It Would Explain a Lot!

The Lovely Carla informed me yesterday that Jesus, (you know that guy in the Bible) was gay. She went to this tapestry show at the Art Institute and I guess there is lots of "foppishness" on display. I Googled it (Google is kind of like our modern Delphic Oracle don't you think?), this morning ("Was Jesus Gay?), and well, I guess I'd say the jury is still out.

But really, if we are talking about the same guy who turned water into wine and brought dead people back to life, I'm thinking it wouldn't be totally inconceivable to think that the guy was open to exploring the various forms of human sexuality.

Plus he shunned his family, moved to the City, hung out with a bunch of dudes. Didn't he love show tunes too? Who knows?

Like Solomon I think I'm willing to slice the baby in half on this one.

I'm going with: Jesus was definitely Bi!

Rock and Roll Religion

We played a rock show last night at the Red Line Tap. It was a "Toys for Tots" Benefit. The Lovely Carla always reminds me it's about having the "right intention" and in this case, giving toys to needy kids is about as right as rain.

What a great event. One of our best crowds ever. They came out to see three bands: Muff Puppy, WWSP and the Telepaths. We ended up with a pile of toys (over fifty toys) and a rollicking bar full of festive people.

It was all so satisfying. I played in two of the three bands. Which for me is some kind of NIRVANA. I am lucky to be able to collaborate with some great people, number one the Lovely Carla of course, and then the hard core rockers of the T-paths.

The T-paths are so messy and fun.

I broke a string, almost blew out my amp. It was rock and roll perfection...

Recreational Drollery

Do I have a sharply-honed sense of humour or am I just displaying an unusual amount of "recreational drollery?"

Beats me.

I do think in order to survive this roller-coaster ride we call life, one must find ways to amuse oneself. Laughter is the best medicine for our terminal condition. Once it dawns on you that your time is limited on this ball of confusion, that you and everyone you know is going to die, you have to arm yourself with some kind of antidote.

Humour is probably the best we can come up with. Is life a tragedy or a comedy? Your choice probably helps decide whether you are an optimist or pessimist - or at least whether you primarily sport a smile or a grimace.

Of course, there is "gallows humour" a type of humour that "arises from stressful, traumatic or life-threatening situations."

But doesn't that just describe a typical day on the planet?

So a comedy is a light and humorous drama with a happy ending, whereas a tragedy is a drama in which the protagonist is overcome by some superior force or circumstance.

I suppose the trick is to somehow see the "overcoming" as freaking hilarious!

All About the Hair

We played a party last night. At Celebrity Salon. One of the coolest places devoted to all things hair. We played multiple sets, just about every song we know, plus a few we don't really know at all.

It was a well-paid gig. And a blast too. We got some great feedback from the crowd. One guy actually compared the Lovely Carla and I to Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham. Something about the great chemistry we create onstage.

Not sure if we should take that as a compliment...or not...I mean, didn't they end up hating each other?

Certainly Stevie and Lindsey have better hair. And much bigger bank accounts! Chemistry? What chemistry?!

The Adventures of Big Chief Jimmy Thunderpants

This is not a movie soon to be at your local cinema:

"The Adventures of Big Chief Jimmy Thunderpants" - The saga of a lowly guitar-tuner, a foundling, an orphan, living on the coast of Lake Michigan. Thunderpants makes his daily bread working in a guitar warehouse tuning cheap Chinese-made guitars. His days are filled with broken strings and fret buzzes.

By a series of odd occurances and strange coincidences Thunderpants is discovered to be the long-lost Chief of a mythical Native American Indian tribe. It is a rebel tribe that wants to bring the buffalo herds back to the cities of North America. Thunderpants is entranced by the Lovely Rebel Indian Princess "Two Deers Behind a Tree" who shows him the true meaning of Rebel Indian love and introduces him to the joys of living in a Teepee.

A wild joyride of a movie. Heartwarming and befuddling. Two thumbs up. Way, way up.

Reality Sandwich

I do think we've entered the "anything it takes to eat" phase of the economy. The Lovely Carla and I have been early adopters, we've both been free-lancers the the last couple years (sometimes more "free" than "lancing," although lately, more "lancing" than "free") and we've made cash playing music, walking dogs, and in the Lovely Carla's case painting portraits.

Which is okay. Actually more than okay. It's been kind of great. Some how we've been able to keep our own little bubble afloat. We've been lucky. Something always seems to turn up just when things start looking dire.

In order to stay sane, I've basically broken my reality up into little increments - make coffee, check e-mail, make phone calls, walk a dog, play guitar, read a book, run on the lakefront, eat beans, make more phone calls, check e-mail again, eat more beans, read another book, play guitar some more, work on my next play, read the newspaper, write my blog, etc.

I do keep up on the global scene. Most of the news on that front is pretty grim. I break the grimness into increments too. That way it's all more digestible. Somehow we just have to be able to digest the whole thing. Without letting it choke us. I do believe it's possible.

Reality is consumable one little bite at a time...

National Wig and Bag

Every time I get stuck at the Howard El stop, waiting for a train, I look down from the platform and survey the street. It's one of those hard-luck avenues. You don't want to be down there by yourself on a cold December night. Unless of course you're looking for some cheap and illegal thrills.

Up on the platform, I always get a bird's eye view of the street. It's the best vantage point.

There is a store on the avenue called National Wig and Bag. I am fascinated by this store. I mean I have conjured up a product that is multi-purpose.

Wig and Bag

You know what I mean? One way it's a wig. And one way it's a bag. National Wig and Bag.

If you hold it upside down in your hand you can carry things in it. If you put it on your head it's a new look.

If the Lovely Carla is with me on the platform, I repeat the routine, as if for the first time, every time, like I never thought of it before. I have done this countless times. Whenever I'm stuck at Howard. Which is often. This is a great source of laughs. Always, every time. If not always for the Lovely Carla, at least for me.

One way it's a Wig! And. One way it's a Bag! It's National Wig and Bag!

A Time for Every Season

Snowflakes are falling. It always happens in these parts, this time of year. Sometimes I wonder why I live in a place where long cold winters are part of the drill. Days are short. Gray is the predominant color.

Born here is one reason, I guess. I've got some roots here. Not sure that really explains anything.

There are things I love about Chicago. It's a great theater town. And music town too. It's flat, in the middle of the country. And I guess there is something reassuring about going through the seasons.

Turn, turn, turn...

I usually do some of my best writing in the winter. A hot chocolate never tasted so good as when you come tramping in from a raging snow storm. There's actually almost a satisfaction that comes with over-coming the hostile elements.

I can be happy on a gray day. Now that's an accomplishment!

And then there's the lessons of nature. Everything will change. Maybe overnight. There's some kind of cycle. Death and renewal. There's possibility in that. And I guess that's good.

Basking

We played a rock show last night. A nice club. Full of people. They listened. Very satisfying. The greatest feeling in the world.

Still basking in the sunny glow this morning.

They tell us that a big snowstorm is coming to the city today.

Let it come down!

Love and Truth

Yes, Slumdog Millionaire really is a great movie. It's does everything a rousing, feel good movie should do. It's a fairy tale in the best sense. Danny Boyle has made an extraordinary film. The look and feel is amazing. You leave the theater thinking yes, maybe LOVE AND TRUTH can carry the day.

I believe...

We are not two we are one...

Turkey day. I avoided the bird. I ate a Turkey roast made out of mushrooms. Mushrooms?! That's right, mushrooms. It was quite good. Throw in some vegetarian gravy, a healthy dollop of mashed potatoes, some mixed vegetables and it was quite the feast. I brought over one of my favorite movies, Darjeeling Limited for the family to see.

It's one of those movies that makes me laugh, makes me cry, and makes me marvel at how good a filmmaker is Wes Anderson. It features a wonderful Kinks song called "Strangers." I do think it is a wise film. For me it is quite transcendent. I couldn't find the Kinks clip on YouTube, I guess copyright issues, but here are the lyrics to the song and a nice clip from the movie.

Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one

How Sweet it Is!

It is so sweet to see the mendacious idiots (they know who they are) swimming in their own feeble idiot-hood.

How sweet it is.

Happy Thanksgiving!

"Get right with God." - Lovely Carla

I've been listening to lots of music on my iPod. I've loaded up full discs from the Beatles, Sigur Ros, Dylan, Neil Young, Arcade Fire, Sparklehorse, Rolling Stones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Patti Smith, Radiohead, My Bloody Valentine, Nine Inch Nails, Van Morrison, Dire Straits, Jeff Beck, Jimi Hendrix, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Flaming Lips, Santana, Bruce Springsteen, The Who, Sonic Youth, Drive By Truckers and U2.

It's weird what you pick and choose. There's something about the intimacy of iPod. It is a very different listening experience. And since it's so small, you can take it anywhere, so it's like having a constant soundtrack to my life. I'm sort of in a rambling, shambling Wes Anderson or Martin Scorcese flick.

Short on plot, heavy on character, and odd situations.

Anyway, I loaded up U2's disc "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb." It has never been one of my favorites, (seemed too poppy, too lightweight) but over time it has really grown on me. I always loved the title, and the first song, "Vertigo," is one of their great pop singles.

Now after about 15 listens or so, I've come to love the whole thing. I realize (okay I was slow on the uptake) it's "spiritual" music. Bono is usually singing about God, and although you might think that's a little pretentious, he usually does it with maximum style, grace and panache. Plus the band is superb. This is excellent, mature, richly realized music from probably the best band ever to emerge from the Emerald Isle.

The music is uplifting, exhilarating...a strange feeling is creeping over me...

Pure Madness

I do think our global financial system is pure madness. It wasn't totally apparent for a long time. There were hints along the way. Then it started to become clear that money was being created out of thin air.

And one day everyone woke up and realized that air really wasn't the best collateral. And some bills finally do come due.

How much of our wealth has been built on an airy fiction? Trillions and trillions. Weird.

It's also clear that our way of life, especially here in America is totally unsustainable. Our planet can't survive it. Or at least all the living things on the planet can't survive it.

And now it's just so strange to watch the scrambling going on. Trying to re-inflate the balloon. The more re-inflating, the more crazy it all seems.

I suppose this is an opportunity to re-make the world. I suppose...

My Humongous

I received an e-mail message this morning from Christine Dunham. I don't know Christine. Here's what she had to tell me:

Beyond question, any woman will be 100 surprised with your humongous.

Just imagine! It will be overly easy!

LUCKYBIG.COM

I Googled LUCKYBIG (I mean, hell, can you blame me - it will be overly easy!) and the first thing that came up was Strapya World. Seems Strapya World sells an amazing lucky charm called Golden Big Excrement.

"In Japan Excrement is called Unko."

Wow, there truly is an amazing world of wonders out there!

Euphoria Surfing

I've been riding waves of euphoria the last few days. It's kind of an unnatural state. How long can I stay up on the surf-board?

The ocean of our world is a churning mass. We asked for CHANGE. And it looks like we've got more change coming than we bargained for. I see this as a good thing.

I mean it's gonna be a wild ride.

What happens when we get what we've asked for? Some problems are resolved, and new ones are introduced.

This morning before coffee the Lovely Carla and I laid in bed, the morning sun streaming through the windowpane.

"Living with lies causes pain."

"Living with the truth causes pain too."

"It's a pain thing."

"Yeah."

So Bad, It's Really, Really Good!

I don't know if this makes any sense, or not, and that's okay, I'm used to it.

There seems to be some strange calculus we live by. Really bad things happen, or we lose someone or something, and then by some weird inverse calculation, we realize how precious some people and things are and this loss or defeat, leads to some kind of breakthrough, or enlightenment.

The list of really important things kind of gets smaller. And amplified.

Our experience and understanding deepens. So by losing we gain.

So sometimes the pain wakes us up from the numb zombie state that descends upon us as we navigate through the swamps of human existence.

So by this calculus bad shit can lead to good times. An accumulation of bad shit can open a door to euphoria. Dealing with real scumbags can open us to the uncommon beauty of humanity.

What a strange alchemical process. And by that calculus, it seems at this particular time and place, I have never had it so good.

Somali Pirates Hi-jacked My Imagination

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I've been hi-jacked by Somali Pirates. I guess I'm pleased to find that there is still room for Pirates in our world. This is sort of reassuring, or maybe kind of disturbing, or unexpected, and I guess that's okay.

I first read Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island, when I was 10 years old. The first story I ever wrote was a Pirate story.

Then I saw the 1934 Wallace Beery flick and I thought he was a great Long John Silver. Then there was the great Errol Flynn and the equally great Basil Rathbone in Captain Blood ("Up that rigging, you monkeys! Aloft!").

Lately Johnny Depp has taken a whirl. Lots a swash, and a heck of a lot of buckling too. I mean Depp is great, but he sort of reminds me of just the most foppish member of a band like Motely Crue. Or maybe not like Motley Crue, I mean Motley Crue.

When it comes down to it, I think Wallace Beery and Basil Rathbone are my favorite Pirates. Maybe just a little grittier and supremely odd-ball characters. They didn't just act that way, they were born that way.





Here's the final duel between Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone in Captain Blood. I always rooted for Basil to somehow pull this one out. Anyway what a way to go!

Shoes...

I'm waiting for the next shoe to drop. And really, I wonder, how many shoes are there out there anyway? Can we expect a torrential downpour of shoes?

And then what? Are socks next? And then is it just a bunch of naked feet up there? Is that when we finally get Peanut Butter Jelly Time?

Shoe-less and Sock-less?

What's gonna happen next???

Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy...

It's over. That's the Trifecta.

I must remark on the passing of the Jimi Hendrix Experience. It was the greatest power trio in rock and roll. Slapped together by Chas Chandler. It featured the greatest rock guitarist ever hatched. He was a lefty who played his Stratocaster guitar backwards, strings reversed. He'd play the thing behind his head, with his tongue, his teeth. He made it all look so damn fluid and easy. The guitar was an extension of his being. It was his one trusted friend.

Hendrix started in the USA on the Chitlin Circuit. He honed his chops playing with Little Richard and James Brown. He was kicked out of one band after another because he'd end up upstaging the bandleaders.

Anyway, this master trickster, part Cherokee, a boundary-crosser, ventured to London and got matched up with two lilly-white Englishmen. Noel Redding on bass, Mitch Mitchell on drums. With a little help, all three sported excellently improbable Afros.

The rest as they say is history. Hendrix flamed out first. Early. Redding next. And then finally, recently, Mitchell. What an amazing trio. Check this clip out. The Experience plays for German Youth in 1967. Watch the Kinders try to dance to Purple Haze.

It's almost like some psychedelic alien band touched down on planet earth to show the humans what kind of music they played in another galaxy. What a psychedelically joyous noise.