WTF?! Skinny Immunity?!?!?

I am sure there will be lots of expert opinions floating in the air after the Supreme Court's "Presidential Immunity" hearing yesterday. 

Here are my very un-expert reflections...

Human Beings. We are damn tricky. We can use logic, reason, rationality and intellectual persuasion to pretty much argue for any position. We all have biases, we all have blind spots, we are all driven by ideologies. Often we start with an idea, an opinion, and then beat the shit of out reality to fit our world-view within a nice, neat, brightly-wrapped, bundle.

Clarity, and common sense can easily be ravaged & swamped. Being "Supreme" doesn't mean excellent. Maybe a bit of an over-reach and misnomer?

Very, very learned, articulate and persuasive Human Beings often sling total unmitigated B.S. They can make a shit-sandwich sound very fine and good.  There are some (at least 3?), real idealogical, radical-right-wing, black-hole assholes on the Supreme Court, no doubt. Getting a peek inside Samuel Alito's brain immediately gave me vertigo, a major headache, a sinking feeling of being trapped inside a hideous hall of mirrors of bad-faith and right-wing B.S. Holy Shite! The word that popped into my head: claptrap = pretentious nonsense.

The hearing was pretty annoying, disconcerting, filled with hurly-burly, legelese, nonsense & head-scratchingly bad faith lawyering. One is reminded that having law degrees, wearing black robes, flaunting gaudy titles, slinging fancy words, holding positions of ultimate legal power does not mean that there is wisdom or good outcomes to be expected.

Just like anything else there is the Human touch: a scrambled omelet of uncertain provenance. Arbitrary, biased, limited, often off-target too. Higher Authorities? Not what they are cracked up to be. Coming to a decision and a ruling will be a nasty wrangling of votes, coming to some kind of  ugly consensus, an unseemly, stinky, compromise. It will for sure be a kluge, a learned clusterfuck, probably a deformed little baby of law that no one is happy with. Yikes.  

What does it all add up to? Delay for the January 6 trial. Uncertainty. And a new concept that may be floated, one that I hadn't heard before: Skinny Immunity (?!?)... what a world... oh so Human. It is amazing we can make it thru day to day... good Lord, we know not what we do...

The Malefactor Vs. The USA...

Funny. 

The first thing I hear on the radio this morning that the Supreme Court they will be hearing the "Presidential Immunity Case," later today.  You know it's the "Donald Trump VS. the United States," case.

What is the first thought that pops up in this concerned citizen's head?

Donald Trump Vs. The United States? Yes. Exactly. 

These Days...

These are our days...

We own them, we live them, we navigate them. We learn that you only get so many of them. The number of days is not unlimited. That is important to know.

We should treasure them. The days in which we live. 

Sometimes the days fly, sometimes they seem to plod along. Some days you count your blessings, some days you catalog your curses.

Living your days to the fullest. Seems the way.

Even if you look upon a day that has just passed and you think: "That was hard. That was a deep slog. Shite. I am exhausted."

Lately, I have had a few of those. Too much "toing and froing." At the end of the day, I know that I just had a day, unlike any of the others, even if in so many ways it resembles so many others.  You know, in one light a slight, paltry, mundane kind of day, filled with simple, repetitive, menial tasks, and, at the same time, in another light, an amazing, wonder-filled day of uncommon sights and sounds.  One of my precious days. Weird dichotomy at work there.

Days of wine and roses, and days of slogs, and curses... 

That's life. Well-lived to the max. The power, the glory, and the just getting thru in one piece.

2 Rules for Good Living...

We live in affluent neighborhood. We aren't affluent ourselves, we are basically "hangers on," folks, living on the margins, living "above our station."  You know, we are hanging on, and hanging in. It's a great neighborhood, near a massive midwestern lake, with lots of beautiful trees, parks, beaches, and magnificent old homes, located near a big, sprawling University campus. Pretty nice. Our town. Diverse. Prosperous.  Well-educated.

Turns out living in an affluent neighborhood, around lots of well-educated people,  is good for our health. 

Why would this be so? Kind of simple and logical, really...

 "It turns out nearly the entire effect is due to two things: less smoking and less obesity. Of these, smoking has by far the biggest impact."

It's funny. Taking hot smoke into one's lungs never seemed like a good idea, or made much sense. And being around folks who smoke has always been annoying and uncomfortable. Such a nasty habit. And well, being smart about what you eat, and how much you eat, always seemed like a good bet too. Picky, choosy, eating sensibly, leaning to healthy, organic, primarily plant-based, sustenance, sure. Eat less, move more.

Simple, common-sense, easy to follow rules for better living. I mean, like, right?! Who knew?! So yeah, where we live, there are very few smokers to be found. They stick out like a particularly retrograde tribe. Furtively puffing away in isolation. 

And, well, in our hood there are an uncountable number of runners, yoga practitioners, tai chi folks, bicylists, roller bladers, skate-boarders, wind surfers, swimmers, power-walkers, etc. And there is an infinite variety of excellent, healty-fare, restaurants dotted & dashed around town. So yeah, an active populace with excellent food choices around every corner. An abundance of abundance.

I think of that Herman Melville idea from one of his merchant sailing books: Be careful who you choose to hang out with. If you live up the in crow's nest, or down the in the hold, you will be defined by what you choose to do and who you choose to hang with. Our pocketbook and bank account may say, "down in the hold," but our hearts, heads & spirits declare: "Crow's nest, baby!" 

Clarity in simplicity.

The Way of the Way...

"It's only going one way."

That's a line my friend and I often kick around in conversation. Funny. We marvel at the twists and turns of our lives. Decisions made. Pivot points. Roads taken, and roads not taken. We are sort of surprised at how we ended up together, and  find ourselves living in the right now. It didn't seem like a plan, it seemed like we sort of stumbled along into a life. Life is long, life is short. Life is life. Still, weirdly, at the same time, it all sort of seems like fate. Maybe an arbitrary fate? You can imagine other scenarios. Other decisions. Other roads. But you are left with what happened, and what is. Could it really have gone any other way? Were we always fated to do what we did? Is there a long chain of causality, that is certain and in a way fixed?  Or is life and the choices we made just certain takes on a vast sea of possibilities? Do we roll  the dice every moment? Is everything luck & chance, and our present condition just one of an infinite number of possible outcomes?  Is everything always up for grabs? Moment to moment? Or was there only, inevitably one way forward? I mean, fuck, that's a heady topic for a morning post. I mean who knows?! Welcome to another day in paradise...

"Hello Wig!"

Up early. Rough night. Wrestling with demons. Flick the radio on as I fire up the coffee-maker. The BBC radio program asks me: "What would you do if you had to shave your head?" That's a good one. Seems like the least of our worries, but, well, actually, every day is bound by: "Is it a good haird-day or a bad hair-day?" So, yeah, well, I guess in the face of mandatory "head-shaving,"  the plain, conscise and clear answer would be,"Hello wig!" Improvise. Maintain. Deal with the deal. That's life...

As Real As You Possibly Can Be...

If there is Hope it resides in reality, in the real, in the day to day, the common folk, the simple moments, moments of clarity, the smiles of a friend, the sparks from a friendly eye, the kind, genuine laughter escaping from the lips of those you love.

The small gestures, the tiny kindnesses. 

Hope, it is there, alive in our hearts and heads. It doesn't need to be grand, in fact, that's a fool's game, better to keep your Hopes close to the vest, close to the ground. And for god's sake: Damn the  Fear.  You know, Fuck Fear. That is "Dead Man Walking."  No way to live a life.

Hope. It's okay to Hope. Sure there is the chance Hope gets crushed, but that's just the way the cookie crumbles. It's best to be real. As real as you possibly can be, and damn the torpedoes. That is the way to a certain glory.

Counter-Programming, Not So Counter...

Counter-programming. 

So yeah, there is the historical/cultural/social/political zeitgeist we all swim in every day. Can't stop the swirl of news & madness. We are all captives of a certain time and place. Some of us just want to "get along," but it's clear that in the Human realm that just isn't the way. It's a war out there. There are real, deadly, bloody, totally tragic shooting-wars unfolding across the planet. In my life-time, there has always been a war, or multiple wars, usually raging somewhere across the globe. The death and destruction affects us all. We are definitely all connected. Human, and a bit fucked up, at war with each other by any means.

War is war. 

Politics is war. 

Culture is war. 

Love is war. 

The legal system is war. 

There are always adversaries, competing interests, good actors vs bad actors. Those who want to pull us together, those who want to pull us apart. "Why can't we all just get along?" Who knows? We just can't. We don't see eye to eye. We want different things. We have competing visions and beliefs. As it was once said in a famous black & white movie about war: "Everyone has their reasons." Right. Even if they aren't reasonable reasons.

You can't make everyone see it your way. That's just a reality. So yeah, counter-programming. I have been reading a 555 page poem by Lord Byron written between 1819-1824. It's quite entertaining. I thought it was going to be a bear to read, and a real slog, but actually it's quite a fun and witty read. The poem has just taken a major turn from Love to War. And it all rings so true, and familiar.

I suppose the real eye-opener. Humans are Humans. Same flaws, passions, madnesses across time and place. Consumed with Love and War. Always. That is the Human Story. Seems it has always been the theme. We have different clothes and new gadgets, but the Human Heart, the Human Story, Comedy & Tragedy, has a consistent and persistant thru-line. It turns out that my counter-programming, isn't so counter after all. Love & War and everything in between. Yep.

Lessons from Dog-Land...

I spend lots of time with dogs. Some days more time with dogs than people. I must admit, I'm getting a bit wild, unkempt & feral myself. A bit "doggie."

So what's the vibe? What are the lessons from dog-land? 

Attention. We all want attention. And treats. And a bit of rough-housing. Truth be told we want to be the center of the Universe, but maybe we know it's a foolish impulse? Too much going on. We are easily distracted by... well... pretty much everything...  passing cars, squirrels, rabbits, other dogs, humans on bikes and scooters, a heavy wind, a mild rain, a sunny day. We really, really, really want to get up-close and personal with a squirrel or a rabbit. It's the holy grail of dog-land.

Attention and distraction are big in our world.

Meals are party time. Treats rule. We will eat just about anything. Don't ask. Yikes. We are loyal, (feed me, give me treats, be nice to me, and I will follow you any & every where), and consistent. We like a varied routine. We love to walk. We live in the moment, from moment to moment. There is a bit of ZEN in every dog. We are easily satisfied. Tend to be happy, feisty, we might worry a bone, but really not worried about anything, except maybe being left out of the action. Home alone. Ruff.

All the dogs I hang with are "fixed," (ouch!), so sex is off the table. Wow. A big past-time off the menu. Opens up other possibilities. Digging holes. Getting dirty. Sniffing. Always be sniffing. Peeing on fire-hydrants. Yes. It's a thing. Marking a trail, one pee at a time: "Kilgore was here."

Enthusiastic for living. Sometimes we just want to roll around on the ground. Or wrestle with the leash. Or leap and bark at the world for no particular reason. Run. Play. Eat. Sleep. Scratch & yowl. A dog's life.

Wrestlemania for the Politcally Inept...

Yes. I am happy & gratified that a very large, toxic, loud, supremely annoying fat man, prone to lies both big and small, has to sit in a courtroom and face the music. There is a long list of very serious charges he must answer for in New York City. Karma, baby!

It seems it is only within the four walls of a courtroom, with a no-nonsense Judge and a process for sitting a jury, that toxic-fat boy and his unrelenting river of bullshit, finally meets common sense, decency & gravity. The rule of law. Of course, outside the courtroom chaos rules. Everywhere that man goes it's bullshit, lies, stupidity, meanness, racism, misogyny, a shit-show, a clusterfuck. Wrestlemania for the politically inept.

The TV (network & cable) is a stupid-making machine. No doubt. Do yourself a favor and turn that shite off! Everything becomes a TV show. A very stupid, corrosive TV show.

You know, if you wrestle with a toxic, muddy, pig, you too will be slimed. That has been a theme for what seems like forever. A rule for  a better life: Avoid the toxic-muddy pig at all costs. One hopes America will finally turn away from the madness, ignorance and chaos. Is that asking for too much?

The only hope for toxic fat boy? They somehow luck into seating a toxically-sociopathic cretin on the jury. Certainly the facts, the evidence, the truth of the matter resides on the prosecution side. No one seriously seems to be really entertaining the idea that the man is innocent. Even his attorneys aren't making that case. It's all about "how dare they" treat my client like a common criminal?

I mean, truth be told, my mind is made up. I could not be fair and impartial. Guilty as fuck bubbles up in my head.

You know, presumed innocent, until proven guilty. Right. It's the way it's supposed to work, but knowing what we know, you know, we know. Safe to say, there is not an innocent cell or bone in the that tubby body. No way. Karma is a rock. 

"The Lonliness of the Long Distance Runner" - Alan Sillitoe

"It's not politics, it's pathology."

I'm quoting myself this morning. Is that twisted?

Funny how a segment of our population has gone over the cliff: "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." 

I think one of the most significant and useful University classes I ever took was "Abonormal Psychology." My post-graduate studies of the abnormal in action seem be validated and roll out every damn day. It is easy to see the madness in others. Maybe less easy to see the madness in ourselves. But we can try.

Human Beings are a gnarly lot for sure: complicated, contradictory, disappointing, infuriating, You know, the tricky monkeys. Often we trick ourselves with the stupidest shite.

So yes, we end up with the Humanity of it all: Tragedy, Comedy, and Insanity. Some days you really want to extricate yourself from the fucking crazy herd. "In it, but not of it." But, of course, that is impossible. 

It's like that song: "Stuck in the Middle with you..." Yikes.

Perfectly Human...

"Trying for Zen Perfection."

Let's dissect this sentence. 

1. There is no trying. There is doing, or not doing. Also doing well, doing badly, doing middiling. 

2. Zen. It descends upon us. Like the rain, or like sun & moon beams. You can't conjure it up on demand.

3. Perfection? Ah, well, maybe a bit of a fool's paradise, a mythical chimera flashing just out of reach? Especailly in the human realm.

Being perfectly human would contain multitudes of contradiction, flaw, foible, nonsense. 

Is the Universe perfect? Maybe. Since it contains everything.  I mean who is big enough to  challenge that idea or quibble?

A flower, a mosquito, a river, a star. Sure, glimpses of perfection, reflected in the human eye. That's as close as you can get.

Sisyphus: Guitar on Shoulder, Pushing a Boulder...

Played a r&r show last night in a dive bar. Big chaos guitar jam at the end, four electric guitars cranked to the limit, and one electric bass holding down the low-end, playing up a storm on Neil Young's  "Down by the River," & "Rocking in the Free World." Two great guitar-based songs, epic chords and changes. Total raunchy, gory, greasy, r&r glory. It was incredibly exhilarating to play, not sure how great it was to listen to. Oh well. So it goes. 

Came across this quote from Roger Daltry about playing a live show with The Who back in the late sixties, early 70's, The Who in peak form, (prime example #1: "Live at Leeds" - 1970), probably one of the greatest live acts (I  am talking about when Entwistle & Moon were still alive), ever to grace a stage...

"A bum note and a bead of sweat."

Yes. After all the noise, hurly-burly, epic glory, razor sharps riffs, overwhelmingly powerful major & minor chords, next morning you wake up in a bit of a haze. Hey, how was the gig? Well, basically "a bum note and a bead of sweat." 

Think Sisyphus with a guitar on his shoulder, pushing a boulder...

Reality? Yes. Certainly.

"However, this view does not align with reality."

Short line. Big type. 

I came across this sentence this morning. It is in reference to an upcoming trial in NY. It's not necessary to get into the details. Rest assured, it will be a circus and a freak-show, but also a reckoning. At least, that's how it appears to me, if evidence, facts & reality still hold. You know, sort like gravity & common sense.

I suppose it's a big IF, but I throw my lot in with that certain reality.

Funny. That sentence could be a judgement of so much of our Social/Political/Cultural zeitgeist at the fricking moment. The Relentlessly annoying BABEL of rabble-rousing voices floating views on pretty much every issue and event.  Views that do "not align with reality."

It a noisy Terrordome of Shite.  We can tune it out. Keep our heads, keep our feet on the ground, keep our eyes on the prize, lean to the light and damn the torpedoes. "Give me something real."

The Street/The Mansions of the Mind...

Dichotomies. Life: filled with them. 

Up/down, Good/Evil, Love/Hate, Light/Dark, Hope/Despair, you know, the list goes on forever. That is the Universe we live in. We are always traversing, juggling, maneuvering and wrestling with dicotomies.

My days: I live with dogs, I live like a dog. A bit feisty, feral, unkempt, wild, feet firmly knocking down the dirty boulevard. Turns out I'm best hanging with the animal kingdom: dogs, cats, birds. Domesticated & wild. They rise to greet me, I kneel down to greet them.

At the same time, living in the lap of luxury. The finest places money can buy. Living in other people's homes for extended stays. Just a guest, a visitor, a caretaker, a hanger-on.  But also the lucky gent who gets  to spend lots of time at perfectly appointed, tricked-out, exotically-gorgeous estates. A prime place of pride & priviledge, for sure.

Yes. The street/the mansion.  Two opposed realms. Alive in both. Super-weird, and well, really, kind of cool. 

"You have to lose..." - J. Tweedy

Yes. You must still your warring mind. How to do it? Plunge into life, elbows flying, legs and arms akimbo, blood, sweat, tears, and laughter sparking off you like microscopic galaxies. 

Leave the judging, the fretting, the worrying behind. 

Jeff Tweedy once sang: 

"It's a war on war

It's a war on war

It's a war on war

There's a war on

You're gonna lose

You have to lose

You have to learn how to die"

Right. A warring mind is a losing path. "Learning how to die?" Well, you know, maybe in the metaphorical sense. We used to call those warring, gnarly episodes a growth period.  Something dies, so something new can emerge and live. Maybe even a new you? You let something go, maybe let everything go, hit bottom, and start again. Drop one mask, one snake-skin, and put on a new one. Maybe you end up not totally renewed & refreshed, but at least, sort of, leaning that way...

Existential Crisis One Day at a Time...

It is funny. I can be propelled into an existential crisis at the drop of a hat. I put on a sunny face most of the time, but deep down inside my of being are earthquakes, hurricanes, tornados, tsunamis. It is quite the interesting life-style. So yes, even seemingly fun, amazing, entertaining and entrancing events like the solar eclipse (see previous post), can, at the same time, send me into a spin, a deeply confounding spin. I can be prompted to massive out-pourings of emotion and I pose to myself a long string of unanswerable questions. Yes. There are the mysteries and complexties of a life. I can be sort of self-crucified on that cross. I find myself wrestling with my own mind.  "It's a draw!" I don't know, I suppose I just chalk it all up to being Human. It's just me being me. Gnarly, knotty, always questioning. Never completely answering.

Confronted by the Monolith...

Yes. The solar eclipse (see previous post), was pretty amazing. We lucked out, we sat in long, comfortable, lounger-type chairs, in a sunny, blue-sky sanctuary, with a litle furry critter, surrounded by trees, chattering birds, gorgeous sunshine. Armed with our funny little glasses we could look up and see the progress of the moon across the face of the sun. We were both exhausted for various reasons, my companion was more excited than I about the event, but there was no denying we were both watching an extraordinary happening. Beyond the confines of our sanctuary, the lakefront was alive with all variety of pilgrams, armed with their own glasses, looking up. 

As it all unfolded the birds went silent. There was a hush in the air. At one point it was like that Dylan line: "Darkness at the break of noon..." At the 90 percentile phase, it got sort of suddenly cold. There were eerie shadows alive in the light. Definitely not a normal afternoon.

Just like anything else, probably best to just experience it, not judge or analyse, or god forbid, ask: "Why?"As per that Van Morrison song, "There ain't no why, it just is..." 

Right. There are the explanations, the logistics, the mechanics, the physics, the science; all the rotations and positionings, and etc. Still, I had this sense in the back of my mind, "Shouldn't we all be falling to the ground, in stunned wonder & awe?" You know, sort of like those early ancestors  of ours depicted in Stanely Kubricks' "2001 a Space Oddessey."  (1968), confronted with the inconcievable strangeness of the Monolith? Godsmackingly amazing, confounding, weird, uncommon, otherworldy. I suppose at the least this eclipse reminds us of the ungodly, overwhemling, confounding, inhuman power of Nature & the Universe. We are children of the Universe. We come from "star-stuff" ourselves. So very strange. I chalked it up to another unlikely example of our general human thing: "Don't know Jack-shit."

So, yes, just like many of the other humans, we took in the event, we consumed it moment to moment. Cheap thrills, amazing show. The deeper implications of it all? A yawning, wonderous, head-exploding mystery. We kept our heads together. We experienced it. That's life. Lived experiences. One glorious, mysterious, unexplainable moment at a time.

Off the Wheel...

Monday morning. Hands off the wheel. Let's see what happens. Later this afternoon our plan is to put on those funny-looking glasses and check out the Total Solar Eclipse. Big-time nature show. Don't need no ticket, just get on-board.

A Salty, Crusty, Gnarly Duo...

I happily go the alternative path. The road less travelled.

You know, I don't care about the latest trend, or worry about fitting in with my fellow humans. Happy to be myself. I am always marching to my own inner drum circle; I find myself madly spinning in wavering circles. 

Lately, I am obsessed with two dead, white men: Lou Reed & Lord Byron. A salty, crusty, gnarly duo for sure. They were two very different, and distinctive artists, both poets, both controversial, non-conformist, both pushing against the currents of their social circles. Both known for pursuing the road of excess, and systematically engaging in a decidedly professional debauchery. 

They both became famous or infamous for doing their own things their own ways. Both had a brilliant, fiery, uncommon, inspiring talent for slinging words in a provocative, enlightening, comical & musical fashion. They both lived wild, sometimes hard, always eventful lives. They both pissed off lots of folks. They had their enemies, their critics, their axes to grind. They both wielded those axes with verve and gusto.

I have been living in their worlds. Especially sinking into their last works. Lou's fabulously wordless, "Hudson River Wind Meditations," (2007), and Byron's  abundantly wordy poem "Don Juan," (1819- 1824).

What a great combo. I am totally blown away by both works. 

Lou's music was created just for his own purposes. The purest kind of artistic expression. He created a musical accompaniment to his long-time Tai Chi, Yoga and Meditation practice. Deeply soothing & totally mesmerizing & entrancing, looping, pulsing, drones. The sound waves immediately work to synchronize your heartbeat and brainwaves. So fabulous, healing, inspiring, deeply rewarding. Yesterday, I spent most of the morning with our little 3 bird flock in meditation in our sun-room, with Lou's album as the soundtrack. All of us immediately found an inner peace & zoned out together into a deep, enriching mindfulness. Birds of a feather flock together. 

And Lord Byron? What to say about his rollicking, overwhelming lyrical-narrative, adventurous and satirical poem? It is hilarious, rambunctious, surprisingly easy to read. Entertaining, subversive, provocative, (even today), the words seems to flow effortlessly from his pen. I was worried I wouldn't be able to track with it, but it's actually quite the easily-flowing, fabulously-engaging journey. Lord Byron was a man well out his time. He broke all the social rules of British Aristocracy. Loved & hated. He was a free-thinker, a free-spirit, a man on fire with passion, aflame with contradiction, armed with the saboteur-inside furiously spinning like an artful demon. 555 pages of lyrical rhyming poetry? Yikes. Seems impossible. So out of time and otherwordly. Nope. It is all quite brilliant. The humanity of it all is so familiar, it rings so true, loud and clear. Resonant. Throws off sparks every which way. Lord Byron definitely speaks to me from another time and place. And his wild-ass story is utterly convincing, because we know he lived the life he so vividly conjures up.

Anyway, yes. My own drum, my own drummers. Happy & rewarded by chasing after my own weird obessions. Safe to say, great art changes us, consumes us, reconstitutes us, enriches and expands us. It is an uncommonly rare & good thing. Fine art created by supremely complicated characters. The power of words and sounds, the power of an artistic heart. I happily roll down my own gnarly path with two extraordinary, inspiring co-consipirators & co-pilots.

Frailties & Uncertainties...

A follow-up to yesterday's post...

We don't know what we don't know, and, what we do know, or think we know, is partial, arbitrary, and up for revision. We float in a sea of possibilities, and an ocean of responsibilities, armed with our frailties, and our deep uncertainties.

It's a precarious position to be in, but it is where we live. Welcome to the Dollhouse and the Thunderdome.

Case in point. This morning, I come across an eye-opening, head-exploding article about Death. You'd think by now we'd know what death is,  I mean, that is what you'd think, but you'd be wrong. Turns out Death, more particularly, Brain-Death, is still a very fertile subject of inquiry. Maybe in it's early infancy of study? Scientists are still diligently doing their Scientific thing. The jury is out. It's all up for grabs.

Weird? Right? You mean even Death & Consciousness are murky, nebulous phenomena that we don't fully understand? Really? 

Yeah, well, how about this for a morning brain-twister, mind-teaser?

“I think in 50 or 100 years time we will have discovered the entity that is consciousness,” he told me. “It will be taken for granted that it wasn’t produced by the brain, and it doesn’t die when you die.”

"That is a key tenet of the parapsychologists’ arguments: if there is consciousness without brain activity, then consciousness must dwell somewhere beyond the brain. Some of the parapsychologists speculate that it is a “non-local” force that pervades the universe, like electromagnetism. This force is received by the brain, but is not generated by it, the way a television receives a broadcast."

Freaky-Deaky, right. Makes me think of that Firesign Theater line: "Everything You Know is Wrong." Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Good morning Campers!

Figure Things that Just Don't Figure...

"Making sense out of things that don't make sense."  It's a theme.

Yes. I seem to spend lots of my time doing the above. What a clusterfuck of a life.  The wheels are furiously spinning in my head as I try to figure out things that just don't figure.

Like they say, "Chasing shadows." 

Or watching shadows playing on a wall in a little hermetic cave, thinking that those wavering shadows are the freaking world in it's complete entirety.

The Universe doesn't have to "make sense." It doesn't have to be rational, or logical. It doesn't anwser to anything, it doesn't have to explain itself to Human Beings. All those games of logic and rationality and making sense are just the very Human games we Humans play.

And often, we Human Beings, Children of the Universe, are actually playing a different game, a game of irrationality, illogic, nonsensical, ridiculous, off-target, filled with crazy-ass ideas, weird dreams & delusions. We pretend to go thru the motions of logic and rationality, but often it's a bluff and a sideshow, or deep misunderstanding.

Funny. Ofen we are Lost Souls furiously wrestling with our own imagined demons. What a life.

"You Are Here..."

Where are we? If you are a reader you may have a clue. Funny how Science Fiction is just a little bit of forward-thinking, and future-casting. The best of it sees the present moment and scoots it forward a bit. Certainly of these books, Orwell's "1984" had the biggest, earliest influence on me. Even as a Wee Lad, I could see myself as an American born & bred, Winston Smith. Today? This little diagram seems very on-target. Unfortunately...

Into the Mystic...

Head in the clouds, feet on the ground, dog nipping at my heels, precariously close to a cliff. You know, a bit of that Holy Fool Vibe.

That's me. I'm one of those Humans who dream my dreams at the same time that I'm kicking down the cobblestones, navigating the obstacles of a day. Juggling dichotomies and paradoxes at every turn and corner.

I do believe we live in a Grand & Wonderful Universe, a place that is also crushing, deadly, and super-destructive to everything that lives. Although, now that I think of it, everything is energy, so all this living, dying, dreaming, crashing, creating & destroying is just energy at play.

I once came up with a line,  I used it in a song, I think it's my own invention: "Everything that Lives is Holy, AND, Life is Cheap."

That is how it all "feels" to me. And we have to live with it. I think Life is a Mystery. We are free to apply our minds, our logic, reason, Science, Philosophy, Religion, Pop Cultural Psychology to it all, but none of it is totally sastisfying. 

Nothing Explains Everything. All knowledge seems partial. As Wm Blake once put it, we are Prisoners of our Senses Five. Being Human means we are veiled. There is the Cloud of Knowing and the The Cloud of Unknowing. They contend with each other, answer each other, and reconstitute and sometimes vanish in the face of a healthy breeze.

The closer we examine things the more we know;  the more we know, the more we realize that what we know is limited, paltry, just an exploration of a deeper and greater unknowing. Humility helps to get your head around that.

Being a Mystic. Heading into the Mystic. That's the tune, the groove, the vibe. I say ride it, live it for all it's worth. It's up to us.

Cooler Heads, Calmer Nerves...

We are in weird cycle. As Teri Kanefield tells it, we are enraptured , engulfed, and held in the clutches of the Outrage Machine. Yes, there is an industry of Outrage. It is a chaos-agent, and a lucrative business model. Right, Left. The Outrage is ubiquitous and unavoidable.

Sure, there is plenty to be outraged about, but instead of going to the well to hype it up to the max, probably smarter and healthier, to take a breath, sit in silence, try to think, reason, and understand what the fuck is going down. The Outrage disables your higher thinking functions. Intelligence & your intellectual impulse vanishes. You become helpless and malleable to a fiery emotional palette. The Outrage is a tool for profit, and also a political weapon.  It is a weapon of mass destruction. I think many of us are now addicted to outrage. We fly to the outrage like moths to the flame.

 A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

There is so much B.S. floating in the air. Every damn day. What is a poor, humble Pilgrim to do? Maybe find a bit of amusement?  You don't have to go there. Really. 

So yeah, we are all pushing each others buttons, making each other crazy with the crazy.  So silly & stupid. I say fuck the Outrage. It is all too much. It's really too funny for words. We are intentionally making each other very stupid Human Beings. It's all quite ridiculous & stupefying.

The Purveryors of the Outrage and total B.S. count on us being lazy, docile, easily hyped up and swayed by nonsense. We don't have to play the game. Turn your B.S. Detector up on high, turn up your amusement, sit back and watch the show, or better yet, retreat to a sunny glade, a peaceful oasis, and marvel  & wonder at the madness, and willful ignorance of your fellow Humans who gladly & willlingly outrage themselves over the cliff. 

Hah... we need cooler heads, calmer nerves. Yes. Find that inner belly laugh. And let it out, Captain...

Directed Sleeping...

Sleeping. It should be easy. It is oh so necessary. For me it's used to be quite easy. I could sleep anywhere any time. I famously fell asleep in Las Vegas on a jaunt with a couple folks watching Sam Peckinpah's "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Gargia," in a crowded, bustling hotel room. That's some epic sleeping right there.

Li'l Abner was a mattress tester. That's a job I could have done at the drop of an eyelid.

Over the years sleeping has become more of a rollicking adventure. Not so easy anymore. Everything needs to be just so. Soft pillow, not so hard mattress, soothing music, boring book, a bit of a ritual to get my head clear and down-shift the energy zapping thru my body.

Plus, I sleep around town. A cornucopia of beds all around town. Every variety imaginable. Some of those beds are comfy nests, some not so comfy.

I started taking inventory. I noticed I was sleeping better in certain directions. It got me thinking that the direction one slept in was important. Is that true? I asked the Great Google and came up with various answers and recommendations. I mean there is nothing clear-cut. Just lots of suggestions.

I settled on this: " According to Vastu Shastra one should avoid sleeping with their head towards North or West. A more preferred direction to sleep in should be with your Head towards South or East and your Feet towards North and West."

So, yesterday, my partner and I moved the bed. We flipped it around from a North/South direction to a East/West direction. Head in the East, Feet in the West.  We both took our shoes off and hopped on the bed. Suddenly it just seemed so much more comfortable. Really. Is there any Science to back up this idea?

"The Scientific explanation for this suggestion being that the Earth’s geographical North pole is a Positive pole and the geographic south pole is the negative pole. A human’s head being like the positive side of a magnet and feet being negative side of a magnet, should be aligned in the direction of the flow of the charge or magnetic field in this scenario of the Earth."

Yeah. Well. Who knows?! I'm gonna experiment. And see what happens. I took the tip and improvised based on the room and my mood. I want to sleep with my Head in the East, and my feet in the West. Makes sense to me. Last night was good. I slept soundly. "There's a feeling I get when I look to the West..." Hmmm, sleeping well, problem solved?! Well,who knows, we shall see, one can only dream & scheme...

"Mad, Bad, & Dangerous to Know." - Lady Caroline on Lord Byron

The last few weeks I have been living with Lord Byron. Considered one of the greatest Romantic Poets in the English language. His first name wasn't "Lord," it was George. George Gordon Byron.

I have been reading this amazing, beautifully & brilliantly conceived book: Andrew Stauffer - Byron A Life in Ten Letters. A fabulous way into a life. Every chapter begins with a letter written by Byron. Key moments in his life. The story unfolds effortlessly. 

I was totally captivated. Another time and place totally comes alive. It is funny and instructive to find that all the human flaws & frailties were alive then, as they are now. We Human Beings have not really come very far.  The life is a long list of and litany of foibles & follies, mad quests, romantic absurdities, tragedy, comedy, outrage, and idiocy too.

Byron spent much his life romancing and pitching the woo to both sexes. With a special emphasis on married women. A lot of huffing & puffing, preening and mopery, chasing & swooning. Such a wild debauch of a life. It's amazing the Poet had the time and  the energy to actually write poetry. But he did. Lots of it. And he became famous for writing poetry that fascinated, inspired, entertained and outraged his social peers and the world.

As Lady Caroline Lamb remarked, Byron was "mad, bad and dangerous too know." By the way, so was Lady Caroline. What a combustible couple.

Anyway. A great read. I was often amused, confused, befuddled, inspired and appalled by Lord Byron. I hated to see him meet his untimely end. But, no doubt his life was totally power-packed. He lived it to the fullest. The man, his legend and his poems are still alive today. Amazing.

Ejecting Stars at Every Turn...

Yes, in a previous post I referred to myself as a "furious demon of optimism." Yes. It is true. I wear that personality trait & inclination like an ornamental helmet, or a badge of honor.

Why? How? 

Who knows? Maybe I was just born that way?

I was also trained in the habit. Trained and disciplined by influential folks around me. Seems I was always surrounded by folks who had a much bleaker outlook than I did. I spent lots of time in debate, in deflection, in denial. It was always a war of thoughts, ideas, ideals. A war of hope, and a war of dreams.

So, yes, thoroughly battle-tested. Comes in handy right up to this very moment. Every day the war continues. 

Bring me your pessimism, bring me your doom & gloom, and you will just fire me up. I will light up like a Roman Candle.  I will explode and eject stars. I absolutely will not submit to the darkness. No surrender here. As one of my favorite r&r philosophers once sang: "I won't back down."

Sure there are things that optimism just can't dissolve. We live in a Universe where Chaos, Death & Destruction are in-built into the fabric of everything. That's just the way it is. So you deal with that by just parking it to the side. There are some events that require a deep silence, a robust sadness. There is a sadness in the world that cannot be denied. There is no bottom to the well. But, of course, we don't have to dwell there. Know it. Experience it. And then carry on. That is just life, the way it is.

Do I have my dark times? Sure. I can crash and burn with the best of them. Usually the only way thru is by a concetrated and determined discipline; taking care , sleeping well, eating well, engaging in something that will captivate me via reading, writing, playing music, listening to music, totally plunging into enrapturing diversions. It's not always easy to do, but it is essential, and it always works.

There is always, the Light. Maybe that's what others think of as "god." I think of it as an animating energy that suffuses everything. It connects everything too. It's a deep mystery that enriches everything. You know it's a Yin/Yang thing. Once you've experienced that deep mysterious connection you are fortified and immunized against the purveryors of gloom. 

There is the reality: Here. Now. Alive. 

Containing and embodying all the hope, optimism, dream, mystery, beauty and bounty that one humble pilgrim can handle. Ejecting stars at every turn.

A Nuanced, Hushed-Beauty Approach...

Working on the art-work for our new album. Or let's say my creative partner is working on it, I, once in a while look over her shoulder to get an idea of the process and the progress of the graphics, the cover art, the inside booklet, and the liner notes for the CD. I offer off the top of my head comments and opinions. I have the easy part. We have a long history of creating work together. So it's not as annoying and potentially combustible as it may sound. We both trust each other creatively. 

The work is done diligently, and religiously, even though folks who ultimately will stream our music on digital platforms won't see it in all it's glory, won't really benefit from our all love and attention we put into this expression of our art.

Funny. We do it anyway, and damn the torpedoes. It is good example of creating without regard for popularity, fame, fortune, celebrity, etc. All of that seems impossibly out of reach & deeply besides the point too. I mean, it truly is "art for art's sake." A long-term labor of love that we do for love of the doing.

Yesterday the question hanging over us: Do we want to create an album cover that has maximum "impact?"  A bold, grab you by the lapels energy? Or a more nuanced, hushed-beauty approach?

Most of our culture in the moment wants to grab you, throttle you, demand you pay attention. For us, it's obvious, that has no appeal. So, that's an easy one, sure, let's go with the nuanced, hushed-beauty approach. Maximize the mystery, the aura, the quiet, stunning nature of the thing. Let the audience come to it, or not, on their own, with just a hint, a glimpse of exquisite beauty and energy inside the package and in the grooves.

Pure Zen Genius...

This was a moment of pure Zen-Genius. A rambling conversation about everything under the sun with my long-time Soul-Mate. It really does help to navigate thru life with a Soul-Mate by your side. Not an easy thing to find in this the big old world of toil & trouble, hurly-burly, lightening & thunder.

So, yes, a rambling & rambunctious conversation. I was being wildly-optimisitic. It happens, especially if the tenor of the conversation turns doomy. I can be a furious demon of optimism in the face of pessimism. It's probably both a good and a bad quality. No doubt. It can drive other folks completely bonkers. I find it sort of enjoyable.

In the middle of a sentence, said Soul-Mate whipped out a pen and drew a diagram on a piece of paper. It brought the conversation to a complete standstill. She shoved it under my nose. Nothing else left to say. Yes, of course, it's all there in one simple diagram. Truly, nothing left to add. My brain exploded in deep enlightened delight. Of course.  The whole shebang in one simple diagram. Let's call it...

"Everything Else and the Evil Forces."

The Swiss Army Knife of Questions...

Ha...

There is that eternal, very human question, always on the lips of anyone who is paying attention.

"Why?"  

It's a gnarly question, opens up a bottomless can of worms, and can be applied to pretty much any & every circumstance in the human realm. Often it is a completely, befuddling, gob-smackingly difficult and unanswerable question. 

Some folks will try their best to respond, and muster up a weak & paltry verbal balloon such as: "Well, because." Or even "Because I say so." Which is about the lamest of answers anyone can float. That's a bit of moral cowardice right there.

This morning, early, still dark here, the question burning in my fevered brain: "Why do people do the stupid, totally destructive, deeply self-sabotaging things they do to themselves and others all the time? You know, like every damn day?"

Aye, indeed, that's a loaded question right there, for sure. Maybe too early in the a.m. to be floating that one? I take a sip of coffee and answer to myself: "Well, glad you asked that bunky, I mean, shite, um, that's a very good question indeed. Can I get back to you on that?"

I mean, not to weasel out of an anwser, I can float a handful of obvous reasons for our obvious human frailty. A few pungent, odiferous answers: Stupidity. Selfishness. Greed. Bad blood. Bad faith. Fear. Loathing. Evil-intent. A nihilistic, death-conjuring wish to burn the world and everything in it to a crisp.

Like I said. Supremely gnarly.

Feeble and Confused & Tired, Not Like Jesus!

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, it's a long way to November. You know. Election 2024. Expect lots of noise and hurly-burly. It's gonna be exhausting and annoying, no doubt. I mean we are already annoyed and exhausted. It will all be racheted up as we get closer.

I do think it's important to call out the Bully at every turn. We are not only voting for Joe & Kamala, we are voting against a very pernicious, toxic, clown and a broken GOP.  

Love this... the game is alive, Democracy hangs in the balance...

Not Again...

I hear it is going to be a busy day for a very large, sloppy, super-annoying, always babbling and rabble-rousing malignant narcissist. My good friend in Poland is just as worried about this toxic clown as I am. I stumbled across this photo this morning. Sometimes one photo really does speak more than a thousand words.  Hard to believe this even needs to be said: "Not Again." Really...

Escaping Escapism...

Escapism: "a way of avoiding an unpleasant or boring life, especially by thinking, reading, etc. about more exciting but impossible activities."

Well, yeah, right?! Maybe that's why we have evolved & developed these over-active brains? It is no wonder that we all are searching for ways to escape the harsh realities of life, to conjure up & inhabit other worlds of fantasy and adventure.

Of course, there is no escaping life in all it's complicated, contradicotry, overwhelming complexity, but there are smart, challenging, and all-consuming diversions that can keep us fully entertained & occupied. Yes, you can live a life chock-full of diversions. No doubt.

Still, living life to the fullest means also dealing head-on with the unpleasant, the boring, the less exciting, and the completely, mundanely possible. That's a good chunk of life right there.

Escapism can be a good thing, and a bad thing too. Just like anything, it's about the doses & measurements. Too much escapism makes the baby go blind, leads to an unworldly madness, a certain unseriousness. A culture built on escapism seems like an abdication of the real, a certain imaginative death, a necessary opening to a world of rich fantasy, and a closing of the door to the incredily amazing real world right before our very eyes & noses.

Living in the real here now can be a healthy plunge, and a real-world escape too. Maybe not a paradise, but a paradox to inhabit?

Against the Wind...

Yesterday afternoon, reality hit us in the face, one little snowflake at a time. We were on our way to the tax preparation office. Paying our taxes. They say you can't avoid death or taxes. That is the way of the world. We are members of the working stiff class. We make a few bucks, pay our bills, keep a roof over our heads and put food on the table. And, oh yeah, make records and do our creative thing too. The money flows in and out like a rushing river. I have no idea how we make it, it is all smoke and mirrors, luck & pluck.

Anyway, we were on our bikes in a quietly raging snowstorm. The reality of cold, wet, snowflakes pummeled us in a heavy wind.  We were quite the pair out on the street. Dressed extravagantly in colorful duds, I wore a kooky-looing winter hat, my partner wore furry ear-muffs. No doubt we looked like silly, kind of out-there, mildy-eccentric characters on the move. Biking in a lovely snow-shower. The weather gods were taunting us and laughing.

A big black truck passed us by and honked a friendly greeting. Darkened windows. We had no idea who was inside. We smiled and waved. It cracked us up to think of what we must have looked like to those folks passing by. We both laughed at that idea. "We must look kooky!"

Against the wind, against the snow, seemingly against the odds, all to get to a little mundane office to crunch the numbers and find out what we owe in taxes to the U.S. Government.  Yes. Unavoidable. A gnarly task. The verdict? Not too bad. We made it thru once again. Surprisingly, it almost, sort of, felt good. Doing our civic duty. This week has been voting & paying taxes. That is what the common folks do. Being common folk. Slogging thru day by day. Alive in the Land of Milk & Honey. And wind & snow too.

Fear & Loathing at Mar A Lago

Shades of Hunter S. Thompson...

HST wrote brilliantly, and hilariously about the collapse of a President and Presidency way back in the early 70's. Tricky Dicky's days of cold reckoning. Seems that we are entering the days of a cold reckoning for an ex-President and famously corrupt personage.

“I feel a bit lightheaded; I think Trump really is broke.” I’m no Hunter S. Thompson, but I smell fear and loathing in Mar-a-Lago."  Ha. Ha. Ha.

It really is sort of a delicious story. I think it's a pretty funny and satisying series of events, because whatever pain and humiliation this particular fat bully experiences is just so richly deserved. You know living a long life of fraud and crime coming to a certain reckoning. It's a slice of beauty.

Two things can be true: This Conman/Fraudster is a serious threat to our Democracy. Serious. Not funny. And at the same time, it is all quite hilarious, and supremely, joyously funny to see such a Toxic Clown facing the music in a New York courtroom. Build your fame and fortune on an Empire of Lies, and then watch it all crumble and vanish when the bill finally comes due.

Next Monday is "posting bond day," for the MAGA King. 

"Soon, the public will find out if the mogul has no clothes. As Warren Buffet wrote in 2001 in his annual letter to shareholders, “After all, you only find out who is swimming naked when the tide goes out.”

Let's  check in with our current President, and see what he thinks of it all. I mean Common Sense Joe is a very empathetic, sensitive & caring Human Being. But, oh yeah, laughing at the plight of the Bully? It seems just pitch-perfect:

President Biden, speaking at a Texas fundraiser: "Just the other day, this defeated looking man came up to me and said: 'Mr. President I need your help. I'm in crushing debt. I'm completely wiped out.' I had to say, 'Donald, I can't help you'."

The Sea of B.S.

Yes. As Lou Reed once counseled, keep your B.S. Dectector on High at all times.  For those paying attention, it seems obvious that the Human Herd is happy to wallow in B.S. to an ever-expanding degree. Seems folks love to lie to themselves and to others. It takes time and dliligence and patience to wade thru the Sea of B.S. and to find those little nuggets of truth, you know, kind of like panning for gold, like those old 49ers who fled to the West to find their fortunes.

The 24/7, always on, firehouse of B.S. and disinfo is pretty damn impressive. And oppressive too. So much data, overflowing and swamping us. And companies, countries and bands of bad actors, and maglignant minds, love to swamp us with the B.S. They sell it to us daily.

And so many of us prefer to buy and believe the easy lies, instead of the hard truths. You know, it's tricky, often we end up slinging the B.S. to ourselves too. I suppose that's a Human Flaw tattooed on our hearts.  I have high hopes and low expectations that we can do better. Parse the B.S. and get to the real, raw essence. Finally, at the end of the day, there's gravity, common sense, reality, logic, intelligence, and the simple seeing what is before our very eyes. We can ask: What really happened? What is really happening now?

Not saying it's easy to do. But I do think it's necessary to live a life to the fullest. Otherwise our lives become just another exercise in B.S. And we end up truly, madly, deeply, lost in the sea of no return.

The Essential Thing...

My partner and I voted in the Illinois Primary yesterday. Democrat ballot. Voted for Joe B. and Kamala H. and a long list of local Democrats. There was very little drama in this primary election. Illinois is a sold-blue state, the Democrats do well here. Our town is a super-progressive blue-bubble in a solid blue state.

Maybe we live in a bit of an echo chamber?

Around here we love Democracy, Human Rights, Voting Rights, a progressive, inclusive, optimistic America. So, anyway, it was low-turnout day. The polling place was pretty empty mid-afternoon. But it felt good to do our "civic duty."

You know, folks have fought, lived, and died, just for the right to vote all around the world. It would be a shame to take that for granted, to not appreciate the honor and priviledge of casting a vote for one's preferred representatives.

I do think lots of folks are tuned out, and burned out, about politics. It has been a nasty few years of political discontent. And the media seems to just love to amplify the stupid shit. But I do have high-hopes for the November Election. As they say, "Democracy is on the ballot." The fate of our little experiment in government by and for the people is under attack. Commonsense Joe is "fighting for the soul of America."

We did a little essential thing yesterday. And we will do it again in November. High hopes.

I Dreamed of Bob & Neil...

Dylan dreamed about St. Augustine. Neil Young dreamed about being a salmon swimming upstream. I dreamed about being in a room with Bob and Neil. Neil appeared as he was when he was singing "Like a Hurricane" with Crazy Horse in 1977. Dylan looked like he was when he was singing "Idiot Wind" in Colorado way back in 1976.

Wow. Talk about influences and influencers. It's totally weird to me. My head in the clouds of another time and place, deep in sleep, head buried in my pillow. I suppose, over the years, "creatively," & "artistically" Bob and Neil really are the ones that inspired me more than any others. Two wildly creative, prodigious, mercurial, gnarly, confounding, inspiring, ever-changing, conjurers & spirits. The only others even in the near orbit for me: Kurt Vonnegut, Sam Shepard, John Lennon.

What happened in the dream? I took a chair in the audience with lots of baggage all around me. Lugging my stuff. Schlepping as usual. Encumbered with stuff. Neil said a few words on the mic and then took a seat behind me. He immediately pulled out a joint, lit it up, and passed it around. 

We waited for Bob. Saw a glimpse of him darting around in the wings. A hard to pin down, flashing presence. I was already practicing in my head how I was gonna explain to my friends that I was in a room with Bob & Neil. And, I mean, wasn't it just totally amazing?!

It was so vivid and real. To what end? Not sure. Maybe, you know, just human beings, in a room, being themselves to the max. That's it. Not a bad artistic, creative credo.

Lifestyle...

 "Lifestyle?"

Maybe not so stylish. Improvisational. Making it up in the moment. Off the top of my head. No grand plans. Making it, sometimes faking it, to make it. 

Head Swimming...

Head swimming. Thoughts careening thru my head at maximum velocity. Trying to keep my "sea legs" on terra firma. Unsuccessfully. Out to sea, adrift, floating, swirling, dancing in mid-air.

Not Judging It...

Life...

You know, I'm "just doing it." Not judging it. I suppose, it is best to leave the judging to others. But, I'm also into willfully, determindly ignoring any of those judgements from the peanut gallery. 

As Tom Petty sings: "You don't know what it's like, you don't know what it's like, you don't know what it's like... to be me." 

Is that arrogance? Nah. Just the truth. We are all alike in some ways, and so different too. We each have our own rows to hoe, and our own shoes to fill. So, yeah, just doing it, and damn the torpedoes.

Up late into the wee hours, up early in the wee hours too. It is not optimal.

I am not very good at the r&r lifestyle. I should try to sleep til noon, but instead up super-early to watch the sunrise. It is fine and good morning. Playing The Who's "Tommy" (1969) at maximum volume on the stereo system. The walls of this mansion are rocking. A great epic album about a kid who can read the vibes. 

Yes. Inspiring. And, well, you know, Just Doing It...

The Creative Impulse...

When it comes to my creative pursuits, the guiding principle and the fundamental idea has always been to put everything (heart, head, spirit),  into the process, whether it be the writing of short stories, poems, plays, or, the writing of song lyrics and guitars riffs; without fear or worries about how it all will be received. There has never really been a plan or strategy, none of this activity has been directed at a career. It has always been a pursuit of pure expression, total immersion in the creative process, following my intuition, picking up on the signs and wonders, absorbing influences, and then "doing it," with a "damn the torpedoes" approach.  I have always had "jobs" that have paid the bills, kept a roof over my head, put food on the table. So the work, the good work has never been about getting "butts in the seats," no worries about "attendance figures," or critical reviews, or any kind of professional recognition.  Some of that has come anyway. We have filled some big rooms. All of my plays ended up finding enthusiastic micro-audiences. Much of our audience for our work has been other creatives: writers, painters, photographers, poets, musicians, directors, actors, dancers. A contingent of creative subterraneans in our midst. Our band has slowly, very slowly, and organically, grown over the years. We often do have packed rooms of folks digging our vibe. And surprisingly our music has connected with people. But, you know, we have totally done this on our own terms, with very little help, except for the inspirers we work with, other incredibly talented creatives who have been attracted to what we are doing, and have joined us, giving their all too, in  pursuing the vision. Surprising. Gratifying. A bit mystifying too. And, of course, nothing is taken for granted. Happy to always be creating, to have my life organized in such a way that I can keep focused on that creative impulse. It's a little thing, and everything.

"Renters in the Land of Moolah!"

I get weird phone calls. 

I am convinced that these phone calls come from hackers and/or scammers who are trying to hack or scam me. Often a pre-recorded voice will tell me in a sort of pissed off, madly-determined voice that my "place of business" (you mean the bike/walking path on the lakefront?)  or my place of residence (don't they know I'm an air-conditioned gyspy?) is soon to be raided if I don't call them back immediately. Or I'm to be served with some kind of serious-sounding document. I never answer these calls, I always block them, but it's seems there is an infinite number of numbers from which they can send me these ominous, threatening messages.

It's all a bit tedious

Yesterday's call was different. A bubbly, wonderfully-friendly woman's voice announced: "You are are the Grand Prize Winner of the Publisher's Clearing mumble, mumble Sweepstakes." 2 words were sort of garbled. I'm thinking it's some kind of legal escape hatch?

Then the kicker, "You have won 11 Million Dollars!" All I had to do was call them back, as soon as possible. And, I don't know, probably reveal all my private, personal, very important info.

Ha. Well. I didn't call them back, but when I met up with my partner we did play that game of "what if?"

What woud we buy? Maybe a ranch, or a cabin in the woods? I'd definitely buy an electric guitar, maybe a vintage Gretsch White Falcon, you know, the same guitar Neil  plays on the electric songs on "Harvest"  (1972). Maybe we'd pay some bills, and get makeovers?! Ha. 

Anyway, it was cheap fun while it lasted. We capped off our little fantasy with a line that popped out of my mouth, that sort of describes our present predicament here in the firmament. Not really winners. Nope. 

"We are renters in the Land of Moolah." But, you know, no one can stop us, we are free to dream whenever it strikes our fancy.

The Bad & the Good...

Super-mild weather here yesterday in the Heartland. Very Spring-like. Everyone we passed on the roads and the pathways said the same thing: "Probably Climate Change, so it's bad, but love the sunshine and warmer temps, so that's good?"

Yeah, long-term bad, short-term good. That's the Human Thing in a nutshell right there. Two contradictory thoughts alive & simultaneously clashing in our neo-cortex regions.

What did we do? 

We took to the paths and biked to our "sun-spot." Our very own quite intimate sanctuary, with backs up against an enormous stone wall, facing a rolling, verdant-green lawn (it should not be green yet!) and a shimmering, golden-tinged lake and beach-front.

Bathing in the rays. 

We watched a woman doing Yoga on the beach. Seagulls swooping. Blue sky, gorgeous, wispy white clouds crossing overhead. It was a beautiful, Zen-scene, a little glimpse of Paradise, you know, damn the torpedos. We will probally all pay for this later, but for the moment? Priceless. 

So good, probably bad, too. You know, that's how it goes?!

Riding the Waves of Existence...

Bending the Universe to your own Will?

Hah. That's pretty ridiculous. Where do Human Beings get such silly ideas? Navigate around in the Universe for a minute or two, and you quickly realize that just isn't how it works.

You will be doing the bending. Best to be flexible, try to bend, not break. Arm yourself with a bit of humility, discipline, courage. Oh yeah, and Love. 

Love to be here: bending, morphing, evolving, floating, riding the variable waves of existence. That's it.

We Like to Fuck with Time...

Here in the Midwest we jumped up an hour yesterday. What used to be 5:00 a.m is now 6:00 a.m. Takes a bit of an adjustment, losing an hour;  the upside, daylight extends forward later into the day, the daylight window grows a bit longer each evening until we hit Summer Solstice.

It shows that Humans like to fuck with Time. And, yes, Time truly is Relative. Yes. We noticed. It was a cold, blue sky day yesterday. We rambled on the path, watched the waves crash into the sand. 

I am staying at a lakefront palace, acting as the caretaker. Taking care, oh yeah, for sure, that's a job.

We had a pizza party and listened to the album we recorded over a year ago. We are in the final stages of mixing. 9 songs, mixed and nearly ready for mastering. It has been a long, meandering process, one step forward, a step  or two back, a few false starts, dead-ends, retracing steps, and then, plunging forward with gusto. 

We started with two different mixing engineers, it seemed promising, and then, pretty stupid, frustrating, and "not working." We then settled on one mixing engineer, and he took the bull by the horns. All the tracks now have his stamp, his flavor, his spice. And it just seems so right.

Now we are listening to a very cohesive album of lovingly mixed tracks that flow well together. We've tried differents sequences, getting just the right flow. So damn close now. Think we are down to one last track, need to adjust the volume on a vocal here and there.  I hear two words in my vocal on one song, "She told..." that need to come up slightly.

Yikes. That's it. Then the mixing will be done. So, yeah, we listened on a maginifcent home stereo system, which brought out all of the power and nuance of these tracks. The reverb on vocals and instruments have such a beautiful, organic, moody, atmospheric presence now. It was so thrilling to hear our songs, and our band at a certain peak performance. Recorded and mixed with such a bold, artistic verve and panache.

That called for a pizza party. A celebration of our massive, creative undertaking and a concentrated, long-time commitment and dedication to the good work. 

This morning, in the afterglow, it's Meltdown Monday. I am typing on my Chromebook, listening to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "Murder Ballads." (1996). Darkly glorious. After nine wild-ass songs about murder, mayhem, blood, and splattered guts, the album ends with Dylan's strangely ethereal song "Death is Not the End." Anita Lane, Shane MacGowan, PJ Harvey and Kylie Minogue, among others, all  sing a line. A beautiful coda to the gory madness of being a fucked up, murderous, species. 

A big, fat, orange ball of flame is emerging out of a dark blue lake, shining like a primordial God hyped up on some illicit, electrifying, uncommonly powerful drug.

Yeah. I am ready for a new week...

A Purgation, A Purification, A Healing...

 Catharsis: "purification or purgation of the emotions (such as pity and fear) primarily through art, and, a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension."

Yes. We know the process of catharsis intimately. We often head to our rehearsal studio, and gather together the musicians in our band. We leave all the worldly hurly-burly, noise, and clutter, behind.

We focus on the playing of music, our own home-made, organically-fabulated songs. We explore the creative process and personal expression with a talented and dedicated group of folks. 

When it's good, which is often, it is very, very good indeed. Everyone in the room can feel it. The energy, the musical vibrations rocketing off the walls. We think of it all as a seriously joyful noise. A wonderful, often-overwhelming experience of the healing power of art & music. 

Fair to say that there is total love in the doing. And doing what one loves to do is the truly greatest endeavor a human being can do. It's a purgation, a release, a purification, a healing ritual, a spiritual renewer. 

Funny. It's everything, packed into a couple hours of very focused work, that more than anything feels like total lightening-like play. 

Walk in feeling tired, under-seige, burned-out, frustrated, whatever, walk out feeling transported, transformed, satisfied, happy, connected to everything. Unlike anything else. Highly recommended. 

Words of Endearment...

And another thing...

Words to live by from Common Sense Joe, "a future based on the core values that have defined America: honesty, decency, dignity, equality."

Yes. That's Joe and that's the best of America. 

Those are the words that totally vaporise the Republican Party. None of those qualities are alive in that Brain-Dead Political entity.

You know, WTF?! Hard to believe any of this is up for debate. The 2024 campaign will be sound & fury, idiocy & bad faith. The choice is so freaking clear. It's almost comical. Yes. Democracy is on the table. Easy pickings. Go Joe...

Common Sense Joe - True American Original...

"The Word." Great Beatles song. You can find it on their fabulous, masterpiece record "Rubber Soul."  (1965). "Say the word, and you'll be free..." Yes. The song and the album are oldies (but goodies). Words of description that bubble up: enthusiastic, alive, vibrant, beautiful, inventive, creative, unique, optimistic, hopeful, fiery, fun. By the way, the word is LOVE.

My partner  and I sat in the kitchen, tuned in the public radio channel and listened to President Joe Biden's State of the Union address last night. We listened to every last word. Funny, the same words of description come to mind: enthusiastic, alive, vibrant, beautiful, inventive, creative, unique, optimistic, hopeful, fiery, fun. Yes. We loved Joe's speech.

Yes. Joe too, is an "oldie but goodie." A true American Original. It was all there in his speech. Intelligence. Empathy. A fully-formed Human Being. Common Sense Joe, someone who still believes in public service, and doing the right thing, a human being that "talks the talk, and walks the walk."

Dylan's line resonates in my mind this morning: "Every word rang true as it were written in my soul." Yes. Heady stuff indeed. Joe has plans, and he's a savvy politician. He is fucking good at his job. A roll up your sleeves kind of guy who still wants to get things done. Joe Biden is a true American Hero. Might sound old fashioned and sappy. But it is madly & deeply true.

Sure it's a complicated, wonderful, maddening, and often, a supremely fucked up world we all live in. But we need those folks who still believe in a "better union," a better America. Folks who still believe in Democracy, Freedom, Equality, Propserity, Common Sense, Good Government. Sometimes Joe seems like that last good man standing. But behind him are millions and millions of folks who have not given up on the dream. "Say the word, and you'll be free."

Sleepwalking towards Fascism...

Morning news in America.

We are sleepwalking towards Fascism. How does our little experiment in Democracy die? Incrementally, tiny step by step;  a cocktail of inattention, total boredom, mindless zombism, bad faith, bad luck. And significantly, a completely broken political party = The Republicans. The only truth-tellers in the Republican party, are ex-members of the Republican party.

Darth Vader's (Dick Cheney's), Daughter, surprisingly, heroically, is one such truth-teller...

"The GOP has chosen. They will nominate a man who attempted to overturn an election and seize power. We have eight months to save our republic & ensure Donald Trump is never anywhere near the Oval Office again. Join me in the fight for our nation’s freedom." - Liz Cheney

Yes, as they say, "the stakes are high." You hope "the people," the voters are up to the task. "Saving our Democracy." Seems pretty damn important. Sure, lots of distractions, you want to think about other things, maybe you are burned out, tired of the whole political thing, but shite, anyone who values America & Democracy better get their shit together. Yep. Joe Biden, and the Democratic Party. The only way forward. Really. 

Grandly Majestic Unknowable...

Paying attention to the details. Yes. Never-ending. The details. The closer you look, the closer you listen, the closer you submerge deep into the essence of things, the more information, the more facts and details appear. Funny that. You can live on the surface of things, skate along, float over, skim & skip, but if you do, you will miss so much. There is a richness to delving deeper, deeper into your own experiences, into your own psyche. You can get lost in the details, there is danger in that, yes. You may find yourself dropping down into endlessly interesting rabbit holes, you may risk your time & sanity, getting trapped in too much minutua. The clarity and truth you seek can be overwhelmed by the relentless quantity of complexity. And really, it seems as you get closer to the essence, a mystery appears. The mysterious nature of all things is revealed. There is the infinite sequence of details, and then a vanishing point. Maybe at the heart of all things is a mysteroius nothingness, a great cloud of unknowing, and the grandly majestic unknowable? Maybe?

Hustle-Mode...

Scrambling, hustling, always be closing. Maybe it's in the DNA? Who knows? I find myself often in hustle-mode. It's one of those Sisyphean tasks that come sort of naturally. I don't really like it.  I can do it. I find it necessary. What is expected? Not much. Lots of slogging thru. Keep your eyes peeled, expectations low, hopes kept on a tight leash. Let's become a little hurricane of activity, then sit back and see what, if anything, trasnspires. It has panned out, infrequently, over the years. No promises to myself, or to others either. An open book. Blank pages. Waiting for the skies to open and flaming sentences to consume those pages of emptiness.

Beware the Ides of March...

Googling Google, with a dollop of curiosity, and with your Bullshit Detector turned up high, well, you may learn a thing or two.

"Beware the Ides of March." It's from Shakespeare's play "Julius Caesar." Things did not go well, oh so long ago, for Caesar in the month of March. 

They don't make them like Shakespeare any more. Talk about a prodigious genius, and a very influential playwright. Caesar, well, he's a common type: eloquent, an iron-fisted ruler, a domineering personality, willing to put the screws to many folks, bending them to his whims and rules. Some hailed him, others brought out the knives.  I suppose it goes with the territory.

The Ides of March is also a Chicago one-hit wonder band, "I'm your vehicle, baby, I'll take you anywhere you want to go..." 

Here in the Heartland it is already an uncommonly warm & unseasonably warm beginning to March. For sure as the result of human-made, catastrophic climate change. We enjoyed the sunshine and warmer temps, but at the same time we felt a bit uneasy, and wary. Beware, indeed. Yes, that peaceful, uneasy feeling (see previous post), still hung over us. 

Doing our best to keep it together. Maintain clarity, and a sense of calm. Still... you know... the Ides of March... beware, and be aware...

Peaceful, Uneasy Feeling...

How to pin it down?

The last few days, a feeling of unease, dis-ease, has settled upon me and permeated my being. I think of that ubiquitous, sort of annoying Eagles song, "Peaceful Easy Feeling," that seemed to always be wafting thru the air, but this feeling I carry with me, subverts it: "A Peaceful Uneasy Feeling." Is it just me? Or is it reflective of a wider, deeper, more universal malaise? I don't rightly know. 

Life seems to be speeding up around me, careening out of control. Maybe that idea of control has always been off-target? Whatever is going on, unease, dis-ease, or dys-ease, a little fluttering in the core of my being has taken hold of me. I think maybe I am onto something, or maybe something is onto me?

A Glimmer...

Funny. If you are the hopeful sort, it doesn't take much to light the match. A slight glimmer, a glint, a spark, a smile, a kind word, a sunny morning, a good sleep, an excellent coffee brew. That's it. Just the slimmest of slim reeds to grab on to. 

Knotty, Gnarly Conundrum...

One of the knotty, gnarly conundrums of an examined life...

Do we "make things happen?" Or do they "just happen?" Do we "just believe" we are free actors, doing free actions? It that really how our Universe works? Or is it all momentum? Fate? Destiny?

Is "what happens" the only thing that could happen? What of luck, random chance? What of Human will and intention?

How to explain the trajectory of a life? 

Hmmm... 

I don't know the answer to any of these weighty questions. Yesterday, I was "trying to make something happen." I've been there before. Often it feels like shadow-dancing. Casting shadows on the wall, wondering if anything will stick.

There are the fields of opportunity and the fields of futility.  Knotty. Gnarly.

Finally, just living the best I can, doing the things I do. And, well, of course, full speed ahead and "damn the torpedoes."

A Simple Formula...

A simple formula...

Our over-heated, always on, 24/7, rage-inducing, information & disinformation, super-over-loaded, media monster is always stoking the fire, fanning the flames, constantly playing up our fears & prejudices, and makes us into mindless, over-emotionally-wrought angry zombies and numbed-out drones.

Fury = Stupidity.  You can take it to the bank.

How to short-circuit the fury? Take a deep breath. Sit in silence. Listen to your heartbeat. Let the light in. Feel the Chi.  Really.

For Me Mojo = Chi...

"The Art of the Straight Line: My Tai Chi."

It's not the book I expected. I thought it was a diary, or long narrative, from Lou Reed. It's not. Seems Lou wanted to write a book about his practice of Tai Chi, but he never got around to it. He was way too busy with music and the practice of Tai Chi which he did right up until his death.

Most of the book is a collection of other voices, those folks who Lou collaborated with, those he inspired, those who inspired him. It is a beautiful book and testament to an incredibly, complicated, compelling, fiercely-creative life.

Lou was married to Laurie Anderson, an American avant garde artist. What a fabulously uncommon, extraordinary couple. It is so gratifying to know that they found each other. Two strange, beautiful, exotic birds.

They had Three Rules for Living:

1. Fear No One.

2. Always Have Your Bullshit Detector On.

3. Always Be Tender.

So. So. Good. 

Reading a book about Tai Chi, without ever having practiced Tai Chi might be a bit like reading the Kama Sutra without ever having practiced sex. Kind of oddly mysterious.

I often talk about Mojo, you know, a magnetism, an energy. I realized I really have been talking about Chi, as in "your life force, the energy that flows through you and through everything. It is that which gives you life." 

Right. I do know what Chi is, I have experienced it, I experience it all the time. It flows thru me when I am fully alive, aware, awake and engaged in being a human being in the Universe.

Yes. For me Mojo = Chi. 

I don't actually practice Tai Chi, but there are many things I do practice that opens me to Chi: meditation, walking, listening to, and playing, music, eating nutritious, healhty food. Simple, soul-enriching, life-affirming things.

We also own a Chi Machine. Which I use just about every day when I am home. It's a very passive way of waking up Chi. But it works, and you know, it's not cheating.

Anwyay, so much of the book totally resonates with me. It's a good read. Recommended.

The Masque of the Red Death...

I am going out on a limb this morning. I don't like making predictions. I do think if folks talk about nebulous phenomena like the future, or god, they are really just betraying their own fears, hopes, dreams, insecurities, and prejudices.

So, yeah, take it all with a grain of salt.

Let me hazard a guess. Ok. I mean, I am projecting, and conjuring the vision that I want  and hope will materialize. But at the same time, logic and common-sense leads me to this scenario...

We are worried about Fat-Boy Slim destroying our Democracy. We are worried that the Republican Party has been infiltrated, and infected by Russian disinformation. and we are horrified to see that they are running with that disinfo to slime Joe Biden and the Democrats. It is an act of desperation. Turns out the Republicans have given up on Democracy & Policy, and Governing. They are stuck in a weird performative, attention-seeking display of cynicism and degradation.

Ha. The insight this morning, my guess, my feeling, my intuition: We are watching Fat-Boy Slim destroy the Republican Party from the inside out. All that raging, and dementia-fueled nonsense, all that toxic noise is actually more destructive to the GOP than anywhere else. Trump & MAGA are the virus of destruction for that politcal side of the equation.

It's all very ugly, noisy, & worrisome. And, sure, we should be worried. One of the major political parties in America is sick, infected, imploding. We should be just worried enough to stay active and to vote. But all the hurly-burly, rolling and tumbling, are the deeply-dark, death throes of that very retrograde, nihilistic movement. The MAGA SNAKE is eating it's own tail.

There is a certain fatal logic at work. A cascade of failure. The kiss of death for that political movement. Yes, it's scary & ugly, but it seems inevitable. My prediction: American Democracy will survive. The center will hold. We can look forward to better days. Really. I suppose it's my inner optimist taking the wheel this morning. You know, the coffee is good. And it's supposed to be unseasonably warm today. Alive and well in America!

Trump, Putin: The Gangsters Trying to Steal Our Democracy...

This Teri Kanefield post is a real eye-opener, head-spinner, you know, a real break open the head kind of read. It is a deep-dive into Russia, Putin, and the seemingly incomprehensible, Republican Party's love for Corrupt, Authoritarian Governance, and love for lawless Oligarchies: "gangsters who got rich by stealing."

From Teri: "One way to understand people like Peter Thiel and Paul Ryan is that they believe a few wealthy people should control the nation’s resources and industries and they believe these billionaires should be able to pull the political strings. They offer a few theories for why this is good and sensible. One theory is the “makers and takers” theory which holds that a few clever people drive the economy with their innovation and business brilliance. These “makers” create jobs and wealth for a lower class of people called “takers,” who are generally depicted as lazy and immoral. The trickle-down theory similarly holds that if you remove regulations and let clever people do their thing without limitations, they will create wealth and jobs for everyone.

People who hold to the makers-and-takers theory have a hierarchical worldview. They think nature forms a hierarchy and some people are naturally at the top. While most of us see regulations as creating fairness so people can’t get rich from stealing, those with a hierarchical view believe that regulations take from the competent and give to the undeserving.

The way to understand Donald Trump is that he wants to be like Putin and control the oligarchs."

Do yourself a favor. Get hip and smart to the present moment. I suggest you read the whole thing. It's really worth your time &  attention. It clearly and definitively explains so much of our present condition in the here and now of America. Trump, Putin & the American Oligarches are at war with American Democracy.

We truly are at a crossroads. Those who believe in Democracy, need to rise from their slumber and stand up for this wonderful American experiment in a Government for and by the People. A government for the many, not the few. Really, it is now down to supporting Joe Biden and the Democratic Party to "save the soul" of our country. Yikes.