Old Testament Biblical...

Yikes. It has all gone Old Testament Biblical on us now. Plagues, floods, rain of frogs, burning bushes, hell-fire, dogs walking backwards, Human Beings praying to the skies for some relief, and a cold, uncaring Higher Power looking down on the stupid Human Beings with stony-eyes. Yikes. I do think we have "cooked our own goose."  Earth's Vital Signs are Going Haywire.

We have done this to ourselves. No doubt. Yesterday, toxic unbreathable air here in the Heartland, you know, this used to be the land of green-grasses, rolling hills, flower-dotted meadows, the bread-basket for many: corn, wheat, soybeans, etc. Now it's drought, super-humid, boiling-hot, folks are asked to stay inside. I was out and about. It was kind of eerie. The streets were deserted, the air had a toxic-orange tint. I had a bandana around my mouth, an echo of the pandemic lockdown months.

This is not what were thinking when we talked about looking forward to Summer. If it's bad here, we hear that it's worse in other parts of the USA. Yep. We are all connected, everything counts, and now there are consequences to our mindless, all-consuming, don't give fuck, approach to our life-supporting-interconnected, ecosystem. Gaia is under assault, she is a patient with all her vital signs going South. What's that scary phrase you once heard in a hospital: A CASCADE OF FAILURE!

What's next? One of my favorite phrases: A change of consciousness can happen in an instant. There is a smidgen of Hope in that idea. One day Human Beings wake up and realize that everything must change, now. Could that day be coming? Who knows?! It's a bit too toxically-smoky to see what's ahead.

A Slender Thread...

Apocalyptic thinking...

It has always been with us. "The End is Near." Always. Of course, the end is near for all of us. Every day, every era. All the time. Individually the end is just a stilled-heartbeat away.

And those grand Apocalyptic narratives have always been with us too, at least since we could tell each other stories around a campfire. And don't forget that over-heated, over-stuffed, over the top, pretty implausible scenario played out in the Book of  Revelations in the Bible.

Maybe Human Beings have a strange attraction to Apocalyptic stories? Maybe it's similar to the attraction we have to Horror Movies?

Is it fun to be scared? Maybe, if you know it's NOT real. But if it all gets too real, then not so fun. The last few days the air itself is dangerous to our health. Forest fires raging out of control miles away, turning the air into a toxic cloud. Apocalyptic, no doubt.

The Climate Catastrophe is here. It is sort of an apocalypse for our lovely Gaia.  Our Earth Goddess is under threat from Human Beings. It's a sad story. You wonder how it will all play out? 

Will we all wake-up in time and change our ways? At the moment, it's doesn't look likely. In the madness & the idiocy of the times, it seems we are doubling down on the madness and the idiocy. 

I cling to a slender thread of optimism. Not sure how, or why. I guess it's in my nature. But Bad Times are here for sure. Hiding from the day, and the air itself, isn't really an option. So we go forth, and hope for a better day, a better way.

We Didn't Prevent, We Must Adapt...

One of my "mystical insights," yes, I have had a few, is that "everything is connected" / "everything counts." I say mystical insight, because these ideas came to me in a state of heightened awareness, a state where it seemed these things were revealed to me, and I lived them, not that I just made them up myself. Now, of course, I could be mistaken, maybe I did make it all up, but, you know, you experience the experience you experience.

Yesterday, that insight was in the air. Literally, in the air, and all around us. The daylight was dimmed, the temps dipped, the air-quality was rated "bad, dangerous, extremely unhealthy."  Suddenly breathing itself was a dangerous thing. Distant forest fires raging in Ontario, Canada, meant smoky, toxic, air-currents here in a small town on the shores of Lake Michigan.

Usually the air-currents coming from the North are cooler, clearer, invigorating. Yesterday they were stifling, oppressive, unhealthy. I did my usual rounds, navigated the day, in a sort of dizzy haze. Yikes. Welcome to the new normal. Yes. Of course. This is all a result of our Human-Made-Climate-Catastrophe. Anyone telling you otherwise is an Idiot.

A friend on the sidewalk told me her little home-town in Texas was experiencing 120 degree temps yesterday. Another sign. Connected. Right?!  Sure. 

Some folks just ignored it all. They buried their heads in the toxic clouds. Some of us were consumed by sadness and wonder. "Maybe someone should do something?" "How could we let this happen?" "Who knew?" We all knew. And we let it come down anyway. We didn't PREVENT  and now we have to ADAPT. We trashed the place, and now we all must cope with it.

We truly are the Tricky Monkeys. TRICKED!

Progress...

Progress. 

I was debating the merits & the delights of Everything-Bagels and English-Muffins, and which was better than the other, in this post. I have come to the realization that one doesn't need to choose one over the other. One can choose both. One way to solve the conundrum. That has been my aim and method lately. One of each for breakfast. Yes. Sure. Why not? 

Also, after my traumatic bike calamity a couple weeks ago, I finally consummated the trade. I traded in my Ferrari of a bicycle for a Toyota Corolla of a bicycle. It feels so good. An end to a debacle. They were all so very helpful and kind at the bike shop, they basically gave me a full trade-in, I think they too realized I was a danger to myself and to others with that flashy, light, lightening-fast bicycle. So yes, my new wheels and bike frame are heavier, bulkier, more substantial, I now own an ultimate cruiser. 

Feeling better too this a.m. Listening to my body. It is in the process of healing. Which is always amazing. The healing and regenerating powers of the human body are a pretty amazing phenomenon. The last few days in the heartland there is a bit of humidity in the air, and that too seems to help minimize the stiffness of my limbs. Every day feeling a bit better.

I am also practicing what I preach. I am using Arnica to treat my wounds. I am a big believer in the healing power of Arnica gel and cream. I always recommend it to friends and family. Is it all in my head? Is this healing just the placebo effect in action? It is a funny question. Am I healing because I think this useless thing is helping my body heal? To me it points to the power of positive thinking, and how mind/body is one thing. So, yeah, in my experience using Arnica seems to help me in the healing process. So I use it thinking it will help me heal, and, in fact, I do heal, so, you know, whatever?! I mean, it doesn't seem to have any side-effects, so why not?! Maybe it really is a miracle cure?

Music therapy helps too. It's another one of my go-to remedies. Yesterday, late afternoon, a cloudy, slightly-rainy day, I put on my audiophile headphones and submerged into my favorite Flaming Lips albums: Embryonic, The Soft Bulletin, American Head. They are wonderful universes of uncommon  sound. Lots of ear candy floating around in the joyous, over-stuffed, and head-turning, mixes. The Lips are one of the great American bands, no doubt. Creative, trippy, funny, soulful. Their music is powerful, enthralling and engaging. I do believe just by listening, by tuning into these beautifully conceived albums that I am healing myself: heart, head, spirit. Moment to moment. Even if it's all just voodoo, you know, who cares, it seems to work. That's the power of creativity, music & art.

Yes. Progress, indeed.

Staring Off...

Yesterday, we did a little variation of our practice of staring off. Often we find ourselves, my companion and I, on a bench staring off into the great wavy distance of Lake Michigan. It is an activity we adopted and perfected during the Covid-Lockdown months, and well, we have kept up the practice to this day. It's one of our favorite things to do. It really resembles complete goofing off, but, we have come to think of it as essential, important, spiritually re-enforcing, and life-enriching. Sitting on a bench becomes this sort of sacred ritual. We attend to the trees, the breeze, the light, the waves, the human beings of every kind on the path, all floating by like the never-ending river of unrelenting humanity. A rainbow coalition of beings. If you sit in one place long enough, it really does feel like the whole world will come to you and float past you.

Yesterday, we tried something different. We rode our bikes to a shady spot in the park, we found some still sort of green-grass, spread out a blanket, laid back and watched the passing clouds over-head. We reminded each other that we used to do this all the time when we were kids. It was fascinating. Really. There were dark clouds, light clouds, blue sky, all in a dance. There was big wavy tree adding to the excitement too. Sometimes it looked the clouds were moving across the sky, and sometimes it looked like the tree was moving and the clouds were still. It was entertaining and disorienting. We sipped Kombucha drinks and talked about everything, and nothing, under the sun and shade. It was quite the thing. Seems we have become experts at staring off into distances, doing nothing, and by that doing nothing, doing something.  Funny, relaxing, fulfilling & cool. Quite exciting, and fun, too. I am not kidding.

Life-Affirming Moments of Life...

This is how it feels to this Human Being...

A Spiritual Entity, alive in a Material Body, Living in the Material World. Yes Spirit seems real. And all the material that makes up our analog world is real too. 

Yesterday we were alive in the big city. We did the train-to-train-trek, and wandered the sunny sidewalks. Everything was beautiful, vibrant, alive. Three-Dimensional. Maybe even Four-Dimensional. Even the pavement, the city street corners were dazzling and pulsed with energy. We were so in-tune with the day it was almost heart-breaking. When you are in-tune, the moments of a day can be stunningly gorgeous.

We trekked to the Music Box Theatre in Chicago, an extraordinary play-land. A mid-afternoon movie on a summer day. It felt like luxury. A beautiful, shining movie-palace. A throw-back to an era when movies were big, and the only way to take them in was on a big screen. The Music Box is a true Chicago treasure. New, plush seats, a spic & span lobby. A bounty of concessions. Lively, thriving, fun. 

And don't forget the Music Box Organ and House Organist Denis Scott:   "The current instrument uses state of the art digital sampling to realistically recreate the sound of the theatre pipe organs of the 1920s. It was custom designed by house organist Dennis Scott and built by his husband Thom Day. The console you see is from an original Kimball pipe organ built in Chicago in 1929, the year the Music Box opened. It has twenty four audio channels. Twelve 200 watt per channel stereo amplifiers send signals to ten speakers in the left (main) chamber and fourteen speakers in the right (solo) chamber. There are individual samples of every pipe, percussion and sound effect, all carefully voiced and balanced for the room."

Amazing. And thrilling. Just sitting in your seat, listening to the organ, waiting for the film to start, is a real kick in the pants. And what did we see? "Asteroid City," Wes Anderson's latest film. Funny. Beautiful. Inspiring. Inventive. Dazzling. Quirky. Cool. My friend and I noticed that much of the audience looked like characters in a Wes Anderson film. Maybe that included us too. The fiercely creative spirit of the film was reflective of the creative spirit of the audience. 

Afterwards, satisfied and happy, we trekked back home, it was still a day. We got on our bikes and took a long ride on the lakefront. It was over-stuffed with humans of every kind. We found a quiet spot on a little grassy hill and watched the big, beautiful, lake, surging with energy, dotted with sailboats. They looked like toys, floating in a massive body of water.

Later, in the evening, when we hit the pillows, we both remarked how time had pretty much crawled along all day. Moment to moment to moment. The moments each alive and discrete, revealing their bounty and treasure. Second by second. Yeah. Really. Spiritually fulfilling. That was pretty cool. Life-affirming too. It was a very good day floating thru the moment to moment as a Spiritual Being Living in the Material World.

Wild News From Russia...

Oh my goodness. 

Wild news from Russia. Looks like a mutiny. A Russian Mercenary Army in a battle against Russian Regular forces. Release the "Dogs of War,"  and, well, sometimes, there can be unexpectedly severe unintended consequences. Suddenly the invulnerable, confident, all-powerful Russian Dictator doesn't seem so invulnerable, confident or all-powerful. What happens next?! Who knows?!? 

That great Jimmy Cliff song is running thru my head this morning: "The Harder They Come, The Harder They Fall." I say, let it come down. I can't help reaching back to the Boldly Biblical:  

"Live by the sword, die by the sword" is a proverb in the form of a parallel phrase, derived from the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 26, 26:52): "Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword."

Amen, Brother...

Random A.M. Musings...

Random Musings...

Greed is not good. 

Human Civilization has now entered the Apotheosis of High-Bullshit Era.

The grass in the Heartland is being reduced to cracked earth & burnt straw. Think: massive system-wide drought.

The Climate Catastrophe is Here/Now. It is not a movie, it is not entertainment.

The Tricky Monkeys have Out-Tricked Themselves, and it is very not funny in a kind of funny way.

There may be a formula written on our man-made toxic & noxious wind: As the Climate Catastrophe rolls out across the planet, the Bullshit/Disinformation tsunami will only grow & get worse. A mutually self-fulfilling fatal embrace.

Gaia is suffering from a grave illness: Human Greed, Selfishness, Close-minded-ness, Industrialization, Population out of control (like a Cancer). We should have tried our best to avoid the illness, there were major alarms & signals in the late 60's & early 70's, but instead we doubled-down on an unsustainable path.

"They paved Paradise, and put up a parking lot." - Joni Mitchell. And now that parking lot is a crackling and smoking heap of rubble.

The traits that allowed us to flourish, prosper and dominate are the same traits that are dooming us to an apocalyptically in-hospitable environment. Way to go Tricky Monkeys!

What's a Humble Pilgrim to do? Carry on with a heavy heart. 

You may hate to be a member of a club that will have you as a member. But it is impossible to extricate yourself from the madness.

Human Beings, we are failing, ok, have failed. Miserably. We could have all done so much better. Have a nice day!

*** Personal Note: Maybe not the most important thing in the world right now. There are two kinds of days around here. Good Hair Days and Bad Hair Days. What's kind of funny, the worse I feel, the better my hair looks. Maybe it's a defensive mechanism to keep the predators confused?! Today happens to be a Good Hair Day. My hair happily waving in the storms of catastrophe. Oh, so human. Damn the Torpedoes!

A Neo-Pagan Celebration...

It was a lightening, last-minute decision. "Let's go to the Summer Solstice Celebration at the pond on the lakefront." And, so, we did. We brought beverages and drums, shakers and tambourines. We walked there, a long snaking walk thru the neighborhood. We were both exhausted, it really was the longest day of the year, but we were compelled to go forth.

We arrived upon a wild scene. Fire Dancers whirling & twirling implements of fire. A large drum-circle with every kind of drum imaginable. Experienced & serious drummers, and a few pikers too. We were in the "piker's camp." I don't consider myself much of a drummer.  My partner is more accomplished. I basically do a plodding "Shaman's beat." Nothing fancy, but kind of hypnotizing. We both locked in for the night, 2.5 hours of drumming. There were Celtic drums, African drums, Middle-Eastern-Style Drums, cowbell, triangle, gong. There was an old Jazz Trumpeter who once in a while added "Bitches Brew" era Miles Davis flourishes to the madly, wilding surging and sometimes fading drum cavalcade.

The sun set in the West, and a sliver of a crescent Moon emerged. A boldly shining Venus too. As the darkness enveloped us,  the Fire Dancers upped their game: lager torches, larger, wilder flames, trickier, more elaborate, entrancing moves. There were a few nubile, extraordinarily-beautiful, truly-stunning young women, dancing and prancing and wielding fire like other-worldly, dragon-tamers.

It was all so very, gloriously, Neo-Pagan. My friend turned to me with a sly, mischievous, smile and asked: "Is this the Devil's work?" I replied: "Yes, it is." Hell is just another name for the Earth's hearth. It was all quite exciting & fun. For the grand finale the Fire Dancers drank some unknown flammable liquid and then blew on their massive torches of flame. Large, billowing flames shooting from their mouths off into the dark, night sky. Amazing. Crazy. Don't try this at home. It was all so primal and pretty damn cool. Pagan Summer is here.

Leisure & Work...

Today is officially the first day of Summer (the longest day of the year). Warmer temps, the day meets you and caresses you with welcoming fingers. The last few days we've been practicing Summer. Spending lots of time on the lakefront, wandering the paths and streets, sitting on our favorite bench, taking in the blue skies and surging waters. I told someone yesterday that I felt like Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn. A young wanderer.  Observing, taking in the passing scene. I wear the years on my body, but all those years sort of melt away in the moment to moment. There is an innocence to be found in a long Summer day. Days of work and leisure. Hard to tell which is which. Maybe the trick is to make leisure your work? And work your leisure?

Non-Attachment/Detachment...

Funny. The Buddhists tell us that Life is Suffering. 

So best to adopt a finely-honed "non-attachment, or detachment... a state in which a person overcomes their emotional attachment to or desire for things, people or worldly concerns and thus attains a heightened perspective. It is considered a wise virtue and is promoted in various Eastern religions, such as Hinduism, Jainism, Taoism and Buddhism. It is also a key concept in Christian spirituality (often referred to by the Greek term apatheia), where it signifies a detachment from worldly objects and concerns."

Sometimes easier said than done. Funny. I was injured in a bike accident about a week ago, and I am living with pain. Not overwhelming, but significant. It's worst when I am stationary, eases up when I move about. This new state of pain has propelled me into a certain non-attachment, a certain detachment. 

My body is in an unhappy state, but my head-space seems more expansive, more studied, more contemplative. Weird. I am stopping to smell the roses. Spending lots of time under that big blue sky, staring off into the great horizon over a surging body of water.  I am keeping busy, but I am sort of floating thru the motions of the day. Not trying to hold onto, or grasp, anything. 

I feel like I faced a catastrophe and walked away. Almost a renewal of life. A new life with pain, but life in all it's technicolor bounty. Every day is a step forward to healing. I suppose that's in the back of my mind. But I am detached even from that mind-set. Still alive. That's it.

Secret Garden Time...

We took to coasting (see previous post), as a high-art-form over the last few days. We tooled around on bikes, slowly, methodically, with a slight vertigo of PTSD (trauma in the body), as the result of a nasty bike accident (yes, still riding my flashy racing bike, my clunky cruiser is on order), nearly a week ago. We found ourselves sitting in the sunshine in various locations: lakefront bench, secluded backyard, propped up against a massive stone wall. We also spent lots of time listening to music on an incredibly powerful and beautifully-dimensional home stereo system at the big mansion on the lake. Our playlist: ambient music from Brian Eno, remastered versions of Steely Dan's catalog of albums (yes, still on a Steely Dan kick),  plus Mogwai's  great "Happy Songs for Happy People,"  fabulous soul-enriching music. We were happy people coasting on chill vibes. We watched the puffy clouds floating in the blue, the trees dancing in the breeze, little pretty critters scamping around in the flora and fauna. Time both stood-still and swam past us in a blink. For long stretches of time we were lost in a private, secret garden.

The Many-Splendored State of Coasting...

Coasting, as in,  to proceed easily without special application of effort or concern. Nothing wrong with it. Coasting can often be delightful: easy-going, moving with grace & fluidity, to sail along the shore, to slide, run, or glide downhill by the force of gravity. Yes. Indeed. The many-splendored state of coasting. To move along without, or as if without, further application of propulsive power. That sounds like music and magic to my ears.

Dream Baby, Dream...

If you are like me, your eyes glaze over when someone starts telling you about their dreams. For some reason, our dreams are usually brain-numbing to other people, except those folks who are paid to pay attention and care, you know, like professional "head-shrinkers." It's also a bit deflating when you watch a movie, or read a story, and you find out at the end that "It was a all just a dream." Somehow that always comes across as lazy story-telling. Kind of a cheat.

Dreams are just so damn personal. 

My dreams are often quite jumbled & surreal. Written, Directed and Filmed by an incompetent, or wildly drugged-out avant-garde sensibility. Last night I was a passenger on the Titanic. That ill-fated, ice-berg-crashed ship. I was tossed and turned along with everyone else on-board, a little rag doll in the grips of a major catastrophe. I was sure I was doomed, that feeling of doom and total disintegration swamped me; my body was pummeled by an unrelenting & overwhelming force. I am pretty sure I know why I was having this dream, (see the last few previous posts), I really did experience this kind of thing in "real life," a lightening-quick episode of mayhem and doom and disintegration, but I survived it all in reality and in my dream-world too. In the dream, I floated up above the scene of destruction. I emerged into a blazing, golden light, unscathed, un-maimed. This morning that feeling of wholeness and good feeling, of surviving the worst of the worst of things, surges thru me. Escaping the maiming, that's a good one. Your eyes are probably glazing over right now, Jeezus, it was just a dream! Yep. But so, so true and meaningful, at least to me.

"The Bruce Wayne of Leashes..."

Magnificent show be damned. I mean, yes, it was totally, madly, deeply magnificent (see previous post), but then, it is over. You can't hold onto it. There is a glow, a sense of accomplishment, the knowledge and experience of a well-made, well-done happening, but then, it's done and gone.

I told someone yesterday, speaking off the top of my head, no idea what words would pop out: "By night, a r&r Batman, by day, The Bruce Wayne of Leashes." Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Sometimes I really crack myself up.

How does that magnificence translate into the wider world? Invisible. Maybe tiny invisible threads, or frequencies, vibrations that emanate out and beyond our own home-bound bodies? At least that's a mystical thought-train of consolation.

"It is what it is." The show. It's enough that we did it. We carry that in our bones. Does it get any better than that? Probably not worth musing about. Onto the next thing. That's it.

The Healing Power of Art & Music...

Last night our band played at an amazing music room to a wildly enthusiastic & packed to the rafters house. It was total, pure joy. You know, words that floated in the air after our performance included: transcendent, ecstatic, beautiful, inspiring, joyful, powerful.

I was surprised that I was able to play a full set of music, for the most part, without any pain (see previous post). It is a testament to the power of the creative thing.  I mean, for most of the set, I didn't feel a thing, I just floated on the power of our band, and the love emanating from the audience. Amazing.

All day yesterday I was high on caffeine, ibuprofen, adrenaline, and good vibes. All our energy was pointed forward to show-time. I was determined to play at my ultimate best, come hell or high-water. My body cooperated. I kept my fingers limber. All the pain and stiffness in my body melted away. The only time I felt a twinge of stiffness and residual pain was on the 2nd to last song of our set. It was that F-Major Barre Chord on my big, old clunky acoustic guitar that reminded me I that I had just survived a very nasty bike accident.

No one except my partner and I knew that I was playing injured. That's pretty damn cool. I mean, we often talk about the healing power of art and music, but last night it was a reality.  Abrasions? Contusions? Bruises? Soreness? All vanished in the beauty and the light of a radiant performance, and an out-pouring of love. A bit tired and sore and stiff this a.m. but exhilarated too. Funny & fabulous.

Life is Learning Lessons...

And what is the lesson? If we don't learn from our experiences doesn't it mean then that we are Deserving Idiots? Other useful descriptors: Moron, Fool, Clown, Dolt.

I nearly killed myself on my very light, very fast, very, very cool bike (see previous post) on Monday. It's a flashy racing bike that I have been using for tooling around town. It is certainly the wrong tool for my needs. I didn't realize how truly, madly, deeply that purchase was so dangerously foolish and wrong until I found myself on the pavement in a bloody heap. I did the inventory this morning, beaten, bruised, stiff, creaky. It feels like someone took a baseball bat to key parts of my body. Not the lesson I wanted.

I also marvel at how I didn't break a bone, a wrist, a finger, didn't crack my head. Sure, I have a few nasty contusions and abrasions, but man, oh man, did I dodge a silver bullet? Yes, indeed.

Yesterday I rolled the bike back to the bike shop, told them my tale of woe: in the face of a wildly careening car, I was riding too fast, braked too hard, went flying over handlebars onto the hard, blacktop. Sure, I'll admit, it  was a case of operator error. But the design of the bike too, sort of lends itself to a "catapult effect," (the bike stopped on a dime, the rider's momentum sent him flying forward towards oblivion), I am sure there is some mathematical equation that explains it all: Speed x Momentum x Stupidity = Mayhem.  The catapult effect. I came up with that catchy phrase myself.

I worked out a trade. I am going to trade the cool, flashy one for an older, heavier, much clunkier model. That is so much more in line with me. That's the lesson. I think about all of my most prized possessions: a big old clunky acoustic guitar, an old, bulky, Sony Walkman, a pair of old, reliable Grado Headphones, those little old-tech shining CDs, old beat Levis, old beat Timberland Boots, an ancient coffeemaker, a homely Fender Telecaster electric guitar, a classic, old tube amp, a classic home stereo system with big clunky components & old-world speakers. Everything I truly value is old, clunky, a bit beat, a bit slow to the tempo of the world flashing around me. I am all those things too. Lesson learned. Happy to be alive to recount the the tale. Be less like the fast & flashy Hare, and more like the slow and methodical, one step at a time Turtle.  Slow, methodical, beat, clunky. Yes, that's the ticket.

"Slow Down, You're Moving Too Fast, Got to Make the Moment Last..." - Paul Simon

Monday. The plan for the day was healing and renewal. I was taking my cues from a voice in the night (see previous post). It didn't work out that way. Maybe it was a premonition, I will need to heal and save myself.  Starting now. Tooling down the avenue on my bike, cut off by a wildly, hard-turning vehicle, I slammed on the brakes, and catapulted over my handlebars. Yikes. It all happened so fast. I found myself sprawled out on the pavement. Amazingly, I didn't break anything. Bruised and bloodied but still ticking. The vehicle and driver saw the mayhem and just drove off in a trail of dust. That's America, Buddy. It's an Urban Jungle out there. I am beginning to think my shiny new bike is too fast and too light for me. Made me think of that Eagles song:

"Life in the fast lane, surely make you lose your mind

Life in the fast lane, uh-huh

Life in the fast lane, everything all the time

Life in the fast lane, uh-huh..."

Joe Walsh's electric guitar is electric.  Yes. Slow down. That's the lesson swirling in my head this morning. Lucky to still be in one piece.

A Disembodied Presence...

A long, murky, dead-man's-like sleep last night. No tossing, no turning. Out like a light for a very restful sleep. There were two sentences that wafted over me in the black night. Not sure who, or what, spoke the dream-like words that floated over and around my sleeping form. An unidentified, disembodied presence spoke to me: "Save Yourself." & "Heal Yourself." Ha. Sounds like good advice. Feeling a bit renewed & recharged this morning...

Not So Bright Tricky Monkeys Tricked Out with the Worst of Intentions...

The quote below is from "All the President's Men," (1974) Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. All about our crooked President Tricky Dick and his henchmen.

Deep Throat: "No, heh, but it's touching. Forget the myths the media's created about the White House. The truth is, these are not very bright guys, and things got out of hand."

Seems relevant to Blimp Guy and his henchmen today. Actually seems relevant to much of our Human Activity (see the unfolding consequences of our Global Climate Catastrophe, and addiction to Fossil Fuels.)  Of course, not only not bright,  but super-corrupt too. Tricky Monkeys tricked out with the worst of intentions.

"Not very bright, and things got out of hand."

Yep. Dear Earthlings, we can all do so much better. WTF?!?

Slimed by the Shite...

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

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

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

Karma in Florida!

Ha, ha, ha...

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

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

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

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

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

Calamity Lurks...

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

Homely and Home...

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

Up Early/Rabbit Holes...

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

Dreams & Visions...

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

Maybe Not So Comfortable...

"Comfortable in your own skin…"

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

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

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

The Holy Grail of Foodstuffs...

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

A Long Day...

The Longest Day. 

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

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

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

Probably...

"What could go wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

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