote is a lonely road. We can't just choose to be Coyote.

Wild, Free, Haunted

Dogs are sellouts to the humans. It makes sense in a big, cruel, dog eat dog world. We provide the meal ticket, the warm hearth. They provide companionship and loyalty.

Humans can identify with the dogs because they are sellouts too. To the corporation, the company, the state. Any higher power that assures a meal and a warm hearth.

When you come across a "wild dog" for instance a coyote, it's very disturbing. This is a "dog" that "sells out" to no one, to nothing.

I recently spied two of them running across the street, through the park, along the lakefront. Two scrawny, mangy creatures. Lightening fast. Moving, always moving forward. On the run, on the hunt, they seemed determined, wild, free, haunted, alone even if they traveled together.

Free to starve, free to survive with no provider, no big daddy, no friend willing to lend a hand or a morsel of food.

Zone Out!

I can step into the zone of my own zone, and I can completely zone out in that zone.

I recommend it.

When there's no future How can there be sin We're the flowers in the dustbin We're the poison in your human machine We're the future, your future

I guess Malcolm Mclaren was some kind of hero to me. Pretty much based on his managing the self-negating, quickly-vanishing-before-your-eyes "career" of the Sex Pistols, and two books I have read, Greil Marcus' enthralling Lipstick Traces and Simon Reynolds' Rip it Up and Start Again.

I still own (never play) a vinyl copy of the Sex Pistols' "Never Mind the Bollocks." Mclaren was detournement in action. He was like a spiky-headed version of Elvis' Colonel Parker to Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious.

Mclaren was a provocateur in the best sense of the word: "one who provokes." He was an intellectual "shit-stirrer." And sometimes the shit needs to be stirred.

It's possible the Punk movement as we know it, would not have existed, and certainly wouldn't have had the same spiky, edgy flavor without McLaren's influence.

One man can make a difference, even if his credo is smashing and mashing up differences.

UPDATE: And of course he was a showman, a promoter extraordinaire! Little Johnny Rotten was the apple of his eye and the whole Pistols thing was a wicked r&r spitball into the cultural stew!

Something Nasty

I think those global warming deniers, are kind of like penguins walking around on a diminishing shard of ice, telling themselves everything is gonna be fine, just fine.

I'm thinking James Lovelock the author of "The Vanishing Face of Gaia" is onto something. But maybe it's information we are just incapable of processing.

Still, I think it's plausible, as he says, "You can't put something like a trillion tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere without something nasty happening."

Lovelock thinks we're in for a major population reduction. It's kind of like we're the germs, and global warming is the fever. Gaia is sick, the fever will break, and all hell breaks loose.

And I'm sure every germ thinks it is the center of the universe! Guess what germ!

I am Sun Green!

The highlight of my day yesterday...

I encountered the Dancing Man on the avenue yesterday.

The Dancing Man is our neighborhood trans-medium, our own "Shaman on the Block." He is a very unique character, a large spirit. Sometimes friendly, sometimes a little scary. Clearly in his own world, usually tapped into another realm, riding on his very own wavelength.

Sometimes he sings, sometimes he drums, sometimes he runs in place, or runs backwards.

The Lovely Carla and I are always keen to listen to the Dancing Man. Sometimes he conveys information. He has inspired lines or little seeds for songs. "Everything is Everything," came from the Dancing Man!

Yesterday he and I passed each other on the sidewalk. He looked me in the eye and broke into a big grin and said, "Sun Green." I took it that he was dubbing me "Sun Green." Now what's funny, one of my favorite Neil Young albums, "Greendale," which I love and listen to often, has a character named Sun Green.

Somehow all this has deep meaning for me. I mean I don't know what it means, but it means something. There's some secret narrative that I once in awhile glimpse.

I mean, I guess it was a slow news day.

Amusing Universe!

A professional "amuser," now that's an idea!

And with that in mind, I've got a sweet idea for a brand new band!

Jimmy Jammer and the Jams!

Private Resurrection

Easter. All alone. I sat on the floor of our bathroom (the best reverb in the apartment) with my acoustic guitar and a digital recorder.

I recorded 12 songs. All Jimmy Jam-master stuff. I'm thinking of calling this collection "Porcelain and Chrome."

I wonder if it will ever see the light of day? Or will I just bury it?

It almost felt like a Resurrection.

Cold

And it was a malady of the spirit. How to regenerate a spirit? It was another of those questions that stopped him cold.

Cure

"They were trying to cure him of something they created." - Anonymous entry in an old notebook.

Last Minute Plans?

Hey just wanted to mention...

If you live in or around Chicago, and you have nothing going on, come join WhiteWolfSonicPrincess at the Elbo Room Upstairs Lounge tonight, Good Friday.

We are the featured musical artist in a very cozy room. First set starts around 9:00 p.m. The band is tight and the sound is hot. Check it out!

Cloud Land

Some days it's like trudging in mud.

Some days it's like walking on clouds.

Yesterday it was all cloud land.

A flea-ridden, blind dog

Hunter S. Thompson had the Brown Buffalo. I have the White Rhino, or maybe we can imagine a more svelte embodiment, let's go with the White Puma?

So the White Puma and I are on a crusade. Battling the forces of darkness.

And we are seeking Justice. Some say Justice is a blind-folded woman balancing an un-wieldy scale contraption.

I don't think so. No, Justice is a flea-ridden, blind dog. A beat and rumpled spirit with a hell of a good nose.

Can smell a rat, or a Lying Weasel from a mile away!

It Just Is...

Yesterday the sun was shining. The grass was growing. The flowers budding. The birdies singing.

Spring in the midwest. Got me thinking...

Life in it's multiplicity of forms needs no justification. It just is...

The flip-side of that coin: death needs no justification either. It just is...

And that's the lay of the land.

Plus Bonus Tidbit: "Some things are better in Pants!" - MPS

Wisdom via MPS channeled through the Lovely Carla...

"Treat the mean ones like they are the lowest of the low. Treat the weak ones like they are the highest of the high."

Soul Session

Our band WhiteWolfSonicPrincess will be playing two sets of music at the Elbo Room's Upstairs Lounge this coming Good Friday.

Roll away the stone!

Yesterday was our last full band rehearsal for the show. It was really intense. Two full sets, almost 90 mins. of music!

I don't know if it's bad form to rave about your own band, but the session (which we recorded) was mind-blowingly good.

Our bass, drums, violin and acoustic guitar combo is just getting better and better. The Lovely Carla is singing with beauty and authority.

It's just so exciting to find a group of talented people all dedicated to something so delicate, so ephemeral.

As Blake once put it: "Energy is Eternal Delight!" Ain't it the truth?!?

MXR Carbon Copy: Recommended!

I've been playing guitar pretty intensely the last few years. With two bands. I have a basic setup. Acoustic guitar, electric guitar, a little tube amp and a couple of effects pedals.

The effects pedals I use are an Ibanez Tube Screamer and an MXR Carbon Copy analog delay pedal. It's a nice combination that gives some color to the sound. Adds a little overdrive, sustain and shimmer.

Awhile back the MXR Carbon Copy went bad. The switch got stuck. The pedal was always on. Could not switch it off. I e-mailed their support group and surprisingly they told me they'd send me a new switch for free. I guess it was still under warranty.

They sent me a new switch, which I installed myself. Big mistake. Once I got done with the install the pedal was totally DOA. So I got back in touch with their support team and they told me to send it in.

Well, they put a new PC board in the thing and sent it back to me. It works perfectly - better than ever! They did a nice job. It's good to see a company standing behind their product.

Thanks Jim Dunlop!

The Pigeon Game

People are still torturing pigeons.

So which are you?

The helpless tied up pigeon?

Or the pissed off hungry pigeon?

The Home of the Beast: 666 St. Peter's Square

** I don't know what was up with Blogger today. Every time I tried to post the little rant below, something would go wrong. I began to think that someone or something didn't want me to post it. This got me thinking about the Bavarian Illuminati, Knights Templar, the Masons, Tom Hanks, Dan Brown and those dudes flying around on those little go-karts decked out with rugs... oh yeah those freaky Shriners!

Even if you had a supremely diabolical imagination, you still probably wouldn't come up with this hideously twisted story about a Priest abusing 200 deaf boys. I mean it almost sounds like a set up for a really sick and twisted joke.

And worse than that mind-numbing horror, you then learn that the Catholic Church hierarchy's "highest priority was protecting the church from scandal."

This is truly evil! The Pope and everyone in that freaking decision loop should be defrocked or worse!

How about Hornswaggled!?!?

For some reason, I think about Sinead O'connor and her zany protest on Saturday Night Live those many years ago. I don't know the specifics of her beef with the Church, it may have seriously hurt her career. She broke the rules of showbiz. Do not say something real during our entertainment.

I'm thinking all those people who gave her shit for expressing herself, should get on their knees and beg forgiveness.

Ripping up a picture of the Pope. Oh how quaint! I mean, you don't want to paint with a broad brush but it's clear the Catholic Church is a supremely dysfunctional organization, no scratch that, a criminal enterprise that should be taken apart brick by freaking brick!

Interesting Guy

I lived it, then I wrote the song...

"Packed up my confidence. Went to the conference. Went up the escalator, could of been an elevator.

Walked in the front door, didn't want to be there no more. I carried a paper, had my permanent record, threw it on the table, she picked it up directly.

She looked in my eye, through my disguise, looked in my eye, said I'm an interesting guy.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

The half of it.

The half of it.

The half of it.

The half of it.

Walked out the door, I was feeling sore, thought I'd never come back no more, no more.

I got myself a coffee, actually it was given to me, I drank it down, it was free.

A random act of kindness, makes you feel like a highness, isn't it crazy how it can be?

Still I can recall, like it was great fall, down at the mall.

Well she looked in my eye, through my disguise, said I'm an interesting guy, looked in my eye, through my disguise, said I'm an interesting guy, interesting guy.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

I thought lady, you don't know the half of it.

The half of it.

The half of it.

The half of it.

The half of it."

Product Spotlight - Seymour Duncan

Yes, I sold some gear on Ebay to get a Woody XL and I must say, I love it.

An easy install. No modifications to your acoustic guitar necessary. You just pop it in and you're ready to go.

I turned up loud and the thing is dead quiet. And the tone is deep and resonant.

Seymour Duncan is the real deal. I also modded my Mexican made Telecaster Thinline with two Hot Rails and it's now a humbucking monster.

Totally changed the tone of the thing. Which I like.

Good stuff!

The Dark Cloud Folks

And then of course you come across the folks who see a dark cloud in every silver lining!

No news is good news.

Even good news.

Oh well...

He is the Man!

After a lot of hot air, fear-mongering, and mindless sound and fury, Congress finally bellied-up and did the right thing.

I agree with Matt Yglesias: "Barack Obama will go down in history as one of America's finest Presidents."

No matter what, even if the bill is kind of a mash-up of half-baked ideas, it's a great step forward. Proves that social liberalism can carry the day.

The bill isn't the greatest thing ever passed, but I think it will be a first step towards a more rational and inclusive healthcare system.

Of course, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. But sometimes we need the good intentions to win against the greedy fear-mongering bastards. The GOP has proven to be a collection of craven shit-meisters.

Obama is too gracious to gloat. I'll do it for him! Nice going Big Guy!

A Brief Flash of Light

Our little storefront space was packed last night. 25 human beings meant a full house - surprise, surprise! It's a very intimate space. Nothing fancy. A nice clean room. A little color, fabric, lights, and music. Our little cathedral.

We did our little skit "The Wig."

Someone commented that it was "Ike and Tina Turner meets Beckett." That's perfect.

Our method is our madness. A few people really tune into our wavelength, which always amazes me. I mean, on the other hand, I'm surprised that our stuff is considered strange, disconnected, and obtuse. What makes complete sense to me, or what I will tolerate in my own head as completely sensible, sometimes seems to totally baffle some folks.

It's something I've come to expect. And I guess I wouldn't have it any other way. So yes, the show went well, no major glitches. We didn't get to magic, but we did a good job. We did the piece justice.

It was an opening and closing night for this piece. A brief flash of light, and then it's gone. One shot. No re-do. That is kind of how it goes.

The Best Drug Ever Invented!

We're doing a little performance piece ( a skit!) tonight at our little storefront space. We spent hours yesterday drilling lines, going through the motions.

There's a trick, still learning it - you learn a piece so thoroughly it's like second nature, and then you do it in the moment and it's like you've never done it before.

This moment. Nothing else exists.

Sometimes you pull it off and sometimes not. Plus there's always the potential of blowing it - jumping lines, missed cues, the dreaded technical glitches.

It gives it all a sharp edge. The potential of disaster - embarrassment, humiliation, failure.

That's why it's worth doing. Because you are flirting with disaster, and then, maybe, if everything breaks your way, you pull it off.

At least that's the idea. And sometimes it's all so thrilling and rewarding just to stare down the threat of failure, and dance away on a cloud.

It's like finding the best drug ever invented.

A Well-Tempered Life!

You would think tuning your guitar would be a simple thing. I mean, I've been tuning guitars for a long time. In fact, I used to have job where I tuned guitars all day long.

You'd think there'd be one way to tune a guitar. You'd be wrong. I mean, there are schools of thought and no consensus about tuning. There are "tempered" tuning systems - some people swear by them, some people swear at them.

There are tuners and tuning forks and all kinds of recommendations about how to "correctly" tune an instrument.

This is one of those topics that just seems to get more complicated and less settled the more you study it. Another one of those deep mysteries. So you can tune a guitar in the standard way, and some chords will sound great, and some chords will sound not so great.

You have to take into account that particular instrument, that particular player, that particular day. Whose finger is actually fingering whose fret-board? I've found that the more I pay attention to tuning, the harder it seems to get my guitar tuned.

I used to rely on a tuner with little lights and needles thinking it was all so scientific. And maybe it is, but not really the end of the story. I've followed some threads on the topic and ultimately you are left with lots of different opinions and theories, Pythagoras is invoked, Buzz Feinten is bandied about.

I've got two standard guitars and one Buzz Feiten tempered one. I discovered that I'd been tuning the "Buzzed" guitar correctly to my tuner but it just didn't sound right to my ear. Now I basically rely on my ear. It takes longer, I kind of go into an obsessive loop. I think I've found the sweet spot, but it takes work to get there, and finally it's really only my own ear that guides me.

I do think Buzz is onto something. My "buzzed" guitar does sound more in tune than the others in more places on the fret-board. But I find I really have to work and listen. My ear seems to be getting more sensitive. The more I listen the more I hear.

This is another one of those Holy Grail adventures. And maybe this isn't just a past-time, it's the whole thing. I mean the universe is a vibration too. And it's all about finding the right frequency and riding that vibe to enlightenment.

And all that obsessive tweaking of the tuning peg? That's just the essential work.

Gimmee Back My Wig!

We ran lines last night. Over and over and over. We have a show on Saturday. We will be doing a whacked-out little performance piece I wrote awhile back called "The Wig."

It was inspired by a comment Ike Turner once made while watching his ex-wife Tina on TV.

"I put that wig on her bald head!"

Which had reminded me of a song Hound Dog Taylor used to do called, "Gimmee Back My Wig."

That's all it took to send me off the cliff. Now we must live with my little creation. So we ran through the lines - strange, disconnected lines - over and over.

It's a process that is sort of like a brain cleanser, or maybe like water-boarding. Painful and mind-numbing.

But then again, we have a goal: MAGIC. We'll see what happens Saturday.

Watch Your Back!

St. Patrick's Day. I do have a place in my heart for this day. There's something in the blood, the genetic entity.

It's now basically an excuse for everyone, Irish or not, to get smashed - totally inebriated beyond recognition.

I've opted out of that ritual for many years now. I realized it's sort of like driving nails into your forehead to see what happens.

Not very enlightening.

So according to legend, St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. I suppose those wriggly little bastards all swam over to the shores of this Capitalistic Cesspool.

Their spawn now inhabit most of the centers of power in the land - Wall Street, Washington, Corporate offices in every freaking nook and cranny in this toasted land.

All I got to say - "Watch your back, brothers and sisters!"

Lost Hour

A couple of days ago we went to daylight savings time here in the heartland. Which means we lost an hour. Talk about the flexibility of the space time continuum.

Now, there is an upside. Daylight later into the evening. But what about that missing hour? I'm really missing it.

My body, my brain can't be fooled. So I'm running after the day.

And I'm an hour behind. And it seems there was something important in that missing hour that I'm missing. And now it's gone.

Nope

Bi-partisanship...

I don't think so.

And I say, good riddance!

Breathe!

It's all about the breathing. Everything else sort of flows from that. And the more I do it, the more I think that that's all I really know. Breathe!

And meet the universe half-way. What happens then is anyone's guess. I am more and more certain, that there are less and less certainties.

You might think this might be disheartening. You would be wrong. The uncertainty of things is sort of reassuring. There's chance, randomness, weirdness in-built into our life experience.

And things sort of evolve or devolve from there.

And just left with breathe.

It's My Life, Baby!

Ever since I can remember, which means, what, since the beginning of the world, I've found myself pulling for the underdog, rooting for the up and comer, betting on the long-shot.

I collect lost causes and desperate cases like a mangy dog collects fleas.

There was a bald-headed, curly bearded dude way back when who was the patron Saint of lost causes and desperate cases. How did they come up with that one?

Anyway, I often put on my spurs and hitch up my pants and grab a lance and venture into the fog of war. I realize that it's my life, baby, I'm a long-shot, an underdog, an up and comer. Always.

And sometimes a dog does have it's day. Sometimes that sure thing turns out not to be a sure thing. And sometimes the long-shot walks away with the spoils. That's my hope, my religion, my job, my life.

Pass It!

Hey another reason to pass that damn healthcare bill:

The FAT BASTARD promises to schlep his suppurating carcass to Costa Rica for treatments.

Sweet!

UPDATE: After this post I discovered that Matt Taibbi also has some interesting things to say about that racist "intellectually lazy piece of shit."

Catastrophic

One catastrophe from catastrophe.

Is there any other way?

Then What?

So what if you dropped THE FEAR? And what if you dropped THE HOPE?

And what if you lived in the MOMENT?

I mean, you'd end up with lots more space in that FREAKING HEAD of yours.

Then what?

Extreme Self-Editing

"He shot himself in the heart in an alley outside a friend's home." That's how Mark Linkous of "Sparklehorse" chose to go.

I didn't know the man, except from his work. And really I own only one disc:

Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain.

I wrote about it here, back in 2007. It still seems like a certain kind of masterpiece.

Murder is a crime - self murder? At 47 years old? What is that? Extreme Self-Editing. Sad and baffling.

Refuse the Lightening

We're working on a new performance piece. Or it's kind of an old piece that I revamped, revised. We've been working lines. It's kind of strange, kind of funny (at least to me).

Last night, while we were reading the script a lightening bolt hit me square in the forehead. Puppets?!?

Puppets? Really, I hate Puppets! Still, can I really refuse the bolt of lightening?!

God

"God is a concept, by which we measure our pain." - John Lennon

A Magical State

And then you throw logic out the window.

And then it's magic to which you give yourself.

Story of the Road

Being a man in this world is a lonely road. A lonely road populated with billions of people. It's a long meandering road dotted with billions of needing, wanting, grasping pilgrims.

Which might seem sort of ridiculous.

That's part of the kick of the journey. It's a feature. Slogging down that lonely road - feeling foolish.

You are an asymmetrical being in a totally symmetrical world. You are all sharp edges and twisted angles and you're always bumping into things.

That's your life dude. And the cuts, the lumps, the bruises, the scars? Those are badges and medals and little markers reminding you of the story of the Road.

Tunnel Vision!

Tunnel Vision.

It's very good for digging tunnels!

IN PRAISE OF LOOTING...OR..."You must be honest, to live outside the law." - Dylan

Let's say there was a major catastrophe in your homeland. Maybe a hurricane, or an earthquake, or a horde of little green men blasts a hole in the artificial fabric of your reality.

Let's say there's no electricity. No food. No water. All the basics of survival are up for grabs.

Now you and I we figure we have to make it. No matter what.

So we go to the Supermarcado in our neighborhood, and we commandeer a couple of stray shopping carts and we start grabbing stuff like drunks at a strip club. We fill our shopping carts with all kinds of stuff and then we blow out of there. We head to our dark, blasted hovels and feast on our goods.

And some one back in their safe European home says "Why that's "LOOTING?!? Where is the military? Where be the cops?"

LOOTING?! Really? And you value property over people? Really?

Pastor Waits

Listening to the radio this morning. Folks are lamenting their losses in the stock market. Trillions of dollars evaporated in the Big Financial Cesspool.

I think Tom Waits summed up the financial thing in a song he recorded in the late Seventies:

The Large Print Giveth, and the Small Print Taketh Away!

Wake Up Dead Man!

It turns out our good friend Keralee is a Yogi. She teaches Yoga. I've never Yoga-ed until now. Since we opened our Black Forest Space we've been looking for things to do when we're not rehearsing or doing a show, and Sunday mornings are now all about Yoga.

A few neighborhood folks are into it. I decided to jump in the Yoga pool myself. So, I brought over a rug, (I haven't worked up to an official Yoga mat yet!), and gave it a go.

Some in the class (the Lovely Carla for instance) are Yoga pros. Still, I've decided no Yoga Envy for me. I'm just happy to get through the session in one piece.

I set up in the back row, so no one can really watch me stumble through the poses. I did my best not to hurt myself. I must say, Keralee really put us through the paces. I worked up a healthy sweat.

You must leach the poison out!

So I found some new muscles I never knew I had. Turns out all that running has made my legs tighter than the bark on a tree (or is that tighter than a bark on a rapid dog?). My favorite part was at the end - Corpse Pose. Alive and playing dead on my rug. Just like kindergarten!

Big, cartoony, funny, ominous.

We went to the Art Institute yesterday. A field trip: Free February at the 'Tute. Took the Red Line all the way into the heart of the Loop. The Museum was jam-packed with people.

Free is good. We wandered through the New Wing. Saw Wm. Eggleston photos of the south in early 60's - mid 70's. Big colorful portraits, small black and white snaps. A hushed beauty to the work - the American South - a sad and vibrantly weird place.

Then we trekked over to the Modern stuff. My favorites: Francis Bacon, Philip Guston, Jean Miro and Jean Dubuffet. I always get dizzy going to museums - maybe too many people, too much conflicting energy coming from the pictures.

I find it confusing - especially so many works crammed together without any context except - it's here in a museum - this place now. The mind reels - why these works? Why these artists?

Every time I go something new calls out to me. I guess this time it really was the room with the Philip Guston stuff. Big, cartoony, funny, ominous. I think that kind of sums up my world too.

A Joyful Sadness

As WhiteWolfSonicPrincess, the Lovely Carla and I having been writing songs. Turns out many of them are sad songs.

It's funny, there is such joy in writing and singing these songs, but they are dark and sad. We aren't dark and sad, but the music seems to come out that way.

Still, I think the joyous energy of their creation is also alive in the material. It has been a beautiful and profound collaboration for the both of us.

For a taste of what we've been doing we've posted some new live tracks at our site here.

I wonder, if we were both on The Meds would we sound like ABBA? Why is it that sometimes joy and pleasure seem shallow, and sadness and pain seem deep and profound? Maybe it's just a vibration thing.

Joy and pleasure are a higher vibration. Sadness and pain a lower vibration. So a joyful sadness ( the divine dialectic) would be absolutely sublime!

Snappy Questions - Fuzzy Answers

Question: Is there an objective reality?

Answer: Well, I guess it depends how you define objective. And how you define reality. And just who is the "you" that's gonna do the actual defining?

And you have to wonder if the definition has anything to do with reality anyway. And just what is reality? And how do you assume an objective posture if you're just a human being walking around on a spinning globe in the middle of a big old universe? And really as human beings can we really all agree on anything? And do we want to live in a world where everyone agrees about anything? And if we can't agree about anything how do we get anything done? And just why is the world so cocked up?

Anyway, I hope that helps. But I doubt it.

A Hollow Husk of a Place!

I think this is certainly the story of our era: Wall Street's Bailout Hustle. No one has done a better job reporting and writing about it than Matt Taibbi in Rolling Stone.

It's clear the wealthy folks of this country have scammed the rest of us. And the filthy rich (they are not filthy rich because they are smarter than the rest of us, they are just privileged crooks!) are playing the Feds for total patsies. Are the Feds just total saps or willing accomplices? Maybe both?!

This is a must read. What a Con game. What serious freaking money. We were so worried about foreign terrorists somehow destroying Fortress Amerika. Guess what? It turns out Wall Street, all those button downed bankers and traders burned the house down.

Our Empire is now a hollow husk of a place. We be Zombie Nation now. If there were still debtor prisons we'd all be on our way there now! Holy shit.

Surrealistic Pillow Talk

The Lovely Carla talking about one of our lovable but hard-core crazy friends: "She's a realist."

This sent me off on a mind-reeling adventure:

Visions of flaming giraffes, melting time-pieces, psychedelic colors, disappearing walls, fractured pictures, animal heads morphing into appliances, appliances acting like children, men and women as gibbering popsicles, all accompanied by Enrico Morricone-like soundtrack music punctuated with Theremins and glockenspiels.

sunnyjimmy: "Oh yes, and I'm a Surrealist!"

Meat on the Hoof!

OK. I'm a Centaur.

A pissed off Centaur.

Moving. Charging forward.

I don't know where I'm going. I'm leaping about. Just going!

I just want to feel something. I'm sick of waiting.

"I know I've dreamed you, a sin and a lie..." - Jagger/Richards

Kind of in a haze this morning.

I'm wandering around the web and came across Kim Morgan's post on Sunset Gun about my favorite decadent rockers the Rolling Stones and their beautiful song "Wild Horses."

Kim says everything and more you want to know about the song. It's one of my absolute favorites too, probably the best "love song" Jagger/Richards ever wrote and recorded.

A great little write-up, plus there's some cool pictures too...

Rationality - The Mask!

We unplugged and went to a movie yesterday afternoon. A sort of gloomy Saturday afternoon. We sat in the dark and entered Martin Scorsese's "Shutter Island."

I totally surrendered to the film. It had me from the first scene to the last. It's a work that masterfully captures a certain time and place - 1950's America. Leonardo Dicaprio is so good. He is truly one of our most gifted actors.

Also, of course Ben Kingsley and Max Von Sydow - what can I say - movie magic!

I love how the camera moves in a Scorsese film. This will remind you of Hitchcock - it almost feels like it was made in the 1950's.

And who are the mad ones and who are the sane ones? This movie is a glorious mind-bender. Highly recommended!

I Love Yoko Ono

I love Yoko. I love this photo - Yoko, Eric Clapton (Is that a look of supreme befuddlement on Eric's face?) and Sean Ono Lennon. I love this story. I love the Plastic Ono Band.

Yoko is probably one of the most famous conceptual artists who ever walked the planet. She's famous for hi-jacking one of our most beloved Pop Cultural Icons and taking him in a completely Un-MopTop-Type direction.

It was a love and art thing beyond compare. She suffered lots of abuse and ridicule for loving and collaborating with a man.

Still, she powered on and has continued to make great, challenging work all these decades since we lost Beatle John to a madman.

I find Yoko one of the most inspiring people I've ever come across. Love her music, her style, her mind.

She is the ultimate artist and poet. Always ahead of the curve...

2/18/10

WhiteWolfSonicPrincess Tour Diary:

6:00 p.m. - Stop at the coffee shop to get a caffeine fix. Back at the apartment pop in a new battery for my delay pedal, tune up guitar, put it in my beat-up guitar case, close it by wrapping a belt around it - probably time to get a new case. Carla is ready - she's got her music stand, her tambourine, hair curled. We get on the EL and head to the big city.

7:00 p.m. - We disembark at Addison. Clark and Addison. Wrigley Field - a big silent stadium in the dark winter night. This area of the city is sports bar heaven. Lots of neon. Shiny and friendly places - wood and silver - dedicated to sports and beer. Arrive at the Goose Island Beer Pub - a magnificent bar - kind of like the Chartes of beer joints. Long bar, big booths, lots of artery clogging food, big vats of beer - this is where the golden liquid is made.

8:00 p.m. The band trickles in. I have it easy. Just my acoustic guitar and a couple of effects pedals. I feel sorry for the drummer - it's all about setup and tear down with the show kind of shoe-horned in the middle. The sound guy is helpful. We're a pretty elaborate outfit now - bass, drums, electric and acoustic violin, the Lovely Carla and I. We do a sound check. It's a big room, large stage, nice lighting. It's a little strange - we're used to playing in a circle all connecting, the stage setup kind of works against our tight circle of communication.

9:00 p.m. The show goes well. The room is dotted with friends. A small but enthusiastic audience. We feel pretty good. No major glitches. Carla is singing with power and authority. My guitar sounds a little weird to me. We are so used to our little rehearsal space. Always need to adjust to the moment.

9:45 p.m. Another show under our belt. You have to approach each show as if it's that last stand. And then chalk it up to the next step in the process. It's all just an unfolding. Our band is really starting to jell. The sound is still evolving. It all felt good. My friends from Famous in the Future - Frank and Terry, tell me we sounded "Prog" - prog rock?! My great friend Ken tells me we sounded "Stonesy" - ala the Rolling Stones, and then someone else says we sounded: "indie-country-rock-punky-tori amos." Wow.

12:00 a.m. We hitched a ride home with our bass player. Sitting watching Craig Ferguson on the box. Man, that guy is funny! Hard to come down after a show. Hit the pillow and think about fighting windmills and grabbing circles of gold...

How Many Monkeys to Wire a Tele?

If someone took apart my Telecaster Thinline guitar they would find a mess of wires and solder. I've taken the thing apart so many times, the patient is getting restless. It's kind of like a gall bladder operation over and over and over.

I've done all kinds of experiments and mods. Changed the pickups repeatedly; went from the standard setup to Texas Teles then pulled those guys out went back to standard and then ordered up some Seymour Duncan Hot Rails and installed those sleek black humbuckers. Lined the inside with copper tape, then pulled the shit out. Pulled out the 3-way switch and put in a 4-way switch.

Wired and then unwired and then rewired, then unwired, then rewired. I kind of did the Monkey Tech thing. I had 4 different wiring diagrams. They were all contradictory. I ended up wiring and unwiring until finally the thing worked right.

The inside of that poor sucker really is a mess. The solder job looks like a Jackson Pollock painting gone wrong, a study in silver. I must admit, I've taken the thing apart and put it back together as some kind of therapy. For some reason I like taking the damn thing apart.

But finally, I think it's done. Last night I put the Tele through it's paces at a Telepaths rehearsal. Man that thing played hot! I think my crazy ass tech approach actually resulted in a pretty unique guitar sound. And those humbuckers are so quiet - with a robust mid-range. Sweet!

Invited to the Table

You've got to check out this new site called, Creative Roundtable. As their mission statement makes clear:

"If it’s about the care and feeding of your creativity, it’s game on!"

It's created and hosted by two very creative, dynamic and dazzling women, Kris Cahill and Debi Cates.

The Lovely Carla submitted a couple posts on Thinking Outside the Tool Box. Plus there's folks from all kinds of disciplines talking about their process and discoveries.

It was great to be invited to The Table, what a cool place to be!

Emerging From the Egg

Emerging from the egg. I know it's a long time coming. I didn't even realize I was in an egg. It was an egg of my own making. Or maybe I inherited it. I was comfortable in there. But I started bumping up against the sides. And cracks started appearing.

I kicked my way through and emerged into blazing sunlight. Who would of thunk it? That big old sun has been waiting for me. I mean it's much bigger than me, doesn't even notice me. But it's been there ready and willing to shine down on my meagerness. And it's warm and giving. And the golden light is everything.

Law of Ever-Increasing Returns

Trying to figure out

a revenue model

for a life of

Creativity,

Magic

and Shamanism...

FROG VS. LENIN - EPISODE ONE

Frog: Aaahhhoooogaaaa!

Lenin: I'm sorry Comrade. That is not how frogs talk where I come from.

Frog: Ribbet?

Lenin: Dah! So much more froggy!

Zero Hedge: We are All Insolvent

Is this true? Is the world insolvent? Beats the hell out of me. But something rotten does seem to be floating in the political and economic swamps.

I've been getting this "world out of control" feeling a lot. Doesn't really scare me, I'm not a Chicken Little. If the sky's falling, I'll probably just sit back and watch it collapse on my head.

And then where will I be? Beats me.

So I read a lot of this stuff that seems plausible. I check out the numbers and charts not really grasping it all. I mean, if everyone is insolvent, doesn't that mean that no one is insolvent?

If we all just pretend, won't everything just be OK?! Can we all just print up more money and roll around in the stuff?

I know it doesn't sound like a great plan, but what else we gonna do? Beats me.

Blake and the Eternals

"Inspiration & Vision was then & now is & I hope will always Remain my Element my Eternal Dwelling place." - William Blake

Welcome to the Grinding!

I heard a phrase this morning that has kind of been circling around in my head like a hungry buzzard...

"The unrelenting, remorseless, grinding of events."

Isn't that what we call a life well-lived?!

Everything is Broken

Dylan once (1989) wrote a song called "Everything is Broken."

I think he was just a little ahead of the curve. Which is what we expect from our prophets.

Seem like every time you stop and turn around

Something else just hit the ground

Our Bubble Empire has popped. Turns out Global-ism is the ism that killed us.

I think the aftermath is gonna be a long time coming. Probably good for art. And barter. And drugs.

?

I'm so full of questions. My life is all about questions. They fill me. They haunt me. They occupy me.

I look in the mirror and all I see is a big, fat question mark.

????

Days of Reckoning

There's always the day of reckoning.

The mystery is who keeps the accounts?

How are the debts totaled?

And what of grace?

Does it add up?

And what of good intentions?

Do they have any substance?

A Joyful Noise

We played our favorite open mic last night. Our new violinist joined us. We brought such energy and passion to the place it was almost like the room levitated.

I realize it's not so much the music, although, of course it is the music, not so much what we play, of course it is what we play, but more than anything, it's the passion we bring to our songs that makes it magical, amazing.

The three of us played and sang with such confidence and passion, it carried us beyond the music into some kind of spiritual/energy field.

For about ten minutes time stood still. And the room was just pure sound. Now that's something!

The Elbo Room is Primo!

The Elbo Room in Chicago really is a great rock club. We were the openers last night. A Friday night and the place was hopping. The other acts were all pretty much hard core rockers. Our set was sort of an outlier.

We gave ourselves a B minus. We were a little rough around the edges. It's so weird, we've rehearsed these songs, but put us in a new room with a different sound system and everything seemed a little off.

Still by about the third song I think we hit a groove. Surprisingly our drummer showed up last minute. Didn't know he was gonna make the show. It was great to debut the new lineup. We are all so excited by our new sound. It is still coming together.

This morning I hear people from all over the country and Korea tuned into the web-cast. Now that's freaking amazing! WhiteWolfSonicPrincess flies!

All That Jazz

"It's show time folks!" - Joe Gideon/Roy Scheider/Bob Fosse

WhiteWolfSonicPrincess at the Elbo Room Chicago

WhiteWolfSonicPrincess are openers Friday Feb. 5th at 8:30 CST at the Elbo Room in Chicago. Supposedly, if the technology works, if you can't make it live, you can watch the show via the web.

Below is a link.

This show will feature, me, the Lovely Carla and Michael our new violinist. About a 20 minute set. Should be interesting. The Elbo Room is a nice Chicago hangout. The sound at the club is excellent. I hope it all translates via the internet.


Watch this show and more at SyncLive.com

Honey-Pot Chronicles

jimmydumps (dyspeptic, poetically over-wrought): I have bitten the bitter fruit of life and my heart is poisoned.

sunnyjimmy (cloyingly cheerful, ever-smiling): Dude. Just... spit... it... out!

Joy of the Falling Rock

I went through my existentialist phase. I read Camus. I digested his famous essay on Sisyphus.

Sisyphus rolls a rock up and hill. He gets close to the top, and then inevitably, it escapes his grip, it falls back down. Thus showing the ultimate futility of all human action.

Sisyphus of course does this over and over for eternity. It is a punishment.

Yesterday, many decades after I read that essay it finally dawned on me that there's another interpretation of the myth.

Sisyphus burned a lot of calories getting that rock up the hill. It was hard work. But when he finally got it to the top he just let it go! Why? He loved to watch it roll! It is entertainment!

FROG VS. LENIN

I've decided I'm actually a conceptual artist. Kind of in the mode of Damien Hirst. Maybe without the brilliance; certainly without the rich patrons, the big bucks and the world renown.

No, I haven't dissected any sharks lately. But I did put together a little sculpture piece in the window of our new Black Forest art space.

I'm calling this one Frog VS. Lenin. It is a one of a kind. Of course it has a back story. It is a major statement on life in the 21st century, but I'm not talking.

Any wealthy collectors out there? For a ridiculously outlandish price, I can recreate this for you in your own space.

Saturn Circles - People are on the Move

We get these cryptic messages from a "trans-medium" in the neighborhood. We call him "The Running Man" because he likes to sing and chant on street corners while he "runs in place."

He sometimes does this for hours at a time. He has incredible energy and he is totally musical. He is most certainly channeling some wild-ass frequency which other people just can't access.

For some reason he is totally "lit up" around the Lovely Carla and I. We have some kind of cosmic connection with him.

Maybe it's because we are not afraid of him, don't ignore him, we actually smile and acknowledge him. He says interesting things all the time. We have actually gotten some ideas for songs from things he's said.

The latest line, which we put into song form yesterday - "Saturn Circles. People are on the move."