A Moving Target Embedded in a Moving Target...

Life. Not what you think. 

No one ever tells you that. It might be helpful to hear that from others, but, on the other hand, probably not? No one wants to be told anything. That's sort of a shaky rule of thumb. Not exactly a written on stone commandment, but real-world experience. "Don't tell me what to do."

Turns out the only way thru Life is to experience it for yourself. There are no "hacks," no shortcuts. You have to live, and find out on your own. It's a pretty inefficient way to go. You know, "fuck around and find out."

So you fuck up lots. All the time. And then deal with the fresh fuck-ups as best you can. You improvise, you recalculate, you experiment, and decades whiz past you. You are constantly, morphing, evolving, changing. The world is too. It's all a moving target embedded within a moving target.

What do you find out? What you eat is important. Who you hang out with is important too. What you read, what you listen to, how you deal with emotion, how you handle success, failure, adversity, how you feed your head, your body, your soul. 

You have choices to make, moment to moment. And most decisions you make, you make with very little helpful knowledge at hand. You flail and fail. Often. You find out that everything counts. Even, and sometimes especially, the tiniest, seemingly insignificant things. Everything is consequential. Everything is potentially life-changing.  

And then, well, you will also find out it's not all in your head or hands. There is so much out of your grasp, your control, you have no idea.

Where you were born? Where do you choose to live?  Who were your parents? What is your genetic inheritance? What is going down in the wider world? You discover you are captive to a certain age, time, & era. You realize that time is a certain kind of relentless dictator. You are in the clutches of time. At all times.

It's just true. Life, it's more, and sometimes less, than you bargained for, and really you never had a chance to bargain. Life is not a business, it's not math, it's not dollars & cents, it doesn't always add up. For sure, life is not what you think.

The more I think on it, I suppose I do have a handful of  "Life Hacks," that sit well with me. I mean, I know if you are still with me here, still reading, you will probably ignore or disregard these, but, oh well, here is my list, in no particular order of importance, or, I mean, these are probably all equally important:

Life- Hacks

1. Keep moving.

2. Meditate.

3. Cultivate silence.

4. Work on being ok when you are alone.

5. Don't listen to anyone who says, "It can't be done."

6. Avoid stupid people, the know it alls, the nay-sayers & doom-purveyors.

7. Listen to music as if your life depended upon it.

8. Read books with a voracious purpose.

9. Hope, dream, stay positive.

10. Always be onto something. Find out the things that you love doing and do them.

Overwhelmed by the Stupid...

Here is an intriguing question: Does having empathy for the supremely stupid human beings in our midst, make us supremely stupid too?

Ha. A loaded question. 

What of all those folks who refuse to listen to Science, Biology, Math? What of those folks clinging to the convenient lies about Vaccines, Climate Catastrophe, Democracy, Free and Fair Elections, Intelligence? 

Yep. Seems that stupidity is on the rise. Folks who just don't want to face reality. Yes, there really is a reality. 

It pays to read, to think, to be open-minded, and to be willing to change your mind in the face of facts & evidence.  Yes. Even and especially when the facts and evidence challenges one's basic assumptions. Maybe a bit of humility? Go with the idea that you don't know everything, that what you feel, what you want to believe is true, isn't necessarily true. We are all works in progress, We need to feed our heads with smart things:  writers & thinkers, ideas of intelligence, etc. Yes. There are smart people in the world. We need to always be learning.

And yes, for sure, empathy is an essential tool in the Human Being kit-bag. But, for our mental health, there must be some limits or guard-rails. Dip too deep into the empathetic pool and you too may drown in the ocean of stupidity. 

Beware of disinformation and conspiracy-minded thinking. Yes. It's jungle of stupid madness out there. Tread carefully, gracefully, with eyes, hearts and heads open.

At some point we must turn away from the stupid ones. Out vote them, out work them, ignore them when they rant and rave. 

Maybe try this on for size: "Yes, I can understand you want to cling to your stupidity. I feel sorry for you. A mind is a terrible thing to waste. But, you know, I can't go there with you. Sorry. Get your shit together!"

I don't know. Wrestling with the stupid ones immediately makes one sort of stupid too. Maybe it's inevitable? Maybe the best way forward: AVOID THE STUPID ONES AT ALL COSTS!

A Worthy Occupation...

Oh yeah. Almost forgot. This time of year it gets really cold around here. There is a coat of frosty, newly-white snow on the ground. The air chills & bites. It is super-clear out there. The day does not caress, it grabs you by the face and seeks to deep-freeze you to the bone. How to survive? It's all about wearing thick layers, multiple sweaters, two pairs of socks, heavy boots, bulky gloves, a kooky, furry, winter hat. The lakefront is much less populated this time of year. The cold thins the human herd. There are the "pros" out there, and there are a few of the more committed, or obsessively nutty runners and power-walkers. Really it is the hardcore on out on the paths. So yeah, a starkly cold reality. It's a challenge. And it seems like an accomplishment just getting thru in one piece. Darkness bookends everything. Dark early, dark late, darkness rules. By 4:30 p.m. it is dead dark. Makes you want to cocoon. Wrap up tight, put your headphones on and ride the vibes of another time and place. There is something to be had in these times. There is a license to pull in your horns. Count your blessings, all your fingers and toes are still in working order, it feels like a win. Raw survival, it becomes a thing, a worthy goal & occupation.

Goofing Off to Inspiration...

Yesterday was a goof off day. I am pretty good at unplugging and goofing off. You know, maybe even a world-class goof. I approach goofing off as if it's an Olympic sport, or maybe a fine-art pursuit. A long, lazy Sunday. A no agenda, no obligation day. Leisurely morning, hot bath, a 30 minute Chi Machine session, a long, luxurious meditation in the living room surrounded by our 3 feathered friends. You know it was all about relaxing, renewing, recharging.  A total refresh.

We watched an old concert film, "It's Too Late to Stop Now," (1973) Van Morrison and the Caledonia Soul Orchestra filmed at the Rainbow in London.  Amazing band, amazing performance, Van the Man at his Irish Rebel Soul peak. Phenomenal. So inspiring.

We then watched Nick Cave and Warren Ellis in "This Much I know to Be True,"  (2022) performing songs from their two masterpiece albums "Ghosteen" and "Carnage." A knockout film. So powerful & spiritual. Nick is on a singular road, heart and head blasted wide-open. The best, finest, most powerful music of his career.

I finished the day listening to a demo song my partner and I recorded in front of a blazing fire a few days ago. A long, rambling, shambling 6 minute song recorded on a compact digital recorder. A work in progress.

We are definitely onto something. It seems our latest songs are so "us," definitive examples of our self-defined 21st Century Druid Music. We seem to be traveling back in time. A simple drum, an acoustic guitar, two voices.  Primal, obscure, poetic lyrics inspired by the natural world. 

I need to perfect my playing, delicate finger-picking alternating with bold strumming with a pick. Subtle changes in timing and approach. We may want to tighten the song up a bit. Every time we play it, it seems to get a bit more refined and complete. We do feel we are on the path to one of our best new songs. So exciting.

Goofing off, a doorway to inspiration. Ha. Funny. That's the way of The Fool.

A Beautifully Shimmering Path of Light...

My last post was a bit weighty (see previous post). Yesterday, in the one-breath-at-a-time, always analog world, things were less weighty, a bit less heady, it was a true boots on the ground reality. Kicking down the avenues, traveling to & fro, hither & tither, making the rounds, meeting obligations.

Early evening, right around 5pm, my friend and I were meandering along the lakefront. It was pitch-black dark. The night rules early nowadays around here. 

A deep-black sky, with a big, bold, brilliantly-glowing moon, not quite full, but pretty damn close. And the overwhelming, totally expansive, moody, and ominously quiet body of Lake Michigan, the color of deep, dark obsidian, was lit up by the starkly white-light of the moon. A beautifully shimmering path, created by the light-rays of the moon, rippled across the water; iridescent, ghostly, a path leading to, and falling off, the edge of the world.

It was stunning. Uncommon. A take your breath away moment of pure, wordless, nameless, Zen. Sure, it was cold, super-cold out there, but there was a stillness, a hushed silence that seemed to envelope and coat everything. We weren't thinking "god," we weren't grasping onto anything, just taking it all in. It is safe to say we were in a state of wonder and grace. It felt like we were in touch and in tune with a primal, pagan knowledge, ancient, timeless, a complete natural holiness. Yes. Indeed.

The Big Questions: Illusions, Belief, Religion, God. Who Knows?!

Yes. This from Brain Pickings and Oliver Sacks  seems essential. Yes. We need our illusions to keep our heads in the game:

"To live on a day-to-day basis is insufficient for human beings; we need to transcend, transport, escape; we need meaning, understanding, and explanation; we need to see overall patterns in our lives. We need hope, the sense of a future. And we need freedom (or at least the illusion of freedom) to get beyond ourselves, whether with telescopes and microscopes and our ever-burgeoning technology or in states of mind which allow us to travel to other worlds, to transcend our immediate surroundings. We need detachment of this sort as much as we need engagement in our lives… transports that make our consciousness of time and mortality easier to bear. We seek a holiday from our inner and outer restrictions, a more intense sense of the here and now, the beauty and value of the world we live in."

And this answer to a reader's question from Nick Cave about religious belief and belief in God seems on target and essential too.  What totally resonates with me: "resilient and doubting," and the primacy of "uncertainty" and the humbleness of belief: "sorrowful, and joyful, broadening and deepening, imagined and true." I love that kind of mysterious, uncertain grappling with belief, god or no god, and what it means in a humble life of leaning to the light.

"Amalia, I find that my religiousness is a slowly emergent state, one that is entirely drawn to the Anglican church of my childhood, and that the haunted presence of Christ is the essential and defining quality of that state of being. Christianity, for me, is bound up in the liturgy and the ritual and the poetry that swirls around the restless, tortured figure of Jesus, as presented within the sacred domain of the church itself. My religiousness is softly spoken, both sorrowful and joyful, broadening and deepening, imagined and true. It is worship and prayer. It is resilient yet doubting, and forever wrestles with the forces of rationality, armed with little other than the merest hunch or whispered intuition. The defining characteristic of my belief, and which I consider to be a fundamental imperative in my life, is uncertainty. This questioning impulse is the essence of freedom and the creative catalyst that keeps the wheels rotating irrevocably toward God."

This totally resonates with me. I grew up in the Catholic Church, under the eyes and direction of those black-habit wearing nuns. What did I get out of those years? A conflicted psyche. A sense of mystery, poetry, drama, theater.  There was beauty in the rituals. Those crazy-ass things: baptism, prayer, penance, communion, confirmation, the stations of the cross. It was all so over the top theatrical. I never really bought into it all, but it was quite dominating, and oppressive. Jesus seemed like a tragic dude, who got a raw deal. As Nick Lowe once asked: "What's so funny about peace, love & understanding?"

I do believe we can believe in big things without using our beliefs as a club to hammer other folks. Best to believe in the mystery, in love, in purpose, in the great unknowable uncertainty, the great cloud of unknowing that will always surround all things human. For me when I think "god" I think "good," the vibration of goodness and life. Yes. That's something to believe in. The more open-ended, abstract, fuzzy, mysterious, the better. Amen.

We Broke a Routine...

Usually the idea is to eat light, and keep moving. Eat less, walk more. It's a strategy for a more healthful reality. It sort of agrees with us and seems the best way forward. Yesterday, my lovely companion wheeled a cart-full of pre-cooked food thru the neighborhood to join me at our little Midwestern island of refuge.  She declared: "Meals on Wheels!" So very hobo. I am a lucky boy. We broke our routine. We had a big meal with all the Thanksgiving fixings: stuffing, corn, mashed potatoes, a cheesy brussel sprouts dish, and, instead of a real-deal, dead-bird, turkey we had a vegetarian turkey roll substitute. It did the trick. We were feeling quite thankful. Food & comfort. It seems sort of luxurious, and maybe even a bit decadent. So much of the world is need, want and the lack of the essentials. After a few platefuls of food we walked the neighborhood. So quiet and still. It was a sunny, brisk, autumn day. We marveled at all the amazing lakefront mansions in this neighborhood. Big, hulking overstuffed homes of the abundantly rich. These amazing structures seemed unoccupied, abandoned, folks traveling to far-flung destinations. We always marvel and wonder about how is it these wealthy folks make it. A robust accumulation of wealth that seems so far out of our reach. Unimaginable family wealth. Not our reality. For us, it's all a mystery. We are stuck in a day to day survival-mode. It's all smoke & mirrors, luck and pluck. When we encounter the poor and downtrodden, those folks with even less than us, they are scattered on street corners around town, we think: "There but for the grace of god, go I..." Maybe it's a good thing? Being in touch with basic humility, close to the bone, close to the street. Makes us appreciate all the things we do have, and reminds us we shouldn't worry about what we don't have, no sense taking anything for granted. Thankful. Yes.

Tune Into the Wonder...

Ha. I am very suggestible. Easily moved. Give me a morning of blazing sunshine, with crisp autumn temps,  fortified with a pot of superbly-brewed coffee, with brilliantly soulfully played acoustic guitar music from the great Davey Graham on the box, and well, optimism and good cheer flow like an over-abundant river of love. It doesn't take much to find the beauty and power of a new day. It's a holiday, which means a little less shuffling about the neighborhood. Not as much schlepping as usual. I may not be a rich fellow, but there are riches to be had here. Feeling good. Alive, aware, awake. That's kind of an amazing thing. Easily over-looked and undervalued. Tuning into the wonder. A life of simple, rich moments of beauty. Yes. Indeed.

A Temporary Visitor...

A bit disconnected & dislocated.

Distant from the hurly-burly, and the thunder of the wider world. Sheltering in an enormous mansion with one little furry critter. It's sort of a weirdly consuming island retreat. Not my home. I am just a temporary visitor. Surrounded by all the things that I could fit in a travel bag: my coffee beans, my music, my books, my thoughts, all my little obsessions. I  also brought my guitar and little digital recorder. Lots of time alone with a friendly dog. Lots of time spent strumming and singing in the big, bright, shiny, kitchen.

Time slows down. The day is measured by meals and walks. Everything seems simpler. Surviving. Keeping my friend busy, and my head occupied with whatever. My main responsibility: be present, be aware, alive, awake. There is a purity in that, a sort of cleansing. Dropping the worries, the doubts, letting go of the needing, wanting, grasping. Sometimes it seems that existence is enough. One breath at a time.

Fanfare for the Common Man & Woman...

We get distracted by the bullies, the loud-talkers, the overstuffed egotists, the rich & powerful bozos in business, in politics, those attention-seeking bad actors who are always swimming in, and dominating, the conversation. We put clowns and con-men, flim-flam artists, show-offs, narcissists, psychos, front and center. The culture is off the rails, putting the noisy ones up on pedestals. The media loves to amplify the extremists in the cultural bloodstream. Anyone with money to burn can squeeze the oxygen out of any room.

Yikes. It is a bad stew, for sure.

What of humility, grace, kindness, the common good? What of human beings struggling to do the right thing? The little people, the common ones, you know, just people, those not seeking the limelight, people just trying to live a good life. A simple code for living: alive, aware, awake. Human beings with their feet on the ground, their heads screwed on right. Tuning out the B.S. Trying to lean to the light, gravitating to simple goodness. Human beings who know they are deeply flawed, trying to do the best they can. Yes, that's the human conundrum, carrying on in the face of the odds. Damn the torpedoes. 

Happy Birthday Joe...

Happy Birthday President Joe Biden. 

I am one of those voters who are not worried about Joe's age. I celebrate that we have an experienced hand at the wheel of our ship of state. Joe knows his shite. He is quite good at his job, and he seems to be intently focused on doing his best. What more can a voter, and a concerned citizen expect? He is one man, he can't solve all the problems in the world, but he can do what he can to make the world a better place. Joe is a dedicated public servant, a distinguished political operator. I have always thought that he is the best man for the job, especially in the current moment, a moment of serious complexity. I enthusiastically voted for him in the last election, and I will do the same in the next one in 2024. Really.

Gypsy-like Troubadour...

It's all about the light. That's where life and beauty manifest. Bathing in the light.

A golden morning light comes streaming in thru the big kitchen windows facing East. I am in a new place. Another magnificent, quite beautiful home. New assignment, new little furry friend. A new day, new reality. Everything is different, all the little details have been scrambled: this stairway, this bed, these pillows, this coffeemaker, these mugs. Maybe that is a good thing, you have to adjust, you have to adapt to new surroundings. Maybe it clears the cobwebs? All the things you take for granted can't be taken for granted because everything has been altered, reconfigured, and rearranged.

Make a routine, break a routine. 

Of course, everything is here, at hand, a bounteous, treasure-filled life. This home is luxurious, and well out-fitted. No challenges here. Living is easy. Eyes open or closed.

The basics are the same: coffee, music, writing. I lugged my guitar over here. A little digital recorder at the ready, just in case inspiration strikes. I am not making any promises but often a new place, new surroundings lead to new riffs, new songs, little breakthroughs, who knows?

In some ways my life is so very simple. Be aware, alive, awake. Always be moving. Keep my guitar close to hand and just play. Always have music in the air, and playing on the box. There is so much trouble in the world, but no trouble in this place of magnificence. For sure, an odd, marginal way to live, an intermittent Gypsy-like, troubadour existence. It's a life. Small, intimate. All mine.

Our Neighborhood...

Thinking about our neighborhood. We ended up here by accident, with little fore-thought: a friend, a job, the sprawling lakefront enticing us.

We are surrounded by beauty here. We are perched on the Northwest side of Lake Michigan. It is a tree-filled place with almost unimaginably beautiful mansions and old brick apartments dotted all across town. The homes get bigger, pricier and more mind-boggling & impressive the closer you get to the lakefront. There is a large University in town, with its own big rambling, gorgeous campus. This is a diverse, progressive, blue-bubble enclave. This town exudes class, intelligence, and money.

My partner and I don't really belong here. We are marginal characters. Particularly-particular birds. Still, we do well here, we are making it, day to day. Of course, we are often schlepping, always on the move, always hustling to make it. How we survive is an open question. My answer: Luck & Pluck. It's all primarily smoke and mirrors, but we have actually thrived here. We love this place. Yes it does get cold here, the winters can be a challenge, but there is beauty in the depths of winter too. We are lucky to know lots of folks here: Creatives, Musicians, Artists, Writers, Professors, Doctors, Lawyers; over-flowing, over-stuffed families of wealth, distinction and accomplishment.

It can be a bit intimidating. My partner and I are odd ducks, and from a young age, it is safe to say, that we both have always felt like outsiders, outliers, underdogs, people who don't really fit in anywhere."You're not from around here, are you?" You know, in it, not of it. Over the years that has sort of become a feature, not a flaw, in our approach and demeanor. We wear that misfit, odd-duck-ness as a badge of honor. So, yeah, we stand out in the crowd here, and that's okay.

I do think there is a tremendous benefit being surrounded by beauty, privilege and accomplishment. There is also an advantage to living in a neighborhood that we are always navigating: walking, biking, always on the street, meeting and greeting.

Once in a while we are reminded that we "don't really belong here." Usually it's when we are doing "the schlep," for folks who have made it and can hire other folks to do the schlep for them. We work for other folks. At the same time, we are often, usually, surprisingly, welcomed with open arms. Most of the wealthy, accomplished, non-schleppers that we know are thoughtful, kind, generous, open-minded, and giving.

What's the point of all this? Place is important: where you live, who you meet, what you do, how you carry yourself, the stories you tell yourself, and others. Sure, you are a weirdo, an odd-duck character, unique, strange, perpetual-misfit and underdog, unlike other folks in your orbit. And that's a good thing.  You know, head held high. Damn the torpedoes.

Can't Hold Onto Anything...

Ah... well... can't hold onto anything. 

Yesterday afternoon, after a morning filled with a flurry of activity, my partner and I rode our bikes over to our "sun-spot." It's one of our favorite places on the planet, fronting Lake Michigan, with a great view of downtown Chicago;  all the massive buildings and towers looking like little tinker-toys on the southern front. Another day of paradise. It was pure pleasure to park our bikes on the big verdant, rolling lawn. We sat against a stone wall and let the sunshine pour down upon us. This time of year the sun is at such a tilt, the rays of the sun just seem to caress, and there is an amazing, otherworldly, golden glow shining upon everything. Think of that golden glow in some of those great Rembrandt paintings, or one of Salvador Dali's wildly surreal landscapes. Yes. Like that, a golden glow that totally suffuses everything, the blue water, the brilliantly colored trees, the runners, the bikers, the wind-surfers, the sailboats. An optical illusion, the golden glow seems to come both from within and without all things. Anyway, this little spot is an uncommon, quite extraordinary place, we think of it as a "power spot." It's off the beaten track, we can sit in silence, watch the passing scene, without interruption from folks passing by. We sipped cold Kombucha and talked about everything, and nothing, under the sun. We lingered, dawdled. We didn't want to leave. The minutes ticked by, but sort of in a lazy, lovely slow-motion. We knew this was a bonus day, an amazingly beautiful November day in the heartland. We wanted it all to last even as we watched the sun slowly make its trek across the sky towards the west. Finally, reluctantly, we had to admit that it was time to go; places to be, promises to keep. We got back on our bikes and rode off down the path. Time. Can't stop time. Sometimes it feels like you can slow down time, but there is no stopping it. Nothing lasts. Can't hold onto anything. You can feel everything falling away even as you try to hold on. Unfortunately, there is no holding on, or stopping; the day, the time, life, it just rolls out and away from us moment by moment.

No Freaking Out...

There are many reasons to freak out: the climate catastrophe, politics, social media, the 24/7 noise machine, calculated disinformation, humanity's never-ending inhumanity to humanity, chaos, random chance, and the always, any time, looming catastrophe lurking around every corner.

My good friend said to me yesterday: "I'm worried."

I replied: "Yep. That's understandable. If you are paying attention, you should be worried. BUT, don't worry too much, maybe just a little bit. Set aside a brief window of time to worry. Then, get on with it."

She laughed at that. I laughed too.

Still, I do think it is good advice. Sure, worry a little bit, that seems appropriate, but totally freaking out is not helpful. Carry on. Keep your head. Keep your cool. Do all the things you have to do, and do them well. Try to set an example. Grace under pressure. Cool, calm, collected. Oh yeah, and damn the torpedoes!

Being Human...

I am a human being, I have been for a number of decades. So, you know, I think I know what it means to be a human being from the inside out. I realize my experience is partial, subjective, totally my own, and I also know that conclusions I draw from my experiences and feelings may be off-target, wrong-headed & misleading. But I am sort of confident in saying that being human is a tricky, complicated, contradictory, and a sometimes self-baffling & gob-smackng adventure.

The last few days, (see two previous posts), have been like living in a little slice of paradise. Beautiful days, beautiful moments, moments of wonder and joy, alive in secret gardens of pleasure; moments strung out in front of me like a necklace of shiny & lovely pearls.

At the same time, my nights, have been filled with turmoil, hurly-burly, toil & trouble. Dark dreams. Elaborate nightmares. I wake up thinking " Ye gods, only a dream," but there is a residue of uncertainty, clouds of concern, existential angst & doubt; vast, turbulent, overwhelming hurricanes of unknowing swirling around in my being.

As per Dylan, "Where have you been, my blue-eyed son?" 

And, shite, "Where are you going, my darling young one?"

Aye. There's the rub. I don't rightly know. My dream-world is all about being lost, missed connections, no name, uncertain identity, wandering nameless streets in some unknown, broken, foreign city. I stumble about clueless & floundering. I don't who I am, where I am, where I'm going. Ha! Oh so human. Bifurcated. Twisted. Crucified on the cross of contradiction. The light and dark dancing some weird, dervish-like dance, always locked hand in hand. Yep. That's a human thing right there. Days of sunshine and light, nights of darkness and black. Again, quoting Dylan: "I contain multitudes..."

Expanding Beauty...

The expanding day, the expanding minutes and hours. That is how we experienced it yesterday. It was so uncommonly beautiful around here. Not exactly what you'd expect in mid-November in the Heartland. Gorgeous blue skies, a warm, welcoming, caressing sun. The rays of the sun dominated the day. The sun is at a certain tilt, it bathes everything in a shimmering, golden light. My friend and I bathed in the beauty of the day. We walked thru all the fallen leaves on the paths and sidewalks. The sound of crunching, brittle leaves underfoot. It seemed to us that time was at a standstill. Minutes ticked by in slow-motion. We wanted it all to last forever. Our day, our time. We sat in a little sunny corner of a big grassy, secret garden space. We talked about everything, and nothing. We held onto absolutely nothing. We were in flow, the flow of no-flow. The days are "getting shorter," sunshine is a shrinking reality around here, but these hours of glorious beauty completely filled us up. It was extraordinary. The expanding day...

The Ordinary Extraordinary...

Up early. Predawn. It is still black outside, the stars are twinkling, there is a thin line, a hint of pink, orange and gold on the horizon line.  Everything is sort of hushed. You can almost feel the trees, grasses, rocks, streets and sidewalks, straining to be silent and still, waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Funny. Something extraordinary does happen every morning, it is never ordinary in the least, and if you pay attention, it is always different, never the same way twice. You can get spoiled and jaded, but that's a flaw in your being. No reason not to fall down in pure wonder, joy and incomprehension. A sunrise. A new day. Unlike any other day. Really.

Pleasure, a Lifestyle...

Pleasure. Can you base a life on pleasure? Probably yes. It's a philosophy, a viewpoint, a lifestyle, and a code for living. What kind of pleasure? Many and varied pleasures. Good food. Good music. Good thoughts. Writing. Walking. Thinking. Being open-ended, open-headed, open-hearted. Leaning to the light. Being positive and healthy. Not taking anything too seriously. Living light and with a hint of grace. Realizing it's a big, complicated Universe, and this humble, little pilgrim is just a tiny energy in a vast sea of energies. When I listen to a good album on the big stereo system at high volume, it's almost a religious ritual. It's a ritual of pleasure. This morning, blazing sunshine and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers blasting out. Beautiful. Pure pleasure. That's the way to do it.

Deep & Profound...

It happens every year. Still it is easy to forget. The seasons change. The sun tilts. The temps edge down. The leaves turn, and then, they fall like brittle, dead, unopened letters. We mess with the clocks. As a result, daylight shrinks faster. There are a few hours of glorious sunshine, bounded by vast periods of darkness. Blackout late afternoon. Dead-dark early a.m. The darkness is deep & profound. No way around it. That's the trend over here. Makes one "pull in their horns." There are all those solitary pursuits. Writing. Playing guitar. Conjuring up songs. Putting headphones on, plugging into a little Walkman and spinning those little silver discs. Mainlining albums from Jason Isbell; graceful, powerful, sad & inspiring; artful recordings, suffused with a burning fire of love and madness. The necessary tonic to make it, to keep the flame alive in your heart and head. Burning raw in the darkness.

The Ever Expanding Present...

You know, one of my mantras: Live in the moment. Another way of saying we are always and only alive in the present. There is no past, there is no future, there is only the ever-expanding present. That seems to fit. So yes, the longer I walk around on the planet, the more expansive and wide-ranging the present becomes. The present swallows up and subsumes everything.  What I remember of the past, how I interpret the past, the stories I tell myself about the past are always morphing, evolving, shifting. The narrative is alive and changing. The past isn't set, it's always being modified by the present.  The same process is at work  in relation to the future, what i project & imagine about the future is just a reflection of the present. The now of now. Yesterday was all present, and  my partner and I spent our time  simply existing in the present fully. Light, shadow, sun, shade, blue sky, puffy clouds, cold, warm; time coming to a standstill, one breath slowing down, one breath at a time. Each breath became a symphony. What happened, what will happen? Who knows? The present dominates. Existing in the present, the whole thing.

Simple Thoughts this A.M.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

91 indictments, Karma is a bitch.

Democracy is Alive and Well in USA!

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

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

A Hopeful Start, and a Way Forward...

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

Feeding the Soul...

Thinking about my very busy Saturday this last weekend. 

The highlights: 

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

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

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

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

Re-Writing Pop Culture History...

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

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

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

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

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

"New Beatles Song?" Nope.

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

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

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

"Future-Casting..."

Our favorite Joe is "future-casting.."

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

Sex on the Mountain...

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

"Everything Changes."

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

-- from  Bill Watterson 

Creator of the Calvin & Hobbes Comic Strip