Ego-Death = A Clearing...

I was reminded of that concept: Ego Death. I read about it, and a couple nights later I experienced it. It came after a series of unfortunate events: a super-busy flurry of activity, total exhaustion, poor sleep, a few rejections, a sudden, shocking death of one of our collaborators. It all sort of sent me reeling and one early evening, I fell into a very vulnerable, fragile state.

And then, "trying to sleep," I went thru a rosary of moritfications & humiliations. Funny. I was stuck in my head running a film-strip of a continuous loop of life-events that put me, my being, my personality, in the worst light. It was like a ritual shaming. Every last thing that played in my head made me feel worse. I relived a long series of failures over my lifetime. It was a shattering of my Ego. Stuck in a hall of mirrors of fucked-up-ness.

It was humbling. I crashed in the darkness. Funny. I could not conjure up any of the "good times," or successses in my life. It was just a long slog of phoniness, failure and futility. I finally turned from this hell of consciousness and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I was totally, completely, truly, madly, deeply, empty & clear.

I felt like a ceramic mug that had shattered into a million pieces on the floor. I had to slowly put the pieces back together. There were jagged edges and cracks eveywhere. I have slowly day by day come back to life, one breath, one step at a time. I have been a bit quieter, a bit more gentle and tentative with myself and others. I threw myself into the things of the day: playing music, writing songs, collaborating with our band. The key move was to step out of my deep self-consciousness, into a consciousness of the Universe of things.

Sure, it was a bit of an Ego Death. I now think of it as a necessary cleanse. The images and scenes that destroyed me, no longer seem to have their power or zing. The dust clears: I am here. Still ticking. Ha. That's life. Maybe a deflated, more shrunken Ego means more room for the rest of the Universe to find a place in my being? Yeah, sure, let's go with that idea.

Affix Firmly...

"You only tell the truth when you are wearing a mask." - Bob Dylan

Maybe the mask is the lie that reveals the truth?

What happens when the mask slips? Or you put on the wrong mask to meet the wrong moment? A fracture in the reality-picture? Thinking... "not as smart as you think you are..."

Helpless in the face of circumstances. Flailing. Falling. Crashing. In the morning light, the picture starts to reassemble itself. A new mask is within reach. Just reach your arms out and embrace. Affix firmly for best results...

Karma = Salacious Joyride!

Editorial cartoons. One of our greatest art-forms. A well rendered scene can really pack a quality punch. A great editorial cartoon can say everything that can be said in an instant flash of brilliance.  Spot-on the point. It is sort of wondrous. I love this one-panel example from one our greatest editorial cartoonists Mike Lucovich.

"Karma!"

It makes me smile, and laugh out-loud, because I too have been on the theme of the "karma-train." Fat-Boy Slime sits in a Manhatten courtroom, and he has to face a barrage of folks who are recounting the sordid deeds of his life. 

Sure it's an ugly circus, a bit of a shit-show, a salacious (what a great word) joyride, icky and a bit vomit-inducing, but that man is just facing the music of a life of fraud and lies. It's a reckoning. A trial of accountability. It's Karma-time, baby! 

Daily Mantra...

"Chill the fuck out."

My partner and I are sensitive, excitable folks. We are just wired that way. It is always a struggle just to keep on an even keel. Not actually sure it's possible. We have our days of blue skies and golden sunshine, and then we have those days of turmoil & hurly-burly. One step forward, two steps back. It's always a herky-jerky dance thru our days.

Everything counts, everything is connected. Living in this Universe is a PTSD-evoking kind of thing. We wear the trauma and drama in our bodies. There are the great & grand Universal fuck-ups and tragedies, and there are the personal, closer to home ones too. It's all so turbulent. 

Chaos.  It's built into the fabric of our lives. "Chill the fuck out." It's our latest, go-to mantra.

The Aquarium of Narcissim...

 I don't think it is a stretch to think that it is Narcissim that rules the present day across the Human Realm:

  "a self–centered personality style characterized as having an excessive preoccupation with oneself and one's own needs, often at the expense of others."

Well. Yeah. That is the aquarium we all swim in, preoccupied with oneself, at the expense of others.

We live as if we are all celebrities. We build altars to our own Egos. Ha. It's all kind of silly, self-absorbed, and pretty off-putting too. Having a "smart phone" in hand at all times, to capture the many angles of a self is a weird way to spend your days. Yep. It's a weird hall of mirrors. For sure.

It's tricky. I am one who writes about my own experience day to day. I am self-aware. And in some ways that seems important. Again we are left with navigating a dichotomy: self-aware/self-less.  There is a wide spectrum of human activity.

We can choose not to play the narcissim card. Really. I think so. Sure, being self-aware is a bit of a sticky wicket. But I find that the best of times are those where I "lose my self." Give one's self, one's ego to meet a moment, an activity, or another person. Seeking those flow activities where you become one with something other.

Being present, dropping the ego, tricking your self, to lose your self, to subsume into a higher-consciousness. Yes. I think it's possible. And desirable. A step out of the hall of mirrors, into a vast Universe of other things. A step towards better, more rewarding, mode of living.

A Glorious Idleness...

Yesterday my partner and I experimented with "being present." Mundane Monday turned into a festival of hanging out. We are dedicated pros when it comes to chasing a positive vibe afternoon. In some ways it was a perfect day. Cool breeze off the lake, brilliant sunshine, not too cold, not too hot, gorgeous blue sky, everything alive and blooming. We truly live in a beautiful neighborhood. It is stunning and extraordinary. The grasses, the trees, the flowers, the little critters, every being alive, and at full attention, fully-engaged with their living schtick. We downshifted into a passive, genial, moment to moment bliss. We rode our bikes and gravitated to our favorite sun-spot, a bit of a distance away from the hurly-burly, but within eye and ear shot of it too. We snacked on power-bars. We barely talked. Words kind of hung in the air around us. Time slowed to a crawl. We sat like amateur Buddhas, propped against a massive stone wall. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to do, except what we were doing. Being present. Truly, madly, deeply present. It was not boring, it was a glorious idleness. There was a beautiful lightness of being. We both felt it. The afternoon was about the not doing. There was no needing, wanting, grasping. It was all moment to moment presence. There was nothing and everything enwrapped in that gesture. We didn't want to leave. We let the afternoon flow. It was...

"Don't Go Down in the Basement..."

I am an open-minded, up for pretty much of anything type of person. I actually think of myself as someone who can contemplate any idea or concept. Except, I mean, up to a point. An unguarded, totally open mind can get one into trouble.

There are some avenues,  some roads, some destinations, some topics, some ideas, some fears, worries, doubts, that just aren't worth floating, delving into or exploring. Really. No sense in wallowing, or ruminating over toxic, pernicious, or deeply-detrimental subjects.

It is best to try to protect yourself from any Soul-killing phenomena. "A mind is a terrible thing to waste," especially on waste.

Like they say in the movies, if you are smart, and want to make it to the final-credits: "Don't go down in the basement."

Yes. Maybe easier said than done. Sometimes you just can't escape the black-holes that are lurking in the Universe. You can easily fall-in, get sucked into the vortex and be destroyed. Destruction is implicit in the fabric & design of Life.

It takes a bit of pluck & luck & discipline to avoid the deep-darknesses. Sometimes you really can't. I mean, for sure you can't. So you fall, you go down deep into the darkness, and you hope, beyond hope, that you will emerge again into the light.

It's not easy being Green. 

Still, I think that we Human Beings have a deep affinity for the light. We gravitate to it. Sometimes all it takes is a tiny glimmer, a little glint, or spark. It's enough, to get up and out from the dark places. You have to be vigilant, strong-willed, and tough. Be merciless in your ability to grab onto the light. Hang on as if your life depended on it. And at the same time, you must stay open, kind, and gentle, with yourself and others too. It's complicated, for sure.

Decay in the Room...

"We don't know where we come from. We don't know where we are." - Laurie Anderson

Life. It's long. It's short. 

There is an agreeable Decay in the Room...

"What Is..."

Bumping up against "what is." It can be awkward, it can be annoying, it can be eye-opening, it can be dream-crushing, it can be surprising, it can be amazing, it can be beautiful, it can be a teaching-moment, it can be a disillusioning, it can be an education or a re-education, it can alter your trajectory significantly.

You find out that you are not complete, instead you are in an improvisation with "what is." It's long-form improvisation. You can dodge & dance, you can flirt and flaunt, you can grasp and hold on, you can ride the tiger, you can surrender and let go.  No matter what, you have to contend with "What is..." That's life.

It is All Play...

Well... I have learned to play a game. It's part of my "creative" practice. I often "pretend," that everything is new. You know, "beginner's mind?" I act as if, whatever I am doing has never been done before by me or by anyone else either. Ha. I try to short-circuit my "conscious mind," and open to a larger energy field. Sounds silly, or mysterious, but I find it is a simple tool, an emptying of the head. It is often effective & quite liberating. 

First time to write a song. First time to float a dream. First time to put my fingers on a guitar's fretboard. First time to reach out to someone. First time to ask a question. 

There is a bit of a feigned naivete in my approach. Maybe a bit of playing dumb? A primitive's attitude. It's a way of opening a door, opening a mind to something new.

A new day, a new moment. Dropping the past, not thinking of the future. Not worrying about success or failure. Just the doing, in the moment, without worrying or judging. What happens? Happy accidents. Little, surprising discoveries. Gifts from the sky. Playing the Fool in the service of a  higher purpose. Unnamed. Unknowing. It is a working method & a process. A little lie of the mind.  I find it does "work." My best efforts seem to come effortlessly. It is all play.

What Is?

I'm reading Lord Byron's "Don Juan," (it's about pretty much everything), and I came across a "philisophical" passage where he talks about "the world," and "what is." It is in opposition to Berkeley's "idealism," which posits that everything is "in our heads."

As Byron tells it, to think that the world is all in our heads is just pure egotism. 

Put me in the camp with Byron. You know, maybe we are "spiritual beings," living in a "material world?" Hat-tip to George Harrison "Living in the Matrial World."  (1973). And our "job" (sentient beings, witnesses and watchers of the grand unspooling of the Universe), as Human Beings is to notice, to experience, to see, to feel, to take in, "what is." Every damn day. Yesterday, May 1, was Beltane:  the Gaelic May Day festival. We are all here to be fully alive, aware, awake.

What is?

I mean, what happened yesterday? Around here it was an explosion of warm temps, and brilliant color. It was an embracing, a caressing, kind of day. How it is possible that Nature takes front & center and the world flowers and blooms in one glorious instant? That isn't what happened, it has been a slow process, a gradual unfolding, you know, Spring in the Midwest of America, but yesterday if felt like everything was revealed in one instant. Maybe the recent rains and storms lit the fuse?

A beautiful, abundantly-lively & gorgeously-immersive day. Everyone was out and about. Everything was alive, even the rocks, the ground itself, seemed to be pulsing with life. Everything seemed at play. Sun. Blue Sky. Rippling Lake. Green Vegetation. Lively, Looming Trees. Flowers of Every Color & Shape. Everything Bubbling & Blooming. All you could do: see it, feel it, smell it, luxuriate in it. It was overpowering. Amazing. Yes. Beltane, baby. 

Magnificent: to be alive in the moment, to take it all in through our senses five. So wonderfully Human. So, so Beltane... and what is...

Messages...

I flick on the radio and the coffeemaker, and empty the dishwasher, plates, bowls, mugs, forks, spoons, knives all returned to their usual places.

Two random, unconnected, sentences float in the air, seperated by time and circumstance, and land in my head. I repeat  the words, sort of like a hypnotized, brain-dead zombie. 

I mean, I am waiting for that first sip of brain-reviving coffee brew. These are two totally unrelated, orphan sentences spoken via radio-waves, by different folks, about different topics. It is  only my own tricky little brain that puts the puzzle-pieces together for one inspired thought of great insight & wisdom:

"The is the real world."

AND... then...

"Be present."

Ha. Okay. All right. I get it. Message delivered and received. Roger that!

This Story Will Probably Continue to "Dog" Her...

Sorry. I spend lots of time with dogs. Every kind of breed & disposition. It boggles my mind that someone would brag about shooting a dog, as if it was some kind of positive quality...

This story just doesn't sit well with me.

What brings Red & Blue state America together? 

Well... maybe not so surprisingly... 

Proudly declaring to be a puppy-killer, telling the story in your upcoming book, adding it to your resume, is not exactly a career-enhancing quality. You wonder who encouraged her to include it in her book. Not exactly a courageous, laudable, inspiring act.  Ha.  Not sure how the Governor of South Dakota plans to spin this into winning political gold... I guess we shall see... ha...

What's the Narrative Thru-Line?

Tuned into National Public Radio early this morning. Seems all of the news is a bit corrosive and disconcerting. Trying to be up to date and well-informed has it's downsides. On the one hand, one thinks: "It's good to be aware of what's happening in the world," On the other hand, one thinks: "It's all a bit depressing; the many ways, Human Beings fuck over other Human Beings." There seems to be a narrative thru-line. The follies, the foibles, the flaws, the bad acts, the bad faith, the basic fucked-up-ness of being Human. What to do? I grab another cup of coffee, and put a CD on the music box. This morning it is King Crimson's "Islands," (1971), a strange, uncommon, gorgeous beast of a recording. It ranges across moods and modes. Is it rock, is it Jazz, is it Symphonic, is it Avant Garde? Yes. All of the above. I am reminded of and carried away by melody, harmony, the stubborn beauty, the prodigious creativity of Humans Beings exploring musical vibrations. Already, I'm feeling a bit better, sort of fortified with a renewed focus & energy to engage with a new day.*

*Post-Post-Note: After I wrote the above post, I finished my coffee, finished listening to the recording, took a short walk with a faithful companion in a light rain, had nice breakfast, took a long shower, and thought about the "Consolations" of a Life. I mean, it may be that a well-written and well-sung line, a smartly-composed, well-played collection of songs is a very thin, paltry and inadequate reed of consolation in oppostition to the mad & sad hurly-burly, that fills our days, and often totally consumes us. A brilliantly-conceived work of creativity doesn't erase the long narrative of human fuck-up-ness. Still, it is what we have, maybe all we have, a tiny string of small consolations that helps us get thru a day. A new dawn, a good brew, a nice meal, a warm bed, a hot shower, an engaging book, an inspiring collection of music from around the world, a new rabbit-hole to fall into, a crazy creative obsession to play with, a long day of dreaming and distraction. That's the other side, the sunny-side, the ligh side vs the dark side of that fuck-up-ness. That's it. A tiny thread to keep our heads in the game.

The Really, Really Stupid Part...

Ha. Well. Maybe the stupidest Govenor in America is a Woman,  Kristi Noem, Governor of South Dakota, who bragged about killing her hunting dog, 14 months old, because it was "untrainable." She shot the dog in a gravel pit. A pretty cruel, nasty & dastardly thing to do. I kid you not.

The really stupid part? 

She wrote about the killing in her new book, thinking it was a great example of her being a MAGA, can-do politician, someone who will take on the hard, politically-incorrect, non-woke things necessary for America. Of course, she is vying to be VP for Fat Boy Slime. Supposedly he hates dogs, so who knows, maybe it will appeal to that hollow cretin?

For the rest of us, coldly executing a young dog? Probably one of the of stupidest, most depraved things anyone has ever floated as an honorable and admirable act. Just mind-boggling & pathetic. Should this crazed-admission be a career-killer? Maybe so. Talk about self-sabotage. 

As one who spends lots of time with dogs, it is safe to say that usually, if there are "dog problems," there is a direct line to "owner/people problems."  And, though it seems like it should go without saying, say it I will, if you have a problem with your young dog, maybe think of putting it up for adoption? Let someone else give it a go?

Just a thought.  Yikes. I mean, maybe let's make America a bit kinder and gentler, and a safe, nurturing place for young dogs, and the rest of us too?

Sing, Laugh, Love, Play...

"Who is gonna save us?"

Ha. No one. We are on our own. We have always been on our own. We have to muddle thru our own way. It's a bit disconcerting. You may think that maybe there is a higher power that will guide us, lend us a hand, pull us up on our feet, dust us off, wish us well.  

Nope. Not gonna happen. 

I mean, maybe there is a Higher Power, but it is not concerned with us. Think of the Universe. It's big, it's got other stuff to do. We are just a tiny energy in a vast ocean of energy.

That could be a total buzz-kill. Waiting for a Saviour to swoop down, and make everything right. A fairy tale. Why isn't the Universe about me? Well it just isn't. You are about you.

That's the "reality," of the situation. Let's call it the Human Condition. We are all just Human Beings, stuck on a planet of other Human Beings. None of us have fucking clue, really. We are all pretty much making it up as we go. 

The Life You Save, Will Be Saved By You. But don't let it go to your head. Start with the idea that you know nothing. Be humble, inquisitive, improvisational. And, well, reach out to your fellow Humans, not looking for saving, but looking for fellow travellers, collaborators, lovers & friends.

It really should be liberating, right?! You make Life, you make your  own Life, your own? There are a few guiding principles, they are open-ended, and partial, but they are useful:

Lean to the Light.

Keep your feet on the ground.

Fuck Fear.

Damn the Torpedoes.

Keep your head.

Keep calm, carry on.

Experience Life, don't try to Solve it.

Do the best you can. 

Be kind, gentle, humble.

Listen to Nature. 

Be fucking real.

Sing, Laugh, Love, Play.

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.