Slimed by the Shite...

Ha... ha... ha... sorry, still laughing (see previous post)...

It is all too funny. The Gaseous Blimp-Man is in a world of hurt. There will be lots of huffing and puffing, and over-wrought idiocy in trying to defend the indefensible, but it's all just toxic smoke meant to make us all stupid; truly-idiotic & indefensible, and I mean WTF?!?*

* What is super-funny, all the most damaging, devastating evidence against Blimp Baby comes directly from the his own blubbering lips. His words, his actions. Testimony from his ex-lawyers & accomplices. Yep. Notes, audio recordings, photos, video. Yikes. Pretty damn incriminating & funny.

Karma in Florida!

Ha, ha, ha...

Let me wax Biblical: "You Shall Reap What You Sow."

Let me wax Philosophical: "What You Do, Will Come Back to You."

Let me wax School-Yard: - "I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”

Word has come down that a notorious, overweight, blubbering-bully, and blowhard, has to answer for his actions. Funny. So funny. I can't think a more deserving toxic clown. KARMA. Why is this idiot facing the music? He has no one to blame but his own overstuffed, blimp-proportion self. The worst fate for this particular clown? He has to BE him. He has to live in his own creepy-crawly skin. He is gonna spend lots of time in courtrooms trying not to go to prison for a very, very long time. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Oh yeah, innocent until proven guilty. That's Justice in America. But, man, oh, man. This particular Dude just stinks of a deep and obvious guiltiness. He has been flaunting his contempt for the rule of law for a very loud & long time. Odiferous. Guilty. As Sin. I think that's the story-line. You know, as they say, "No one is Above the Law." Let it Come Down!

Calamity Lurks...

In the driver's seat. Right. You are behind the wheel, you have your foot on the gas, or the brake, often you are alternating. You want to have a light, not a heavy, foot. Hopefully, you are wearing your  seat-belt. Your eyes are peeled, you are alert, hands on the wheel at 2 o'clock and 10 o'clock. You often check the rearview mirror, and the side mirror too. Remember images are "closer than they appear." You get that distinct feeling that you are "in control." Don't get too full of yourself. Follow the signs, don't check your phone, be here now. Always drive defensively. Remember, shit happens, any moment, any corner, any intersection. Calamity Lurks. Chaos, baby, it's in-built into the Universe. Do you fantasize about taking your hands off the wheel? Do you just want to let go and ride? Be careful, Pilgrim. Take nothing for granted. Sure, you are blasting that radio, the Classic Rock Station: "We are the Champions," "Don't Stop Believing," "More than a Feeling," "Dream On," "Rikki Don't Lose that Number," "Don't Fear the Reaper," "Teenage Wasteland," "Life in the Fast Lane," "Carry on My Wayward Sun," "Put the Lime in the Coconut," "Money, it's a Gas," "Free-bird," "Excitable Boy,"...  it's the soundtrack of your life...

Homely and Home...

Back home in my own humble digs after a series of long stay-overs at homes of grand luxury. Yes, it's a weird existence. Back to familiar surroundings. Being away means that everything is a little bit new, reintroducing myself to my own belongings. Maybe it's a good thing? Reminds me of all I have; my books, my cds, my bed, my pillows, my sound system, my guitars, my coffeemaker, my little flock of birdies, and, oh yeah, my long-time partner. Everything is a little less luxurious, but it's all more in tune with who, and where, I really am in the zeitgeist. It's a nice place. Not that fancy, but every nook and cranny is reflective of me and my partner. Surrounded by our stuff. It's not as bright and shiny and plush and luxurious as some of those amazing mansions. Maybe a little bit beat, funky & homely, but you know, home.

Up Early/Rabbit Holes...

Up early, before the crack of dawn. That's just the way it goes. Early riser: freshly-brewed coffee, a hearty breakfast, writing in the blog. It's a routine. Lately the days have been power-packed with activity. Long days of wandering the lakefront, making appointed rounds, also promoting an upcoming show for our band, reviewing the mixes of our songs. There are some major themes in my life: music, coffee, schlepping. You make a routine and break routine. Try to mix it up. I am reading an incredibly well-conceived and well-written book about the band Steely Dan, called "Quantum Criminals." It has sent me down the rabbit hole of obsession. Yes, no doubt, Steely Dan was one of the greatest of 70's bands. I have been listening to their remastered albums, many of these songs were on the radio, are on the radio still to this day. Quirky, edgy, funny, a band and not a band, led by two mad-cap characters, East Coast college grads who moved to New York, Brill Building songsters, who then transplanted to L.A. and formed a band. Marginal dudes always on the outside looking in. The lyrics are about old East Coast trauma and a debauched L.A. scene: kinky sex, drugs, madness, a Mad-Magazine-style sense of irony & humor. Smart, super-smart and funny. Fabulous musicianship; after three records they ditched the band concept, and found the finest hired hands they could afford for all their later work. Sterling, pristine, meticulously-recorded and produced albums. A super-clean sound wrapped around a darkly apocalyptic and hilarious, enigmatic sensibility. My co-collaborator and I  have been listening to mixes of our songs, making revisions, re-listening, re-mixing, I was stunned to discover that the song "Babylon Sisters" from Steely Dan's fabulous, masterpiece album "Gaucho,"  was mixed over 250 times?!? Holy Shite. The mind reels. Talk about mad-making, musical-obsessiveness. Lately, I have been reading the liner notes, the text printed in the booklets of the remastered albums, written by Fagen & Becker, so funny, so good. You want to spend time with these characters. Super-cool, absolutely, bred-in-the-bone, stone-cold, musically-obsessed, jazz & r&b freaks and studious intellects & nerds. Indelible lines and choruses. Lately, it is the only band I am listening to, besides my own. Fabulously inspiring, no doubt.

Dreams & Visions...

I happen to be one of those folks who takes my own private dreams and visions to heart. I often have totally vivid, full-color, beautifully-composed dreams streaming in my head in the depths of a deep sleep. Some of my dreams have been so fully real, I'm not sure if they were actually dreams or visionary states. I suppose I sort of believe in visionary states, because I have experienced them. I have had strange beings visit me. I have had dead people drop by for a chat. Waking from one of these visions is always a bit disorienting. I think to myself, "Did that really happen?" I have written a few songs recounting my own visions, I think of them as my visionary tales. Bringing important information to the light of day. What's funny, most of the oddest and strangest songs in our band's catalog are the songs inspired by "true to life," events; true on the street, or true in the throes of a fever-dream. How to interpret dreams and visions? I don't really know. Is it my subconscious mind sending me signals? Am I tapping into a realm of myth, a vast collective consciousness? Is it all just garbled, random access memories? Am I receiving coded and not so coded, messages from another realm? Am I truly bonkers? All good questions. Who knows?! Maybe none of the above. I do know some of my most impact-full dreams and visions have changed me in some deep way. I have often received information that changed me, and the way I navigate in the world. Sometimes these visions seem to be warnings, danger signals. One super-vivid, unforgettable vision seemed to be telling me that my creative work was super-important, and necessary. That was a good, validating one, no doubt. I have also had some super-disturbing visions, sometimes it takes me days to shake the imagery and the residue of dread. Anyway,  it is all so hard to explain, weird & freaky too. Still, I sort of think of these dreams and visions, even the dark ones, as a kind of amazing and useful gift. Often I have to used them in my life, and in my attempts at playing in the creative realms. Really.

Maybe Not So Comfortable...

"Comfortable in your own skin…"

It would be nice. Sometimes yes, often no. Those of us who grew up in the Western World, under the shadow of the Cross, we are sort of crucified, just like that famous guy nailed to a tree; crucified by the idea of the dislocation and duality of Body and Spirit. Hard to avoid it. Translated by the Nuns in Grade School, and hammered into the heads of all the little children, the unsuspecting flock, it was that pernicious idea that the Body, and all its naughty excretions was a dirty & Evil thing, only the pure Holy Spirit was right and good, and in tune with the doings of Heaven.

Even for those of us who spent lots of time decontaminating ourselves from that holy shite, we still live with it deep in the bone. I wear a little dangling, stone-faced, metal Buddha on a leather string around my neck. He is sitting contentedly, with a maybe a hint of smile on his face. I have worn it for years and years. Often I forget it's even there. Still, it's my way of declaring that the old duality is null & void in my life. Easier said, or thought, than done. I do my best to live with the idea that Mind/Heart/Spirit are one. Meditation is a working towards, a seeking, a wordless approach to a blissful, seamless, one-ness. Sometimes it "works," there are those fleeting, ephemeral moments of a complete one-ness and connectedness. Rare, invisible, vanished in an instant, but indelible.

Nice idea. Sometimes I really can get there. Glimpsed once it changes you forever. Of course, our bodies are moving targets, constantly growing, morphing, becoming. Same with our Heads and Hearts. Life truly is change. We are change too. The only constant, no constant. Maybe comfort in the skin is not the ideal. Alive. In the moment. Present. In all it's dirtiness and shiny-ness too. That's it.

The Holy Grail of Foodstuffs...

Ok. Maybe this isn't the most consequential topic, but here, close to home it's become a major discovery. I have been living in an amazing mansion on the lake, it truly is a magnificent home, perched magnificently at an exquisitely perfect spot in our town. I am a lucky person, no doubt. I am living way beyond my means. Floating in amber. I am keeping busy, sometimes to exhaustion, I am the caretaker, taking care, and that means being always in motion. Before the owners of this place went abroad, they stocked the refrigerator with some provisions. I had mentioned that I was living on peanut butter and bagels, and well, there was enough peanut butter and a variety of bagels to feed a small army. I really, really fell hard for a morning Everything Bagel. I truly thought I found the holy grail of foodstuffs. Funny. My friend stopped by and left me a few English Muffins. Seems everyone I know wants to feed me. Anyway, yes, I think now my new Holy Grail of Foodstuffs is the English Muffin. I mean, nothing wrong with a well-made bagel, but English Muffin? Delectable. Who knew?!

A Long Day...

The Longest Day. 

Yesterday it was quite warm here in the Heartland. Sunny. Blue Skies, temps in the 90's. Even near the lake, which usually acts as an organic air-conditioner ("Cooler by the Lake.") it was a summer-like day. The  day dawns and its Suddenly Summer.

I got up with the sunrise, and took to bed at sunset. In between there was a long flurry of constant activity. I wanted to be outside, and events conspired to keep me out on the streets and paths, walking, biking and making a long round of appointments; places to be, and things to do. The day just seemed to be expanded & extended, time ticking slowly, everything in vivid slow motion. 

It felt good. I was definitely in tune with the temper and tempo of the day. It was good for my head. Nothing major happened. It was just a day, a long one. 

Probably...

"What could go wrong?"

A good question, one you should probably consider before you start pretty much anything. What could go wrong? The answer: Pretty much everything,

That doesn't mean you shouldn't do what you imagine doing, but, of course, everything you propose to do includes it's own host of issues, there is a bit of chaos running thru the fabric of the Universe, it appears that we live in a "Quantum Universe," if you want to imagine a God, this God loves to roll the dice. Chance, uncertainty, probability are fundamental to the whole she-bang. Chaos can drop into your scene at a drop of a hat.

Riding thru that busy intersection, armed with a green light, did you take into account that the woman driving that SUV was a bit distracted, and she just blew a red light; her vehicle was heading dead-on for you? That would be a bummer way to start the day, right? Good thing she briefly woke up, slammed on the brakes and came to a skidding stop. Chance. Right. Every moment, chance. Tick, tick, tick.

Pretty sure the Universe isn't deterministic, although it often feels like it is, it is most likely probabilistic, which is a bit annoying, hard to get your head around, you mean everything is basically a roll of the dice? Yikes. A sneaking suspicion rises up from your solar plexus, that the Universe is like one big Las Vegas Casino (Lost Wages), and the odds are inevitably stacked in favor of the house. But, chance, right? What if you stumbled upon a winning streak? Maybe not probable, but possible, right?

It's kind of a Mad Magazine Universe. Pretty much anything can happen, and it's sort of funny. There is the door labeled Hope and one called the Sea of Possibilities. One can't help thinking that the whole, glorious, contradictory thing is an elaborate joke or con. It's all a bit beautiful, shiny, wonderful, and hauntingly strange. Yes, and… "What, Me Worry?!"

We used to put on theater shows. One thing we always used to tell each other, you don't really know your show, until you know all the things that can go wrong with your show.  And really, every thing can go wrong, pretty much anytime. So your idea of "knowing," is a bit limited. Chaos. Maybe a bit of controlled chaos. That's just probably it, funny, that...

Easily Slipped & Disappeared...

How to vanquish an existential crisis?

I am actually pretty experienced at doing the vanquishing. I think my first deep, indelible, existential crisis came to me in Kindergarten. I was building a wall with cardboard bricks, probably the foundation for my new fortress, or castle, and another kid came over and knocked it down. I immediately picked up a brick and clobbered him on the head. The teacher sent me to my rug to contemplate my act of violence.

That was probably my first true existential crisis folded into the idea of being "falsely accused." I mean, yes, I did clobber a kid with a cardboard brick, but I felt totally in the right. I rocked and rolled on that little rug with righteous indignation. How dare I be punished for a clearly justified act?

Yep. So there is the initial theme, which has been played over a lifetime: I create or construct something, someone comes along and tears it down, I have been wronged, I react, and get punished. 

How to vanquish an existential crisis? Get out of your head. When I was kid it was jumping on my bike and riding to the open fields in my neighborhood. Long, lazy hours just sinking into the moments of the day.

This extended weekend the antidote was to watch a great film: Licorice Pizza. There is something so satisfying and life-affirming about swimming in great art. Plus, of course, laughter is the perfect crisis-killer. Listen to great music: Steely Dan, The Smiths, Dylan, Mogwai, Modest Mouse. Great music-makers and bands, well-made albums. And to still that internal, infernal monologue. It helps to be busy, delving into other things. Less time thinking. More time playing, playing at whatever. 

In the depths of the crisis it seems there is no way out, but, actually, it's a lie in your space, escaping is easy. Those chains are only chains of the mind. Whatever is "invalidating" you, is your own mad-making mind-set. Easily slipped, and disappeared. You escape the prison of your own mind, by forgetting yourself. You liberate and are liberated; the darkness has lifted and what worried you, no longer does.

Living Eyes Open Or Shut, Not Easy...

"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see…" - J. Lennon.

An indelible line from a great Beatles song, "Strawberry Fields Forever." Poetically beautiful. One of John's greatest songs and vocals. A trippy, cool track too. The Beatles at their psychedelic best.

The first part of the line is most probably NOT true. It isn't easy to live with eyes closed. Not really. All that messy bumping into things. It's not easy to live with eyes open either. You will be overwhelmed by the dreck, the hurly-burly of humanity, and non-stop-eternity, rushing across your eyeballs. 

Living is not easy. Even when you ease into the day, there are the swirling storms in your heart and head. 

The second part of the line is probably, for sure, true. Misunderstanding all you see. Yes, indeed. Our perceptions of the world, are partial, limited, skewed. Paraphrasing Plato we are prisoners of our senses five. Watching those shadows on the walls of the cave and declaring that's life.

We live in the big, puffy, clouds of unknowing. There is a sadness and hope there. We don't really know what's going on. The not-knowing is sort of a liberation. We just have to carry on as best we can. As the great r&r philosopher Tom Petty put it, we must go forth and "Damn the Torpedos."

A Memorial to Breathing...

Ok. Today a bit of air. Air-space. Head-space. A day off. No expectations. Chilling out, and being chill. "Still your warring mind Dear Pilgrim." Tune out the chatter.  You will not solve what you are determined to solve. Solving isn't in your job description. Today is all about the hang, hanging out, being loose, letting the day roll out, and letting it all come to you. Sure, be the Caretaker, but take care of your self too. Whatever is in store, let it come down. Breathing. Today is about breathing. Let's make this day a memorial to breathing, breathing easily & freely, without any ulterior motive, just making it to the next breath, and the one after that too. Etc.

Air/No Air...

Thinking about a comment one of the recording engineers we are working with on new mixes of new songs made during our last session a couple days ago. We were working on a song that is on full-blast for the duration of the song, a little over 5 minutes of maximum r&r. 8 musicians just blazing away. It's one of our most exhilarating numbers. When we play it live the audience always really, really gets into it. We actually can get folks to "dance in the aisles," which frankly, when it first happened, totally surprised us. Anyway, it's a good song, fun to play, and even has cowbell on it. It's a story song about being in the wrong place at the wrong time with dire consequences. Funny, even our most "enjoyable" songs, are saying something, we don't have any throwaway moments. That is kind of our thing. So anyway back to the engineer's comment: "There's not a lot of air on this one." So true. The songs blasts out, sucking the air from the room and it never falters or hesitates. But that is a feature, not a bug. There are other songs on our projected new record that do have plenty of air, and head-space, but this one, is a bit of an outlier. We listened to it in the studio on high-priced, premium studio monitors, and then, the engineer flicked a switch and it was suddenly playing thru a classic old boombox sitting on a shelf. Oh man, did it sound epically cool. Sometimes you want air, and sometimes not. Both ways can be a kick. Air/No Air… yes, indeed, there is a dichotomy there. And sometimes it can be exquisite. We definitely got the vibe of making a well-conceived piece of music, even if it sort of happened kind of accidentally.

Conflicted About The Hustle...

In my own way, I have been always on the hustle: "to obtain by energetic activity." I come from what I think of as a long, unbroken line of hustlers. A line of folks who basically had to hustle their way thru life. A long line of working stiffs. Whatever bounty or $ that came down, appeared out of the ether as a result of back-breaking manual labor, pure luck & pluck, or lots of flailing about, and working up into a lather. Sometimes the "smoke & mirrors" paid off, but that was most likely attributable to the vicissitudes of our ratty "fake empire;" our natty, sprawling, all-consuming capitalistic, culture. If I really apply myself  to skulling it out, I have to come to the realization that I have no clue why some of my ventures payed off, and most didn't. Most folks think I'm chill, and ZEN and the happiest, go luckiest Dude on the planet. That isn't how it goes inside my head. If I simplify, do a simple job for a simple buck, I can get along. But there is a burgeoning ambition swirling in my being. I have bigger dreams, want to accomplish great, sort of sketchy things, want to make things happen. But often I seem to have no hand. Maybe those dreams and ambitions are just hallucinations? Am I really lying to myself? Am I really just a simple being, doing simple things, and that's enough; showing up, doing what I do with very little resonance in the wider world. Maybe the hustle is also a hustle of myself? Not sure. Am I really that person who wants to conquer the world? Nah. I probably just want to live in it, do my creative, flow activities. I am happy sitting in my room listening to music, playing guitar, reading a book, writing a long rant. I might be happiest alone. Sure, I also have a band, write songs, make records, do shows. In the past I wrote plays, put them on, took one on the road to the Edinburgh Fringe Fest, but all my activities seem sort of marginal and ephemeral. I mean super, super marginal, and absolutely, totally ephemeral. Maybe that's just the reality of my life? Go along, and get along, on the margins. Maybe I never really was on the hustle. Maybe just fooling myself? Maybe no one makes anything happen, thing just happen, or not. "Whatever is gonna happen, is gonna happen, whatever isn't gonna happen, isn't gonna happen." Maybe that hustling idea is a lie in my space. One passed down from generations. Maybe best to "Go with the flow, Dude." Let the world come to you, or not. Let it come down, and if it doesn't come, oh, well, I suppose that's life.

Patience, Determination, Perseverance...

We trekked across the city to go to the big-deal recording studio yesterday. We are still mixing songs, listening obsessively to mixes and making small edits and revisions. It is a pain-staking process, one that isn't all that fun, but is essential and necessary. And it is revelatory. It's how you make songs come alive. Small changes are all the difference. There are a million ways to tackle a track. It is an art, and a sonic alchemy. We are looking for the magic, the lightening in a bottle, the perfect formula. At the same time  we are looking to unleash the power and soul of a band playing live in the moment. It is an art with a bit of science too. We have 8 musicians all giving it their heart and souls to 11 songs. How the instruments are arranged and arrayed across the soundstage, the volumes, what is emphasized, what is "taken away" are all critical to the final realization of the songs. These songs are malleable. Nothing is fixed, there isn't one way, there are an uncountable number of choices and aesthetic decisions. Those decisions can radically change the presentation of a song. It all sounds simple, and, you may think obvious, but really, nothing is obvious. One choice then leads to a deep rabbit-hole of choices. Lately I have been listening to a handful of very different bands, none really like our own, but all quite inspiring: Steely Dan (icy perfection), The Smiths (raw r&r guided by Johnny Marr guitar maestro and arranger extraordinaire), The Flaming Lips  (raucous, wildly experimental, layered madness), The Kinks (maximum, r&r).  Listening to these bands everything sounds inevitable, but, for sure, in the making of their songs and albums nothing was inevitable, everything was massaged, sculpted, and created to sound inevitable and indelible. We are nearly done mixing, just a few tracks left. We are working with two very different mixers in two very different studios. It's all a learning process. We are training our ears in new ways. We have been thru this kind of thing before but this time we have expanded the circle, enlisting two recording engineers and mix-masters who bring out different aspects of the songs. We made the decision to have one do the "rockers," and the other to mix the more "ethereal ones." Listening to the results reveals that the tracks are surprisingly cohesive. Maybe it makes sense, it is our band recorded beautifully, playing at peak form. So exciting. So yes, the process requires patience, determination, perseverance, and a lot of concentrated listening. Working on these songs, we are working on ourselves too. The process changes you, and what you touch too. Funny how that works.

Too Many Swears Makes the Baby Go Blind...

Funny…

I am living as a guest at another person's domicile, living on the kindness of acquaintances, logged onto their MacBook as a Guest User. Yesterday's expletive-filled blog post (see previous post), violated someone's community standards, and I am blocked from reading my own post. I don't have permission to change permissions. Like I said, funny. Quite funny. Censored from myself. That is a lesson right there. Be careful and precise with your words dear Pilgrim. Words do matter. They do have consequences, intended or not. This morning I have decided that I am sticking to non-swears. Sure, I am keeping it squeaky-clean.  I say, "Go Forth and Damn the Torpedos." "Damn," is ok, right?!

Nasty, Dirty Words...

Bad language. Science tells us that using curse words is good for us. My partner and I are experts at using "bad" words in normal, daily conversation. We both basically swear like "drunken sailors." It's kind of funny, and just so normal for us. As a young Catholic boy it was so liberating to hear George Carlin do his "seven dirty words" bit. Words not used on the air, words not used in polite conversation. If you were being polite, you just didn't say those nasty words in public. But you know, there is that obvious, "subversive mother-fucking" response: "Fuck That Shit!" Sometimes, for example, "Fuck" is just the perfect word to convey whatever you want to convey. Super-useful. Kind of the Swiss Army Knife of curses. When I was a wee lad  I did have this sneaking suspicion that I was paving a road to Hell, with all my bad language, but, you know, so the fuck what?!

The first time I heard "fucking" used in a song was John Lennon singing "Working Class Hero." It was a bit shocking, but also made me laugh out loud. Lennon telling his truth as plainly as he could imagine doing it. Perfect. Yes. Words. Just words. I have a faith and belief in words, well-chosen, perfectly-placed words. Often those nasty, dirty words are just the ticket. Plain, descriptive speaking. Something to be said for it, for sure. Are those words now over-used? Is it lazy to always be swearing? I don't think so. There is something satisfying about expertly-placed dirty words. They are great vehicles for emoting, and for dealing with all the stupid, fucking shit we have to put up with every fucking day. Just tune into the radio and listen to that Fat Orange-Headed Fuck who has dominated the conversation for way too many fucking years. Swearing at the radio in the morning is sort of liberating and life-affirming. Fuck Yeah!

Sink, Swim, or Float...

Thinking about perseverance:  "continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition."

Exactly. Right.

I mean, a life is filled with difficulties, failure, opposition. Have to stick with it. Hang on. Hang in. Keep plugging. I think it helps to approach anything with "beginner's mind,"  the art and practice of Shoshin: "having an attitude of openness, eagerness, and lack of preconceptions when studying, even at an advanced level, just as a beginner would."

Maybe you don't want to reinvent the wheel every time, but it helps to clear your head, drop any preconceived ideas and meet the moment, alive and open. Damn the torpedos, damn the slings and arrows too. You have to live with heart and soul. Jump into the pool and see what happens. Sink or swim. Maybe just float?!

Light & Energy...

The day, a blank page. Waiting to be filled. Blue skies, warmer temps. Being outside in the elements becomes a thoroughly enjoyable experience. The day caresses. The sunlight warms. Energy and life surges from every corner. Worries and doubts vanish. Sitting quietly in the sunlight ; a renewing & refreshing ritual. Slowing down, taking time to smell the lilacs, to notice the greenery, the trees, the birds flitting from branch to branch. I found myself back on the bench yesterday. Another long-time friend stopped by. Noticing and being noticed is part of life. A chat about music, playing in a band, doing the things we love to do, singing, performing, playing music. We share the ambition, the need to create, perform, preparing for the next show. No judgements to render. No decisions to make. Sort of floating on the vibe of the day. A long, meandering day of light & energy, and good cheer.

A More Truthful and Soulful Frequency...

"You are not the main character in the Universe." - Brianna Wu

You know, seems obvious, but lots of us find this idea really hard to take in. If you can take it in, and understand it, truly, madly, deeply, and incorporate it into your being, you will be a "better" version, an improved model, and mode, of a Human Being. 

Sure, I get it, not being the main character in this grand, unfolding saga is kind of a demotion, and a blow to our puffed-up, fragile egos. It is humbling, and maybe a bit frustrating. It's a big fat slap in our narcissistic faces, but it is so obviously true, it's basically undeniable. And being true, if you can ride with it, you will save yourself lots of trauma & mischief, and misunderstanding, and bad blood, and, for sure, you will resonate with the Universe at a better, more truthful and soulful frequency.

And, dare I say, that's what it's all about. I mean, I am just spit-balling here, just another humble pilgrim, a peripheral, marginal, pretty much irrelevant character in a much bigger story. A story I can't even really get my head around. And, well, that's OK. Maybe better than OK. I am just riding a vibe for all it's worth, which might not be much, but is probably, inevitably just enough.

The Bench

The bench. It's actually a number of benches on the lakefront, facing East, like recumbent gods, in attentive postures, watching over Lake Michigan. My partner and I made a daily religious pilgrimage to these benches during the months of lockdown, which now seems like a lifetime ago. We still make the trek, a little less religiously now, but we are often found sitting on one of these benches, staring off into the great distance. It has become one our essential, life-saving, rituals. Which bench? Usually the one closest to a large, looming, tree. Sometimes naked, all gnarly black branches, sometimes in full bloom, with large green leaves drooping, flapping or swaying, depending on if, and which way, the wind blows.  Sometimes we choose to sit in the sunshine, sometimes in the shade, each bench has a little metal medallion, with words of dedication to folks who have either passed away, or who just lent the $ to say a few words of encouragement to future-sitters of the bench.  I found myself on the bench alone yesterday. My partner was busy doing necessary errands. I was free to sit, and watch. Definitely a great way to clear your head-space. I often sit lotus-style on the bench, still limber, and flexible enough, to do it. I imagine myself as some kind of lost, white-boy buddha-wanna-be, running thru my meditations, sometimes silently repeating a mantra, sometimes replaying conversations or things I am going to do or write about. It is best when I just sit and breathe, kind of tune into the waves. But every day, every time you sit on the bench the waves, the light, the moment is different. Never the same way twice. There is a lesson there. I have learned if you sit in one place long enough, the world will come to you. So many friends, distant relations have crossed in front of me while I was being a very still contented energy on the bench. Yesterday a long-ago fellow-traveler stopped by. He said "hello," and sat down next to me. Years ago we studied meditation together. We have so many interconnected instances between us. A long line of mutual acquaintances, and experiences. We ran thru a quick litany of remembrances. Amazing to remember things you didn't know you remembered. It seemed like an important meeting, with a wise soul, who knows me from a long list of past creative adventures, plays, musical performances, art shows. It felt like a meeting of equals, compatriots, co-conspirators. A passing moment. And then we said our "goodbyes" and he moved on. I stayed on the bench for a bit longer. And then I too, headed off to other assignments. The bench. The benches. Sacred markers, places of a certain power, platforms for contemplation, and community. A vortex of energy where life rolls on and rolls out.

The Ties...

Yes. We are connected to everything, and everyone. Paraphrasing a line that I came across this morning:  "We think of ourselves as protagonists, but we are only passing thru someone else's story. Maybe uncounted numbers of someones."

Right. We think we are the main character of our narrative, but that's only in the monologue in our heads. We come from a long line of dead people. An unbroken chain of broken characters. Everyone we know, everyone we have met, everyone passing thru our lives help put the puzzle of us together.

Contrary to some of my New Age Spiritualistic friends, most likely, we didn't choose to be born, we didn't choose our parents or our families, we didn't choose where and when to be born and raised. We inherit so much: genes, emotions, traumas, history, experience.

It's hard to get your sea legs. Hard to keep your shit together. For some reason I thought of this Bruce Springsteen song this morning. It's seems like it's about a very human relationship, maybe a marriage that's gone wrong, but, really, I read it a bit more broadly, like any human relationship:

"You been hurt and you're all cried out you say

You walk down the street pushin' people outta your way

You packed your bags and all alone you want to ride

You don't want nothin', don't need no one by your side

You're walkin' tough baby, but you're walkin' blind

To the ties that bind

The ties that bind

Now you can't break the ties that bind

Cheap romance, it's all just a crutch

You don't want nothin' that anybody can touch

You're so afraid of being somebody's fool

Not walkin' tough baby, not walkin' cool

You walk cool, but darlin', can you walk the line

And face the ties that bind

The ties that bind

Now you can't break the ties that bind

I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darlin'

Than know the emptiness your heart must hide

Yes I would, darlin', yes I would, darlin'

Yes I would, baby

Oh, you sit and wonder just who's gonna stop the rain

Who'll ease the sadness, who's gonna quiet your pain

It's a long dark highway and a thin white line

Connecting baby, your heart to mine

We're runnin' now but darlin' we will stand in time

To face the ties that bind

The ties that bind

Now you can't break the ties that bind

You can't forsake the ties that bind

Oh..." - B. Springsteen

New Tricks...

I am not going expound or expand on this topic this morning, but, let me just say that yes, absolutely, you can teach an old dog new tricks. Really. I can prove it, believe me, even though I am not going into the all grubby details. Just trust me. I mean, hell, it kind of makes sense, that old saying is dead wrong, wrong about dogs & tricks, for sure. There is a general idea and trend that everything is always moving, morphing & changing. That's more like it. Really. I'm not kidding. 

Beauty & Harmony of Opposites...

I've lately tuned-up my being. I seem to be more open to the poetry of Life. Feeling the vibrations and the resonances rising and falling around me. That's a good thing. This morning I stumbled across Wendell Berry's poem "To Know the Dark:" 

To Know the Dark

by Wendell Berry

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Yes. I think of that Yin/Yang idea. 

In the Dark, Light. 

In the Light, Dark. 

Put on those dark feet, and dark wings and go forth into the light. Alternatively, put on those feet and wings of light and go forth into the dark. Experience and revel in the beauty and harmony of opposites. 

A Web of Connection...

Sometimes we feel alone, or lonely, but, it's just not true. Even if you are alone in a room, there are all those others you have encountered in your life who are with you still. None of us are isolated on an island. We are all connected via a wide-ranging web of slender tendrils. We all embody a life of experience and memory.

"I am a part of all that I have met."  - Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 1809-1892

We are lucky to know other people. Some of them are our "better angels," some of them are our "demonic angels."  Most of the us encounter a healthy allotment of each.

There are no "self-made" Human Beings. That is a ridiculous, and frankly pernicious idea. We are all in it together whether we want to acknowledge it, or not. Really, that is just the way a life rolls out. Connected.

Always Be Growing...

 "He not busy being born is busy dying..." - Bob Dylan

"A ghost is born." - Jeff Tweedy/Wilco

We talk about growing up. You know, from child to adult. But really, being alive is a constant process of growing. Never stops. Until it stops.

"...the doom and glory of knowing who you are..." - James Baldwin

Maybe we are here to explore and experience as much as we can?

“... no one can build you the bridge on which you, and only you, must cross the river of life...” - Friedrich Nietzsche

“Self-knowledge… is not an aim in itself, but a means of liberating the forces of spontaneous growth. In this sense, to work at ourselves becomes not only the prime moral obligation, but… the prime moral privilege.” - Karen Horney

Maybe we are here to grow, to unfold, just like that willow tree on the lakefront? We are here to be ourselves to the max, open and alive to the world. Sprouting, bending, swinging, folding, wrapping, infused with life and energy.

Refuse The Bully...

Bullies: "a blustering, browbeating person especially : one who is habitually cruel, insulting, or threatening to others who are weaker, smaller, or in some way vulnerable."

Sounds familiar? 

Seems our culture, society, politics, business world, social media is all about the Bully. There are the famous Bullies dominating the airspace, sucking all the oxygen from the room, and out of our heads. And then there are all those small-minded, heartless, meek and cowardly folks who cheer on the Bully. There are whole elaborate political & social movements based on the love and worship of, and for, the Bully. Authoritarianism & Fascism (see previous post), are obvious manifestations of Bully Culture. 

My first interactions with the Bully happened as a child in Catholic Grade School. Recess was often a free-for-all where the big kids took out their aggression and excess energy on the little kids. I was forced to endure the "pricks & kicks," to eat my fair-share of dirt at the hands of a Fat Bully. 

I remember coming to the aid of a little, fragile, kid with glasses and braces who was bloodied by a couple of tough, mean kids. Blood dripping from his nose, blood on his face & shirt, glasses broken, tears and soft whimpers. I  put my arm around him and helped him to the bathroom to clean up. To this day, I have usually sided with the Underdog. 

I did finally rid myself of my main tormenter, the Fat Bully. Under the usual assault I somehow landed a wild, lucky punch, and bloodied the Bully's nose. Amazing. Totally stunned him and stopped him in his tracks. He melted away, and disappeared, he never bothered me again. Suddenly the neighborhood was a quieter and a bit more sunny place.

I suppose I have carried that lesson with me my whole life. Any authoritarian, any fascist, any dictator, any aggressive individual beating down on those weaker, smaller and more vulnerable, which, really if you think of it describes most of the Human Beings on the planet, evokes a visceral reaction in my being. Deep in my bones, deep in my experience, I just know it is wrong. The Bully is actually a coward, a baby. Someone easily shown up. It just takes a little courage, maybe a bit of luck; folks who stand up for themselves, demand to be counted, and refuse to bow to the loud, blubbering Bully. We must all be ruled by kindness, but the Bully needs to be called out, shown the door, shamed and laughed at. Sure they can be welcomed back into our good graces, if they stop that bullying shit and make amends. Or go quietly into that good night.

It can be done. I can tell the tale...

Over-Active Brain-Boxes!"

Human Beings. Many of us have an "over-active brain-box." A blessing and a curse. Hard to weigh and measure the benefits and the detriments. A hyperventilating brain-box leads to all kinds of mischief, turmoil, adventure, mis-adventure, joy, giddiness, wildness, stupidity, emotional trauma & madness, willful ignorance, blind-sided-ness, self-sabotage, weird-ass-self-awareness, high anxiety, guilt, knuckle-headed-ness, diabolical cruelty, glad-handed-ness, random kindness, grace, stubbornness, super-sensitiveness, numbness, etc. Yikes.

Wings of Light...

Let's just get this out of the way...

Fascism is bad. Know your history. It helps to review the historical record to see all the death and destruction Fascism has unleashed around the world. Think of Fascism as a mind-virus. It's a  really noxious disease in the head, a perniciously toxic and death-conjuring movement. There has always been a Fascist element in America. Sometimes on the wane, sometimes on the rise. Lately it's getting lots of attention and free air time. Not a good look, not a smart play for our Democracy. One of our political parties, the GOP has gone full-Fascist. It's kind of shocking & disturbing. Many of our fellow Americans seem to have given up on Democracy. It is a shame. I truly, madly, deeply think they are out-numbered, but history shows us that a minority-movement can wreck a government, and wreak havoc. Our hopes reside with all the cooler heads, the Democrats, the Young Progressives, the wise old hands, the folks who still believe in good government. All Human Beings are worthy. There are better ideas: inclusion, equality, freedom, diversity, humanity, woman's rights, LGBTQ+ rights, Immigrant Rights, Human Rights for all. We need to stick with the better ideas. Seek out and support the good. Fascism always burns out, after the wreckage, after the bullet in the bunker, after the smoke clears, life emerges out of the ashes. Our Hope rides on the Wings of Light.

A Wise Counsel...

I hear that internal voice, definitely a wise counsel, telling me to "simplify."

"Grasshopper, yes, keep hopping. You were made to hop. So hop. And when you hop, do it with all your being. Same with everything else you do. Heart, Head, Spirit working together as One. Best to get back to basics. Simplify your life. Simplify your head. Pay attention to every step, every thought, every word. Smile. You are alive. That really should be enough for the day."

"Unsounded Yet..."

"Still waters run deep." Amen. Early in my life someone surmised my pose, and pointed me to that "proverb of Latin origin." Lately my calm & cool exterior is revealed to be just a flimsy, slim coat obscuring a large, deep lake of passion. A very "subtle nature," indeed.

Even I am surprised how deep the water runs. My night's sleep has opened up to a vast self-made dystopia. Thinking "Dante's Inferno." Yes, a delightful little hell-scape. By day the Cool Dude, by night, just a Fright.

What is roiling in my head?

"Suffolk's comment on a fellow lord in William Shakespeare's play Henry VI part 2:"

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,

And in his simple show he harbours treason...

No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man

Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit.

Day & Night...

Stepping forward by day, stepping backward by night. So weird. My day was a step forward into the mist, nothing major happened, went thru the motions, just a day. But my night was filled with hurly-burly, turmoil, misunderstandings, missed connections, lost lyrics, broken guitars and cracked-up automobiles.  Running late, stumbling around, dropping and breaking things. Yikes. What's going on in my head? I sit here now typing into the void. I suppose I'm a bit disoriented, things are changing and breaking, I am morphing, becoming something new, unknown, not necessarily a good morph, but you know, like that old blues song: "You Got to Move..."

Self-Therapy...

Therapy. Doing the things you Love to do. Walking. Talking. Biking. Reading. Listening to, and playing, music. Playing with the band. Coffee. Sleep. Leaning to the light. Grabbing onto humility. Embracing a concentrated silence. Letting go of preconceived ideas, old pictures, false, dreamy scenarios. Realize that sometimes the images in your head don't match up with the "real world." Best to adjust, improvise, adapt to the new realities & circumstances. Embrace change. Really. Go with the flow of energy, the flow of the day, the flow of life. Try your best to be in tune. Drop the false, the b.s. Drop your pose. Embrace the day. Vibrate with the bigger vibes that resonate all around you.

Silence, More Bang for the Buck

They say, "silence is golden."  I didn't know it comes from an old proverb from the Arabic culture: "Speech is silver, silence is golden." Who knew?! "If a word be worth one shekel, silence is worth two." Well, ok, there you go...

A Flurry of Inactivity...

"The Soft Bulletin" (1999) - I thought of this recording after listening to Mercury Rev's "Deserter's Songs" (see previous post). Both records are super-unique. They share a Producer and some sonic tricks. Yesterday afternoon, after a flurry of activity, I engaged in a flurry of inactivity.  I can goof off with the best of them. Pure sunshine poured into my hermetically sealed, private backyard sanctuary; I pulled out a chaise lounge, and a comfy cushion, armed myself with my trusty Sony Walkman and my fabulous Grado headphones. I sunk into the sounds of the Flaming Lips record and swam to the deep-end. It is an amazing recording. Musical, catchy, with Wayne Coyne at his awe-filled, questioning, wondering, sweetly-inspiring, philosopher-king best. Yes, it all sounded totally fresh and great; beautifully melodic. It was, and still is, a break-through record. Steven Drozd emerges as one of the all-time great r&r drummers. He is a multi-talented creative dynamo, he can play pretty much any instrument with a dazzling musicality. So yeah, I totally blissed-out on the sounds. The vibrations, the sunbeams, the greenery, and looming trees conspired to put me in a  transcendent mood. Chalk it up to the healing power of art and importance of goofing off. It was an enriching afternoon, for sure.

Inevitably Temporary...

Shimmering, sunny morning here. The coffee was fabulous, had a hearty breakfast, kind of a new thing for me, cooking, my new specialty spinach/feta omelets, although, really it's all scrambled. I am a bit of an imaginative monkey in the kitchen. Dangerous with flame and knife, especially early in the morning, lucky if no one gets seriously disfigured or mortally wounded in the making of this meal.

Listening to Mercury Rev's "Deserter's Songs," (1998), it is a magnificent little jewel of an album. Sort of a quirky, magical, cinematic soundscape. Just sounds so good to these ears this morning.  The line that is sticking to me: "And I know, it ain't gonna last..."

Aye, there's the rub. Both for the good and the bad. Whatever it is, it ain't gonna last. Can't really hold onto anything, no matter what emotions are roiling inside, or no what you are momentarily experiencing, it's kind of inevitably, irretrievably temporary. There is deep sadness, and a bubbling hope in that reality. No sense in clinging, there is the next moment, and the one after that too. No telling what is in store. Really.

Carry On...

Power thru. You gather your energy and propel yourself forward onto the next thing. Always onto the next thing. That's the ticket. Don't ask why. Just keep moving. Yesterday we carried on. I heard that cheesy Kansas song swirling in my head: "Carry on, my wayward son..." Yes. Right. That's the way to do it.

The Way...

A line from Preston Sturges: "... the way you are is the way you have to be."

Stamp that line on your forehead. Or tattoo it on your arm. We are all uniquely us. Anytime we betray our "own way" we are on the road to perdition, or maybe, at least, a middling & frustrating existence. Ride your way to the light.  Damn the torpedoes. 

In Tune...

Rough day to be outside yesterday. Rainy. Raw. Cold. Bleak. What to do? Power thru. I decided to find the humor in the situation. It was all kind of funny. I mean, it felt like someone was pulling a prank on me, but you know, that is ridiculous & silly. Who am I to think that the weather is about me?  The weather is just the weather. I just happened to be in it. So, yeah, it was funny. I mean, I found my own attitude and approach to the day to be funny. And then, as I went through the motions (see previous post), I discovered it wasn't all that bad either. No one was shooting at me. I got a bit soaked, but it was sort of exhilarating too. I got thru it in one piece. I faked it to make it and that seemed sort of in tune with the vibe of the day.

Big Things, Little Things, Every Thing...

"Going through the motions:" - "... doing something because it is expected... without being interested, enthusiastic, or sympathetic."

Yes. The ideal would be to tackle every task with heart, head and spirit aligned. Or, you know, adopting the Zen approach: if you sweep, you sweep with your whole being. Be Here Now: fully alive in body and mind.

But, in real life, (ha!), there are so many things we do that "we would prefer not to." I mean, not killer-not-to, I am thinking about the mundane chores, the essential errands, the pesky, annoying things that confront us every day.

Resistance is often futile. We must surrender to the demands of the day. There are no exits, or escape routes. We must do what we must do when we must do it.

So, yeah, you often find yourself going through the motions. And by going through, you often find the thread, the reason, the determination to do what you have to do. It's that "fake it, to make it" idea.

Many times the going through leads to a little break-through. Maybe you inadvertently discover that you are interested, enthusiastic, sympathetic. You are doing you. The big things, little things, every thing.

A Necessary Impulse...

Over the last week or so we have participated in two events where music became a communal vehicle for healing. You know, backing up our belief in the creative, musical approach to a satisfied mind, and a happy life. A tiny gesture, a sparkle of light in a bold darkness. Music. Vibrations. Well-chosen lyrics floating in the air. Somehow the act of creating music communicates and draws human beings closer. Maybe it's built into our DNA? The act of creating;  a small step forward into a new light. The singing and playing. A ritual. Maybe it's just the act itself that does the trick? We do, and the act of doing, changes us in some undefinable way, and has the ability to change those around us too. Anyway, that is how it feels. Not just entertainment, not just a diversion, a necessary impulse, a bringing together, a binding up of wounds, a glimmer of light and transcendence. Powerful stuff;  a voice and an instrument. A ritual of hope, a step forward towards a healing.

Variable Physical Journey...

Back to "analog:" continuously variable physical quantities...

Right. I had a mission: criss-cross the hard-edged city to bring a couple of posters to a club where our band will perform next week. A necessary trip.  DIY essential. An errand boy delivering a message in a bottle, or, you know, a message to be displayed on a wall. An act of futility or hope? Leaning to hope, but who knows?

Not a difficult trip. A train to a train, and then a healthy walk thru rumpled Chicago neighborhoods. Vibrant life swirling around me. Sunny day. Brisk wind. People hustling thru the streets. Everyone going somewhere.

By day the streets look a bit shabbier, signs of decay, dissolution and corruption. Empty store-fronts, bombed-out parking lots, old, sagging, scruffy, buildings, demolition projects.  Dirt and trash swirling. A continuous process of rehabilitation and decay. 

And then, surprising islands of bright, new, shiny renewal & possibility. Glad-handing life sprouting up in unlikely places. Happy pedestrians, well-scrubbed families, moms pushing strollers, kids playing ball in the park, well-tended gardens and homes.

The music mecca I approached in the cold light looked less shiny, a bit harder, more grimy than under the twinkling lights & stark black of night. A burly barman, a couple hard-drinkers bellied to the long shiny wooden bar. Classic Chicago vibe.

I delivered my posters and then headed back, same trip except in reverse. Mission accomplished. A small, no, a tiny gesture. To what end? Who knows? Maybe someone, or a couple someones, see that poster hanging on a wall and decide to come to check out the band and music? Or, you know, maybe not.

I got home, a bit weary. "These boots are made for walking." Yes, indeed. Fully analog.

Old Bones...

Old bones. 

There is something to be said for longevity. Maybe you gain a bit of wisdom along the way? You certainly accumulate more experiences over time. You find yourself here/now, and even with all the turmoil, hurly-burly, pain, loss & suffering that you endure, you find reasons for wanting to hang around: Laughter, Love, Light.

You hope you can live and die with a bit of intelligence & grace. But really who knows?!

We went to a memorial service yesterday (see previous post), for a young person who stepped out early. Someone who intentionally chose death over life. So shocking. So tragic & sad. So many young folks were there speaking about a young soul of dazzling energy & creativity. It was a heart-breaking event. Hard to understand or process the immense loss. Afterwards we were stunned into silence. Sometimes silence really is the only answer.

Later in the afternoon we found ourselves on the lakefront. Dazzling sunshine, blue sky, a big body of water waving and heaving. Everything was alive, in motion. We sat in the sun, propped against a stone wall. This. Just this. Life.

Keep Going...

Be into something...

That would be my simple advice to anyone foolish enough to ask my advice.  A code for living. It kind of goes along with another line I often use: You must believe. What to believe in? Best to keep it sort of sketchy,  general & open-ended: believe in goodness, believe in a better day, believe in the creative impulse, believe in the golden light of LOVE. Is that enough? I don't know.

Word came that a young person we know, stepped out, decided to end her own life. So sad, so shocking. The story that is told is that she was surrounded & overwhelmed by sadness and the loss of people very close to her, she was at sea, adrift, unable to hold onto anything. All of these things resonate. We all suffer loss, we are all at sea, we are all in various stages of being adrift.

How to make it? Be into something. Something outside of yourself. That is all I have.  You know, when it comes down to it, words do fail. Life is a long-form improv: Yes... and... try to keep the game going forward...

Bible Thumping Did Him In?!

Who knows?! If true, or even if this isn't true,  this is freaking hilarious. Was it the kooky bible thumping that really sunk creepy white nationalist Tucker?!

I mean. Ha. Who knows?! Very funny story. It is a wild, wild, wild, world.

Good News...

Tucker Carlson, that noxious, toxic purveyor of lies and inflammatory disinformation is fired by FOX. Good news for USA. Maybe a bit less white nationalist noise & dreck on the airwaves, at least for a little while. Folks were quite happy to hear the news in my little blue bubble neighborhood yesterday. We need more clarity, more clear-seeing, more intelligent discourse. Maybe, at least for a day, a brief patch of light and peace. Amen.

BTW - Kevin Drum floats a few theories on why Carlson was canned. 

"It is a testament to Fox's reputation that no one thinks Tucker was fired because of his endless appeals to racism, bigotry, and demented conspiracy theories. And why would they? That's why Fox kept him around so long in the first place."

YIKES!!!

The Sea of Minutia...

"The Devil is in the details..."

Yes, indeed. 

And sometimes the details are just overwhelming. What is a Humble Pilgrim to do? Pause, take a deep breath, and then, plunge in with all the gusto you can manage. Hope you don't drown in the sea of minutia.

The Healing Power of Art...

"Running with our eyes closed..." - Jason Isbell

Yes, Jason is one of the great songwriters. No doubt. We own 3 or 4 of his albums. All of them are intelligent, beautifully-written and masterfully recorded works of art. Jason plumbs the depths of his life. Child of a messy marriage & divorce, a raucous stint with the Drive By Truckers, a long trail of substance abuse; drinking (years & years of hard drinking), and drugging.  Jason goes there. It is the core and the code of his creative life. There is a great documentary about Jason and his musical collaborator & wife Amanda Shires streaming on HBO right now. You come away with a real appreciation of Jason's excavation of his past, and his self-reflective songwriting process; he has a deep desire to examine the trauma and the pain of a life. He isn't afraid to dive in and try to depict all the hard, gory, details, using those experiences to create shimmering, beautiful, powerful, heartfelt and real songs. As Jason tells it, he is working on himself through his art, working on being a better human being. He is painfully aware of the preciousness of the moment. Seeing the world with clarity and empathy and trying to capture it all with evocative, well-chosen words and images. It is all quite inspiring and cathartic for him, and for anyone who goes on the journey with him. He is intentionally, obsessively dealing with the multi-headed, Human Thing, making art, poetry, & beautiful music out of the hard trails and smoking wreckage.

Safely in the Past...

Ha. Turns out my time spent sleeping is now more eventful than my time in an state of awake. Weird. Crazy-ass dreams. Wild scenes. Turmoil. It seems there is a battle going on in my subconscious, which bubbles up as I toss and turn and wrestle with my pillows. That internal saboteur (see previous post) is in a battle with another entity. Not sure what to name it. The voice of reason? The Zen Priest in the Dark? The Shadow of Calm? Last night, in the midst of the fog of war, a phrase floated above me in the air. Sort of like that smoky "Surrender Dorothy," in the Wizard of Oz. What was the message? "Put it safely in the Past."

The Saboteur Within...

Tumultuous night's sleep. I think of the saboteur within. Yes. An expert in sabotage. I am back home from a long sojourn lightly-existing in another realm. My first night's sleep back in my own bed was a roiling, boiling, bubbling, troubling brew of hurly-burly.

So often I have been my own worst enemy in this long, snaky, shaky example of a life. Scenes of humiliation, futility, stupidity, and frankly bad decisions and wrong turns flooded through me last night. If my internal saboteur is correct, I am a wreck of human being. It is surprising that I am still standing, breathing and thinking.

I have to laugh. I mean, in the cold light of this Friday morning, my humble existence doesn't seem all that fruitless and ridiculous, I mean, yes, maybe mostly fruitless and ridiculous with a healthy dollop of self-sabotage. I suppose if I'd give myself a grade it would be: Pretty Much Incomplete.  

Plans...

We make plans, and then the plans get squashed by circumstances. Stop, take a breath, conjure up a new plan. It is sort of a never-ending thing. Make pictures in your head, envision scenes and actions, and then bring them to the moment. Sometimes the moment is friendly, and the plan rolls out, things move forward, smiles all around, or, then again, the moment is nasty and the plan, the action, the vision just fizzles, disappears before your eyes. All that is left in the air is tiny waft of smoke. Either way, there are always the next steps, and ones after those steps. Every step counts. Forward, backwards, sideways, down. If you are the type of Human that makes plans, it seems the well of conjuring up has no bottom. That may be an illusion, but, who knows?!

To Shark or Not to Shark...

There is something to be said for gumption, persistence, a certain relentlessness, a stick-to-it-tive-ness. I get a notion, an idea and sometimes I just can't let it go. You know, I am like a shark always on the hunt for the next meal. It can be a maddening phenomena for folks around me, and for me too, but it's a quality I have, and sometimes I just can't help myself. I will drive that idea to the ground. Damn the torpedoes. This comes handy in creative projects: writing a poem, a play, a song lyric, coming up with a riff or chord progression on my guitar. I get obsessed. The results can be very rewarding. It is also handy in the world of biz: coming up with a scheme or plan, a promotion, research, making the ask, chasing down the $. Not as rewarding. Little successes, or successes that feel like failures and a bland, blind futility. Even if I do get some kind of payoff, it seems the energy expended outweighs the $ that end up in the bank account. So yeah, for me  it is the creative pursuits that have the bang for the buck, the biz pursuits where everything is measured by the buck, comes up wanting.  Does the shark ever rest? Yes. Sometimes just because of pure exhaustion. Also this shark likes to pursue the calm center, practicing meditation, a life-long passion for silence, stillness, and calmness. Can you pursue peace and calm with the relentlessness of a shark? Probably not the best way to do it. Finally you have to drop your ego, drop the shark mask and just be. Silent. In the moment.

No Fretting...

How does it all end? 

We don't know, we won't know. That's just the way of the world and our place in it. This big epic movie is playing, we come into the theater long after the flick has started, and we will exit long after it ends, if it ever ends. 

And how do we end? Burn out, fade away? Death by natural causes, death by misadventure? Seems there are an infinite number of ways to go.

It is a sunny, beautiful morning here. Why is death on my mind? Well, it's always been on my mind since a very young age, I am sure I am not the only one. The knowledge of our eventual demise seems to be a very human thing.

And the planet seems to be burning up, folks are shooting each other down at an alarming rate, other folks are doing soul-killing deeds just for the fuck of it. Makes one a bit sheepish about being from the human tribe.  What if we could just fill ourselves up with love and passion?

No sense in fretting about death. It will come when it comes. Could be the next heartbeat, could be years from now, could be the next calamity/catastrophe around the corner. All we have is the moment, the moment to live. That is a code for living. Inhabit the moment, the now. Live it to the max. Make of it what you can. Damn the torpedoes.

You Either Laugh or Cry...

Woke up to a fresh coat of snow this morning. I had to laugh, I mean a full belly-laugh, out-loud. You know, finally, you either laugh or cry. First thought: "You must be freaking kidding!" Last week it was 83 degrees and brilliant sunshine, today, gray, cold, sloppy, snowy. I wear the weather like a cloak. If there is a Director, which, like I said, (see previous post), is not required, not needed, her theme song must come from the Steve Miller Band:

"...I'm a picker, I'm a grinner

I'm a lover and I'm a sinner

I play my music in the sun

I'm a joker, I'm a smoker

I'm a midnight toker

I sure don't want to hurt no one…"

Right. It's all just entertainment, even if it's not always entertaining.

Oh yeah, about that Director, she is surely "The Pompatus of Love." What is a pompatus? Turns out it is a word that Steve Miller made up.  A nonce word: "A nonce word (also called an occasionalism) is a lexeme created for a single occasion to solve an immediate problem of communication."

Perfect. Oh Steve, what a card...

The Vibe Rules...

You can't help thinking someone is directing these episodes. It's what all those kooky religions take as a starting point. But no director is necessary. It's just a vast conspiracy of a Universe of Elements. One day pure sunshine, everything alive and shiny, Human Beings acting out like there is no tomorrow, and then, the next day, rainy, gray, subdued, everything seemingly turning inward, streets empty, no Humans to be seen. 

One day demands you to show up and be counted, the next day requires you to turn inward, shelter in place.

So yes, if you are one of those who ride the vibe of the day, you ride, for all you are worth, no matter what the theme, no matter the scene, no matter what the elements conspire to whisper to you. The vibes rules, you just ride.

Healthy Abstaining...

"First, do no harm." - Pithy & concise.

It turns out that isn't in the Hippocratic oath. The closest sentence and sentiment in the document: "I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm."

Those ancient Greeks had their shit together. No doubt. The Hippocratic Oath was taken by those practicing medicine, but, you know, really, it's seems like an oath, and a code for righteous living, that could be adopted by all of us.

Today, it's seems it's hard to get folks to abstain from anything. We seem to be the Tricky Monkeys who want everything all the time, which includes indulging in mindless, entertaining, wrong-doing and harm to ourselves and others.  

Maybe a little healthy abstaining might be a good idea?! 

A New Discipline...

So, yes, the last few weeks a bit energy depleted. A few days, bone-dead-tired. Slowly, gradually, finally I am getting a bit of my fabled MOJO back. How did I do it?

A bit of discipline and practice. Eat less, talk less, think less. More walking, more biking, more singing & guitar playing, more silent-witness & casual observation. 

Funny how being in motion keeps the energy flowing.

The warmer temps and glorious sunshine helped too. Long days in the sunshine. Luxuriating in the passing days, the trees, all the little birdies singing in the branches, flowers blooming, many-splendored life springing up all around.

Less energy going out, more energy coming in. Sounds simple, and it's true, it is simple. I stopped that endless needing, wanting, grasping. Let the days come to me.  It seems to be working. Still, you know, it's always one day at a time. Wonder what's next...

Hang Your Life on that Note...

There are those who talk, and those who walk, and those who walk the talk. You want to hang with folks who can walk and talk at the same time, those who will back up what they say with action and deed. Being there. Showing up. Doing what they say they will do. Being a Human Being true to their word.

It is disappointing when you realize all the big talk was just a bluff. Castles made of sand. Maybe an ego massage, a way of being friendly, but, you know, really not cool; a detour, a rabbit hole, a waste of time and energy.

Thinking of the "Fields" of Life.

There's the Field of Opportunity, the Field of Fertility, the Field of Futility. We toil in all of them.

It was time to "go to the mattresses" yesterday. Alone in our humble little rehearsal room, with a guitar and a couple pages of lyrics. I think about my "creative life," mostly spent in quiet rooms, writing, learning lines, strumming a guitar. Being true to the process. Finally the process is all I have. What happens or doesn't happen is beyond me.

Two shimmering, weird-beast songs emerged. Two very different animals & energies. Will they see the light of day? Who knows? Not every song needs to be sung "out there." Within the studio walls the songs stood up to be counted. A totally consuming process. Yes. It was a good session. Singing, playing, making something.  As Pete Townsend once sang: "There once was a note, pure and easy…"

You can hang your life on that note, and sometimes that's it, all there is, and surprisingly it is sort of enough, you know, sort of...

The Power of Words...

Supposedly those old Irish bards would write poetry, put strings of words together, create magic with words: curse enemies, cast spells, enchant and cloud men's minds.

Words. Supremely powerful tools. 

A well-chosen word can open a door, bring down an empire, destroy a friendship, create a new dream. A string of words can work like a virus, adhering to someone; opening new doors, and realities, closing other doors, destroyers of other realities.

Funny how we use words so casually & carelessly. This is an era where poetry is being strangled, it's all prose now. Plain words of text. Still there is the same power. A word: sword of good and evil.

Surreal, Imaginary Scenes of Futility...

What do you think of dreams? Significant visionary messages? Random, meaningless, rubbish? Who knows? Maybe a bit of both? Even if you go with the latter idea, why this random, meaningless rubbish?

"Don't confront me with my failures, I have not forgotten them…" - from "These Days," - Jackson Browne (1967)

Amazing, Jackson wrote that line and that song at age 16. 

Lately, all my dreams have been surreal scenes where I am unprepared, lost, scrambling, unable to locate my guitar, or capo, can't find the room where I am supposed be doing something important: a speech, a song, some kind of performance. A large, expectant audience waiting for me to deliver the goods. I never quite get there.

Clueless, flailing, at wit's end. It all seems so foolish. 

Why does my consciousness enjoy confronting me with my failures, with surreal, imaginary scenes of futility? What of all my successes, small and large? Who knows?! My failures do seem to loom so much larger than any of my successes that I have ever had. Why does it work like that? I have to think hard to remember that time in Little League when I hit that Grand Slam home run to win the game. Almost seems like a false myth.  A brief flash of light in a field of gray. 

Anyway, wake up in a bit of a fog of failure. Sunny morning. I mean, totally glorious sunshine. First sip of coffee and bit of light and clarity lights up inside. I can push those clouds away. Yes. I can.

The Search, Always the Search...

Searching for the Holy Grail, what is the grail? In some re-tellings, a Celtic magic cauldron…

The quest.

I think I inherited the idea, the imperative, the fire, the hunger for the quest from my Father. And I suppose he inherited it from his Grandfather. My father's father skipped out, so we are not sure what he was looking for, but, since he skipped out, it is a good guess that he too was also on some life-long quest. A life-long journey & struggle hunting for the big deal, the big payoff, the magical substance or the "dingus" that will transform everything. I suppose it's also the search for the mission, the cause, the belief that will illuminate all. Transformation. It is no accident that one year my brother and I bought a replica Maltese Falcon and gave it as a gift to my Father. The falcon, the dingus, the grail. We also acted out the scene in the movie when a man entered Sam Spade's office: "The dying man was clutching a brown-paper parcel, held together by thin rope: "It was an ellipsoid somewhat larger than an American football." 

Yes. All very theatrical. Even this morning, I am in midst of the search. I can't help it. It's something that has always been with me, hovers over me, drives me forward. I think it's a bit of magical thinking. That something out there will change my life. Maybe it's just a flaw, a very personal, human flaw, thinking that whatever I need is out there, and not in here. Even after all these years practicing meditation, an act of inward looking, finding a calm center, there is that irresistible impulse to find that magical substance out there in the dark, secret places. Some habits die hard, some habits never die.

As Bono sings: "I still haven't found what I'm looking for…"

Everything is Everything, and that's Everything...

Easter, Ramadan & Passover collide today…

Maybe that's appropriate. High Holy Days bumping up against each other. Clashing beliefs and believers. That is the Human Conundrum. I am one of those who thinks all religions are fundamentally talking about the same thing, and to fight over who is speaking truth, is the height of stupidity. To think anyone has a monopoly on truth is truly deluded.

Trying to impose your truth on anyone else is a form of evil.

The most important things in our lives, love, inspiration, passion, insight, transcendence, are invisible, hard to define, and hard to hold onto.

“Heaven walks among us ordinarily muffled in such triple or tenfold disguises that the wisest are deceived and no one suspects the days to be gods.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

I came across that quote in John O'Donohue's "Anam Cara" (1997) which I have been re-reading at a snail's pace; a few paragraphs here and there. It's almost like a long-form meditation. Just reading the words of the text, having those words explode in my consciousness is almost like hypnosis.  Happy talk. Celtic-style. I sort of feel like just the act of reading this book is improving my mind. Who knows?!

Yes. Well. This Humble Pilgrim believes in the power of believing. We all need a mission, a task, something to throw ourselves into, believing in a bigger, higher power. I believe it is best to define this higher power as loosely and open-endedly as possible. Believe in a better day, the sacredness of every day, or a healing light, or that the days are the gods, or, you know, god is love or love is god. God in my world is a very nebulous, hard to pin down phenomena.Think: Good & Goodness. A goodness that enfolds all phenomena.

I channel a lot my energy into creative projects, writing, music, composing and performing. It's a little slice of a more powerful, spiritual practice. When you drop your ego and just submit to the creative vibe it is sublime, something to live for.

Where is the evidence of God? All around us: a grain of sand, a butterfly, a sunny day, a cloud, a wave, a warm breeze, a cold breeze too, a rock, mud, blade of grass, a breath, a smile, an eye, a kind word. Life in all of its forms.  If everything is connected, everything is everything, and that's everything.

What Are They Afraid Of?

What are they afraid of? 

You know, the Republicans, the GOP, the wanna-fascists, the lunatic right-wing. What drives their hate & fear?  First, see previous post.

And, let me hazard a few answers:

Free & Fair Elections

Representative Democracy

One person/One vote

Women

Blacks

Immigrants

People of Color

LGBTQ+ 

Woke Folks

Democrats

Progressives

Equality for All

Bodily Autonomy

Intelligence

Progress

Change

They Fear losing their status in America. They really don't want to be treated equally with everyone else. That is scary for them. Is it really that simple? Fear? Which is expressed with a passionate Hate? Their primary tool: raw political power, to try to prevent folks from speaking, voting, participating in a free, fair and equal Democracy. 

Really. Yes, I really do think so.

We can't let their Fear and Hate rule our lives. No Justice, No Peace.

Outrage in TN...

No Justice, No Peace...

I've been around a long time. I have been a political junkie since an early age. I have had a bird's eye view of a lot of corruption, turmoil, hurly-burly, bad faith & bad actors. As an optimistic progressive it can be an ugly task just keeping up with the latest news, I am not easily shocked.  Shite. I mean, yikes.  This story totally blows my mind. It is 2023. 2 Black Democratic Representatives expelled from the TN house for advocating for reforming gun laws in the wake of a school shooting in Nashville.

It is a blatantly racist, anti-democratic stunt from an unhinged Republican majority in TN. It truly is mind-boggling, and an outrage. 

"In an extraordinary move, Tennessee's Republican-led House voted Thursday to expel two of three Democratic lawmakers who recently led a raucous protest from the House floor calling for gun law reforms.

Reps. Justin Jones, D-Nashville, and Justin Pearson, D-Memphis, were both removed from the body with votes falling along party lines, in a disciplinary measure that's only been used twice since the 1800s. The votes were 72 - 25 and 69 - 26 respectively. Together, they represent a combined constituency of about 130,000 people."

I stand with the 2 Justins! 

No Justice, No Peace.

My Own Private Idaho...

Closer to home...

Living the Dream, feeding the Myth.

Progressively Progressive!

Yesterday, that was an unexpectedly great day...

Fat-Boy Faces the Music in Manhattan.

Could be an album title. Big story. Big celebration over here. A long time in coming. 

We also hear that a "liberal" (pro-choice, pro-democracy & free & fair elections), Judge was elected to the Wisconsin Supreme Court, AND a Progressive, (pro-public schools, and social/racial justice), Brandon Johnson, has been elected to be Chicago's next Mayor.

Whew. Lots of good news all in one day. I turn to Michael Moore for a bit of a pep talk and victory lap:

"You do know that we — liberals, progressives, lefties, Democrats, democratic socialists, common sense independents, former and recovering Republicans — we are the majority. And that we have the power to literally WILL things to happen, right? Stand up, speak out, organize, agitate, legislate, celebrate! Rinse! Repeat! Let’s all decide right now to climb out of our rabbit holes of despair and embrace the true power each of us has and the power that we all have together, collectively, by a margin of millions! Oh how the elites and the haters pray none of us ever realize we are the actual majority and, if we choose to, we could pass anything we wanted into law — just like that!"

Amen, brother...

Indictment Tuesday...

 My "Better Angel," that would be the one on my right shoulder, reminds me of the pithy phrase: "There but for the Grace of God, go I."

My "Bad-Boy Angel," the one on my left shoulder, declares: "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." 

I'm stuck in the middle, leaning towards that idea: "You will reap what you sow."

There is a well-known con-man, a notorious cad & flim-flam-man due in court later today. Many of my friends, and I are quite happy to see that a quite repulsive, rich, privileged white-guy, who has lived a life on the corrupt margins, may finally be held to account.

Germans have a phrase that captures the moment perfectly: Schadenfreude - "is the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of or witnessing the troubles, failures, or humiliation of another. It is a borrowed word from German, with no direct translation, that originated in the 18th century." Schadenfreude has been detected in children as young as 24 months and may be an important social emotion establishing "inequity aversion". 

Exactly! Let it come down!

Supremely Weird...

Thinking about cults and followers. You know, collections of folks who give up their critical thinking skills to blindly follow some strong-man, or con-man. It is a bit baffling and mystifying. Review the historical record and it's horrifying too. Yes. It is a top of mind topic. It looks less like politics, and more like pathology. Folks so desperate to pledge their allegiance to some sick, and supremely flawed human being. You know, it's that creepy "authoritarian" mindset writ large. The worst excesses and atrocities naturally flow out of this kind of  blind "unthinking." Seems to be a total abdication of any semblance of intelligence and enlightenment. Yes, not so much politics but pathology; an illness & sickness of the mind and soul. All the worst qualities of human beings emerge from being a faithful, unthinking cult follower. Maybe it's an easy out. Folks who trade in thinking and taking control of their own lives, for pure passion, passion fed by hate and fear. It's a toxic combo. From the outside, it looks like total madness. Hard to get your head around. It's an eye-opener. Human Beings are complicated, for sure. To watch folks gladly & fiercely embrace non-thinking, stupidity, blindness and madness, is supremely weird.

Note: Teri Kanefield reminds us that there is a method to the active stupidity and madness. These authoritarian cultists are reactionaries bent on turning back & derailing the progressive cause.

The First Time, Every Time...

I said this in a conversation yesterday, (I know, kind of funny quoting myself), but I think, off the top of my head, I blurted out a core belief and practice...

"I like to approach everything with Beginner's Mind, and damn the torpedos."

You know, you don't want to reinvent the wheel, but you can't worry about what other folks have done, or haven't done. If you tell someone you are pursuing some project, or mission, the first thing you usually get in response is that it can't be done, or it has been already been done, or, you know, why the fuck bother?

Yes. The naysayers are legion. Best to tune them out. Maybe pretend that what you taking on is something that has never been done. You do it and, you know, you see what the fuck happens. Damn the torpedos.

Chickens Coming Home to Roost...

Nah. It is not a sad day for America. It's definitely a sad day for one particularly repulsive man. He is soon to be in a courthouse to face the music and that is a good thing! It is a sad day for the GOP. It's a terrible political party. They do not know how to adequately vet their candidates. They should be more discerning & careful, and bit more picky, on the type of candidates they support.  If they throw their support behind a loud, racist, misogynist, dodgy and super-corrupt con-man, who has lied and cheated most of his long, sordid life, well, it may take a bit of time, but finally, you know, reality has a way of catching up. You will reap what you sow! The first cut is the deepest.  The bully is not immune. The bully is no superman. The bully is a phony and a cad. I say, Let it come down.