Simple Thoughts this A.M.

Simple thoughts this a.m. Leaning to clarity...

Yes. President Joe is old, but he is also really good at his job. He knows his shit. We all benefit from having him as President.

Banning and burning books? Ridiculous. Stupidity and close-mindedness are counter to an educated populace.

Banning Drag shows?  Also ridiculous. A silly side-show. Not worthy of anyone's time.

Women & their Doctors are the only people who should be concerned with a Woman's Autonomy.

Voting & Democracy, yes, messy, sometimes contradictory, but still the best way to run a country.

Diversity, Multiculturalism, Progressive Thinking, Human Rights for all Humans including LGBTQ+ individuals. being enthusiastically, decidedly WOKE, the best way forward.

MAGA Death Cult  = a scourge, a movement of hate and chaos, a dead-end movement, a movement of losers, and losing.

91 indictments, Karma is a bitch.

Democracy is Alive and Well in USA!

Up early to face the news. And it's good. Democracy is alive and well in the USA. Also the Democratic party did very well in elections in Ohio, Virginia and on the ballot across the land. You know there is always the doom, the gloom, the worry, the doubt, floating in the air, and then real Human Beings come out to vote and have their say. Democracy and Progressive Politics did oh so very well yesterday, and it's a very, very good thing, indeed.

Note: It is kind of funny to see that without that fat, lying, bully on the ballot, none of the election results are being challenged. Everyone can see Democracy working fine. Free and fair elections across the land. No B.S. Tells you something, doesn't it?! Makes you think, I mean, you know, definitive proof, that the loud, wanna-be-fascist, authoritarian-bully is just so full of unmitigated Shite.

A Hopeful Start, and a Way Forward...

You hit the bottom after a flurry of activity. What to do? Get all 3 of your guitars, (1 electric, 2 acoustic), out of their cases and do a few minor set-up adjustments. Open up your little box of guitar picks, and try out a few neglected ones. Start strumming a guitar, explore the fret-board, put your fingers in unique configurations, see if you come up with anything interesting. Have a white sheet of paper and a pen handy, and maybe toy with that phrase you came up with when you misheard a Jeff Tweedy lyric listening to Wilco's great album "Summerteeth." (1999). Sometimes that is a way towards a new lyric, mishearing someone else's clever lyrics, it's a way to come up with your own clever little lyric, something you never previously had in your head. Oh yeah, don't forget to have that little digital recorder handy, just in case something starts to flow. You may think you will remember what you come up with, but often, it's the unique rhythm and phrasing that is everything, the heart and soul of a new song. So yeah, the lyrics spill out onto the page. A couple hours playing the tune, with a few new parts, singing these homemade lyrics, and it all starts sounding like something. Wonder if this one  will see the light of day, will it fly with my songwriting partner? And what about our band? Does this one have what it takes to make it?  Who knows? It's all a process. Sometimes the new thing flies, sometimes not. Suddenly, not at the bottom anymore, a glimmer of a hope of a new song, you know, who knows? Maybe? Sometimes the inspiration comes from the lack of inspiration. Filling the black void with new vibrations.  It's a hopeful start and a way forward.

Feeding the Soul...

Thinking about my very busy Saturday this last weekend. 

The highlights: 

(a) Played music with two amazing women, just three of us in an intimate circle, playing together, unplugged, in our rehearsal studio. A vocalist/percussionist, a violinist, and me on guitar and vocals. Powerful, intimate, hushed, and transcendent. Feeds the soul.

(b) Played a set at a local saloon with my "band of brothers," a ragged, jagged r&r outfit. Fired up the electric guitars set to max on vintage tube amps. Kicked out the jams. Think Neil Young's Crazy Horse crossed with Joey's Ramones, with a dash of Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood's snaky guitar interplay. Oh yeah, feeds the soul.

(c) Played drums at a gathering of Shamans, (all women), who called on the earth, the sun, the moon and conjured up the spirits. We played in a side room with other drummers, a bass player and a guitarist. The music was ethereal, primal, with a driving tempo. I got lost in the beat of a drum. It was hypnotic, all consuming. Oh yeah, feeds the soul.

Got home late, crashed in heap, a long restful sleep. That was a good day, no doubt.

Re-Writing Pop Culture History...

My hot take is a bit controversial, even in my own orbit (see previous post). Think of me as an enthusiastically-contrarian Beatles fan.

A pseudo-song, a deep-fake, a manipulated-entity, a bright-shiny-rejiggering, a happy-making-lie. New product. New hype. New B.S.

A triumph of marketing, and technology at the detriment of "truth." A virtual-reality-reality. I hate the re-writing of Pop Culture History. Selling the fake as the genuine.

A nice fragment, a Lennon demo recorded long after the Beatles were a band, blown up to epic proportions. A bit silly. Off-target. Unnecessary. The Apotheosis of Nice & the Ever-Unfolding-Hustle.

You know, it's a "category error." Not the last new Beatles song, a gussied up Lennon demo with decades later "help from his friends." I think it is all misguided, a sort of sad, nostalgia-trip. Rose-colored glasses focused on the bright, shiny (wouldn't it be nice if it were true), lie.

"New Beatles Song?" Nope.

A "new" Beatles song? The last Beatles song? You might think I'd be happy to hear John Lennon singing a song, with the other mop-tops playing along, and well, although it is nice to hear John's voice, my first reaction  to the release of this song is right in line with George Harrison's judgement: Harrison grew frustrated (working on the demo) and dismissed it as “[expletive] rubbish.”

Yes. I recoil from the hype, the hustle, the marketing push. This is not the last Beatles song. It is a glorified demo, a demo John recorded in the late 70's well after the Beatles were no more, and Lennon was onto other things. John was done with the Beatles. If he lived would he have changed his mind? Who knows?! The words from his first solo album still ring in my head: "I Don't Believe in Beatles," and "The Dream is Over."

So yeah. Nice little song. But also a bright, shiny lie. Maybe a sweet & seductive little lie. A nice sounding little lie. But a lie nonetheless. This is not for me. The marketing blitz of Beatles nostalgia is so off-putting. They were a great band, their story is the New Testament of R&R, They have an incredible catalog of songs which stand up even today. This song is not the real-deal.

"Future-Casting..."

Our favorite Joe is "future-casting.."

"There comes a time maybe every 6, 8 generations where the world changes in a very short time. We are at that time now, and I think what happens in the next 2-3 years is going to determine what the world looks like for the next 5 or 6 decades." -  U.S. President Joe Biden

Sex on the Mountain...

"We committed epic friendship in the mountain, breathing wet steamy breath." - Wang Xiaobo

"Everything Changes."

"Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. That's the one thing we know for sure in this world.... but I'm still going to gripe about it."

-- from  Bill Watterson 

Creator of the Calvin & Hobbes Comic Strip

A Tune Uniquely You...

Listening. 

Is it the most important thing to do in relation to other people? It's definitely important. There is also, empathy, understanding, discernment, judgement, care, grace, responsibility, truth, honor, kindness.

Still, more close-listening, less big talking is probably a good way forward. I think it comes in handy in politics & world events. Certainly, when playing music with other folks, the power and joy of attentive listening comes to the fore.

Listening. It is a great tool, but, of course, it's all so very subjective too. Those sound-waves resonating in your ears, resounding thru your body, are so uniquely subject to your tastes, your opinions, your thoughts, your emotions. Your body too is an instrument, and those vibes will make you sing a tune uniquely you.

Lately we have been worrying over our own songs, new songs we've recorded, mixed, and are now mastering. It is all a master-class in listening. Turns out listening is a rabbit-hole. It is a mad-making activity. There is no "objective" way forward. There is no perfect. Sometimes there is not even consensus on what you are actually hearing.

As Sly Stone once sang: "Different Strokes for Different Folks." You can do measurements. You can analyze sound-waves, you can try the scientific approach, but finally, the question: Does it sound good?  That is up to each individual listener. And each individual listener may be hearing different things. That's the reality. A rabbit hole for sure.

And what devices are you using in your listening? Every headphone colors the sound. Every speaker system. Every player: Walkman, Home Stereo, Boom-box, cheap kitchen stereo, Car stereo.  Yikes. You want to create something that sounds good everywhere on every device.  Once you go down the path of close-listening you find it's a gnarly web of indecision, and second-guessing. But that's probably just the process. A working out, a working thru. Every little detail makes a difference. One small change can totally transform a song. It's a wild, delicate thing. The more you listen, the more you hear. The deeper you go, the deeper it gets. The closer you look, the more you see. The closer you listen, the more you hear. There's a lesson there. For sure.

Humans, Losing Their Shit...

The Humans are cracking. The fear and hate seems to be bubbling up from deep inside. The Chaos Agents are happily fanning the flames. What to do? Try not to add to the suffering. There is a deep sadness attached to everything "Human." We have met the enemy and it turns out the enemy truly is us. 

The suffering, madness, fear & loathing. A toxic stew, both far and near.

We had another very disturbing encounter on public transportation over the weekend. Coming back home from a quite wonderful gathering of musicians, we found ourselves trapped in a train car with a raging madman.

A large, burly, ominous-looking man was on the train smoking a long, slender cigarette. I suppose it was laced with something toxic, maybe meth,  maybe crack, "god knows what." He was ranting and raving, pounding on the walls of the train, jibbering, jabbering, speaking in tongues. It was truly an extraordinary display of a wild, uncontainable madness. A very troubled & scary man wrestling with a very troubled & scary mind totally lit up, in pain and raging.

My partner and I, and all our fellow passengers hunkered down. We all did our best to be invisible. We exchanged worried glances and counted down the minutes until we could get off this damn train. I am pretty sure we were all praying , silent prayers, to not be seen, and hoping beyond hope that this crazy-ass dude wasn't armed with any weapons.

The train pulled into the station and we all spilled out onto the platform. The hopped up madman came out too, moving like a deranged rhino, he came up behind me and held out a long, slender cigarette to me. Oh man. I just shook my head. "No thanks." Then he turned away and stomped off into the dark night. 

Yikes. The Humans. Wrapped a bit tight. Losing their shit. The theme of the moment.

A Healthy Mind vs. Rage & Despondency...

Yes. Early this morning I came across this post on Brain Pickings: a healthy mind vs. rage and despondency. It really does seem like "what it's all about." The Human Mind is an "attention machine." What we pay attention to is everything. How to navigate a chaotic, sometimes hostile world? 

“everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.” 

"That choice, that attitude, is what we call mindset, and it is as trainable as a muscle, as teachable as piano..."

"A healthy mind knows how to hope; it identifies and then hangs on tenaciously to a few reasons to keep going. Grounds for despair, anger, and sadness are, of course, all around. But the healthy mind knows how to bracket negativity in the name of endurance. It clings to evidence of what is still good and kind. It remembers to appreciate; it can — despite everything — still look forward to a hot bath, some dried fruit or dark chocolate, a chat with a friend, or a satisfying day of work. It refuses to let itself be silenced by all the many sensible arguments in favor of rage and despondency."

Yes. Exactly. This is the Human struggle. In our minds. We can train. We can choose. We can see the horror, and lean to the light. We can cling to Hope, and turn away from cynicism. It's the best, most healthy way forward. You know. Damn the torpedoes.

The New Christofascism...

The GOP elected a new speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives. Is it good news? Probably not.

I believe this handy little term will become useful in the days and months ahead, and it's totally on-point about a very retrograde and toxic movement: "Christofascism", a neologism which was coined in 1970 by the liberation theologian Dorothee Sölle.

Interpretation of Sölle

"Tom F. Driver, the Paul Tillich Professor Emeritus at Union Theological Seminary, expressed concern "that the worship of God in Christ not divide Christian from Jew, man from woman, clergy from laity, white from black, or rich from poor". To him, Christianity is in constant danger of Christofascism. He stated that "we fear christofascism, which we see as the political direction of all attempts to place Christ at the center of social life and history" and that much of the churches' teaching about Christ has turned into something that is dictatorial in its heart and is preparing society for an American fascism.

Christofascism "disposed or allowed Christians, to impose themselves not only upon other religions but other cultures, and political parties which do not march under the banner of the final, normative, victorious Christ" – as Paul F. Knitter describes Sölle's view."

Yeah, it's a revolting, pernicious & toxic ideology and movement. A bit insidious too. Using Religion and Jesus as a front for Fascism. Whatever happened to the Jesus of  Peace, Love, Understanding and Forgiveness? This Christofascism must be called out and resisted. I say we must all stay "Woke" people! 

One Place to Another Place...

We were trying to get from one part of town to another part of town yesterday. We were heading out of our usual little circle, traveling a distance across the big city. We decided to take the "elevated train," which comes in various "colors" Purple, Red, Blue, Brown, Yellow, Green. Our trip required a short ride on the Purple a longer ride on the Red, and then a shorter jaunt on the Brown. 

Didn't happen. The ride on the Purple was short and efficient. Then a total dead stop on the Red. Word was some kind of "police action" had shut down all activity on a long stretch of the Red line. None of us knew what "police action" really meant, but it was probably not anything good.  We were shuttled to a shuttle bus. If you want to know what's happening on the street, ride a bus. You get the full demographic spectrum of humanity seated and standing side by side in close quarters. It is one of the colorful features of public transportation.

And what of our fellow Human Beings? How are they doing? Seems folks are a little frazzled, wrapped a bit too tight. There was a fight on the bus. A woman was being a little rough and rowdy with her child, and folks around her were not pleased. One rider started "filming" her with his phone. This totally infuriated the young mother. She started yelling and screaming, and hitting out at the other passengers. She confronted the man with the phone, there were slaps and shouts, and tugging and pushing. 

The whole bus was now a rollicking, pissed off entity. Folks were shouting, calling out the woman, encouraging her to sit down and shut up. There was a kid with a skateboard, he was in the midst of a long, rambling, mumbled monologue, summing up all the woes &  discontent and unhappiness swirling in the air. My partner was a bit worried about that kid, he seemed a bit unstable, maybe in conversation with someone who wasn't there. Finally he started shouting at the woman too. All those shouts and taunts inflamed the young mother even more.  Most of the other folks just seemed to want to get to their next stop. That wasn't happening either. The woman bus driver pulled to the side of the road, got off the bus, got on her phone, and presumably called the police.

Most of the passengers, including my partner and I, decided it was time to exit the bus. We were now on the street. Far from our destination. The young mother, child in tow exited and scattered to the four winds. The bus was now totally empty. No one wanted to stick around to see what else was in store. 

It started to rain. That was kind of the last straw. We had to laugh. We found shelter at a corner cafe. We ordered up two hot chocolates with oat milk. If we were going to be "stranded," might as well make the best of it. We were a bit stunned. It was all sort of funny and weird too. I thought of that Marvin Gaye song, "What's Going On?" 

Lucky for us, the person we were heading off to meet rescued us. We were whisked away in a big, shiny hybrid vehicle.  We ended up making our appointment, a bit late, a bit frazzled, and a bit weary. Still. We made it, in one piece, with a story to tell. Sometimes getting from one place to another can be an adventure. Yes. Indeed.

Unfortunate Prophecy...

"Are we not men? We are Devo."

Yikes. I hate to say it. But of course, it turns out that the band Devo was just so right. The band was birthed out of tragedy, the murder of students at Kent State May 4, 1970. It was a galvanizing event for the founders of the band. They came up with the idea of basing a band and movement inspired by Devolution "the tendency toward entropy across all human endeavors."

And over the decades it seems we have been watching this devolution roll out at a high velocity across the globe. Double-yikes.

"Presently, the fabric that holds a society together has shredded in the wind. Everyone has their own facts, their own private Idaho stored in their expensive cellular phones. The earbuds are in, the feedback loops are locked, and the Frappuccino’s are flowing freely. Social media provides the highway straight back to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. The restless natives react to digital shadows on the wall, reduced to fear, hate, and superstition. There are climate change deniers, and there are even more who think that the climate is being maliciously manipulated by corporate conglomerates owned by the Central Bank to achieve global control of resources and wealth. If only that James Bond-style fantasy were true, I would be much more excited about the future, which I fear is more of a slow-death conspiracy of dunces like in Mike Judge’s movie, Idiocracy, the movie Devo should have made."

Yes. Devo and Idiocracy. Not just entertainment. Prophecies. Unfortunately...

Mojo-Killers...

There is sabotage from others, and self-sabotage from deep inside your own being. The first usually comes out of the blue. The second is a pernicious tendency that rises up unbidden. It is bound up with other gnarly tendencies: guilt, futility, uncertainty, hopelessness. These are just weaknesses, and flaws that are in-built into the fabric of a personality. Bad shit. Total Mojo-Killers. You just need to out-last them. They are mood depressors that you have to sometimes endure. You can actually feel those depressors flooding through your body. A great illustration of how mind and body work together as one. These are all valid tendencies, but not very useful. They are not the final word or judgement. Fleeting inclinations. Turns out, as a tricky monkey, sometimes, you are really not your own best friend.

What are the remedies? 

Always be moving. Sinking into your body. Turning off the internal monologue. Pause those dark thought-trains. Going deeper. Finding a certain silence. Riding a bike on the lakefront and finding a sunny spot underneath a big blue sky and soaking in the sunny rays. Or sitting on your couch at home, picking up your guitar, and working on a new riff. Eating a good meal. Listening to a favorite record. Reading a good book. Showing a little patience with your self and the world. As George Harrison once sang: "All things must pass." That's a good thing. Really. And wait for the next thing heading your way.

Tortoise & Hare...

Tortoise or Hare? Slow or Fast?

I'm a bit light on my feet, always moving, a bit jumpy. So you might think Hare. Words come easily to me. My head is always a spinning ball of confusion. There is a bit of lightning in me. I think of myself as "smart" and tricky. But really, I'm also, surprisingly a bit slow on the uptake; homely, crusty, creaky around the edges. I feel a bit settled in my bones; maybe an old soul. Always trying to take the long-view. Not in a race with the Hare, just taking one step at a time. The road is still rolling out.  A good motto: always be moving. Also: stay close to the ground. Last night I was confronted with Class. As in, out of my class; out-classed. You know there are some human beings that just happen to live lives that are way more comfortable, humans with better genes, bigger bank accounts, more intelligent, better educated, more talented, better fed, more beautiful & symmetrical. They naturally have advantages over many others. I felt like a Tortoise, lost in the Land of Hare. It was surprisingly a bit invalidating & intimidating. Some of us are movers and shakers, some of us get moved and shaken. I come from a long line of  hustlers, working stiffs, and schleppers, human beings always on the margins, outsiders, low-riders, on the make, always struggling in the water, often swimming against the stream. Oh well. That's a certain reality. I find it best not to think of life as a competition (although, we are often competing for resources, love, attention, opportunities, etc). I mean, I think it's probably best to think of life as an always-renewing garden. We are all born with what we are born with, and we must deal with the deal that's been dealt to us. Some of us are tall, bright, beautiful, colorful flowers, some of us are shorter, darker; we are feisty, dusty, little shrubs. Or you know, yes, there is the Tortoise and the Hare contending out on the boulevard. I find myself resonating as Tortoise/shrub. Maybe a Tortoise/shrub with some Hare-like and flowery qualities. Yikes. I mean, fuck it, Damn the Torpedoes...

The Working Week...

Monday morning. Back to the working week. Not too high, not too low. Keeping the game going. It is best to try to manage your emotions, to try not to be overwhelmed. Steady the wheel. One step at a time. And, yes, of course, "Damn the Torpedoes."

A Powerful Thing...

Our band played a r&r show last night in a small bar. We were reminded again that we are a gnarly beast of a musical outfit. My partner and I write all the songs. They are raw, homemade, missives, totally, uniquely us. Over the years, we both have found our voices, and the songs, and the band are vehicles to put our "truth" across. Amazing, to us, we have attracted a group of fabulously talented musicians to totally commit to the vision. But we are so ambitious, with such a big sound. It's always a challenge to get up on a small stage and have all the players locked in. Funny, we create such a big noise, we are always a challenge for the sound-tech, and for us too. I was playing guitar on the far right of the stage and all I could hear was my own guitar, the drummer and our two vocals. Bass, double bass, percussion, electric guitar? All a noisy blur. Plus lots of feedback early in the set. Funny how a little feedback can color the night. It took about three songs into the set before the episodes of feedback were tamed. We did "get there." It doesn't take much for my partner and I to totally get lost in the vibes, and to reach some kind of transcendence. Performing is such a uniquely satisfying kick. Afterwards a few strangers came up to us raving about the show. That is always the best kind of feedback, folks we don't know, folks who have never seen us before, responding in a totally enthusiastic way. We are connecting. It is always a bit surprising, and rewarding to find out that our gnarly beast is being seen and heard. It's a powerful thing.

Intersecting Timelines...

Intersecting timelines...

That's a feature of the Human Game; where we start, where we finish, it all varies. We are each on a singular road. It takes awhile for this to sink in, to truly, madly, deeply sink into your bones and consciousness.

If you are waiting for the moment when all will be revealed, all will make sense, and you "get it," well, like Dylan once sang: "The Groom's still waiting at the Altar." 

Yes. No one will explain it. The Lightening doesn't strike. You are left to your own devices. This is your life. Live it. Any insights come haltingly. 

Life & Living. It's complicated, messy, confusing, not always satisfying. You just need to get to it. Do your thing, do your best. Damn the torpedos.

A Common & Uncommon Day...

Yesterday. A day, pretty much like any other. I walked around the neighborhood. Made all my appointed rounds. Some days all that is required of me is that I show up, feet on the ground, head screwed on straight, and do what I say I'm going to do. Living in a certain truth. 

My companion was determined to make the day a celebration. So, it was back to flour-less chocolate cake, and "standard," fluffy cake too. One slim slice of each, shared by the two of us.  A certain luxury in eating  cake. An unusual, uncommon treat for us. 

I also brought out my guitar and worked on the chords and riffs for a new song. Waiting for lyrics from my songwriting partner. I played it for our little flock of birds. Three very unique, winged creatures. They all seemed happy with the music. Chirping, fluffing, singing along. A good sign.

Then we watched one of our favorite films, "Donne Darko"  (2001). Yes. A great, very unusual movie. About all the big things in life, weighty questions alive in a little tightly constructed film. Funny. Mysterious. With time-travel, the search for God & Love, plus a fabulous soundtrack. One of our favorite films. 

"Why are you wearing that stupid Man Suit?"

Yes. It was a day.

Unpredictable...

Up early. Well before dawn. Turned on the radio. A voice said: "Life can be unpredictable." Ha. Yep. No kidding...

"Chaos Rules, Baby, Please Pass the Condiments..."

You know, as the climate declines, the human population increases, resources dwindle, and our always-on, deeply interconnected intelligence systems seem to be constantly flooded with idiocy, misinformation and total shite, Chaos, emerges as the new King. Human Beings are playing an increasingly weird and toxic version of the Human Game. 

Center... No Center...

I said something stupid yesterday. It was a polite conversation.

"The center will not hold."

Of course, that's pretty ridiculous. There is no center. There is nothing to hold.

Reading Bolano...

It was a Sunday. U2's "Unforgettable Fire" on the stereo early in the day. In the afternoon a long bike ride in a stiff, quite brisk breeze. Then, back to the mansion, reading the last chapter of Roberto Bolano's "Amulet"  out-loud as we sat on the shiny stone floor; the reading a gift to my love. Beauty. Sadness. "The Mother of all Poets." Tears. Courage. Love. Generosity. Sunday.

Consolations...

Sure. Its dark. Handcuffed with bad-tech. Still determined to write anyway. Yesterday, we indulged in chocolate flour-less cake. Sweet consolation.

Typing in the dark with my thumbs. Sign of the times.

What fresh madness now?

Imaginary Rabbits, Imaginary Rabbit Holes...

Ah... well... my partner and I, we turn away from the madness and we chase imaginary rabbits down imaginary rabbit holes. Tom Petty called it, "Running Down a Dream."  We are working on our music project, a new 9 song album, recorded, mixed, and now nearly mastered. It is a long, meticulous, very detailed process. It is fun, and rewarding, and exhausting. My partner and I are a chasing down some imaginary ideal, in a world where the ideal is a shimmery chimera dancing just out of reach.

We are down to making decisions on how loud tracks are and how many seconds of silence work best between tracks. Yes. Silence. In this day and age of streaming services and playlists, maybe not the most important thing. But if you are working on an album, a CD, who knows, maybe a future vinyl release, the amount of silence from one track to the next looms as an important thing. 

"Maybe for these two tracks 0 seconds works? Nice how one song segues right into the next one. Maybe 2 seconds between these tracks? Maybe 4 seconds for those two?"

Funny. Lost in the silence. We can fall into the gap between, and lose ourselves to the project. 

We know no one else on the planet will listen to these tracks as closely as we do. No one else will give this album this much love and attention. You know, that's a given. Not our concern. Imaginary rabbits. Imaginary Rabbit holes. We feel like we can get lost and hopefully found there too...

Hell & Paradise...

Of course, it's easy to be open-minded, open-hearted, and philosophical when you are far from the front lines, and a long distance from the carnage. There are no bullets flying here, no bombs going off, no "gates of hell" opening up in our reality, no dire circumstances, no overwhelming tragedy hanging over everything and everyone.

In fact, over we here find ourselves cocooned in our own somewhat idyllic, Midwestern, totally Progressive, Blue-Bubble neighborhood; everything is quiet, calm, peaceful. Yesterday was just a perfectly beautiful, blue-sky, day. It makes it all so surreal.

We carry a deep sadness in our hearts and heads for Humanity. We grieve for our fellow Human Beings. 

We know that we are truly lucky. By pure, stupid luck and a bit of pluck, we find ourselves in very a prosperous, educated, copacetic community. We are marginal characters, living by our wits. But we are in a sort of hunky-dory, paradise. And we can easily retreat into our own little Private Idaho, an oasis filled with music, creativity, & good cheer.

We also know that all of this can vanish, can easily be snatched away, in an instant. We are always just one catastrophe from catastrophe.  Jim Morrison: "No one gets out of here alive." No one escapes unscathed.

It's odd. Very disorienting. Heart-breaking. As they often say: Life is not fair. You want it to be fair. You want everyone to be able  to prosper and thrive. You yearn for Truth, Justice, Love, Kindness, Grace. You hope for the best for all. But of course, that hope is often dashed on the rocks. You know, like, pretty much every day. It truly is a Universe of Creation and Destruction locked in a constantly shifting, never-ending dance.

Implicated...

I suppose I go with that Jean Paul Sartre "existentialist" idea that we are all responsible & accountable for everything. As Human Beings, we are all implicated in the sins & the crimes of Humanity. We are also implicated in the wonderful acts of grace, kindness and good acts that Human Beings are capable of, and often bring to the world. I am also of the mind that Sartre was right: "Hell is other people." But I would like to add: "Heaven is other people too." You get both.

I also go along with that sort of mystical idea that everything and everyone is connected. And everything, absolutely everything, counts. It's a heavy way to think, ("he ain't heavy, he's my brother..."), and to live. You must wrestle with the Demons unleashed by your fellow humans, and you also can, & must, commune with the Angels unleashed by your fellow humans too. I mean it's a burdensome way to live & to think. It makes real the reality that Life is not just a free and easy ride. Living in the world comes with burdens, responsibilities, guilts, joys, wonders, and gob-smackingly convoluted enigmas, contradictions & deep in the bone mysteries.

A Recurring Theme...

Matching a massacre with a massacre seems like a murderous madness that will just make a terrible & horrible situation that much more terrible and horrible. The logic of war, the logic of revenge,  the cycle of violence, it all rolls out with a deadly inevitability. It's not controversial to point out that "everyone has their reasons," but those reasons are often faulty, flawed and death-dealing. Unfortunately, this kind of murderous, nihilistic violence is not novel. It's built into the history of Humanity. Humanity's Inhumanity to Humanity. It's a recurring theme.

Bad Math...

Fumbling and reeling this morning. Shocked and grieving for Humanity. I think of the Dalai Lama's idea: We are all Human Beings first. Fundamentally, we are all the same. We may have different ideas in our heads, have different skin, hair and eye colors, wear different clothes, grow up in different countries, offer prayers, or do not, to different Gods, but, you know we are all just very human Beings, with all the quirks and flaws that come to us via our own unique trick-bags. As the singer-songwriter Nick Cave reminds us, we are all on a "singular road" but we are also all connected, and on singular roads together.

I'm going full-on Biblical this morning. I think of that musty old book as a weighty tome, written by Human Beings, full of contradictions, crazy-ass B.S., hard to believe stories, and a few beautiful passages of poetry. 

When in doubt I fall back on a nasty cliche. My morning misguided cliche: "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Wrong-headed for sure. That approach inevitably leads to a world of eyeless, toothless Human Beings. And matching Death for Death just multiplies Death. It's bad Death-Dealing Math.

One wonders: How to multiply the Peace? The Love? The Understanding?

History of the Species...

Events. They happen. You listen, you watch. You think. You shudder. You feel such sorrow for Human Beings in the throes of deep suffering. It's always the common "people" who suffer the worst. Those folks who happen to be "in the way," who just want to live happy lives, caring for their children, trying to make it day to day. It stuns one into silence. Words truly do fail. There is no making sense. There is no point in taking sides. This is a long-running calamity. A Human flaw writ large across centuries, it is built into the history of the species. Blood thirsty combatants of all races, creeds and nations. Human Beings; we are an often remarkably astonishing species, sometimes fabulously creative, loving & wonderful, with a very, very dark, calamitous side. Crucified on the Cross of Duality.

It Don't Come Easy...

Locally, personally, all is well. It doesn't take much: a good sleep, excellent coffee brew, music always playing on the box. My life is basically a long, meandering musical.

This morning, I briefly click on the radio for a dose of the latest news, "I wonder what's happening out there?"

And... well... it's all pretty much bad news. I mean, we are all now living on a very hot, over-stuffed, planet. Another War has broken out, this time in the Middle East. Folks are testy, and pissed off, and taking it out on each other. Human Beings are very good at inflicting pain and suffering on other Human Beings.

All the folks doing the good work seem to be overshadowed by the Agents of Chaos.  And, you know, it's much easier to amplify the chaos, much harder to make things work for the benefit of all. Turns out that often, the shouters, the greedy ones, the blood-thirsty-types, and the ignorant fools (they are legion), dominate the highways and bi-ways of conversation & communication. Yikes. The overall trend looks a bit dicey.

Taking care of our own (tend to your garden always), mental health seems so very essential. 

There are always the competing forces, light and dark, creation and destruction. It's that kind of Universe. We have to juggle, and grapple with, those competing forces, and try to make them work for us. We have to do our best to stay positive and hopeful. Damn the torpedoes. Sure. I know. "It don't come easy." Just ask Ringo. 

But living with heart, and love, and a musical soul. That's the thing!

The Healing Trick of Music...

Yes. I went thru the motions of the day yesterday. My head was elsewhere. My body was out on the streets and paths, my head was in the fog. That's not the way to do it. You should be totally aligned in all you do. I was failing and flailing on that front. I was more in the mode of: Fake It, To Make It. I can smile & laugh and chit-chat with the best of them, and I did, I performed all the motions and notions in time, and on the beat, I did all that I was required to do, but it was all a false front.

I really just wanted to put my headphones on, kick back, and hunker down in a comfy corner. Which I did later in the afternoon. I alternated between two very most-excellent sets of headphones, my sturdy old Grados and my new and very shiny Hifimans. You learn that each pair of headphones conjures its own sonic-universe. The Grados, on the ear, are a bit brighter, bolder, more dynamic and immediate, the Hifimans, over the ear, are bit more refined, with a more expansive sound-stage, a little mellower, a little richer, more immersive.

Both are very good & super-enjoyable. They bring the music alive. And what did I listen to? What was the soundtrack of healing alignment? The Brian Jones Town Massacre's "Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request" (1995), yes, a trippy, cool, mellow, hippie-vibe of a record. The Who's "Who's Next" (1971), thrilling, definitive r&r. Mogwai's "Happy Songs for Happy People" (2003), never fails to enchant, a sonic feast. The Talking Heads "Remain in Light" (1980), the apotheosis of groove, totally captivates and revitalizes. Steely Dan's "Countdown to Ecstasy,"  (1973), supposedly their lowest selling album, pretty much my favorite, with all those great songs, and great lines, with Jeff "Skunk" Baxter flying across those tracks on electric guitar. Some of the best albums from some of the best bands. It really did the aligning and healing trick. This morning I am feeling recharged and very, very present to, in, and of, the moment.

Chasing...

Chasing the ideal. Living in the real. There is a tension there. And we must pay attention. All the little details count. The days tick by. The light of the day shrinks as the seasons change. Dark to dark seems to expand day by day. Carrying on becomes a mission in itself. It pays to have a mission. Keeps the game going with a forward momentum. You have this idea of the beautiful, of the good, of the right and true. You want to live there. You want to make it last, knowing that nothing lasts. Aye, there's the rub.

Grand Experiment...

It's an odd thing. If you think of yourself, your body, mind and spirit as basically a chemistry lab, you realize that your chemical experiments can go totally haywire. You think you have the formula down, but really you, and your lab, are moving targets. 

You are also like a river, an ocean breeze, a shaggy willow-tree dancing in the wind. So yeah, the chemistry gets a bit fuzzy,  & muddy, and your instruments and meters go into the red and on the fritz. Yikes. You miss connections. You drop things. You struggle thru the motions of the day. Weird. One day totally clicking, and in-tune, the next day is all dissonance, false notes, broken strings. Searching for the right combination of elements. Day to day. It's a grand experiment.

Perfect Hippie Couple...

Yesterday, late afternoon, my companion and I were walking down the boulevard in all our splendor: a colorful scarf, a colorful bandana, jeans, boots, dark glasses, long flowing shirts, beatific smiles on our faces, bubbles of laughter floating above us, a cute, happy little doggie at our side, both of us feeling good, almost groovy, excited, marveling at the calm waters of the lake, with the glorious sunshine beaming down upon us, big blue sky, sweetly caressing breeze, an 80 degree day, everything perfect and in it's right place. A woman stopped in front of us on the path with a big smile on her face and joyously exclaimed: "Oh my goodness, you two are the perfect Hippie Couple!" Ha. Funny. We are not living in the past, we are not big on nostalgia, we don't wear tie-dye, we are always doing our best to BE HERE NOW. But, you know, maybe she's not far off?  I mean, our vibe, can't hide the vibe, you know, "What's So Funny About Peace, Love & Understanding?"  Let's get it together Brothers & Sisters!

Nothing Happens...

Funny. It turns out our days of drifting, floating, cruising, basically, goofing off, are our best days. Yesterday, brilliant sunshine ruled. We spent the afternoon out on the lakefront path. We went for a long meandering bike ride, then we decamped to our "sun-spot," setting out a blanket on the lush green expanse of grass, fronting a looming monolith of stone and glass. It is a very private place facing a very public path. We sipped cold drinks and talked about all the things of the world. There were great moments of silence too. Blue skies, puffy, rolling, clouds. Humans of all shapes and sizes passing by on the pathway. The big city, 30 miles away, visible on the horizon-line of the lake. Those massive towers like little tinker-toys, wrapped in wispy, misty fog. We like to call it "The Emerald City." It turns out that the days where nothing really happens are the days when everything happens. 

The Apotheosis of Groove & Rhythm...

Yesterday, we took a day off from  playing music and instead went to the movie palace to see other folks do their thing. We trekked to the big city to see the re-release showing of Talking Head's concert film "Stop Making Sense" (1983) vividly, luxuriously projected on the silver screen. It certainly made sense to us.

The film has never looked or sounded better. It's been digitized and remastered, and it's freaking glorious.

How sum it up? Thrilling. Fascinating. Inspiring. A band at it's finest. The apotheosis of "Groove and Rhythm."

Talking Heads are one of the seminal bands to emerge out of the New York, CBGB scene. They were there with other great bands in the 70's = The Ramones, The Patti Smith Group, Television, Blondie. 

David Byrne = the jittery, quirky leading man. All energy, all the time. I have always considered David Byrne an artist in all ways. He has a bit of a cracked and skewed vision. Meticulous in presentation. Brilliant. Head-opening. Funny too. The perfect compliment to the powerful groove machine band. 

It was a marvelous way to spend the late afternoon. A clearing. A boost of energy. Highly recommended.

Yes... Never, Ever, Forget...

I wade into the political stream this morning. I do it reluctantly. Lately, our political discourse is so ugly, stupid, and corrosive. I am a Progressive Democrat who believes in Free and Fair Elections, in the Scientific Method, in Truth & Facts, in the reality of our unfortunate, Human-caused Climate Catastrophe, in the efficacy of Vaccines, in Human Rights for all.

I do think the National Press is failing us. They seem to want to convince us that Joe Biden is too old for the job he presently holds. They seem to forget that Joe is really, really, really good at the job he holds. Joe Biden's age is NOT the most important story to be mulling over, and worrying about, in the upcoming election in 2024.

Remember that Fat, Blubbering Idiot who lost the election in 2020, and then tried to stay in the White House, enlisting a bunch of henchmen & bootlicking minions, and hatched, and enacted, a plan to crash our democracy? You know, that Toxic Clown who has 91 indictments hanging over his head? Amazingly he's not in jail yet, the wheels of Justice grind really, really slowly. So, he's running around the country saying really, really stupid, toxic shit; trying to intimidate witnesses, and whipping up his followers to commit violence. Such a flood of shite, that it seems sensible folks, some of them press folks too, kind of get overwhelmed, their senses five seize up. They sort of treat the existential threat to our Democracy as quaint horse-race narrative. Mind-fucking-boggling.

And there is a still small, (hopefully getting smaller), lunatic segment of our country who think that Toxic Clown is just great. Those folks are truly, madly, deeply, seriously unwell.

I say, we must NEVER FORGET. 

The text below is excerpt from the latest filing from the Special Prosecutor Jack Smith, asking a D.C. Judge to gag that raging inferno of idiocy and toxic shite. 

Every day we should all remind each other this is an anti-democratic, lawless fraud of a man who inspired a bunch of slavering, brain-dead, MAGA-zombie fools, and racist, authoritarian-kiss-ass, creeps (many of them sitting in, or soon heading to jail), to attack the Capitol in D.C. This man is not an important person, he is just a common defendant, a man accused of very, very serious crimes. 

Cultivate the Beauty...

"Paradise" - "a place or state of bliss, felicity, or delight."

Right on. 

"The word Paradise entered European languages from the Persian root word "Pardis", which was the name of a beautiful garden enclosed behind walls."

Of course. We can build these beautiful enclosed gardens in our backyards, our homes,  our bodies, our heads. We decide what can be let in, what must be kept out.

What is enclosed, protected and encouraged to grow behind the walls? What is left outside the walls? That is all up to us. We can, and must, cultivate our own safe spaces, our own little secret gardens. We must be the diligent care-takers, the busy gardeners, of our own little beautiful gardens.

The crazy-ass, always-on, sound & fury,  hurly-burly of the 24/7 world is exciting & entertaining, but it's also totally all-consuming, chaotic, and can be deeply corrosive.

Discernment. Discipline. It is up to us to cultivate the beauty and to let it grow & thrive.

Validate...

"Validate your consciousness."

Ha. That sentence bubbled up in my head last night, it came to me in the middle of a deep sleep. It seems to me this morning to be a pretty obvious directive. Be consciously valid.

I wonder is this just "random access memory?" Or some message rising up from deep in my being? Or a missive directed to me from another realm?

I mean, like, who knows, man?!

The Flame of Being...

"Energy is Eternal Delight." - William Blake

Yes. Indeed. I find that my life is an ocean of energy. Sometimes raging, sometimes still. There are the ups and downs, the times of overflowing and cascading energy, and the times of depletion & stuck-ness.

I have to navigate all the hurly-burly, day to day, just like anyone else. I find myself in a constant, often-repeating pattern: total unbridled exhilaration, and then stark, deep exhaustion. 

Some of this roiling, boiling ocean of energy fluctuation is emotional, and some of it is physical and spiritual.

I turn to listening to, and playing, music, meditation, healthy, organic meals, bold, organic coffee brew, meandering bike rides on the path, long contemplative sessions on the lakefront bench overlooking the ever-changing ocean-like lake, with an over-hanging, always unfurling & morphing, wide-open sky. All are elements and ingredients in the recharge. It's all part of the process of being a fully engaged Human Being. 

It is so surprising, fulfilling and rewarding when the energy flow ramps up and reignites the flame of being once again. 

The "Resonance Theory of Consciousness..."

You know, you might think my last post (see previous post), is a bit "airy-fairy." Talking about the power of vibes, but then again, yesterday, I stumbled across this article from Scientific American: "The Hippies Were Right: It's All About the Vibrations,"  Which seems to validate my experience and intuition.

"Over the past decade, we have developed a “resonance theory of consciousness” that suggests that resonance—another word for synchronized vibrations—is at the heart of not only human consciousness but of physical reality more generally.

So how were the hippies right? Well, we agree that vibrations, resonance, are the key mechanism behind human consciousness, as well as animal consciousness more generally."

Right. Totally resonates with me. No doubt. And then there's this...

"Based on the observed behavior of the entities that surround us, from electrons to atoms to molecules to bacteria to paramecia to mice, bats, rats, etc., all things may be viewed as at least a little conscious. This sounds strange at first blush, but “panpsychism”—the view that all matter has some associated consciousness—is an increasingly accepted position with respect to the nature of consciousness."

So yeah, right on, Man. The Hippies were pretty much spot on when it comes to the power of vibes (see also Pete Townshend's Rock Opera about a little boy who reads the vibes). 

Of course, the Hippies weren't right about everything, major misfires include: Tie-Dyed Clothes (too messy), Free Love (too messy), Taking massive quantities of Drugs (too messy), but for sure they were also right about the Power of Vibes & the Power of Peace, Love & Understanding!

Amen, Brothers & Sisters!

True to the Vibes...

When we have a "successful" outing with our band, (like we did yesterday late afternoon, on the street in our hometown); with a good-sized, deeply-enthusiastic crowd, a fabulous lineup of acts, supremely well-played sets, $ for all the musicians, happy, beaming faces, and an all around feeling of happiness & good-cheer, the word that always bubbles up and wafts over us: VIBES. 

Yes. That's right. As in "good vibes." We are lucky beings who have on-going relationship with the vibes. It's a strange thing. You can't see vibes, but can feel them and absorb and embody them. The band, the players, the music, the songs, the lyrics, the location, the sound system, the gathering tribes, they are all just the set and setting for conjuring and luxuriating in the vibes. 

And it all just happens organically. You can't will the vibes to appear, they just show up and descend upon us all in the doing.

LIVING WITH THE VIBE! 

It's bigger than all of us, and includes all of us. We chalk it up to the power of music, creativity, and being alive in the moment; honoring life, love, doing the the thing you love to do with heart, head and soul all completely aligned, and a gathering of fellow beings open to experiencing and mirroring-back those same positive, healing vibes. It sounds heady, and trippy and maybe a bit "hippy-dippy."  Ha! SO BE IT! 

Yes. We must accept it. Our mission is to be true to the vibe, one note, one lyric, one song, one rehearsal, one show at at time. Be present. In the moment. There is a glimpse of eternity in that little moment where everything is true & possible. Yes. And, as always, damn the torpedos.

Harpoon Dodger...

Neil Young once imagined himself as a salmon swimming upstream, and he wrote a song about it. It's kind of a hallucination, a vision.  Certainly one of Neil's strangest, weirdest songs, pretty great too, a song he recorded "alone in a single take on a two-track cassette tape, sitting in front of a fireplace playing acoustic guitar."  You can hear the crackling and popping of the logs as he sings. Amazing. 

Why is this song front of mind this morning? Often I feel like a salmon too, swimming upstream, against the current, against the odds. Yes, I too have the "will to love." Dodging harpoons daily...

"I remember the ocean 

from where I came 

Just one of millions all the same 

But somewhere someone calls my name 

I'm a harpoon dodger, and I can't, won't be tamed."

Hustling & Floating...

Am I the spider or the fly? Did I create this present state, or did I accidentally zip into it? Am I creator or captive?

I am smack dab in the middle of an elaborate web. Tiny little shimmering strings, arrayed in an interlaced mandala.  I am stretched across two contradictory impulses: Hustling & Floating. Can they co-exist? Yes. Well. They, indeed, do. Sometimes Hustling, sometimes Floating. I alternate. I'm like a flashing light, always changing colors. Maybe that explains the very stop & start feel of my existence. On the make, and on the skate. It's a weird way to live, to be, but oh so true.

Detachment/Engagement...

If you are "cool," you are a bit detached from events in the world. Since the Wise Ones tell us that suffering (see the Buddha), is inevitable and built into the fabric of life, maybe a bit of healthy detachment is recommended? But, then again, how to do, or accomplish, anything? How do you make a mark? Do you grab the day by the collar and shake it? Is engagement, maybe even a passionate engagement,  necessary? How to navigate between a cool detachment and a passionate engagement? Aye, well, there's the rub.

Transcendence in the Doing...

Another musical session yesterday, 3 of us, playing songs in our rehearsal studio. A guitarist, a drummer, a percussionist. Super-percussive & drum-heavy. We ran thru songs with a distinct, propulsive, groove. We made a loud & unholy racket; original, organic, homemade. Two voices pushing out from the P.A. speakers & floating above the bedlam & mayhem; little clouds of hope & wonder.

We are certainly diligent, persistent, determined & disciplined. Stubborn in our creative doing. Willing to do the work, no questions asked, no quarter given. We are rehearsing for two concerts this weekend. One a very private concert, and one a very public one. Best not to think too far ahead. We make plans, lay down markers, damn the torpedos.

The doing, the playing, the attending to the good work, is really the thing. 

There is a deep yearning, usually buried deep inside us, to make something "beautiful & great," but really that's never verbalized or stated out in the world, best to keep it under the radar. Floating that kind of sentiment brings out the sharks, the smiling, glad-handing folks who want to crush you, and your wispy dreams, to destroy your little transparent bubbles of creativity & hope, like pesky insects. 

We have always been ambitious, maybe sometimes overly-ambitious, in our own way. Always creating new work. Always trying to make it the best it can be.  All we do, all we can do, is what we do. 

The questions we hesitate to float: Is it good, is it beautiful, is it great, will it touch people, will it last? 

Who knows?! Fruitless, maybe even counterproductive questions. Really of no use when you are doing the work. The doing is it. Approaching the creative impulse with heart, head, soul totally aligned; truly, madly, deeply. Fully engaged in the moment. Open to the flashes of transcendence in the doing.

Be the Blade...

One thing I constantly do: I monitor my own internal landscape. I am, and I surmise we all are, raging, overflowing volcanos and out of control, madly-swirling tornados. I seem to be always swimming in crazy-ass thoughts, unbidden, unquenchable feelings, hard to pin down emotions. I am constantly managing the storms of unknowing and of un-being deep inside.

That's just the way it is. Part of the standard-issue kit-bag of being Human.

There is an internal monologue always rolling out. Shit bubbles up. And you swat at the those bubbles, or try to corral them. Often they burst on their own.

On the outside, day to day, I appear to be cool, calm, collected. As they say: Still waters run deep.

Last night, in deep sleep I did receive a message. Words bubbled up in my head, even-though I was sleeping soundly like a happy little Pilgrim.

"Sharpen Up." 

Hah. I took it to be an insightful phrase of encouragement. Think of a blade, a knife, a handy swiss-army type of implement, or a flashy razor; strong, sharp, glinting like lightening in the darkling, fading light. 

I think of Peter Tosh's "Stepping Razor:" 

"I'm like a flashing laser and a rolling thunder

I'm dangerous

I'm like a stepping razor

Don't you watch my size

I'm dangerous, dangerous

Treat me good

If you wanna live

You better treat me good"

Ha. I mean, I think the message is "Be the sharpened blade that is never used."  Right. Sharp. Bright. Strong. 

Hopeful and Sunny-Side Up...

Yes. It's true. Going to a party, and partying is not all it's cracked up to be (see previous post). It didn't totally throw me into a major existential crisis, but it did throw me into a minor one. The line from a Steely Dan song that stuck in my craw over the last two days: "Any world that I'm welcome to, is better than the one I come from." 

Yes. Exactly. 

I was still sort of reeling yesterday. Being in close proximity to lots of folks in close quarters actually put me on tilt; I mean it was all a bit disorienting and disheartening.  We know some intelligent, funny, creative folks, but most of the chitter-chatter via party-time was snarky, deflating, and unknowing. There was a hard & cold vision of hanging over us all.

Maybe it's the times we live in. Hell, I can sling the snark with the best of them, but marinating in it was quite off-putting. I realize I am much more hopeful and sunny-side up than most of the folks we know. I realized I am so out of step with so many folks. It is so easy to be unhappy, to criticize, and to tear down anyone who floats a bit of hope and initiative.

It's usually best when we submerge in a creative project. Especially when we play music. No time to talk, no time to complain or to make fun of the ways of the world.

Maybe it's all about tone? Yes, the world is a funny, strange, weird place. We should try to find the humor in our situation, but the humor is best when it is self-directed. The making fun & tearing down of others is just so deflating and ugly. It is a lacerating and self-lacerating thing. 

It's probably based in fear and a general unhappiness.  Yikes. I say damn the torpedos & lean to the light. I mean, that's the way to party!

Party Time...

We went to a party on Saturday. It's kind of a funny ritual. If you haven't been to one in a while, and you don't drink alcohol any longer, (haven't had a drink in about a decade and a half),  it's kind of amazing to watch Human Beings gather together, drink to excess, and sort of unravel before your eyes. There is the ritual loosening of lips, psyches, and personalities. The music rages, the conversations get louder and more animated. If you are fully, completely, sober, clear-headed & clear-eyed, you can really watch the minutes roll out, as the room begins to tilt, and the Human Beings actively jolly themselves into a kind of mad, frenzy. Fun is not it's all cracked up to be. But, you know, maybe a party is an essential kind of unrobing? A metaphorical sacrifice and blood-letting? It certainly can be entertaining if you are are the sidelines. You can marvel at how Humans loosen up and intentionally unravel. If you didn't imbibe, the morning-after is much more agreeable. No fuzzy-headedness. No guilt. No existential crisis, no floundering or wondering: "What did I say? What did I do?" The storm has come and gone. Diamond-clear-consciousness was maintained. No brain-cells were sacrificed in the doing and undoing. Still, there is no sense, or reason, to indulge in idle judging of your fellow Humans. They were just doing their thing. A flurry of words. Conversations off the rails. A bit of jumping up and down, a few wildly unexpected moves, tapping on tables, clapping hands, clicking heels. Silly chatter. Mad-cap laughter. Lots of sound & fury signifying pretty much nothing. Party time.

Gnarly Work in Progress...

Human Beings; can't live with them, can't live without them. 

My go-to working hypothesis, which I often invoke: Human Beings are Complicated, we are the Tricky Monkeys.

Not surprisingly, the great, prolific, singer-songwriter, Nick Cave puts it much more eloquently in his latest Red Hand Files post: 

"... the world is not divided into good and bad people, but rather it is made up of all manner of individuals, each broken in their own way, each caught up in the common human struggle and each having the capacity to do both terrible and beautiful things."

Exactly...

Nick sings about being on a "singular road," and really, well, aren't we all? Nick suggests adopting two key qualities: Humility & Curiosity. 

Amen. And as a flawed, and a distinctly, broken Human Being myself, I suggest not judging yourself or others too harshly. Shite. We can all do so much better. We are gnarly, complicated & contradictory beasts, and the world we find ourselves in is a grand, sprawling,  gnarly work in progress.

What to do? Lean to the light. Try to embody the best, and not the worst of our species.  Yes, it's a bizarre & temporary state we live in. We are here to see, and to actualize beauty and love. A worthy, noble cause, indeed. Damn the torpedos.

Not Working... Playing...

Ha...

Forgetting (see previous post), is a trick of the mind that I find super-useful in writing songs, lyrics, riffs and chord sequences. Practicing & Forgetting is the secret key to my creative process. Always trying to be creative. Always trying to find inspiration,  without really trying at all; the trick is to stumble across those "aha" moments of discovery. I try my best to not be consciously working. I am out to fool myself, trick myself, in fact, I am not working, I am just playing, trying to be in an open-state where ideas descend upon me. That is how it feels. I don't make up songs, they appear, I accidentally stumble across a new riff, or a lyric suddenly pops into my head. Often, later, with a new song,  I wonder, "Where did that come from?"

New songs really do seem like gifts from the Great Cloud of Unknowing.

Of course, it is best to always to be playing/practicing. Having a guitar in hand, strumming, putting my fingers on the fret-board in new ways. I don't think of notes, music theory. Thinking is not it. I often use alternate tunings. Suddenly the guitar is a new and strange thing. 

It also helps to have collaborators. I work with two very different song-writing partners. They are both unique human beings, and the work with each reflects those intimate relationships. It always a challenge. A fun and captivating thing. I do my best to be present. Be Here Now. Trying to catch lightening in a bottle. To get entangled in a flash of creative magic. It's "the good work." So good, it's not really work.

Practicing to Forget...

Back to practicing (see previous post)...

What's funny. We don't practice because "practice makes perfect."

There really is no perfect. Doesn't exist. And practicing is really a more mundane word for playing.

We practice and play so we can forget. There is moment of inspiration; a moment when a riff, a song, a lyric emerges from the ether. Then there is the process of trying to corral the butterfly. To be able to conjure up  and repeat that moment of inspiration on demand.

We run thru songs, we play the riffs, we learn, memorize, and sing the lyrics so we can forget them. We are swimming towards a state of complete sublimated unconsciousness. First, we consciously learn and repeat, and then we gradually, intentionally forget.

The idea of perfect evaporates, you replace that with the concept of deep in the bone muscle memory. Learning to forget. The knowledge, the elements of the song become totally embedded in your being.  So yes, you can sit in a room with a guitar and a collaborator and run thru 50 plus songs that you know, and do it easily, with no effort. No notes, no hesitation. You play. You don't think about playing. You just play, in the moment to moment.  You don't think of keys and notes, or struggle to recall lyrics. You just play and it surprisingly all flows out.

You get to point where it is all playing & flying. You practice to elevate yourself and the music to a state of transcendence.

That is why we practice. To reach that magical state of forgetting. We practice to know and to forget. To be in the moment, and to flow without a thought. It's a glimpse of the Creative Divine. Not perfect. But perfectly amazing, gratifying, soul-enriching.

A Good Day of Practicing...

A good day for us is usually a day when we play music. We usually go to our rehearsal studio on Wednesdays and Saturdays, so, for sure, we have at least two really good days every week. Wednesdays it's usually just my partner and I, on Saturdays, it's the two of us, plus our full band. In full force we are 8 band members strong.

When we make the trek from our apartment to our studio (about 3 blocks), we always create a bit of a stir. Folks stop us on the street, me lugging my guitar, my partner lugging her drums, we look like musical gypsies, or maybe more like professional schleppers. 

The question folks usually volley to us on the street: "Are you playing somewhere?" Our answer is always: "Practicing!"

Yes. Indeed. We love to play shows, but most of the time we are practicing. And that is the thing.  It's the way to get better. 

Yesterday we were both a bit shaggy, worse for wear. At first, setting up our gear seemed a bit of a chore, but then once we started working on songs we started to click. By about the 3rd song the tiredness, the shagginess, magically evaporated. After a couple hours we were both musically and spiritually cleansed and exhilarated.

The good work.  

On the way back, lugging gear again, a woman on the street, someone we didn't recognize, smiled & waved at us, she shouted out: "I'm one of your groupies!"

Hah. That made us laugh. Yep. A good day of practicing.

Long-Running Chemistry...

Yes. I am reminded that we are all chemistry labs. You know we come to the party with our own properties, and accessories. We all come from a long line of dead people, inheriting genes, DNA, characteristics, tendencies.

But we also meet the day, and what we put into our bodies seems pretty damn important (see previous post). Food is medicine. The habits and addictions in which we dabble also seem to be determinative; which substances are life-affirming and which are life-squelching?  Living as a Human Being is a long-running chemical experiment, yes, better living with good chemistry. 

Be careful and conscientious Dear Pilgrim. Being Happy & Healthy, that's the goal. Pretty sure it's a bit of a luck and pluck kind of thing. Hopefully you live under lucky stars, and hopefully you have a bit of pluck and determination to do the best that you can do. Pay attention to the chemistry, it seems to pay dividends, at least that's what the experimental results seem to tell us.

Oh Yeah, I Forgot: ELECTROLYTES!

Ha. Sure. I think I am smart. Although, I am smart enough to know I'm not that smart. Whatever I know is absolutely dwarfed by what I don't know. So best to be humble about my own native intelligence and smarts.

What's really funny, I have learned lessons. If I look back on my life, something I don't really like doing, I see a long string of lessons, some painful, some (rarely), joyful. 

But what does it "say" and mean, when you learn a lesson and then forget it?

Does that make me doubly dumb?

I bring this up because yesterday I hit upon an insight, one that I have hit upon before, but then, just as suddenly forgot. Which is really pretty damn idiotic. What was the word that ventured across my dull, heat-dome sapped mind? ELECTROLYTES!

Ha. Yes. Of course. We secured a box of Trace Minerals Power Pak. These little packets are a magic elixir. I mean, they work. I knew that, this has come up before, in the wake of another very hot summer day a few years ago, and then, well, stupidly, I just as quickly kind of forgot. Yesterday I greedily ingested the first packet of electrolytes with a big glass of water.

I could feel energy flow thru my body. Of course, maybe this is all in my head, but I pretty much don't think so. I feel so much better this morning. I want to declare it a miracle cure for the energy-sapping, mojo-killing  heat-dome. The electrolytes seem to be immediately kicking heat dome's ass.

Mojo-machine back in business. Yay. Sunny Jimmy is rising up like newly revived Lazarus, ready to meet the day with vim and vigor. Already feeling a bit smarter too.

Heavy Medicine...

You say your Mojo-Making Machine is on the fritz? What's a Humble, Heat-Dome-Sapped Pilgrim to do? 

Pizza Party! My partner and I split a large 1/2 cheese, 1/2 mushroom & onion pizza late yesterday afternoon. Yummy.

And we streamed  a silly, funny, laugh-generating show, on Netflix, "Cunk on Earth," a very entertaining British Mockumentary.  We streamed 5 episodes in one sitting. Satisfying.

Sure. Pizza and Laughs. Going hard for the Heavy Medicine. Seems my Mojo is on the ascendant this morning.  A good sign. Life.

The Elixir of Exhaustion = ZEN

Exhaustion - "the state of being extremely tired." Right. A dash of Heat Dome, a dollop of sleep deprivation, a spritzer of unrelenting always-busy, boot-tapping days, a series of jaunts on a bicycle, sprints up and down stairs, (every step counts), long, thrilling, consuming band rehearsals, you know, you seem to be always moving. These ingredients add up to a deep, well-earned exhaustion.

Is there an upside?

Yes. 

We trekked West yesterday, and I was in the grip of a deep, all-consuming exhaustion. Funny. Once you pass thru the brittle, touchiness, edgy phase, you enter a bubble of calmness. All your energy, which doesn't add up to more than a drop or two, is used to "BE HERE NOW." Just "to be" takes every last ounce of your energy.

So, you coast. You flow. You float. You have No Energy to fret, worry, argue, to offer an opinion. You smile behind blue eyes. You are agreeable. Words come grudgingly. Your thoughts are focused on being present. You are a genial companion. You are malleable, flexible, seemingly content & happy. It's a bit of an illusion, you do not have enough energy to actually be anything except present.

It's a great state to be in to re-connect with folks you know. You experience them. Their energy overwhelms your own. And you just let it all come down.

So yeah, that certain exhaustion is very ZEN-like. You smell the roses. You go places with folks you know. You go thru the motions of being a person. You smile. You let other people talk and let their words roll over you. You exist. That's pretty much all you can do, and it's enough, and all is fine and good.

That Kind of Universe...

My friend tells me: "It's good to worry." Ha. Maybe. I wonder, what is worth worrying about?  Maybe the things that can go wrong? What can go wrong? Well, pretty much everything. Yikes.

Last night I came across this quote from Pete Townsend speaking about "Quadrophenia,"   (1973), his other great rock-opera. For some reason this totally resonates with me.

"When you write about somebody that has EVERYTHING happening to them you somehow realize how everything does affect everybody."

Right. We are all connected. We all experience it all. We worry too, pretty much about everything. It's that kind of Universe.

Witnesses, Observers, Watchers, Seers...

Maybe our job is "seer?" You know, in the simplest sense, "one who sees." Yesterday felt like the first day of Autumn. It wasn't. Autumn is officially a few weeks away, but the day had all the hallmarks of a perfect autumn day.

We met on one of our favorite lakefront benches, the one near the big, drooping, friendly & looming tree, the one fronting a deserted, totally desolate beach. There was a certain & clear emptiness suffused with a palpable gravity. The temps were mild. The lake big, bold, rocking & rolling with heavy churning waves; a very thick & ocean-like texture to the water. Two geese, flying in perfect choreographed sync, bodies, wings, long necks and heads starkly sculpted against a dark and light, cloud-filled sky.

The wind came from the North, and cut across the lake, blowing thru the trees, lightly caressing our heads and bodies. There were a few leaves and branches rattling overhead, otherwise, there was an intense quietness surrounding us. Very few folks out and about this early afternoon. It was so remarkable. So very different from the previous day. The summer-like heat & humidity, the pressing, siege-like, heat-dome-feeling a distant memory. 

Our conversation was fractured, sporadic. Dotted with long periods of genial silence. Eyes open wide, gladly taking in the long, ever-expansive horizon. Silent Witnesses. Quiet Observers. Hushed Watchers. Content & Happy Seers.

Powering Thru to Inspiration...

We were both totally exhausted yesterday. Maybe still reeling from the heat? Heat Dome from last week really did a number on us, and still feeling the effects. We powered thru anyway and had a rehearsal with our band late afternoon. We schlepped our gear over to our studio space, set up the P.A. plugged in, and played. We resurrected a couple of old songs, mixed in with some new songs, and ran thru a few songs that we always play. It was quite exhilarating. Nothing like a roomful of musicians all listening, and playing off each other. Our exhaustion seemingly evaporated for a couple of hours. The kick of inspiration propelled us forward. It all sounded so good to our ears. Afterwards, we kind of collapsed in a heap. Trudged back home. Sipped some cold Kombucha and watched an episode of "Good Omens."   A ridiculous & silly show, but quite entertaining. We settled into a fuzzy state of giddy weariness. The rosy glow of good vibes and musical inspiration wrapped us up in an envelope of good cheer. That's the power of music, and the ability to play it. To play is the thing, damn the torpedoes.

Think Again Proud Boy...

The leader of the Proud Boys sentenced to 22 years in Federal Prison for "Seditious Conspiracy." The prouder they come, the prouder they fall.

Actions have consequences. Karma. Oh well.

Maybe being  Proud - "having or displaying excessive self-esteem"  is actually a fatal flaw?

Right. 

Makes me think of that other weighty word: Hubris - "exaggerated pride or self-confidence." 

The Harder, More Self-Assured, Confident and Prideful, the Harder they Fall...

Think you are above other folks? Think you are beyond the law? Think you can defy the will of the voters? Think you are above Democracy, and the normal processes of Government? Think you can prop up some Orange-Headed, Wanna-Be Authoritarian?

Think again, Proud Boy. 22 years in Federal prison. Yikes.

The Imagination of Disaster...

Reading good books. Fine literature. Smart non-fiction. I do think just the act of reading makes us smarter. Filling our heads, feeding our imaginations, expanding our horizons, opening our hearts. Propels us to see the world  in new ways, thru new eyes.

I think of Mike Davis' "Ecology of Fear: Los Angeles the Imagination of Disaster."  (1998). A masterpiece book, no doubt. I read the book when it came out. It exploded my consciousness. Made me see L.A. and California in a new light. 

When I read the news today, or listen to the radio today, it all seems so damn obvious and familiar. Yes. Of course, it's the ecology of fear writ large, and in technicolor. It's now all-pervasive, planet-wide. Our ecosystem is under threat from all sides. We are all Los Angeles & California now. The imagination of disaster is now our collective imagination. 

Hot and Cool...

Hot and Cool. 

The day was Hot. We were Cool. How? Long bike ride in the heat, the air around us oven-blazing, sweat rolling down our brows; we stopped for a sit-down under a shady tree, and uncapped cold Kombucha (bold, refreshing zesty) drinks. We sipped from the brown bottles like thirsty, shipwrecked pirates. We were at one of our favorite spots, a little out-cropping, a grassy oasis on a hill overlooking Lake Michigan. Hundreds, no, maybe thousands, no uncountable number of dragonflies, buzzed in the air above and around our heads. Where did they come from, where do they go? Sail-boats and motor-boats circled around in big circles out on the water. The boats so far out on the horizon they looked like a lonely child's toys. The lake, massive, still, dark-blue, a magnificent, sparkling, body of water. Puffy clouds slowly trekked across the sky overhead. Time seemed to stand-still. Our words hung in the air and then evaporated., dotted with long hollows of silence. Occasionally our laughter rattled in the branches of the big, brooding trees. Our bikes lay in the grass like fallen, steely creatures; waiting for something to happen. Long moments of still-ness and breath.

Hot and Cool.

Everything Will Improve...

 Haruki Murakami: "It’s my belief that if you listen to good music, your writing will improve."

This comes from one our greatest writers. I am thinking especially of The Windup Bird Chronicle. Magnificent. Magical.  

We listen to good music all day. Pretty sure everything improves: writing, cooking, philosophizing, talking, meditating, relaxing. Better living with good music.

What's good? 

That's up to the listener. We all have very particular tastes, proclivities, and tendencies. My partner and I have every kind of music imaginable in our record collection. We both love (off the top of my head): Dylan, Beatles, Stones, Modest Mouse, Wilco, Stevie Wonder, Fleetwood Mac, John Coltrane,  Dead Can Dance,Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Grateful Dead, Brian Eno, Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, The Drive By Truckers, Aretha Franklin, Neutral Milk Hotel, Neil Young, Lucinda Williams, Otis Redding,  Led Zeppelin, Sly and the Family Stone, Steely Dan, The National, Patti Smith, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, Nina Nastasia.  

She has her absolute favorites: Chet Baker, Bon Iver, Mavis Staples,Van Morrison, Art Blakey, Yoko Ono, Explosions in the Sky, Karen O.  I have mine: The Who, Sigur Ros, Mogwai, Miles Davis, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Peter Gabriel, Big Star, Jason Isbell. 

We are always: spinning, singing, dancing. That's the way to do it. Improving!

A Greater Process & Flow...

There are many reasons I love "The Bear," a series streaming on Hulu now. Don't worry, if you haven't seen it yet, I am not giving anything away, no plot details. You should see it all for yourself. I am in the middle of season two.

It blows my mind, blows open my heart. It's a love-letter to Chicago. I was born and raised in and around Chicago, and the series totally gets the quirky, gnarly, beautiful, raging beast; one of the great American Cities. I mean, it is so Chicago-smart, down to the tiniest, grimiest, of details. It totally rings true. Paints a total landscape and mind-scape.

What really resonates with me is the cast of characters, the "common folks;" deeply flawed Human Beings, scrambling about, risking everything, staring down failure, grasping at finding some meaning & purpose in their lives. There is this deep-seated, need, a fuzzy-headed quest, to find something great, something excellent, some way to expend and apply themselves, giving it all up to something bigger than themselves, a state of being, a place, where "every second counts."

Just people, very human beings with all their foibles, doubts, worries, insecurities, addictions, madnesses, depressions, side-shows, tentatively shooting for something greater than themselves. Oh man. It's the narrative of a"striving," or the falling into certain circumstances that opens the door to something amazing & great. Applying yourself, working on yourself, finding something where you can be the best, even if it's in the service of something seemingly inconsequential, simple, mundane, tedious, odd or weird. It's a dropping the ego thing, subsuming yourself into a greater process and flow.

Yes, it's everything. Life. So good. Inspiring. Beautiful. Hilarious. Touching. Powerful.

Merciless Art...

Big doings.

When it comes to our "art," my key collaborator and I are pretty merciless: "having no mercy, pitiless." We know what we love, and love what we do, and you do not want to be in our way when we kick into hyper-speed. 

We try our best to be merciless with grace, kindness, humor, and forgiveness. We are "good vibes" kind of people, and usually we reside in our own very positive, giving, creative bubble. That bubble is mostly open-door, open-arms inclusive: creative fellow-travelers welcome.

But, shite, once in great awhile, all hell breaks loose. Yesterday was a all hell breaks loose experience. The tumult & hurly-burly was initiated by our tangling with an unsuspecting helper, who revealed himself to be an obstacle to our creative goals (I am being purposefully vague to protect the guilty and innocent).

Funny. It is in times of crisis, pressure, deadlines & heightened expectations when folks reveal their true selves. It was not pretty to see this helper flailing about. And it was instructive to see this helper totally underestimate our determination, our will, and creative instincts. When it comes our art, we do have a killer instinct. When push comes to shove, we really truly, madly, deeply know what we are doing, and what we want. When we are fully aligned we feel we can move mountains and we do.

Of course, my key collaborator and I were totally aligned on this particular mission, which meant we were going to get what we needed come hell or high water. We were merciless, the helper floundered. And we walked out with the goods. Damn the torpedos. And what of the floundering, flailing helper? A helper no more.

Henry Hill  (in Good Fellas) : [voiceover] "That's when I knew that Jimmy was gonna whack Morrie. That's how it happens. That's how fast it takes for a guy to get whacked."