The Devil...

Speaking of the Devil (see previous post). They say the Devil is in the details, or the Devil is in the Woodpile. I forget where I read it, but you know, God gets all that attention: praising, beseeching, petitioning, and fluffing. But the Devil? Well, he's just hanging out, biding his time, polishing his nails, waxing his tail, killing time, knowing that the world is gonna come knocking on his door. The Devil doesn't need all that praise, and glory, nope, he's got all the time in world. And he knows the world will come to him sooner or later. They say the Devil's best trick is convincing everyone that he doesn't really exist. Ha. Maybe it's silly to believe in the Devil? You know it makes the Universe look like a cheap action flick, God vs. Devil played out across the ages, but it would explain things. It would be a neat way to account for all the fuckups, the chaos, the pain and suffering. We wouldn't need blame it all on God. You know the Devil has hand. He's evil and bad, that's just the way he rolls.  Just look around  you, my friend, the Devil's got the world on a string!

An Improbable Sentence...

I swear this is true...

I was riding my bike on the lakefront yesterday afternoon. I passed a man walking with a baby in a stroller, he was talking into his iPhone. The sentence that caught my attention:

 
"The Devil has a hold of my family, and ALL OF MY FRIENDS!"

What can a Humble Pilgrim say?! Yikes!

Good Question...

My friend yesterday: "Why can't everything be good?"

Ha. Good question. It's just not that kind of Universe. You want everything to be "peaches and cream," smooth, easy, happy, friendly. Good intentions, good outcomes.

But that isn't the "way of the world." Chaos is in-built. Fuck-Ups are part of the fabric of the Universe. 

In the Human Realm: Everyone has their reasons and seasons. Not everyone sees the world the same way. Not everyone is on the same wavelength, not everyone wants the same thing. There are the clashes, the skirmishes, the fuck-ups, the contradictions, the fights, the tussles, the competing craziness of competing visions.

We are all such emotional hurricanes. Swirling storms inside. There is always the insistent needing, wanting, grasping. We all think we are the center of the Narrative, maybe even the Center of the Universe. But, of course, we are not.

Sometimes it's hard to understand our own motivations, much less someone else's. We are often shooting in the dark. Stumbling, around. A game of "Blind Man's (and Woman's) Bluff." We have to do our best. And then damn the torpedos. Those torpedos will come, no doubt. Good intentions, or not. As "they" say: "The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions."

Buzzing...

Plowing ahead. That is it. We all have a row to hoe. We have to get to it. No sense in asking the bigger questions. Oh, ok, you can do that too when you take a break. Questions like clouds above our heads: "What's it all about?" But, finally, the questions don't really need to be answered. Answers seems in short supply. Plowing, hoeing, keep a going. You know like a busy bee.  Buzzing around, doing your thing.

"Carry on My Wayward Son..."

Ah... well... if you are still breathing, and still kicking down the cobblestones, feeling groovy, or not, you just need to get on with it. Get onto the next thing. That's the thing. Being onto the next thing. Hopefully, it's something fun and cool, but there are no guarantees, and if it's not all that fun and cool, too bad, your mission is to do your best with what you have at hand. No complaining, no hesitating. Feet first, elbows flying, carry on!

A Day of Surly...

It doesn't happen often, and I can't really explain it, (although maybe the previous posts are a clue), but I was in a dark cloud of surliness all day yesterday. A surly human being. You know, it just descended upon me. I walked thru the day, did everything I had to do, but I could not shake that surliness. What is sort of funny, the surlier I was, the friendlier everyone around me became. Folks greeted me with kind words, smiles, polite gestures. I just kept up my quiet attitude of surly. A line kept floating in my head: "he's not shy, he's an asshole." Weird. Funny. This a.m. that feeling has evaporated. I have cleared the decks. The surliness is gone, and now replaced with a calm, sunny emptiness. 

Wake Up Species!

The coffee is doing it's thing this Monday morning. Time for a Pep Rally for the Species...

Oh Dear Human Beings, we can do so much better. We are such a disappointment. Sure, we have had our moments, but we are failing the Life-Supporting, Interconnected Ecosystem (see previous post), and that pretty much poisons the whole stew.

What a freaking un-edible mess. Can we pull our heads out of our greedy, stupid, selfish asses? I don't rightly know. It's not looking good. Time is ticking away. It makes one want to abdicate from the Human Species, but it's not really possible. We are stuck. We are all in it together. We are all responsible, we all have blood on our hands. 

Fuck. Wake Up Species! 

We Are Murdering the Ecosystem...

Just a quick note this A.M. 

It seems like the whole planet is on fire. Human Beings seem to be at war with the inter-connected, life-supporting ecosystem that has helped birth us, and has kept our species thriving over many generations.

Why would we destroy the beautiful, bounteous and generous, life-giving ecosystem that supports all Life on our little blue planet? I suppose we can blame GREED, the Industrial Revolution, Capitalism, STUPIDITY, SELFISHNESS, and maybe even a sort of self-generated DEATH-WISH?

It is ironic that our addiction to burning fossil fuels (the extinct and long-dead Dinosaurs that liquified below the Earth's Crust), is hurtling our species, and all other species on the planet, to it's own fiery extinction. Revenge of the Dinosaurs! "Climate Change," doesn't quite capture it. We are murdering the Ecosystem.

Who is responsible? Each and everyone of us, every Human Being on the planet.  It is a collective thing. Our Species is GUILTY of Crimes against Humanity and all Life. Yikes! That is a heavy burden to bear, but bear it we must. I wonder if we can come up with some Miracle Cure? A Deus Ex Machina to save the Ecosystem and our own sorry asses? It's looking quite dicey this morning.

The Doing...

What next?!

Let's just say you had a magnificent r&r show on a Weds night. Everything clicked. The large and enthusiastic audience was with you and your r&r band for every moment of the night. Playing music was sort of like a vortex, concentrating & conducting the energy of the whole room. Magic was in the air. And as Keith Haring once wrote in his Journals: "Magic must win." Yes, indeed.

Post-show accolades. Folks wildly complimentary. Folks bowled over by our band, our music, the vibes we conjured up. Pretty damn remarkable. You wish you could bottle that energy, those vibes, but of course, you can't. We glowed for a couple days afterwards. Floating on a cloud, but at the same time emptied, spent. We put so much work into making that night a success, so much promotion, talking, thinking, working, planning, wishing, hoping. Gigs like that don't come around that often.

No fuckups. That was good. What next?! Keep doing the thing we do. Back to the rehearsal room, back to our instruments, back to writing and playing new songs. Thinking about booking time in a recording studio. We are going to start visiting some recording studios this next week. We have an album's worth of unrecorded songs we need to track.

The doing. That's only thing to do. The only thing we can do. The doing.

Violated his Oath of Office...

Vice Chair Liz Cheney: "Donald Trump made a purposeful choice to violate his oath of office."

Yeah. We tuned into the live January 6th Hearing last night. We wanted to see and hear it first-hand for ourselves. It was a slog. All the most devastating testimony from these hearings has been from Republicans who worked for #45 the Nauseous, Gaseous Dirigible. Most of the folks who worked for the man should be ashamed of themselves. They have only reluctantly, and under oath and cross-examination revealed the lawless, unconstitutional failure of the former President, who was committed to doing pretty much any atrocity to try to stay in power. There was a plan, and #45 was the director and instigator of that plan. So many of the folks who worked for him in his administration just either did his bidding, or quietly looked away. Finally, when the Capitol was being over-run, cops were being beaten bloody, folks were being maimed and even killed, finally a few folks spoke up, pleaded with #45 to stop the violence, and then, and only then, decided to resign. It was only AFTER it was obvious that the Attempted Coup failed that a few of these folks jumped ship. Most of them remained silent. WTF?! What to think of it all? What a fucking plague and scourge. Our former President is a Coward, a Bully, a Liar, a Criminal, a Traitor to USA and the Constitution. He disgraced himself and everyone who worked for him and enabled him. The case has been made. No doubt. Sure, the man still has devoted followers, they are truly the deluded, and the conned, and they are not Patriots, they are the worst of the worst amongst us, real, true enemies of America, the Rule of Law & Democracy. Those red-hatted MAGA folks have betrayed what truly makes America great.  They are  a clueless, lost DEATH CULT! What happens next? Who knows? The story is still being written, an accounting of the crimes and bad actors is still rolling out. There must be a reckoning. I do believe it is coming. I mean, sure the fuck hope so.

Affinities...

Well, well, well. 

My main co-creator & co-conspirator and I are a good match. We have some affinities: We both love ART, POETRY, MUSIC (she's a Chet Baker/Van Morrison/Yoko Ono girl, and I am a Dylan/Stones/Sigur Ros guy). We have written, acted in, and presented theatrical performances together. We also have a band. We write and sing songs together. She is a super-disciplined, perfectionist, I am sort a "shoot from the hip" spontaneous kind of creator. We both take a very intuitive approach. We are both super-dedicated to doing the good work. Creative, soulful, leaning to the light. We work well together. Different styles and approaches, but we mesh well. The two parts create a much greater whole. We are committed to the work, and to working together, we tend to bring out the best of each other. Surprisingly, we have attracted an amazing array of talented musicians to help us realize our vision with the band. Last night we played to a fabulous audience in a truly wonderful music room. Everything absolutely right. It was transcendent and beautiful. We live for those kinds of shows. There is nothing better than sending vibrations out into a room of an attentive and enthusiastic audience. Sometimes everyone in the room is alive, aware, & awake.

The Artist's Way...

Yes. Reading Keith Haring's Journals (see previous post) is so inspiring, & clarifying. I feel like in his journals he is totally, madly, truly, deeply, speaking my language. Obviously, he is now a long-gone world figure. A celebrated Artist. But even when he was just a kid, a student, a seeker, he already identified with a larger Artistic Community. This rings so true to me too. Even when I wasn't writing, acting, playing music, creating in some tangible way, I ALWAYS felt kindred spirits with the creators, the Artists, the Musicians, the Actors, Directors, Writers, the Poets, Dramatists, Dancers, etc. And it's true the folks who I have connected with most closely in my Life are folks who have a distinct Artistic Bent, folks who just happen to live THE ARTIST"S WAY. There is a passage in Keith's journals when he boldly states: "LIFE is ART," & "ART is LIFE." Yes, no doubt, exactly!

"The Arts of Hope."

Thanks to Maria Popova of "The Marginalia," I am reading Keith Haring Journals. Pretty inspiring.

Early on I came across these lines and of course, this is also how I have felt from a very, very young age: 

"Through all the shit, shines the small ray of hope that lives in the common sense of the few. The music, dance, theatre, and the visual arts; the forms of expression, the arts of hope." - Keith Haring  

"The Play" is Up to Us...

Yes. We tell ourselves stories. You know, we make little, personal myths out of our experiences. These don't have to be grand visions, just personal, closely-held narratives. They help us understand ourselves. And the world we inhabit. I do think telling stories is the best way of trying to make sense out of the events that make up our lives. There is drama & trauma. Wrong turns. Dead-ends. Major fuck-ups. Plus: fun times, profound epiphanies. Also: Strange trips, uncommonly great days, supremely absurd days too. And never forget: uncountable, non-revocable tragedies and losses. It all piles up. Event upon event. A long, strange trip, indeed. So, the triumph, sometimes a meager, small victory, is to just "tell the story." Live to tell the tale. It is rolling out day by day. And how we tell the story, and the story we want to tell  constantly morphs, evolves, grows, and changes. The past and what it tells us is always in the process of of changing. There is power in the narrative. We are the authors of our days. We aren't in control of "what happens," that is up to the fates and furies, the "slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune," but we are in control of deciding what it all means. We get to play the cards we are dealt. "The play" is up to us.

Being to the Max...

Maybe our task this time around on the planet is to discover who we are, and be that to the maximum? It sounds easy, but probably not. So many forces in the world influence our thoughts, feeling emotions. We have expectations and indoctrination from all quarters. Peer & family pressures. Schools, Culture. We are left with deep, foundational, existential questions that always seem to be in flux. What kind of life will we live? Who are we? What do we want to do with our time on the planet? And even as we try to discover who we are, we are in motion, always, changing, growing, morphing. 

It feels to me like there is a core, an inner space that we can think of as the "true self;" true face, true heart, true soul, true original essence. Is that right? I am not sure. Life does seem like a process of discovery. Discovery of our inner landscape, and the outer world too. Sometimes it seems inner & outer is just a fabrication, a tool for thinking, maybe a useful thought-train?

So yeah. Growing older, maybe we get more comfortable in our being, in being who we are, moment to moment. Not trying to prove ourselves, not trying to live up to someone's else's picture of what our lives should be. Just being. Totally. Truly, madly, deeply. Being to the max.

The Strange, Beautiful, & Incomprehensible...

Yes. You have a shimmering glimmer of "transcendence," (see previous post), but, you know, the Universe we live in is a strange, beautiful and incomprehensible mystery.  Check out the first images from the James Webb Space Telescope. We are moving targets in a Universe that is also a moving target. Not always easy to "get your bearings." There are these overwhelming and humbling immensities of SPACE & TIME that  dwarf us all, and you can't really get your head around them no matter how you try to make sense of them.

So, well, what to do? The sense of wonder rolls over you and you just have to get on with things. Yesterday, it was a rainy one, I found myself on a bicycle, slogging thru. That's part of it. The moments of transcendence are brief, yes, they are in my reservoir, but sometimes you just have to get from one place to another, you have to figure what's for lunch, it's "clean-up time" Friday, and you have to grab the broom and the mop, sweep and mop the floor. Slogging thru is part of the whole she-bang too.

Visions & Epiphanies...

Talking with a friend about "visions & epiphanies," you know, shimmering moments of transcendence. I have experienced a couple of these moments myself over the years. How to explain? Language fails. when I try to explain what I saw & felt & experienced, words seems so paltry and off-target. Let's just say I have had moments where everything in the Universe, including me, seemed connected, perfect, and in it's right place. No judgement, no fear, just total connection, good-feeling, well-being. I no longer felt alone in a cold uncaring Universe, no instead, I felt connected, alive and totally essential in a wondrous, amazing, welcoming and embracing Universe of Everything. Funny, these were not "bolt of lightening" experiences, they were small micro-moments, moments that totally overwhelmed me for a few seconds, flooded my being and then evaporated. I do carry the residue of those epiphanies with me. I know what I experienced was extraordinary, and they point to a profound place in my inner-being. I can call upon those moments any time. They exist like vaporous shadows, positive vibrations, with no physical reality, but maybe  a "spiritual" reality. I do think you can base a life upon those tiny moments. It's enough. I do believe.

A.M. Soundtrack - The Smith's "The Queen is Dead" (1986). A magnificent album, a magnificent band. "There is a light that never goes out..." - Morrissey.  Exactly!

Zen-Mode...

Zen.

After a flurry of activity, intense focus, worry, and a little of that over-stuffed "needing, wanting, grasping," I have entered a Zen haze of freedom & contentment. I have been working intensely on a project (to be unnamed, I don't want to jinx it), and well, it's not complete yet, but I have pretty much done all I can do, all the elements are in place for success, I have done the work, and finally, well, it's now basically all up to the fates and furies. Time to sit back and let it unfold.

I was attentively at the wheel, and then, I let go the wheel. I am in the letting go, letting it come down mode. Zen-like. A moment (will it last? probably not), of clarity and calm. Maybe calm before or after the storm, not sure. What happens next? Who knows. I wonder. I am filled with wonder. Empty too.

Stabbed in the Back by Grifters & Charlatans...

The Twilight of Democracy in USA?

I sure hope not. A long-time American here. As Springsteen sings it: Born in the USA. I've had many differences with the direction and policies of my Country over the years, but, no doubt, I am pleased that I was born and raised in a Country where I can speak and write freely, I can vote, I am relatively free to pursue a life of happiness, and a certain prosperity. A perfect Union? Far from it, more of a work in Progress, but I do believe in the Progressive March of Rights for all Human Beings, oh yeah, and our Interconnected Ecosystem too. American Democracy seems to me to be a valuable system worth keeping around.

This morning all of that seems in peril. Another BLOCKBUSTER January 6th Hearing yesterday. Did anyone say "Seditious Conspiracy?" It turns out our last Prez #45 was at the center of a coordinated effort to over-throw a free and fair election result. Such a sad and maddening collection of GOONS, Bad Actors, Evil Clowns. A murderous, armed and dangerous collection of thugs playing a game called Coup.  Fuck. Even as we saw it unfold that day, we didn't really get it.

Yesterday brought it all home in vivid color and detail. It all really, really, nearly happened.  Take it away Liz C.

Rep. Liz Cheney (R-Wyo.) - “President Trump is a 76-year-old man, he is not an impressionable child. Just like everyone else in our country, he is responsible for his own actions and his own choices. As our investigation has shown, Donald Trump had access to more detailed and specific information showing that the election was not actually stolen than almost any other American. And he was told this over and over again. No rational or sane man in his position could disregard that information and reach the opposite conclusion. And Donald Trump cannot escape responsibility by being willfully blind.”

Let me give the floor to Chris Krebs the former "Director of the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency in the United States Department of Homeland Security from November 2018 until November 17, 2020 when President Donald Trump fired Krebs for contradicting Trump's claims of election fraud in the 2020 presidential election."

To Grasp or Let Go?

To grasp or to let go?

It is a conundrum. 

Some days you just want to grab the day by the scruff of it's neck and make it dance. It's a bit of an act of violence, and forward-moving, and maybe counter-productive. It comes out of a desire to "make something happen." Sometimes you have this illusion, or is it delusion (?), that nothing happens without a nudge. Hard to tell if this has ever actually worked to your advantage, or not.  If you get in a reflective mood, you can review major events in your life and come to the conclusion that all your attempts at "making something happen," opened up nasty avenues and smelly cans of worms which you had to contend with. All your major "fuck-ups" usually emanated from this "making something happen," instinct.

But, you know, were those "fuck-ups" inevitable one way or another? Who knows? What's a life? A series of fuck-ups, car crashes, wrong turns, crushed dreams, stumbles in the dark? Yikes!

Other days you just want the day to wash over you. Bring what it may. The thought: "Whatever is gonna happen, is gonna happen, whatever isn't gonna happen, isn't gonna happen." It's sort of Zen, but it also feels like an abdication, a shrugging-off, a laziness in the face of the moment. But, you know, who knows? There seem to be forces greater than us. A movement, a momentum. Some folks speak of FATE, DESTINY, "everything is written." This idea we are in a grand narrative that is unfolding as it always was going to unfold. I guess in that narrative, we just ride the wave, pay attention to the unfolding, do our part in the moment.

Then again, maybe the Universe is just a long-form improvisation? There is a forward movement, but moment by moment is a toss of the dice. So you don't have a pre-determined script, but an never-ending stream of decision-points, a constant flow "This" or "That?"

Again, Yikes. Who knows? A conundrum. Life.

Happy Daze...

Yes, yesterday was a "happy day." We were in a happy, hippy-dippy, and trippy, daze over here. I don't want to over-sell it, you know, don't want to tempt the Furies, if we seem too happy, doesn't that mean the anvil of doom is soon to come down to crush us?

A happy day happened yesterday. What was the recipe? First, no plans, no expectations, no appointments, no place to be, nothing to do, except, whatever we wanted to do. "Kicking down the cobblestones, feeling groovy."  It also happened to be a sunny, blue sky day. Not too hot, quite pleasant, warm and breezy. The kind of day that caresses.

What did we want to do?

I worked on a new song, lyrics and chords, after coffee and a shower. Then a long, aimless meditation. An empty cup. We then went for a long, rambling bike ride on the lakefront. We sat under a shady tree, and watched the passing scene. Less talking and thinking, more sitting and watching.

One thing we have learned from the Covid Virus Lockdown Years, we can entertain ourselves by just existing in the moment. Fun and entertainment? Not all it's cracked up to be. Staying healthy, virus-free, walking, talking biking, sitting, watching the waves, smelling the roses, paying attention to the day with everything at hand is pretty damn amazing.

A happy cloud just sort of descends. 

We then had a fabulous, and simple, pasta dinner. Afterwards, I put my high-grade Grado headphones on, splayed out on the living room floor, and listened to my new favorite Dylan bootleg: "The Bootleg Series Vol. 16: Springtime in New York 1980–1985." Astonishing. Overwhelming. Fantastic. Inspiring. Dylan in the early eighties right is now my favorite Dylan. Surprising, revelatory. Some of the greatest songs Dylan ever wrote and recorded were never on an official release?! "Blind Willie McTell," "Foot of Pride," "Angelina," "New Danville Girl," I mean, holy shite!

Then we chilled out with some cold beverages and watched (again!),  P.T. Anderson's magnificent film: "Inherent Vice." (2014) So good, gets better every time we watch it. So vivid and detailed. Every scene is suffused with style & intelligence. Hilarious, entertaining, just masterful film-making, great soundtrack too. Every time those Neil Young songs ("Harvest" & Journey Thru the Past"), make their appearance my heart skips a beat. So, so good.

Then it was off to bed. We slept like happy little babies!

Avalanche Zen...

Avalanche Zen...

A few useful quotes this a.m. 

“You must pay attention as if you had a fire burning in your hair.” - Soto Zen teacher Taisen Deshimaru

“If you’re not nervous, you’re not paying attention.” - Miles Davis

“Experience is a series of nonfatal errors.” - Anonymous

"The avalanche will cover you in a very short time." - A Buddhist Source

“When a feeling reaches its highest pitch, we remain silent, even 17 syllables may be too many.” - D.T. Suzuki

Art & Light...

Gravitating to Art & Light...

Sure. That has been my modus operandi since a very, very young age. How to explain it? I don't know. An accident of birth and character? Early on I discovered I loved to read, I was pretty much hooked after sinking into Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island." Reading that novel fired up my imagination and transformed my life.

Ever since it has been a long road of reading, listening to music, playing music, writing plays, stories & poems, watching film, going to art shows and theater performances. Seeking the artistic insights anywhere I could. I always felt out of synch with the world around me. My tribe was always "other," some other place and time. There is a long list of artistic figures that loomed in my own personal mythology: Dylan, Van Gogh, Picasso, Warhol, Patti Smith, Kerouac, Lennon, Neil Young, Ray Charles, David Foster Wallace, Melville, Vonnegut, Bukowski, Howlin Wolf, Muddy Waters, Nick Cave, Sam Shepard, Jimi Hendrix, Henry Miller, Arthur Miller, Stanley Kubrick, John Huston, Miles Davis, Orson Welles, Shakespeare, John & Alice Coltrane, Da Vinci, Jean Genet, Duchamp, Yoko Ono, Samuel Beckett, Harold Pinter, Magritte, The Who, The Stones, The Kinks, Jeff Tweedy & Wilco.

You know, lots of folks made their mark on me, and continue to do so. I'm never alone. Never bored. Always inspired. I can easily go down the rabbit hole seeking Art and Light, and lose myself. Beautiful inspiration.

Finding Peace & Silence...

Mental Health break...

Yes. I do believe we all need one. Too much calamity, too much catastrophe, too much apocalyptic thinking. 

Yesterday, we decided to do one of our classic "sit-downs" by the lakefront. It is a habit we adopted during the depths of the pandemic lockdown days.

What is a "sit-down?" 

Stop by the local convenience store and purchase cold beverages. Bike over to the lakefront. Find a bench looking out towards the vast expanse of Lake Michigan. Depending on the day, you might pick a bench in the sunshine, or the shade, it all depends on the temperature, the tilt of the sun, the direction of the wind.

Yesterday we sat in the sunshine. A big, blue, glorious sky, with a few puffy, cotton-candy clouds above us. A refreshing breeze coming off the water. The beach alive with life. We sipped our beverages, we spoke of everything under the sun, but there were long stretches of silence too. Sometimes the best moments are when we just look out at the scene, take it all in, soak in it, without words, thoughts floating off and evaporating above us in the breeze.

We have convinced ourselves that these "sit-downs" are not just goofing-off, we aren't just being unproductive and lazy, we are  actually doing the important, essential, work: finding moments of peace & silence, absorbing the sights and sounds of a day. Living in the moment. Taking in Life too.

A certain, profound, Clarity sort of emerges unbidden; you let it rise up on it's own.

Yes, Of Course, It's the GUNS!

The nonsense-jabbering, right-wing apologists for the GUN LOBBY DEATH MACHINE want to point the blame anywhere but the guns. But of course, it is all about the guns...

When we talk about RED FLAG LAWS, am I the only one who thinks that owning & lusting after Assault Weapons is a major red flag in itself? If you are a Human Being who has convinced yourself you need to own Assault Weapons, you are exhibiting, manifesting an illness. Pretty simple and straight-forward.

A few pertinent questions from this amateur, self-educated "head-shrinker:"

Are you one of those folks (primarily, almost exclusively young, alienated USA males) hoarding and stockpiling Assault Weapons?

Do you fantasize about death and destruction? Do you get a dopamine kick firing off one of those weapons? Do you fantasize about the apocalypse? Of Jack-booted Authorities knocking at your door? Do you fantasize about a bloody race war in the streets of USA? Do you hate human beings? Do you hate yourself? Do you fantasize about killing yourself or others? Do you hate anyone different from you? 

There is a certain profile of an Assault Weapon Owner. Maybe there are some folks who just think those weapons are cool, but I think it is prudent to suggest that anyone attracted to those types of weapons are suspect. 

Like to get your kicks shooting big, ugly, destructive weapons? I suggest trying other hobbies. How about Frisbee? Hacky-sack? Shuffle-board?  Pick up a Les Paul Guitar and let it rip.  I mean, fuck, get a life. 

Love & Death...

We often talk of Eros the Greek god of love and sex. But we don't often talk of Thanatos the personification of death.

Human Beings acting horrifically makes me fall back on my studies of Psychology. I think of Sigmund Freud:

"According to Sigmund Freud, humans have a life instinct—which he named "Eros"—and a death drive, which is commonly called (though not by Freud himself) "Thanatos". This postulated death drive allegedly compels humans to engage in risky and self-destructive acts that could lead to their own death. Behaviors such as thrill seeking and aggression are viewed as actions which stem from this Thanatos instinct."

It is not surprising that the suspected shooter in the latest atrocity had suicidal thoughts, and nihilistic tendencies. Being attracted to Assault Weapons, by and of itself, seems sort of sick. A sickness in the psyche. There is no reason to horde such weapons, except as some performative desire to wreak great havoc and death on themselves, and other Human Beings.

It is easy to find "defective" human psyches in our world. Seems the world can easily "hack" a psyche. And sometimes it's even an organized activity,  for instance, see the US Marines, and Stanley Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket."  How to make a clean-cut kid into an efficient killing machine? Seems it is not that hard.

So yeah, what to do? You can't ban troubled Human Beings, but you can easily ban & confiscate Assault Weapons. All it takes is a bit of common sense and political will. Love & Death.

USA = Failing Miserably...

They call them "Mass Shootings." They happen in the USA quite frequently. 

You know, Anywhere USA. Any town, any village, any street, any grocery store, any parking lot, any Church, School, Office, Warehouse, Club, etc.  It always happens here.  

We have insanely loose gun laws. Weapons of War and Mass Destruction are easily available to Anyone, Anywhere in the Land of the Free and Brave. It is a scourge, a plague, a madness of our Culture. We all have failed; as a society, a culture, a nation. There is no excuse for not doing a better job of reining in the madness.

This latest July 4th Mass Shooting hit close to home. We live on the "North Shore" of Lake Michigan; this one was just few towns over, and the whole day had a black cloud over it. As President Joe said yesterday, after the latest mass shooting in Highland Park, IL:  it is an "Epidemic of gun violence."

Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker: "Our founders carried muskets, not assault weapons, and I don’t think a single one of them would have said that you have a constitutional right to an assault weapon with a high-capacity magazine."

A sad day. No celebration here. Events like this, which happen pretty every freaking day are so disheartening, discouraging. Tragic. Human Beings in USA, you are failing miserably...

A Magnificent Green Canopy...

Summertime in the Heartland. We had a day off, (rare), and we spent most of it under a group of shady trees on the lakefront. Under a magnificent green canopy that reached up improbably sky-high. Little birdies flitting from branch to branch. A warm, sunny day, not a cloud in the big blue sky. A cool breeze off the lake, which was alive with swimmers, sailboats, jet-skis, human beings at play and leisure. The flickering little Emerald City, downtown Chicago, in the distance, tiny looming towers, looking like little tinker-toys. A blanket spread out on the ground, our bikes splayed out in the grass; we ate falafel sandwiches, wrapped grape leaves, pita bread and baba ghanoush. A feast of delight. We were off the clock, time stood still. Surrounded by life: couples in love, babies in strollers, little doggies on leashes, families gathered for fun and frolic. Long, lazy conversation, aimlessly flitting from topic to topic. Landing on nothing. Floating in place. It really did seem like Summer. A day in the life. 

Super-Flawed Human Beings, Being Human...

Way back there, in my past, I attended college and got a degree in Psychology. I was not the greatest student, I only applied myself to things that tickled my fancy. Discipline, at that time, was not one of my strengths. Goofing off. That I was quite good at.

I do think studying Psychology was one of the most important things I ever did. I started out as an English Major, thinking I was somehow furthering my chances of becoming a writer, but then on a whim, I jumped into Psychology, thinking that if I was going to be writer, I really needed to understand what made Human Beings tick. 

I came away thinking that Psychology was more of an Art than a Science, it was another realm where Humans were fumbling about, trying to make sense of things, but I did learn some useful concepts and ideas. I was especially inspired by Freud & Jung. Not sure I  came away with any better understanding of what makes Human Beings tick, but I had a few more tools in my kit-bag to keep on the search. Turns out we are not "Clockwork Oranges." We are tricky, contradictory, inspiring and often horrifying beings. There are no Saints, or Monsters amongst us, just super-flawed Human Beings, being Human. We are a very capable and mischievous Species that has become a great threat to all Life on the Planet.

And that is the Great Narrative. And all History, Art, Culture, Science, Politics, Commerce, you know, all Human activity on this little spinning globe is just Human Psychology played out across time. It's a weird-ass story with Billions upon Billions of Humans living, procreating, and dying, and seeding the next generations.

Where am I going with this? I have no idea.  I am just a Human Being typing words into a blank space. Making a mark, like footprints in the sand.  I really don't know what makes me tick. I am always trying to be onto the next thing. To keep myself occupied and hopefully, inspired. I do hear a faint, tick, tick, tick in the back of my head.  Time slipping, ticking away. The Human Being Story is just a story, a story about time and Human Beings doing their very Human Thing. Hope it all works out, but not exactly sure what that means...

A Pack of Jackels...

Early morning, when I am still in bed, the sun is peeking over the horizon, a new dawn, I am in a sort of "quasi-dream-state," or at least that's how it seems to me.  This is the time when I get weird messages,  dead pets call out to me, I have fractured conversations with long-gone relatives, and voices of folks from my past float into my head. I get assigned missions ("Your mission is to document catastrophic minds in catastrophic times..."), I get weird advice ("Float!"), sometimes Zen Koan-style phrases show up. "The good man does good, the bad man does bad. Be good."

This morning, I swear, a pack of vocalizing Jackels* passed by my window. They were yipping, yapping and chattering, maybe baying for blood or action?! I'm not sure. I take it as a dark omen. Lately, everything seems like CALAMITY. It is all a Waring-Blender of swirling, contradictory emotions. Hanging on. Trying my best to be my best. I take the messages and omens, and try to add them to my reservoir of intelligence. I believe in dreams and omens and secret messages. It's all part of the tapestry of existence.

* Update: I told my companion about my "dream-state-pack-of-Jackels," she corrects me: "Those weren't Jackels, those were Hell-Hounds!"  Holy Shite. I think she's right. Yikes!

The Extreme is Swallowing Us All Up...

You'd sort like to be happily moderate in the way you live, but, you know, catastrophic times call for catastrophic minds. We are in the midst of so many calamities, and they are all unfolding simultaneously. The center will not hold, nope, it is collapsing in on itself. No point in being moderate when the extreme is swallowing us all up.

Still reeling from the last January 6th Hearing (see the June 29 post).

It turns out that our ex-Prez #45, the Nauseous, Gaseous Dirigible thinks of himself as an American Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Attila the Hun, Mussolini or some other delusional strong-man. He actually wanted to cling to power at all costs and a clutch of sniveling, boot-licking lackeys went right along with him. He envisioned standing with the Mob on January 6th, and egging on the crowd to stop the Certification of the Vote, to occupy the Capitol, to "hang Mike Pence," and, I suppose, declare himself America's New FASCIST Leader For Life.

It sounds crazy, right? Even typing those sentences seems extreme. But, you know what? That is pretty much the story. WTF. It all came awfully close to happening too. It failed. Just barely. Luckily, Gaseous' Storm-Trooper Secret Service Agents spirited him away, maybe for his own saftey?! The mob was left to fend for themselves, while Gaseous, back at the White House, fumed and raged at the TV. And immediately after the "failed coup,"" Gaseous pretended it didn't really happen at all. It must have been that mythical beast ANTIFA who created the ruckus. He told us all not to believe our eyes, our ears, our senses five. And his rabid, murderous, crazy-ass, MAGA-Hatted followers just went along with the whole fucked up charade. 

It is only now, in these Hearings, that the true, sordid tale is being told. Yikes. Super-Yikes. Catastrophic times, indeed.  And, well, I mean, What to do? Of course, we have not heard all the evidence, there is much more to come,  other witnesses, other testimony, I hate to jump to end of the saga, but catastrophic times call for extreme measures, and  it seems that all corrupt roads lead to one Nauseous, Gaseous Dirigible. I know it seems so "third-world, banana republic" of us,  and of course, Gaseous still needs to be charged and tried, but the state of the state of the ship of state is what it is. We are all sinking into the extreme mire...