Upgrade Your Life - Oat Milk!

I am not a "product endorser." I make no $ from products I write about on my blog. If I write about something, it's just because I got a bee in my bonnet in the A.M. and started typing. I never plan blog posts, I always write whatever comes off the top of my head. I like to keep my "writing muscle" working, and limber. So yes, you can probably tell, just by reading my posts, I am always all over the map.  I write what I want write, when I want to write it. Mostly I guess I write about politics, music, pop culture, and whatever the hell is going on in my warring head.

Surprisingly, folks do read this blog, I am always amazed to find out that I do have some followers/readers. I am not trying to cater to you. I just do my thing. Thanks for your patience and attention. It sort of feels like I'm not alone, even though I usually write these posts when I am totally alone, in the early A.M. sipping coffee, listening to music on the BOSE Wave system cd player (not a product endorsement - but man do I love my BOSE CD player/Radio, I purchased a used one on Ebay, and it changed the sonic palette in the kitchen distinctly for the better!) This morning I am listening to the Jeff Beck Group, "Truth," the early edition with Rod Stewart on vocals. Great stuff.

Thanks to my lovely companion, I am drinking coffee cut with "oat milk," instead of cow's milk. What a revelation. Love it. Highly recommend it. Healthier for you. Better for the planet too. Instead of feeding oats to cows, and milking the cows, just use the oats to make milk. Creamy. Satisfying. It's made by a Swedish company, Oatly, they seem like a pretty cool company, love this from their mission statement: "We promise to be a good company which means that our drive to help people upgrade their lives always comes before the reckless pursuit of profit."

How to transform your life? One baby step at a time. Listening to good music, sipping a good coffee brew, adding a bit of oat milk to the mix, everything counts, every little thing.

Forget the News! Cheap Guitars!

Old habits die hard. Oldest habits die hardest. I always wake up, head to the kitchen, and first thing, click the radio on. Tuned to NPR. Then I brew my coffee, empty the dishwasher, put the clean dishes and cups away.

I get a quick news fix.

The fix is getting shorter and shorter. My attention span for the daily news is really dwindling. Is that how the evil-doers win? The news is so bad, so disheartening, so disgusting & disappointing that sentient, caring folks are compelled to just freaking tune-out! Everything, I mean, everything seems supremely fucked up. Seems we are now running Concentration Camps on the Border, little children are dying, the blood is on all of our hands, also, another woman has come forward to accuse our President of rape, the Republicans are hiding, totally abdicating any ideas of morality, any sense of honor or  decency, pretending everything is just fine, while the Democrats are fretting, always fretting, whether they should even think of "Impeaching the Motherfucker."

I hope it all works out.

Lately, I have been quick on the trigger-finger, switching from the radio to the Bose CD player. Fabulous sound by the way. How does Bose do it? The clarity, the fullness, the bass-response all coming out of a plastic, weird-looking, wedge-shaped, white-slab. Makes all these CDs sound so good. This morning I put on Alabama Shakes' 2016 album, "Sound and Color." Soul-stirring. Thrilling. Fun. Love this band. Brittany Howard has a classic soul-voice, full of grit, power and sweet emotion. Plus those guitars! My lovely companion tells me she wants me to recreate that big, tough, gritty guitar sound for our band. I immediately started looking for a used Gibson SG or ES 335... probably need to find a "copy," I mean those guitars are quite pricey, maybe I can find a cheaper Japanese or Korean knockoff?  Forget the news of the day, it will destroy any sense of well-being you  may harbor. On to the next thing. Cheap guitars!

The Secret Life of Plants!

I do love those mornings when I rise early. Sip my coffee, check out the news, listen to music. This morning it's an album I have never listened to before, Stevie Wonder's "The Secret Life of Plants "-(1979). Weird. Different. Not what I expected. Sounds like a soundtrack to a movie that was never made, (but it's actually the soundtrack to a documentary that was made, called, not surprisingly "The Secret Life of Plants"). Hah! Who knew?! Certainly Stevie Wonder is some kind of musical genius. Seems he's exploring the outer reaches of his musical inspiration. I like it. Perfect for this morning. The day hasn't revealed itself yet. Wonder what's up with the plants. What secrets may they reveal?

Magic Carpet Ride!

Yesterday morning, walking to our neighborhood coffee house, the true neighborhood hub, connecting folks from all walks of life, looking for my daily coffee fix, I was tricked out in my summer-wear: faded, purple bandana and bright green shirt. Passing a neighbor, one of the "lit up ones," (and when I say "lit up ones," I mean this particular human seems to be either transmitting or receiving signals from a distant galaxy),  he takes one look at me and blurts out: "Magic Carpet Ride!"  That works!

Alive on a Nice Summer Day!

Some days you ramble, you wander, you meander, you kick down the cobblestones with no clear idea where you are going, you just go; lazily, easily, almost unconsciously, you just walk around on this little spinning globe without a fear, without a worry, without a plan, without any grand ideas bubbling around in your head.

Aimless.

There are little surprises all the way, everything is sort of surprise, because you really don't expect anything. So the sun shining down is a surprise. The little dove swooping down and walking around in front of you is a surprise. Sipping a ginger beer is an amazingly satisfyingly, thirst-quenching surprise. You don't do anything you thought you were gonna do. You just drop all that and go with the moment.

So sitting quietly in the fading sun, leaves of the trees rattling above you, lots of silence and laughter just spills out for no good reason. There is no reason and no reason to worry about any reason. You are alive on a nice summer day.

Every Day Is A Battle!

Every day is a battle.

Bodies vs. Anti-bodies. Positive thoughts vs. Negative thoughts. Optimism vs.  Pessimism. Belief vs. Unbelief. Good vs. Bad. Gods vs. Devils. Right vs. Wrong. Right vs. Left. Reasons to be Cheerful vs. Reasons to be Bummed Out, Love vs. Hate, Peace vs. War.

Our bodies, our heads, our spirits are battlefields. The battle spills out across the canvas of our lives. Cooler Heads tell us to chill out, to stop with the game of duality, to do less judging, and more sitting in silence observing, but even sitting in silence is a choice in opposition to jumping deep into the fray.

Winning vs. Losing. Success Vs. Failure.

Whatever, right? We have a warring mind, a million thoughts crashing against each other.  So what? Notice the battle. Observe the grand spectacle of life, within and without.

Stillness vs. Action. Yep.

The Search...

Son Volt: "It's the search not the find." What are we searching for? Excitement, drama, inspiration, meaning, purpose, love, understanding, fun, adventure. I mean, what have you got?

Is the "search" inside, or out there somewhere? Let the Buddhas and wise guys fight it out.

As per Dylan we are not "looking for" ourselves, we are creating ourselves, daily. What will we be up to today? Early morning is usually a hopeful time, the coffee is flowing, music too.

I hear a war may be brewing, a very unsteady, indecisive, unreliable, narcissistic, neurotic, supremely damaged and ignorant man is debating the pros and cons of another conflict. On the other side you have a bunch of black-robed Ayatollahs. Yikes. Crazy that the world is in the hands, subject to the whims, of such misguided, under-prepared, unworthy fools. Such is the way of the human thing.

Disturbing? Yes. Very. Still, we must carry on. Do the things we do, the things we must do, just because we must. It's sort of a Samuel Beckett thing. Oh so human, doing human things. Despite the idiocy, despite all the little absurdities, despite the fear of failure and futility.  Meaning, purpose, inspiration, creativity, we want to hang on to a few solid ideas, even if we are making them up as we go. Damn the torpedoes.

Yo-Yo!

High one day low the next. That's the way it goes. You wonder if there is some law: You will fly high, and then you will fly low, all in proportion. As high as you fly, that is how low you will go.

Makes you think those stone Buddhas have a point. Impassive. Grounded. Not going anywhere. Of course, they are stone. Statues. Not flesh and blood. Do we try to emulate a stone statue? Is that a good idea? Stone-like?

Or is it better to be a human yo-yo? You know, oh so human. Frail, changeable. Who knows? Yesterday was a dark day. It followed a day of light. One came right after the other.  No good reason. Nothing you could put your finger on. That's just the way it goes. That's life, right?

Appearing and Fading Away!

Even as the day was rolling out, you could feel it evaporating, disappearing into the mists of time. The moment appearing & fading away. You wanted to hold the day close, but could feel it slipping away moment by moment. The sun setting in the West. Large green trees looming. A golden light suffusing everything. The two of you singing Hank Williams' songs to each other.

You could both feel it. A bond, a happiness, a love, laced with sadness, both of you knowing this moment was dying away even as it was happening. You actually said: "It doesn't get better than this..." You both knew it was true, and you thought of all the people you knew who were already long gone. Then you parted. Went your separate ways. Hoping you could have more good days together, knowing there are no guarantees.

Father's Day R&R Show!

We played a r&r show on Sunday afternoon, Father's Day 2019. Our lead singer dedicated the show to "all the fathers past and present," as well as to "peace and love." It was a heavy thing to do. Lots of energy to take on in that little r&r haven. It definitely brought a focus to our performance. We were playing in front of some folks we knew, and a whole contingent of folks we didn't. Lots of strangers in the crowd.

We were loud. The sound-tech at that place likes to blast music at maximum volume. Maybe best to cut through the small-talk, the bar-talk, the alcoholic haze. We thought it probably killed a bit of the nuance in our band dynamics, but at the same time it was a bit cathartic to just overwhelm the room with our sonic vibration.

We had a few "sound issues" the stage monitors didn't seem to be working correctly on the first few songs, I couldn't hear my guitar very well, didn't know what was happening, couldn't tell if I was in tune or out, but by the 4th song everything was working & clicking.

We played a full set, over an hour of original music, and by the end, we were one solid unit playing our heart's out for all to hear. I nearly spontaneously combusted on stage. I always run hot, but this time my whole body just went up in flames. I felt like I was sacrificing my body to a higher cause. Afterwards I was totally drained, spent, I felt like a hollow husk, drenched in sweat, totally exhausted.

As we were leaving, two beefy "door guys," dressed like bikers, long hair, denim, boots, tattoos, cigarettes in hand, told us we "sounded great." Hah! That was unexpected. Can't think of a better token of validation for the whole mad little adventure! R&R!

The Secret Thread Embedded in America's Creative DNA!

I am not sure I can convey how excited I was to find that this film from Martin Scorsese dropped recently on Netflix. I have lately been on a major Bob Dylan kick. I mean, I pretty much have been for my whole life. My mom turned me onto Dylan when I was a wee lad, and over the years I have always come back to the man and his work. Paraphrasing Joan Baez: Not everyone "gets" Dylan, but if you do, if you fall under his spell, there is no-one better. You fall hard for the work and there is nothing else that comes close. 

There are so many Dylans that I love: The Young Woody Guthrie Inspired Folk Troubadour, The Wild Mercury Mouthed, Cowboy Junkie Stream of Consciousness, Wild-Haired Rock and Roller, The Basement Sage, The Countrified Gent, The Rolling Thunder, White-Faced Prophet, The Born-Again, Fire & Brimstone, Apocalypse is Coming Preacher Dylan, The Burned Out Rocker, The Ancient Sage, The Old Man of Letters and the Nobel Prize, etc.

That's the exciting thing, Dylan is always changing, morphing, evolving, creating. Paraphrasing him from the film: Life is not a journey to find ourselves, it is an adventure where we create our selves. He not busy creating is busy dying!

It is amazing to see and hear Dylan in 1976 - in fine voice, passionate, committed, with an unlikely, overstuffed caravan of co-conspirators. Dylan's music is the secret thread weaved into the foundation of American Music. The key thread in American culture's unique DNA from the 60's onward. Dylan is the connecting line from poets: Whitman, Ginsberg, Kerouac, Waldeman, Patti Smith, all the various Visionary Poets & Beats; folk/blues contingent: Rambling Jack Eliot, Woody Guthrie, Robert Johnson, Blind Willie McTell, all the rock and roll outlaws, the Beatles, the Byrds, The Band, The Stones, all the various forms of Americana. Plus don't forget Sam Shepard the great, surreal American playwright who makes an appearance. Also Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, T-Bone Burnett, Mick Ronson, Ronee Blakely, Chief Rolling Thunder. What a collection of unique creative souls!

Growing up I was always a big Beatles fan, they were the first to introduce me to Pop Culture and r&r, but early on, even as a little kid, I was struck that while the love-able Mop Tops were conquering the world singing "I Want to Hold Your Hand," Dylan was writing and singing epic and classic folk songs like "Blowing in the Wind," "Masters of War," "The Times are A Changing" and "A Hard Rain is Gonna Fall." The Beatles may have been more exuberant, looked like they were having more fun, Dylan hit you right between the eyes with his amazing imagery delivered by his razor-sharp vocals, lyrics seared deep into your consciousness and dreams. Not  much later, Dylan too, picked up an electric guitar and took everything to another level, think "Bringing It All Back Home," "Highway 61 Revisted," and "Blonde on Blonde." A fantastic phantasmagoria of roar and thunder!
Kicky r&r exuberance, the sound of electric Fender guitars, married to surreal images & stream of consciousness genius.

All of my major influences, the core of my creative consciousness, my awaking to another reality, show up in this movie. To watch it is to see the great American creative revolution in music, in culture, roll out right before your eyes. Astonishing. Beautiful. Inspiring. Essential viewing.

Power/Powerlessness!

Is this true?

You don't really understand power, it's uses, it's limits, until you experience powerlessness? Maybe our need to feel powerful needs to be undone. We see time, and time again, that absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Our whole crazy, capitalist, consumer culture is the perpetual motion machine selling us some weird, corrupted, seriously misguided idea of power. Power over nature, power over women, power over other men. Power over death. A conception of Power that tries to sell us eternal life.

All total b.s. Lies. All flattering lies trying to build us up, when what we really need is to deconstruct, to take ourselves apart piece by piece, to find the vulnerability of a life of powerlessness. To discover the "holes in our souls." We need to face the reality that we are really, truly, madly deeply powerless in face of the most important things in our life.

Birth. Death. Aging. Love. Hate. Here we are: Powerless in the immensity of the Universe. And it's okay. In fact, it's kind of wondrous and beautiful, even if pain and suffering are embedded into the world and the fabric of our bodies.

The Saboteur!

Saboteur. 

"A saboteur is a person who makes a mess of a situation on purpose. You might call your little brother a saboteur for letting the air out of your bicycle tires, but you could be a saboteur in return by filling his shoes with cold spaghetti. Saboteur is a noun that is fairly new to the English language; it was first used in the early 1900s, and it refers to a person who deliberately destroys or obstructs something. It comes from the French word, saboter, which really and truly means to kick something with an old-fashioned wooden shoe. We can only hope that one day the word Nikeur might enter the English language to mean a person who kicks something with a sneaker."

And what if you kick yourself with that old wooden shoe? You'd be a "self-saboteur." How much of our lives can be explained by self sabotage? Is this all some kind of test of character?  How much was luck, fate, wrong place wrong time, or right place, right time? Who knows?

You are left to ponder. Or not. You hope the future is truly unwritten, and maybe there are new lines to write. You hope that wooden shoe doesn't appear out of the foggy mist to kick you in the shins. Look in the mirror dude... what do you see?

Best Music in 2019, So Far...

Best Music so far in 2019.

Ok, well, to be truthful, for me, the most significant record released this year is the one my band recorded, "The Alternate Boot: Vols 1&2." A long time coming, a labor of love. We released it, got some nice reviews, t-shirt sales, cd sales and streams, a fantastic string of shows, including a transcendent release party in February, growing our band sound, and fan base, show by show; progress has been slow, but steady. Our sound evolving, morphing, live shows getting more fully-realized. One of the most significant projects I have ever worked on. Our band of musicians are an inspiring creative outfit dedicated to the vibe. You can purchase your own copy on Amazon here!

What else?

Two releases have captivated me this year.

One is the 2 cd set: The Bootleg Series Vol 13: Trouble  No More 1979-1981  This is full-on Jew for Jesus, Evangelical Bob Dylan. I was one of those Dylan fans horrified when Bob turned up "born again." This album is a mind-changer. Listening to these live cuts many years later is a revelation. One of Dylan's most fertile, creative periods. One of his greatest live bands, he is in superb voice, singing with passion, conviction. It's a stunning collection. Jim Keltner on drums, Spooner Oldman keys, Tim Drummond bass, Fred Tackett on guitar, Carlos Santana guests on a track. And quartet of backup singers (Mary Elizabeth Bridges, Carolyn Dennis, Gwen Evans, Clydie King, Regina McCrary, Regina Peebles, Helena Springs, Mona Lisa Young) is breathtakingly good. Spiritual renewal. I have lived with and loved these songs for a couple months now. Great gospel music. Some of the best ever written and performed. Really. That good.  It is such a pleasure to hear Dylan singing his heart out, to us, and to the Lord.

The other record I "discovered" this year, and have not stopped spinning, is a record that was actually released in 1998, Billy Bragg & Wilco Mermaid Avenue. I read Jeff Tweedy's book and I fell in love with Tweedy's solo album, "Warm" (2018), a major work, Tweedy at his soulful, beautiful, very revealing best , and fell into a major Wilco vortex. I own every Wilco album except their first. Wilco's discography from "Being There" (1996) - "Schmilco" (2016), and every record in between, is absolutely magnificent. I can put any Wilco record on and find new things to love and be inspired by. If you pressed me, I'd have say to that Wilco is my favorite band of the moment. No doubt. Great band. By the way, I think, in order to really "get," to understand the secret code, to reveal the DNA of the band, be sure to check out their live album, recorded at the Vic Theater in Chicago, "Kicking Television," (2005), and watch the DVD, "Ashes of American Flags" (2009), (I have seen it many, many times, and always find it thrilling), a band working at it's absolute peak. We are now talking the current band, a much different musical animal than the Mermaid Ave. crew, the lineup from "Sky Blue Sky,"(2007) til today features the incomparable Nels Cline on guitar and Glenn Kotche on drums. I'd also say Jeff Tweedy is one of the few songwriters I'd even consider in the same sentence as Dylan. Yes, I do think he's quite brilliant in his own quirky way.

I was aware of "Mermaid Ave." for years, but resisted buying it, thinking it was just a gimmick, a marketing ploy. Bragg and Wilco taking Woody Guthrie lyrics and conjuring up songs? For some reason it just didn't appeal to me. One day in early 2019 a friend asked me if I ever heard the record, and recommended it. I was so enamored with all things Tweedy, so I snagged a used copy at my local record store. Boy was I ever wrong. Mermaid Avenue is a complete joy, a stunner, a fantastic labor of love, pure sonic gold. Wilco has never sounded looser, more fun and more creative.  Tweedy and Bragg really bring a passion to Guthrie's amazing, touching, funny, superb lyrics. There isn't one false step.  A great, joyful, inspiring, spine-tingling, record. I think Jeff Tweedy was sort of liberated singing someone else's lyrics. It's fantastic to hear Jay Bennet on guitar and piano and Ken Commer on drums, the original lineup of Wilco, tearing it up with not a care in the world. I mean the band sounds loose, powerful, sloppy, r&r perfect. Another completely breathtaking album. Who knew?!

This is where my head, my ears have been at this year...  playing songs from our latest record with my phenomenal band, and time-tripping to the distant past, listening to music so powerful, so lively, so inspiring, so of the moment. Doesn't matter when it was recorded. Kind of surprising, lost in time, and enjoying every last moment. Wow.

Will We All Be Sucked Into the Vortex of Stupidity?

King Idiot. It's best to ignore him. To tune him out. To not read his idiotic tweets, to not listen to his blabbering on the radio, to not watch his dementia-like, fat-carcass, slobbering performances on TV. Listening to the Idiot King will only make you much stupider than you already are. Plus, he will piss you off. You will be outraged, shamed to know that this man supposedly speaks for you and your beloved country.

Last night I guess King Idiot was on the TV telling the world, that yes, indeed, he would cheat to win an election. He did it the first time, and well, hell, he'd do it again. Seems like a terrible thing to admit. But there it is. I mean King Idiot is too stupid to realize he just admitted to everything he was accused of in terms of "colluding" with Russia. You shake your head and think to yourself: "What a fucking Idiot!"

And you wonder what can be done. Does supreme mendacious, corrupt idiocy trump everything else? Don't forget King Idiot has his rabid followers who will never admit this man is a plague and a blight on our teetering democracy, they blindly cling to King Idiot's billowing trousers mouths open craving their own taste of idiocy. The rest of us, are left to ponder the black void of idiocy at the heart of the land.

Will we all be sucked into the vortex of abject idiocy? Shite!

Energy... Of Course...

Energy. We all know what it is, right? I mean we all talk about it, quantify it. We act like we understand it. We can explain how a machine uses energy to "run." There are many forms of energy. Many uses of energy. Energy animates all of our machines and technology. It also powers all the pretty creatures on the planet, including us. There is the material of energy, the molecules. Oil, coal, solar, food, are just types of fuel that powers everything.

There is also the invisible energy that surrounds us. You can feel the energy of a room. The energy of the person sitting next to you. I think when we are talking about the aura of a person, we are picking up an energy field surrounding someone.

Play music in a tightly packed room. Feel the energy surge and feedback in a loop. It can be so powerful, transcendent. Feeds us. It feels a bit magical, spiritual. Maybe spirit itself is just a form of energy? 

Alternatively, when we see something dead, lifeless, we realize that the energy has dissipated, evaporated, or transformed in some other way. We wake up in the morning after a long sleep, feeling refreshed, and are surprised to find that energy surges thru our bodies, surrounds and overwhelms us.  

As William Blake once wrote: "Energy is Eternal Delight!"

"Don't Worry... Just... Be..."

Yeah. Over here we met the day half-way. Didn't push, flowed. I do recommend it. Not always easy to do. Living easy. Riding the wave. Didn't make anything happen, the day just rolled out like a beautifully complex oriental carpet.

Made me think of that aborted paraphrase of that great, and slightly annoying Bobby McFerrin song: "Don't worry... just... be..." Yes. Glory be. There was glory in the being. Sunshine, warmth, shimmering blue water, people everywhere you turned. Couldn't avoid anything, anyone. Better to just let it all come down.

A long, fulfilling day. Nothing happened. Everything unfolded. Maybe that's how you do it.

Weird Energy Void...

Weird. This morning feels like a total "energy void." Almost like the day is just standing still. Expectant. Waiting. Like the world is taking a breather. No spin. Freeze-frame. Pinned to the canvas.

I wonder if I should "try to make something happen?" But I don't think that's how it works. Something will happen, pretty sure, whether I do something or not. What is this feeling of "void-ness?" Is it me? Or is it the world? Hard to tell.

I think I will have a bit more coffee and see what turns up...

A Very Good Omen!

A person died.
They cleared out her apartment.
A lifetime of stuff.
Someone dug up her lily.
Put it in a plastic bag.
Why?
Just because.

Weeks passed.
My friend had taken the plastic bag
and brought it home. It sat on the
back porch like a corpse.
She mourned the dead person,
mourned the dead lily plant.

My friend decided to replant the lily.
She has a flower garden in the back yard.
Maybe the lily was just dormant?
Maybe it could somehow come back to life?

Maybe?
She had no real hope. She just did the re-planting.

Time passed. Days. Weeks.
One morning, green shoots pushed thru the dark earth.
The lily was alive. Resurrected.
The rest of the garden thrived too.
Beautiful flowers and greenery in a small
plot of land in the back yard.

One day a small, baby dove appeared.
The baby dove decided to make the garden
her home. She was there all day, every day.
Overseeing the flowers, the greenery, the
resurrected lily plant.

My friend put seeds and bread out for the baby dove.
The baby dove was a new friend, a new spirit in the garden.

My friend and I decided it was all a very good omen.

Like Water or Serpent!

Yes. The best laid plans some times just crumble like a cookie. Vanish in smoke right before your eyes. What to do? Be nimble, quick on your feet, willing to have a re-think. Why not? No worries. You loved an idea? Oh well, try another one. Closed door? Instead of beating your head against it, you can alter your course, find another opening somewhere else. Yes. Be like water. Or be like a serpent. "Serpentine! Serpentine!" Move on. Move forward, backward, sideways too. Whatever.

Why Worry?!

Listening to the news from around the globe. Checking the headlines. The big question: "What could possibly go wrong?!"

I mean, hell, the corn is good. Alfred E. Neumann answers that ponderous question with another pithy question: "What, me worry?"

This Seems Important.

This seems important. 

I think the murder and dismemberment of a Washington Post correspondent is one of those stories that will not just disappear. And it shouldn't. There is something rotten in the body politic.

There are folks in Washington D.C. who have some explaining to do... I wonder if we will ever get to the bottom of the matter?

As they say, "Democracy Dies in Darkness." We need to shine a light...

Avoid, Evade, Defuse...

Don't match crazy with crazy. Don't match anger with anger. Don't match cynicism with cynicism. It's a losing game. You just feed the craziness, the anger and the cynicism.

The first impulse is to match the energy with the same energy. But all it does is heighten and multiply the thing you actually want to avoid, evade or defuse.  "Serpentine, Serpentine!"

"How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb!"  Not a question, an instruction, a "how-to!"

Bono and U2 were on the case in 2004. We all need to be in the business of dismantling, defusing, repurposing.

The Tao tells us to "be like water." You know, be soft, pliable, permeable, flowing, transparent. Who are we to argue with Ancient Chinese Wisdom?

Breathe. Think. Be silent. Set your intention on the positive. When you act, make it an act of affirmation. We can remake the world. What are the best tools? Humility. Love. Grace. Silence. Humor. Compassion. Empathy. All these "soft" qualities are our greatest strengths.

"A change of consciousness can happen in an instant." "Instant Karma!"

Fill My Life Up with Light!

I am at sea this morning. Casting about for meaning and purpose. My dreams were clogged up with airports and passenger lines, and the most mundane of human things. Late for flights, late for meetings, lost and unsure where I was going next. Dreams of flailing about!

I wake up looking to make a pot of coffee.  Kickapoo coffee beans. I do know that Kickapoo was a Native American Indian tribe. I run thru all the Indian tribe names I can think of off the top of my head: Crow, Shoshone, Comanche, Cherokee, Navajo, Cheyanne. I think of Dee Brown and his great book "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee." If I were to name books that "changed my life," Brown's book would be up at the top of the list for sure.

I can mark my life by key texts at every time in my life, again, just off the top of my head: The King James Bible, Treasure Island, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Slaughter House Five, Catch 22, On the Road, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Cat's Cradle, Breakfast of Champions, The Great Plains, On the Rez, Erections, Ejaculations and Other Tales of Ordinary Madness, Lolita, Speak Memory, Desolation Angels, The Sheltering Sky, Infinite Jest, In the Spirit of Crazy Horse, Moby Dick, The World According to Garp, Dog Soldiers, Dispatches, A Bright Shining Lie, The Snow Leopard, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Zen and the Art of Archery.

I turn to the Flaming Lips this morning for my soundtrack. Can't go wrong with their stone-cold masterpiece, "The Soft Bulletin." Never fails to give me a swift kick of adrenaline. I would run down the key albums of my life, but then, this post would basically take up the whole morning. Figure lots of Dylan, The Band, Beatles, Leonard Cohen, Stones, Nick Drake, Steve Wonder, Jimi Hendrix, Patti Smith, Lucinda Williams, Nick Cave, Sly & the Family Stone, Who, Kinks, Miles Davis, Robert Plant, Led Zeppelin, Gillian Welch, Fairport Convention, Richard & Linda Thompson, Sinead O' Connor, Allman Brothers, Van Morrison, Grateful Dead, etc. Oh yes, Flaming Lips, Radiohead, The National, Wilco, Drive By Truckers... the list is long & endless...

How to fight that listless, lost and flailing about feeling? Music, Art, Poetry, Love... I fill my life up with light, sound & thunder!

False Starts this A.M.

I had a couple of "false starts" this morning. I started typing and then deleted what I typed. A rare indecision. What to write about?

The first words I heard on the radio this morning: "Vile & Ridiculous." I know who they are talking about, don't even need to ask. Fuck that guy. He doesn't represent me. He is a plague, a scourge, a blight on the land, a man who conjures a certain toxic mind pollution.

While making the coffee this morning, I was reflecting on a heavy-duty conversation I had yesterday. I am such a lousy worrier. Death, taxes, financial stability. These topics very rarely pop into my consciousness. I spend so much time thinking about lunch, and how I am gonna occupy myself. No time for those big-time worries. Of course, I do worry about the planet, the fate of my species, whether good will conquer evil, when will Americans stop shooting each other, but those big time worries are just standard operating procedure.

Those topics always intrude. My little bubble of blue-sky happiness can be punctured at a moment's notice. Still, I am very good at putting my intention and attention in other places.

I'm spinning Dylan discs on the box, listening to Dylan right now, I have been on a major Dylan kick the last few weeks. What's that line sticking with me this morning? "I'm not going to hell for anybody."

I mean, yes Bob, exactly!

Human Beings Being Human!

What is our job? You know as Human Beings? To try to rescue a little meaning from the abyss of meaninglessness, to skull out a bit of order in the yawning vortex of disorder? Are we here to experience what we experience when we experience it? Is that all there is?

Is life a job, a mission, a lark, a song, a cry, a tear, a rainstorm, an earthquake, a mad quest? Or all of those things? Yes, I will probably go with "all of the above." We are subject to the jeopardy of living in bodies and we open ourselves to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, daily, yes, every single day.

We hold chaos in our hands. We juggle balls of darkness and light. We live in the world, and create it one breath at time too. We are not gods, or god-like, just simple, humble human beings. Human Beings Being Human!

Morning Conundrum!

Not sure.

Sadly, sweetly optimistic, or unhappily, positively pessimistic? I wrestle with my own psyche this A.M. There are so many levels to this conundrum. It seems important and inconsequential simultaneously. I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma, even to myself. Best not to self-absorb. Best to look outward, but not too far-ranging. Rainy day, Dylan on the stereo, "I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to..."

I'm reading about Beto O'Rouke's presidential quest. Looks like his fate will rest on how he comes across on TV. "To have any chance, he must turn to television, where empathy, careful listening, and voracious curiosity are not the coin of the realm."

Faintly ridiculous. If you aren't a hit on TV you aren't a hit. And TV is the great leveler. The fish-eye medium that really does turn everything to shit. Aye, there's the rub...

Democracy Dies in Self-Satisfied Laziness and Boredom!

Logic:  "In general, we can respect the directness of a path even when we don't accept the points at which it begins and ends. Thus, it is possible to distinguish correct reasoning from incorrect reasoning independently of our agreement on substantive matters. Logic is the discipline that studies this distinction—both by determining the conditions under which the truth of certain beliefs leads naturally to the truth of some other belief, and by drawing attention to the ways in which we may be led to believe something without respect for its truth. This provides no guarantee that we will always arrive at the truth, since the beliefs with which we begin are sometimes in error. But following the principles of correct reasoning does ensure that no additional mistakes creep in during the course of our progress."

I am not good at math, I mean, I am terrible at simple math (thank the lord for calculators!),  and Algebra & Geometry were a distant land and a language way beyond me, but I actually received an "A" in my college Logic 101 class. To be honest, it totally surprised me.  Seemed totally illogical! Anyway, I do think Robert Mueller (see previous post), is presenting an obvious case, and most of us either didn't read his report, don't want to read the report, don't care to read the report, and/or are actively misrepresenting what Mueller actually documented in the report.

I guess people don't read anymore. They just stare at their smartphones and swipe. Human Beings, you are so silly, so lazy, so disappointing. Get it together people! The bad actors amongst us are counting on us not paying attention, not doing the good work of trying to figure out what is really happening all around us. Democracy Dies in Self-Satisfied Laziness and Boredom!

This cartoon from the New Yorker is... elementary... please god... read the fucking report!

Whatever Happened to Reading Comprehension?

The Sphinx speaks... 

What was the gist? READ THE FUCKING REPORT! 

If you have any working brain cells, if you have any reading comprehension skills, you will discover what we know about Russia interfering in the 2016 election, how they hacked the DNC, and weaponized info to the detriment of Hilary Clinton's campaign and to the benefit of Trump's campaign. It is the definitive account.

Mueller did not charge any Americans in the "conspiracy" but you will read how Trump's campaign did everything they could to benefit from the Russian hack. No one person on his team ever thought to notify the FBI that the Russians were infiltrating the campaign. Damning. And to be continued. Roger Stone and Wikileaks figure in all of this, more to come, soon.

You will also understand that the man in the oval office is supremely unqualified to be there.  Part two of the report documents 10 instances of obstruction of justice. Mueller tells us that the only reason they didn't indict the President is because they were following regulations that told them it was not possible to do so as per the regulations. The report did point out that a President could be charged for obstruction once he left office. Anyone saying anything different in public is totally, fucking, lying. Especially be sure the tune out the fat, blabbering, jabbering man claiming "no obstruction, no collusion." He's delusional. Actually whatever he says, assume the opposite is true. I mean, to put it plainly, the slobbery man is lying his ass off!

Tune out the lies. Read the fucking report!

You wonder do any of your fellow citizens read anymore? Is it all just tapping away on their smart phones like distracted monkeys? Not comprehending a damn thing? Read the Mueller report. It is the roadmap to Impeachment.

Let it come down!

The End Times!

Tornados in the heartland. An astounding number of tornados yesterday. Freaky.

"What is a Tornado?"  - "A tornado is a violent rotating column of air extending from a thunderstorm to the ground. The most violent tornadoes are capable of tremendous destruction with wind speeds of up to 300 mph. They can destroy large buildings, uproot trees and hurl vehicles hundreds of yards. They can also drive straw into trees. Damage paths can be in excess of one mile wide to 50 miles long."

Crazy-ass winds. Major flooding. Strange temps. It's getting weird out there. "It was the weirdest of times, and the strangest of times." Welcome to the Thunder-Dome!

My friend tells me we are in the "End Times!" I mean, hasn't it always been the End Times? It does seem like we have crossed a threshold. We have entered a new Phase of Abnormality! I sort of, kind of  believe her. I don't want to think that we have destroyed the basic web of life, that we have fractured our supporting habitat for our meager existence, but the dark, forbidding signs are all around us.

And don't forget that the Mad, Idiot King is still on his fricking anti-constitutional throne. No one has the heart to tell him it's actually a golden toilet. No one has the heart to tell him he is living on borrowed time, that there is a trap-door underneath the toilet, with an orange jump-suit, handcuffs and a long, well-deserved bill of indictments waiting to be served.

Still, we are all suffering for the King's lunacy & idiocy. Something is rotten in the State of the Nation. Putrid, stinking death rises up from the slobbery mud.

Crops will die. Locusts will descend from the heavens. Rivers will flood. Dogs will walk backwards and speak in tongues. Winds will rip heartland towns to shreds. The airwaves will be filled with thunderous lies, the cries of falsely-imprisoned migrant children, and the gnashing of razor-sharp teeth.  A reckoning is coming. Yikes!

"It's hard out here for a pimp!"

Addicted to Cheating!

A rigged game. 

You can't help coming to that somewhat cynical conclusion. Human Beings are always looking to better themselves, they always want to "one up" the next guy. So much of our human activity seems to be a game of status, resources, wealth. It's a fundamental thing.

If you play the game, you want to play to win the game. Seems no one really wants to play fair, that's for the suckers, it's too risky, I mean, no one wants to lose. So there is all that rigging and cheating going on. Look around, it happens in just about every realm. Human Beings can be so petty, so prone to cheating. We are the clever, cheating monkeys.

If you decide you don't want to play the game, or don't care about winning, you often end up on the short end of the stick; lacking in status, resources, wealth. It may be a sadly defeatist, somewhat foolishly noble position, but it's also a very precarious position to be in.

There are the movers and shakers and then there are those who are being moved and shaken. How to maintain a certain integrity in the whole process? Play a different game? March to a different drummer?

Yesterday morning we were on a bike path, riding through parts of our town where we never venture. We passed an iron-cast statue of Mahatma Gandhi. Hah! So incongruous. A statue of a skinny Hindu in simple robes. A simple noble man preaching nonviolent disobedience, we put that scrawny noble being up for all to admire, put him up on a shiny, seemingly indestructible pedestal.

Here in the belly of the beast: the needing, wanting, grasping consumer culture, cheating our way to Nirvana, we want to pretend that Gandhi is our hero, but really no one wants to be that man: too simple, too thin, too poor, too honest, too vulnerable, too idealistic, too dead.

We are so addicted to hustling each other, we can't help but hustle and lie and cheat ourselves too. We like to whisper lies to each other, whisper lies to ourselves. W.C. Fields once told us: "You can't cheat an Honest Man." The honest ones are few are far between. Seems the only honest ones are dead and cast in iron.

Day of the Dead.

The dead are with us. Always. Everywhere.

Part I

Hector and Gabriela visited the old cemetery; a place of stone, trees, grass. It was a sunny day. The stone monuments glimmered, the grass was thick green. They drove their car to the resting place of one of their dead. There were a few other visitors. The old man  was there. Any day, any time of the day, he is always near where his wife and daughter are buried. Sometimes he sits in his car doing crossword puzzles, or listens to the the classical music station on the car radio. Today he was standing with another man next to an old pickup truck. Hector and Gabriela parked their car, exited, stretching a bit after a long ride. Gabriela was carrying a pair of scissors and a bouquet of flowers. She walked over to the old man and exchanged greetings.

Hector waited, staring into the sun. It blinded him for a moment. All he saw was light all around him. Gabriela came back to him and they walked to the grave. Hector sat down in the shade of a tree, he sat Indian-style, legs crossed, he closed his eyes, emptied his head. Gabriela trimmed the grass from around the grave marker, it was nestled in deep, green grass. She then laid out the flowers in a circular pattern, big yellow flowers, each like a little sun creating a small circle of suns.

They sat in silence for a long time. The wind lightly blowing through the trees the only sound. No words. A few teardrops fell from Gabriela's eyes. Hector could feel a surge of energy course through his body. It was like the wind blowing lightly through the trees, but he was the tree, his arms and legs the branches. Time passed. Time stood still.

They rose together and hugged each other in the shade of the tree. They walked back to the car. No words. They drove the small winding cemetery road, passing hundreds of stone monuments & gravestones. Hector's cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and saw no call, no number, and  no missed call message. He frowned at the phone and put it back in his pocket.

Part II

The next day Hector and Gabriela were on the train heading to the city. They were heading to one of their favorite restaurants, and then off to a theatrical production. They meditated together. It was their usual practice. Eyes closed, sitting in silence, deep breaths on public transportation. Hector was totally exhausted. Weary. So weary. More than weary. He could feel himself sinking under the weight of an enormous weariness.

He turned to Gabriela and said, "I'm fading away." She looked at him, concerned. "I am so, so weary. I am more than weary. It's like I am carrying the weariness of all those dead souls we visited yesterday. Can it be? Can it be that I am carrying the weariness of all the dead?"

Gabriela said, "It could be." And then Hector said, "I was thinking about that phone call yesterday. Who do you think it was calling me?" Gabriela replied, "It could be anyone. Maybe your father?"

Hector nodded. "Yes." He continued to sink deeper under the weight of this enormous weariness. His father had been dead for years. He could feel the enormous, endless, always growing weariness pressing down on him. He could feel his own weariness accumulated over the  many years of his life, the weariness of those he knew and touched, the weariness of all those he ever knew or touched, the weariness of those still living, of those long dead, of people he never knew, never met, people long, long, gone. He felt like he was beneath an ocean of weariness, under a volcano of weariness, in a place of deep, serious, heaviness, a heaviness beyond heaviness.

Gabriela said, "Hector, stay with me." Hector could see himself rising up from his seat, he could feel his body falling away into little particles, he could see his flesh becoming iridescent, his bones disappearing, becoming a small breeze passing through the train car.  Gabriela said, "Maybe it's better to take it all in, embrace it, don't let it go, just go into it?" As she said these words, Hector could feel his body coming back to him, he noticed his fingers & toes, his arm & legs; he was whole, he was inside his body once again. It happened instantly.

Hector, said, "Yes, that's right. Go into it. That feels right." The weariness didn't dissipate, he could still feel it pressing down on him, but it felt like it belonged to him now. Outside and inside, the same. The train arrived at their stop. They exited the train. Gabriela reached out to hold Hector's hand. They walked gently, silently into the shimmering, waiting day.

The Art of Living...

The Art of Living...

We are all artists, whether we know it or not. Living is an an art. Not a job, not a business, not science, not logical, not a straight-line narrative.

Living is like a cloud. A wave. A mist. A fog. It's not easy to understand. It's not easy to grasp. Being alive. We think: It's kind of a good thing in itself. As they say, "better than the alternative."

Although, even that is probably off target. We don't know life. We don't know death. We don't know.
We practice the art of living. Some of us do it consciously, some of us do it unconsciously.

We are all left to wonder. How do we fashion ourselves. What's it really all about?

The questioning is another part of the process. Asking questions with no clear answers. Carrying on. Anyway. That's the art of living.

The Plain, Simple Reality of Life!

I heard a phrase this morning that rings a bell...

"That experience just doesn't translate." 

Exactly. Even if you are a writer of distinction, it is hard, maybe impossible, to convey some of our most profound, core experiences. You actually have to experience the experience to understand it. This is especially true of anything that comes to us truly, madly, deeply, completely.

I think of some of my great insights or epiphanies, or a few of my transcendent experiences that I have had over the years. I am unable to really explain, or adequately convey. As soon as I try to write down, or verbalize, it seems so partial, paltry, almost misses the point entirely.

So yes, a mystery wrapped in a mystery. Our deepest, most important experiences sit with us unexplained, unexplainable, untranslatable.  That's just the plain, simple reality of our lives.

Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts!

What's happening with Little Baby Man? 

Death by a thousand cuts. Maybe paper cuts.

"Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam Wood, to high Dunsinane Hill, Shall come against him."

"Little Baby Man shall never vanquish'd be, until his Deutsche Bank financial records Shall come against him."

Oh poor Little Baby Man. Those incriminating banking files have sprouted wings and will soon be flying off to Congress. Oh poor Little Baby Man... don't cry...

I love that Nancy Pelosi has Little Baby Man's number. She's running circles around him.

"Nancy Pelosi, the Democratic speaker of the House, has spent the past 48 hours doing to Trump what he has done to so many others. She lifted up his skin, got under it, and began scratching furiously. Asked at her weekly news conference on Thursday whether she was concerned about the president’s well-being, she replied: “I am,” adding she was also concerned about “the well-being of the United States of America”.And then she delivered the coup de grace: “I wish that his family or his administration or staff would have an intervention for the good of the country. Maybe he wants to take a leave of absence.”

As Rick Wilson explains: Nancy Pelosi's strategy is working... Poor Little Baby Man!

We all need to brush up on Psychology. And Pathology. Nancy Pelosi - she's smarter, tougher, saner. Poor Little Baby Man has no chance, he is unraveling! A case study for America!

I was Ready to Go in for the Kill!

I had a "situation" yesterday.

I won't go into the gory details. Suffice to say, it was an unexpected conversation. Words were tossed my way by someone who really doesn't know me, (I don't really know them either).

How did I react? Internally I was absolutely infuriated. I mentally prepared an onslaught of razor-sharp, cutting words in return. I was ready to go in for the kill.

Then I paused. I swallowed my pride. I laughed. I took a few deep breaths and decided this was not a fight worth having. I just stopped. I cooled off. Let it go. Responded with a cool, calculated silence.

Yes. It was good. Satisfying. Sometimes you really don't have to take the bait. You can bite your tongue, pull in your horns, be the "bigger person."

The fury passed. Instead of escalating it, I totally defused the situation. I must say, I have not always been this "smart," there have been times in the past where I would have reacted with inflamed emotion. But I have learned that this fury, this flaming emotion is toxic. Not just to the person I was going to direct it upon, but also toxic to myself.

So. Instead. I did a Gandhi.  Silence. Coolness. Non-violent. Non-confrontational. It felt wonderful.

Venture Forth Into the Murky Mist!

"What can go wrong?" 

That's one of those really stupid questions. It's the kind of question you might ask when you are just about to embark on a new adventure, or start a new project, or engage with someone or something you have never engaged with before.

Why is it a stupid question? Because, of course, Dear Grasshopper, the answer to the question is plain as day, I mean, it may as well be tattooed on your forehead, or written in ink on your left hand.

What can wrong? Everything can go wrong! 

Everything! Every Last Thing! That is something you learn over time. There is a saying in the Theater world, you don't really know your show until everything goes wrong at least once. You don't really know anything at all until all the things that can go wrong, do go wrong. You might call that experience. 

Should this prevent you from new adventures? From trying new things? From starting new projects? Meeting new people? Etc?

No! Of course not. I say "Damn the torpedoes!" Right? Sure, everything can, and probably will go wrong, that's just built into anything we take on. But even with this knowledge we must venture forth into that murky mist! Do your best to prepare. Figure on detours, walk-backs, re-thinks, falling-down and picking-ups. Come on. Give it a go. What can go wrong?

"Normal" is a Chimera!

The "new normal" isn't normal. "Normal" is a chimera. We are always in flux. Ever-changing. Just when we start to get used to something, it's already gone, disappeared into the mists of time. Life: It's a moving target! You are a moving target too. Your head, your thoughts, your body, always morphing, changing, aging, transforming. We are hanging on this spinning rock, gravity doing its thing, basically, we are holding on for dear life. Our little blue planet spinning out in the great, dark expanse. That little blue planet is changing too. And the Universe? It too is expanding, changing, moving. Weird, aye?

A Better Taco!

Yesterday I discovered a "better Taco." A small thing, right? But, you know, our lives are made up of many small things. Lately, I have been determined to eat as "clean" as I can, more veggies, less fat, no animal protein, primarily organic food. All good for me and the planet. My friend and I found ourselves at a local Mexican restaurant yesterday. We started with some superb guacamole and chips, and then I ordered the "Simple Taco" with veggies. Pretty basic, three soft-shell tacos with cilantro, onions & potatoes. Simple. Clean. So good. Really. It is the better taco! Hard to believe but it made my day. A small thing. Essential.

Start a Conversation and See What Happens!

So much to do, so little time...

Last night we were in a safe oasis, a little art space. It was quite the beautiful setting, filled with an amazing collection of people from all over the world. We made connections there that were only possible because of reality of this fantastic, welcoming little art space. Folks creating and connecting. A community of artists, and of people who like to hang with artists and creative, open-minded, open-hearted people. We realized you can easily reach out and connect.  Anytime. You just have to show up, be aware, be awake, be open. Let your guard down, speak, listen. We made so many new connections with so many people. That's how it's done, one person at a time, one on one. So yes, of course, we can all try to "fix" the world. How do we do it? Human Being to Human Being. One person to another person, and so on, etc. So many people to meet. So little time. I mean, it's daunting. Impossible. Too many billions of us, on this raging, needing, wanting, seething Ball of Confusion. So you pull your horns in a bit, you just try to do your small part. You say "Hello," to someone you don't know, someone you just met, you open your heart, your head, you have a conversation and see what happens!

"Be Like A Leaf In The River... Just Flow!"

"Be like a Leaf in the River... just flow!"

My friend, has a friend, a woman from Cambodia who now lives and works here in the States. Yes, she's Buddhist. Yesterday, my friend was in conversation with her friend at work. My friend's friend laid that line on her. She told my friend that it was a line that her mother would always say to her. Very Zen. This morning my friend laid that line on me, before I had even had a chance to make the morning coffee, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Really. Funny. Simple line. Simple thought. Yes, be like a leaf in the river, just flow. You don't know how you got there, you don't know where you are going, you are floating along, carried along by a power bigger than yourself. Not that weird, or novel of an idea. I mean, it's probably something that I've heard many times before, but this morning, it just resonates with the power of plain, perfectly realized truth. A little world-cracking epiphany. Just perfect. Perfectly simple. Seems so right.  Life-changing. Life-affirming. I mean, exactly. Right?

I am Not a Grade A Worrier!

I am not a Grade A Worrier. I know because I live with one. If I have a worry on my mind, and I mention it to my friend, well, I am quickly shown to be an amateur, my paltry little worries are nothing compared to what's going on in my friend's head. Some folks are just really, really good at worrying. I'm a piker.

So despite my recent posts, I am not usually the worrying kind. I mean, yes, I am worried that the human population on the planet is unsustainable, that there are way too many of us, and I have no idea how we will deal with that, and, of course, it's obvious that we are hurtling towards some kind of climate apocalypse, we will burn up every last drop of oil in the ground,  burn up every last chunk of coal, and continue to poison the atmosphere with carbon dioxide leading to a massive altering of our habitable ecosystem. Think: food scarcity, mass migration, flooding, mega-storms, extreme hot, extreme cold, dead oceans, massive species extinction, etc. Seems inevitable. And what about War? Are we going to blunder into another insane conflict? I have absolutely no faith in the leaders of the world making rational decisions for the rest of us. Sometimes my fellow humans really, really disappoint. I mean we can be so appalling, so unspeakably horrifying.

Shite, I am just one little human being, what can I do to make life better for my species? Big worries loom over all of us. How will we make it thru the day? We all have to live the best we can.

I park those big old worries over to the side, and decide to carry on. I think: What I'm going to have for lunch? Or, What am I gonna wear today? Is it hot outside? Is it cold outside? How am I gonna fill up my day? 

How can I the best person I can be? How do I live a good life? Am I doing what I'm "supposed" to be doing? Who do I ask? Little questions. Little worries. Add them to the list. But you know, I'm just not a Grade A Worrier! I promise, I'm not!

No War!

I am feeling a bit surly & aggrieved this morning. My moral outrage has no bounds. The reality of my own powerlessness makes me angry & sad. My heightened sense of another injustice going down in my name, under the Flag of Good Old USA is totally infuriating. Disheartening. Listening to the radio. Can it really be true, (pardon my French), are USA persons really trying to gin up another fucking war? This time with Iran? This Criminal President? This incompetent, corrupt and poisonous administration? This crazy-ass, mixed-up world? Really? Fuck!

I think of the Afghanistan War - "Even the most dedicated news junkies can find it difficult to keep up on the war in Afghanistan, now in its 18th year. This guide is for those who could use a refresher on the conflict, in which more than 2,400 Americans have died. At least 62,000 Afghan soldiers and police officers have been killed since the war began, in 2001, and more than 24,000 civilians have died in the past decade."

How much money did the Afghanistan War cost the USA? "The Afghanistan War is a military conflict that began in 2001 and has cost $1.07 trillion."

I think of the Iraq War (Bush/Cheney's Illegal War of Choice, or as we like to call it Bush's Complete Clusterfuck!) - "The Iraq War was a military conflict that lasted seven years, from 2003 to 2011, and cost $1.06 trillion. The war added more than $1 trillion to the U.S. debt."

How many Casualties in the Iraq War?  "Casualty estimates range from 151,000 violent deaths as of June 2006 (per the Iraq Family Health Survey) to 461,000 total deaths as of June 2011 (per PLOS Medicine 2013), over 60% of the latter being violent.[1] Other estimates, which are disputed in the scientific community, such as the 2006 Lancet study and the 2007 Opinion Research Business (ORB) survey put the numbers as high as 655,000 total deaths as of June 2006 (over 90% of them violent) and 1.2 million violent deaths as of August 2007 respectively. Body counts — which underestimate mortality — counted at least 110,600 violent deaths as of April 2009 (Associated Press). The Iraq Body Count project documents 183,249 – 205,785 violent civilian deaths through to February 2019.[1]"

Also don't forget the side dishes: Torture Regime, PSTD, broken bodies, severed limbs, all those people scarred for life, all those crushed hopes and dreams and ideals. We are all still reeling from these Wars. Suicides. Opioid addiction. Overdoses. Longterm disability, depression, disability. Lives ended and altered forever. Are we really this stupid, this short-sighted, this misguided, this corrupt and morally bankrupt? This evil-minded? Really? Fuck!

We do not need another FUCKING War! I say NO! 

The Soundtrack to Our Grand, Toxic, Overstuffed,Totally Stressful, Dark and Hallucinatory Dystopia!

Listening to Thom Yorke and Radiohead this morning. I have always believed that this band has been on the forefront of thought, and musical excellence for a long time. I see Thom Yorke as a "canary in the coal-mine," a little super-sensitive, slightly-neurotic, vibe-detector in our grand, toxic, overstuffed, totally stressful, dark and hallucinatory dystopia.

Welcome to paradise. We live in amazing times, dark times too, and the looming catastrophe seems to be hanging over us always. That seems to be the grand theme that Thom Yorke is channeling. He is one tightly-wrapped canary, impulsively singing for his supper.

What's Radiohead's best album? Pretty much whichever one you are listening to at the moment. This morning it's "In Rainbows," but it could just as easily be "Kid A," or "OK Computer, or "Hail to the Thief," or "Amnesiac," or "A Moon Shaped Pool." Etc.

All great records. There is a similarity, and excellence of vision throughout their discography. Thom Yorke's voice is a thing of wonder, a bit disturbing, engaging, evocative. He always leaves me grasping for meanings, makes me a bit sad for our species. Just the sound of his voice does it to me, even before I start decoding the lyrics.

Dystopia.

Check out yesterday's post. People. People are the problem. People could be the solution. I think it's pretty much up to us. Which is scary. Sometimes it's obvious we are not as smart, logical, empathetic, responsible, and ethical as we pretend, presume, or hope to be.

There is a great divide amongst us. There are still those who think we can look to the Gods to take care of everything. The rest of us realize it's all really up to us.  You know, we live in a Jean Paul Sartre Dystopian Universe. We are all responsible. For everything. Even the things for which we have no control. It's a tough job, but if we don't do it, it won't get done.

Everything will not work out for the best. If everything happens for a reason, sometimes everything happens because the reason is a fucking, stone-cold killer.

Here's another scary chart. This morning it's the amount of carbon dioxide we are releasing into the atmosphere. This is primarily caused by our addiction to Fossil Fuels, our addiction to $, our addiction to meat, our addiction to factory farming, automobiles, and our voracious, mindless consumer consumption. All this human activity is creating havoc for our interconnected web of life. Climate Change? How about Looming Catastrophe? Is it time for a New Green Deal? Fuck yes, well past time.

Can we change our ways? Can we be smart, make sensible, sustainable lifestyle choices? Doesn't seem that hard. Wonder if the people will get their shit together in time? Thom, I hate to ask, what do you think?

A Plague, A Cancer, A Sign of Illness...

Blame that Deity that told us to "be fruitful and multiply."

I was going to blog about another topic this morning, but then, I stumbled upon the "WORLDOMETER!' You want to scare yourself this morning? Go over and take a look. You can actually watch the population of the planet increase while you have your cup of java. Holy, holy Shite!

This chart, in a glance, kind of illustrates the scope of our present situation...

Not to belabor the point, that is a shit-load of humanity. 

That kind of growth in nature is usually considered a plague, a cancer, a sign of illness. I don't think it takes a genius to think that many of our problems of resources, of species extinction, of the destruction of the oceans, seas, trees, and topsoil can be explained by this explosion of the teeming, wanting, needing, grasping masses of humanity.

What's the upside? Maybe there are a few geniuses in that mass that can come up with some brilliant ideas? Will anyone listen to them? So many competing interests. Humans are really good at competing with each other. And we love to join groups, clans, tribes, nations. We use those groups, clans, tribes and nations to clobber each other. We are not so good at working together. Can we roll up our sleeves and work for a common goal? The "greater good?" And what exactly is the greater good and who decides?

I mean...

Who is in charge? Who speaks for the human species? Who speaks for the planet? Who speaks for the rest of our interconnected web of life? I mean, come on people, (yes, you new ones too who just joined us while I typed these words), how are we gonna make this freaking thing work?

Divine Law, Astrology, Mood Rings, Yoga, Whatever... Believe it!

Divine Law. 

Someone I know, knows someone he knows, used this term in an on-line discussion about politics. Religion reared it's ugly head into the conversation. Divine Law. The term kind of stuck in my craw. It was used as some kind of ultimate authority. It certainly sounds important & definitive.

It was used to rail against "sodomites," unbelievers, socialists, abortionists, communists, and left-wingers. You know, just people. Do a bit of research and you find pretty quickly that Divine Law is a nice little concept, a set of Laws supposedly handed down from God, or a clan of Gods, to us humble little human beings.

Sounds amazing. Right? But then, there really is no reality to this little idea. It's all a nice story. An authoritative narrative concocted by human beings used to impress other human beings. Imaginary.

I mean, we all can believe whatever we want to believe, but aren't we kind of over that time where folks who tell us they know that God exists, and they know what is in the Mind of God?

I mean, Divine Law is kind of neat, wouldn't it be great if God gave us a rule book on how to live our lives? Some folks promote the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, the Bhagavad Gita, the Buddhists texts as holy texts, and hell, there is much wisdom (lots of b.s. backward, and contradictory or confusing shite too), to be found in all those texts, but it's pretty clear that all of these books were written and compiled by human beings. At best they were written by folks trying to think like God. Not the same thing at all.

Calling those texts "scripture" doesn't really make them any holier or more important or insightful or influential than "Moby Dick," "The Rights of Man," "On the Road," "Catch-22" "Catcher in the Rye," "Infinite Jest," "The Lord of the Rings." "Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas," "The Communist Manifesto."

Jesus. Ahab. Heller. Frodo. Tom Paine. Buddha. Salinger. Tolkien. Yossarian. Mohammad. Melville. HST. David Foster Wallace. Karl Marx. Kerouac. Holden Caufield, Gandalf. Pick your cool guy, your prophet, your role model, and your saviour.

So, sure, we are all free to believe whatever we want to believe, that's one of the benefits of living in a secular world, where freedom of speech and freedom of thought are valued. I mean as long as your crazy belief doesn't impinge on my crazy belief everything is cool. Which of course is at the root of many of our most contentious and intractable human conflicts; when your freedom bumps into my freedom, and how do we referee the conflict, how do we live together, maximizing human liberty, and minimizing suffering? Who decides? Who gets to make and enforce the laws? Which laws do we follow? Which laws do we resist? Etc.

All man-made issues. We are stuck smack dab in the human element. Who is right? Who is wrong? Murky. Difficult. Confusing. Not so divine. One of my favorite mottos is "You Must Believe," and I truly believe that it helps to believe in something. It could be Yoga, Mood Rings, Space Aliens, A Good Day, The Invisible Hand, Pyramid Power, the Human Imagination, Astrology, Progress, Little People, Rationality, Socialism, Free Market, Planned Parenthood, the Scientific Method, whatever.

If you are going with Divine Law, that is fine. Just don't try to impose it on anyone else. You don't believe in abortion? Don't have one! Don't believe in Gay Marriage? Don't marry a Gay! You want to be ruled by a set of Laws called "Divine," fine, just don't tread on the rest of us.  I mean, if you want to believe there is a God, and a set of Divine Laws, maybe let the "sodomites," unbelievers, socialists, abortionists, communists, and left-wingers face the music and account for their actions on their own. We all have to answer to whatever we think we have to answer to... and maybe some of us don't believe in answering to anything at all. That's life, right?

Catch the Fever!

"Stay Amazed."

Sometimes I try to situate myself in a world of signs and wonders. I mean, really, we all really do live in such a world, but often we forget, or neglect to notice.

Yes, we live in a world of signs and wonders.

Let me always see the signs, let me always wonder about the wonders. Yesterday's fortune cookie: "Start believing in your dreams and others will catch the fever."

Maybe it was a Hex for Good Luck?!

Friday morning.

I was walking down the avenue, there was a distinguished, messianic-looking, dread-locked, gentlemen standing on the sidewalk. It was a sunny, blue-sky day, we were both smiling, and we nodded at each other as I walked past. The Dread started speaking, (was it in tongues, a different language?), I turned back and looked him directly in the eye. Deep dark pools, with bright shiny sparks. He pointed a long, bony finger at me and said something completely unintelligible. To my ears it sounded something like this: "Hoorambachookaw!" I surmised it was some kind of ancient Rasta hex. But for some reason, I didn't feel cursed. Maybe it was a "good hex," you know, maybe that Rastaman was wishing me a good, prosperous life, or great health, or good luck? Sure. Why not? I nodded, smiled, and went on my way.

Later in the evening, maybe that little hex of luck came in handy.

I was standing at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green, perched on my bicycle, ready to go. Cars whizzing by, a busy Friday evening, everyone with somewhere to go. The light clicked, green for me, that little stick figure person on the sign was lit up telling me to go. I entered the intersection on my bicycle and instinctively looked to my left. A car was barreling thru a red light, heading right for me, I stopped, I had a moment of complete helplessness, it looked like there was no escape. I'm not sure what I thought in that fraction of a moment, maybe something like: "This is how it happens..."

I could see a man at the wheel, a woman in the passenger seat, looks of horror on their faces. The driver punched the brake, tires squealed, the car sort of fish-tailed towards the curb. The car stopped in a lurch about 5 feet from me. How many close calls do you get? How close was this one? A few seconds more, and well, not to be overly-dramatic, it could have been mayhem. The driver and I exchanged meaningful glances, then he motioned for me to move on. I did, sort of shaking my head, my body alive, on-fire, a sharp flash of fear running thru my veins.

What the hell... how many close calls, do you get? I whispered a heartfelt thanks to my morning Rasta Man and rode on home. O Lucky Man!

Sweet Seduction!

I tangled with some potent honey. Really. Sounds ridiculous. But it's true. Maybe there is an important lesson in there somewhere? Beware of the really sweet, tasty, delicious, wholesome & pure. Sweet seduction.

You may think it's all good for you. Something that tastes so sweet, something that so nicely melts on your tongue. It sent me reeling. My head spinning. Fever-like reaction. I felt invaded. Infected. Weird. Really weird.

Feeling better this morning. The crisis has passed. I think of William Blake from "The Proverbs of Hell," -    “You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.”

Honey? I have had my fill!

Sleuth or Surfer?

Sometimes you think like a Sleuth, a Private Eye, a Detective, or maybe a Detector.

You spend so much of your life, running things down, searching for facts, ruminating over riddles, looking for motives, clues, patterns, explanations. Chasing every rabbit down every rabbit hole. You tell yourself you want to understand what's happening, to figure things out, to make sense, to know.

On the other hand, sometimes, you think, maybe you should just drop all that, and surf the wave. Ride the storm. Go with the flow. Navigate the waters, ride that board without getting wet. No need to understand the ocean, no need to figure things out, just ride the vibe, experience it, take it in and let it out. Be permeable. No borders. No hard lines. No worry. No explanations.

Sleuth or Surfer? Ok. Yes. I get it. Probably both...

The Full Digital Discography!

We still love, and buy those little silver compact discs around here. We think it's kind of the "golden age" of the CD. We often browse our local music store and snag pristine copies of used CDs for $5.00 or less. You wonder, if those record companies would not have been so greedy in the 90's and 2000's, maybe they wouldn't have lost the war to the music hackers?  Who knows? We still love, buy and spin vinyl too. There is something about owning the tangible thing.

Still, there is also something pretty seductive about being able to play music from your smart phone. Downloading, streaming, there is a generation of music lovers who have never thought for one moment about owning one of those classic home stereo systems.  Yes, we do understand.

This is a long-winded way to saying hey, guess what? You can now buy the Full Digital Discography of my band's (whitewolfsonicprincess',) song catalog,  on Bandcamp! One complete bundle! Yes, all three studio albums directly delivered to your smart phone with a click or two. Plus you will save some $ too.  The marvels of our consumer paradise. Support independent music makers!

We are Murdering Life on the Planet!

What is the story of our time?

THIS is the story of our time: PARIS (Reuters) - "One million animal and plant species are at imminent risk of extinction due to humankind’s relentless pursuit of economic growth, scientists said on Monday in a landmark report on the devastating impact of modern civilization on the natural world."

Human Beings are destroying the ecosystem of the planet. There is an interconnected web of life that we are shredding, it is our life support, so it is a murder and also a suicide. We have found the enemy and it is us. We are clever murderous species that is murdering life on the planet.  "Climate change," doesn't quite tell the story. It is a failure of language.

We are all responsible. The blood is on our hands, our species is a menace to life on the planet.

“The key message: business as usual has to end.”

The Perfect Wave!

"Nothing really matters..." F. Mercury

Freddie sang that line in Bohemian Rhapsody

Is that line a surrender? Is surrender bad? Yesterday, for some reason that line was resonating in my head. "Nothing really matters..." but I added... "except this moment..." 

Yes. Living in the moment, the present moment, everything else falling away. Not really a surrender, or if it is a surrender, it is an affirmative act.

So yes, yesterday was just a perfect day. How many perfect days do we get? One assumes it's a finite number. Long, rambling day. Sunny. Blue sky. Warmer temps. Chill. Laid-back. A bike ride. My friend planting flowers in the garden. A fabulous meal. Music on the box.

Nothing really matters. Right? We surfed the vibe of the day. The perfect wave.

A Good Day.

What is a good day?

Sunshine. Blue sky. Coffee. Music on the player. Mobility. Laughter. Intelligent conversation. One close friend. Nourishing meal. An engrossing book. Old guitar waiting to be played.

American Music's Holy Grail!

Question: Is Bob Dylan's The Basement Tapes Complete the Holy Grail of American Music?

Answer: YES! 

Small Men Telling Big Lies

Small men (yes, it's usually men), telling big lies. Mendacious fools pretending be wise guys. These small men are not evil geniuses, they are just easily, casually, corruptible men with no shame, men who think they are smarter than they are, men who are practiced at lying in public without flinching.

Put on a suit. Comb your hair. Polish your shoes. Go to your fancy-title job. Cash those big checks.

They think it's a game they can win. And it's true, for much of the time, it looks like they are winning, that they are getting away with their lies.

Then again, for those of us paying attention, it all looks so transparently false (see previous post). Small lies followed by big lies, big lies leading to more lies. A mad, badly-constructed narrative that makes no real sense. The lies come faster as the reality dawns upon even those small men, that the false narrative maybe can't hold together. The lies come fast and furious when their fear of being found out starts to rise.

For those spinning the web of lies, it gets harder and harder to keep the narrative straight. It's such a shaky, leaky, edifice of lying. It all starts to come apart at the seams. It really is a hollow, soul-less thing. It can't bear the light of day, the light of conscience, the light of intellect.

The truth has a way of dribbling out. It's a substance, like water, or electricity, or light. It permeates spaces. It can't be held back. No, that's not true, it can be held back for a time, sometimes, for years, but the truth will out, as long as attention is paid, as long as good folks, folks living in a world of truth & facts do the good work of deconstructing, dismantling, the poorly-constructed buildings of lies of the small men.

Kamala Harris Totally Eviscerates the AG Clown!

U.S. Attorney General William Barr is a clown, a hack, a partisan shill. He is trying to cover-up for our Criminal in Chief. He testified in front of  a Senate committee yesterday. He was exposed as a total sham. Kamala Harris, Senator from CA, and a Presidential Candidate for 2020, totally eviscerated the man. It was beautiful thing to see. I'd say this is a must-watch clip.

As I summed up for one of my friends via text message yesterday...

"Wow. I love Kamala Harris, I am voting for her. She just destroyed that lying fuck Barr in a hearing."

Harris is just the kind of smart, tough and progressive Democrat we need to be working for us. Harris 2020!

Barr was Lying About the Mueller Report! Thought So!

Hah!

I have to say I am happy to hear that my intuition that the Attorney General Wm. Barr has been lying to us about the Mueller Report all along was correct. Whew!  I mean, I'm not happy that the man lied, but I am happy to know that I knew he was lying as he was lying. I mean, I guess, it's gratifying to know my strong, basic intuition was correct. I really was tracking with the story, and I knew right from the get-go that something smelled really fishy!

I won't go back to my initial blog posts, but there were a few days there where I wondered if I was being overly-suspicious or paranoid, was I the one who was not seeing clearly?

Turns out no, that's not the story. As Kevin Drum sums it up: "It sure sounds like Mueller thought Donald Trump committed obstruction of justice, which should have been referred to Congress for impeachment proceedings."

I was correct to be suspicious and a bit paranoid. Barr was lying through his teeth all along. He lied to congress. He lied to the American public. He did it blatantly. It seemed a bit too audacious. You know, a sober-sided, white guy in a suit, speaking in authoritative legalese. He couldn't be lying, could he?

What was that all about? Bullshit. The man was peddling bullshit. You have wonder why. Just buying time for our Criminal in Chief? Helping with the coverup? Trying to protect the GOP? Daring the Democrats to step up and do the right thing?

The next imperative: we need a few tough-minded, sharp, intense, progressive, Democrats dedicated to the rule of law and to the constitution to stand up and be counted. It is time to do the necessary work. Surrounded by crooks and scoundrels. Our Democracy is in deep crisis.