Every night I tell myself, "I am the cosmos"

Man, today has been challenging. All day, my psyche has felt like it's been adrift atop a stormy sea. I've maintained, but it's been rocky. Fuck going into details; I've learned my lesson there. I will say that I attribute all of this to the increased amounts of meditation and yoga I've been engaging in. Shit gets stirred up, bubbles to the surface. Has to happen, but it's not joyous, to be sure. The ego, when threatened, fights for it's life in every conceivable way. It's weapon of choice, at least with me, has been to act out like a pouty baby.

Certainly, the ego has its uses. Some of my dis-ease today had tangible causes that the ego merely pointed out. Ideally, that's as far as it should go, but you and I both know the ego can often exhibit a flair for the dramatic. Meditation and yoga force you to see how destructive that path is.

At lunch, I took care of some unpleasant business and before I could slide into a more negative state, I sat on a bench and meditated, chanting om. After about fifteen minutes of that, I felt more centered and a whole lot better.

The prevailing thought as I walked back to work from lunch was that we mess up, no matter how much we try not to. It's just a fact of life. I can tell myself a hundred times that I won't get aggravated with something or someone, but I will. The key is how you deal with it. For example, if instead of meditating, I walked over to the bar for a stiff drink and some stewing in my problems, I would be in a worse position than I'm in now. Of course I would. Or what if, instead of practicing yoga after work, I instead plopped down in front of the TV and watched some soul-eating drivel? What if I opted for a large steak and cheese sub instead of making a salad?

Choices.

Ok, I've said enough. Today has been challenging, yes, but I've met the challenges as best I could. I still feel a little off, but I'm rolling with it. I'm trying not to be disappointed in some friends, trying not to see them in a poor light. I'm trying to see beyond myself, to a higher purpose, away from insanity and things unhealthy. I'm trying not to see the world around me as corrupt and dying (though it kind of is, but there is always hope)). I'm trying.

And actually doing a fair job at it, thank you very much. I'm getting there. Soon, I'll be superior to you in every way. And it will be then that I enact your destruction!

With that, good night.

They could take or leave you, so they took you and they left you

I took four shits today. You would think I've been eating a ton, but I haven't. I don't know what's going on, but I feel alright, so there's that. Maybe my inner shipping department is just more productive than the receiving department. Anyway, I'm sure you'll be eager to know of any further developments. I'll keep you posted.

I was unbalanced yesterday. I felt a heaviness of spirit I didn't like. Stuck with me all day. It wasn't until early evening that I decided I needed to unload some negative energy. To that end, I practiced yoga by candlelight, followed by a half hour of meditation later on in the evening. I felt better.

What spurned me on was watching Joe Rogan's latest podcast. His guests were Graham Hancock and Duncan Trussell. Early on in the program, it was just Joe and Duncan and much of the discussion had to do with meditation and yoga. Inspiring.

And so was Graham Hancock. Fascinating man. The discussion ranged from Ancient Egypt to psychedelics. And a lot in between. Truly riveting stuff. I'd extrapolate, but I'd be at it all night and, besides, I have a feeling some of you wouldn't find it very interesting.

Ever feel like you've got a splinter but you can't find it? That's what I've got going on with my finger. I've closely inspected it over and over again, but I can't find anything amiss. No splinter, no cut, nothing. Maybe it's a bit of imperceptible glass. Perhaps.

I'll probably finish Hamlet tonight. I've got about five pages left. Thinking about moving on to MacBeth when I'm done. That, or Here's The Situation: A Guide To Creeping on Chicks, Avoiding Grenades, and Getting Your GTL On The Jersey Shore, by Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino. It's a toss-up, really; I'm not sure which way I'll land.

Tim's father came into the office today. He's 97 years old and as chipper as someone half his age who gets laid frequently. He was with a woman I assumed was his nurse or care provider but was informed by Tim that she was his father's girlfriend. She looked like she was in her mid to late seventies. The guy is approaching a hundred and is getting more action than I am. I'll have to ask him what his secret is.

Alright, I'm done here. As you were.

Great are the sounds of all that live, and all that man can hold

Just woke from a nap. I got plenty of sleep last night and didn't do too much today, but I felt a nap was necessary. Contributing factors: 1. A mild, yet pervasive, hangover 2. The muggy late September weather (!) 3. I didn't sleep too well last night because of said weather and the inescapable fact that I was rather drunk.

Scott and Ester's wedding was yesterday. As far as wedding's go, it was one of the best I've been to, mostly because many of my favorite people in the world were in attendance, but also because it focused more on the love of two people (which is apparent to anyone with a set of functioning eyes), rather than obeying the forms of society. In other words, it wasn't your typical wedding.

The ceremony was at Scott's place up in Deerfield, NH. Leading up to yesterday, I'd heard the forecast was calling for a lot of rain. Well, not only did the rain hold off, the sun came out right before the ceremony. It was muggy, though. We were a sweaty lot that emerged from the barn where most of the ceremony took place.

A couple of days back, Scott had asked if I'd supply some guitar music as people took their positions before the ceremony began. I obliged happily. I set up in the loft, a great vantage point, but one not ideal for staying cool. I hear it sounded okay. I'll wait until the reviews come out before I believe it.

The reception was at the Tupelo Music Hall in Londonderry. After dinner, which was the product of people chipping in (Janelle's mini quiches made me smile from neck to nuts. Wait a minute, that's not how that goes. Take two: Her mini quiches made me smile from ear to ear. That's better), a number of us took turns performing. Great stage set up and sound at this place; a joy to play there.

I expected to play only a couple of songs, but at one point, as I deep in the drink, Nikki approached me and told me I was up next. So I got up and quickly figured out a couple of songs I could pull off without fumbling through them too noticeably. I think I did a passable job, as unprepared and buzzed as I was.

After the musicians finished up, someone plugged in their iPod and several of us hit the dance floor. It's funny, I usually want nothing to do with dancing. I like watching it, whether its ballet or tango, but I've never been much into taking part myself. If you were to come up to me some time this week and say, "Hey, Kevin, we're going out dancing this weekend. Want to go?", I would decline even if the alternative was sitting at home peeling dead skin off my feet. If I'm with certain people, however, I'll always end up on the dance floor, an unabashed goof. And if Rachael is involved in any way, it's just about guaranteed I'll be out there. She is a true party animal. It's in her DNA.

I've said it before, but I'm so lucky I have the friends that I do. Most of them have been in my life so long that to call them family wouldn't be overselling it. Not at all. I do consider them my family, except this one was chosen and not one I was born into. If I ever get married (at this point it's dubious, but life has its surprises), it will be an honor to do so in front of these fine people.

Yesterday, when I was getting ready, I searched in vain for my iron. The clothes I was planning to wear were wrinkled and needed some TLC. I strongly suspected early on in my search that Fred, who had left a couple of days before to attend a wedding in New York, had taken it with him. He had also taken my shaving cream. I will have to have a talk with him about absconding with my property, among other things. He also needs to be alerted to the fact that he's a slob.

Went over to Trader Joe's this morning for a few groceries and then stopped over to Newbury Comics and picked up Midlake's The Courage of Others and St. Vincent's latest, "Strange Mercy". It had been months since I purchased new music and only did so today because I really, really dig those albums. Yes, money is as tight as a drum, but sometimes you have to purchase a couple of CD's .

Rae and I hung out for a while when I came home from work on Friday. The conversation got interesting and....well, let's just leave it at that. No, we didn't talk about you, so don't get all paranoid.

The night isn't so young any longer. Must wrap this up and move on to other things. I may do some recording, I may watch an episode of Breaking Bad (I'm four episodes in and I'm still not sure if I thing it's more than slightly above average) or Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, read from and perhaps finish Hamlet, or put the headphones on and listen to some music. Or maybe I'll do all of these things. If so, I better get started.

Peace.

I'm in love with a sunflower suit

Listening to The Czars. When I heard the guys from Midlake rave about them (they ended up backing the singer on his solo album), especially the singing, I had to check them out. I'm glad I did. And yes, the singer has a voice I'd kill for. Who to kill, though....Hmmm.

And Midlake has become one of my favorite bands. Unfortunately, as highly as I esteem them, they're not a household name. Yet. I will make it so, Picard style.

Scott's wedding is this weekend. At least I'm pretty sure it is. Other than a Facebook invitation a few weeks ago that provided the date and little else, I've been in the dark as to where and what time. I've heard tell invitations have been sent out, but I haven't seen one. I found out from Craig last night more details about the wedding. Scott had sent him info regarding the time and place. So now I know more. I feel positively educated. Hope the ceremony is indoors because I hear it's going to rain like a mah fah on Saturday. If not, who cares? I'm just looking forward to seeing one of my besties tie the knot (even though it already happened , but that's a tale for another time. And yes, I said besties. I will not do so again, rest assured).

If I could hypnotize someone into thinking every adult they encounter is an infant, I would be laughing all the live long day. And I'd hypnotize them into seeing infants as adults. I got the inspiration today when I saw someone making baby talk to a baby in a stroller. Talk to an adult, especially an uptight one, like that and hilarity will ensue. This will never happen, sadly.

Yesterday, my coworker Sharon told me Therese's elderly father fell down thirteen flights of stairs. She corrected herself and said "Thirteen stairs, rather", but not before I almost burst out laughing. Thirteen flights of stairs! That's gotta hurt! Anyway, I'm not sure why she had the exact number of stairs at her disposal; I didn't bother asking . Apparently, people are in the habit of counting stairs. Maybe that's why Therese's father fell - he was focusing on the counting and not on where his feet were landing. I'll have to investigate further.

With that, I'm out this piece. Holla!

So upon our return, we found everything gone, which for us was no loss, we started over with an rabbit and an ox

Woke up too early this morning with a head thick with worry and a full bladder. It's not often my sleep is affected by worry - I'm not entirely sure the root of it - and that, coupled with the need to pee, made falling back asleep a near impossible task.

After work, I had a good yoga session followed by a delicious salad. I've been adding more postures to my routine - yoga, that is, not salad eating - and I've been feeling the difference. For example, I was standing up stretching my back last night and I was almost able to bend into a full arch. So, yeah, I'm flexible, except of course when it comes to mayonnaise: I'm a Helman's man through and through.

What else? Just finished recording a mandolin/vocal experiment. I like it quite a bit. It's in seven, something I discovered only after I listened to it (I'm speaking of the time signature, those of you who wonder what I'm talking about).

I'm reading Hamlet again. I say again because the last time I picked it up didn't take. I'm almost finished with it and I love it. What a tale! I'm at the part where Hamlet is trying to figure out whether he should listen to his father's ghost or disregard it as some sort of demonic apparition that's trying to get him to commit a sinful act. Decisions, decisions.

Been watching Breaking Bad. I'm about four episodes into it and I like it, but I'm not ready to hurl it into the upper echelons with such greats as Deadwood or The Wire or Two And A Half Men. Also just watched a cool documentary called The Wild And Wonderful Whites, about a clan of loony red necks. Good stuff.

Ok, I've got stuff to do that concerns you not. Get thee to a nunnery, dear readers!

I married Isis on the fifth day of May

The cooler weather has made it harder to get out of bed in the morning. I could have slept past noon today, but I forced myself to get up and at 'em. So, here I sit, well before noon, sipping on some dark roast coffee, listening to Van Der Graaf Generator, and still sleepy enough that if I got back into bed, I would be there for a while.

Watched The Buddha yesterday. I had seen a bit of it when it aired on PBS. When I recently discovered it was streaming on Netflix, I was thrilled. It's one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. So well done. What I especially liked was the animated sequences. Gorgeous!

While making breakfast this morning, I thought about how often religious people forgo the message of their chosen religion in favor of the nonessential aspects of it. The Buddha's message was very simple: To end suffering, engage yourself and take joy in the moment because that is all there is and ever will be. And if I didn't nail it exactly, the point is still the same: He had a very simple message .

And so did Jesus. The Kingdom of Heaven is found within. You don't need to go to church. You have everything you need already. You don't have to go outside yourself. You don't have to erect statues, you don't have to go on pilgrimages, you don't have to engage in any rituals. But we like to make things difficult, don't we? Can't be that simple.

It's a very reptilian brain/ OCD type of thing people get into when they get bogged down in the ritualistic aspects of religion. Now, I understand the benefits of engaging in ritual; it can help still the mind and elevate us to a higher plane. But there's a point when it goes too far and the message gets convoluted beyond recognition.

Wouldn't it be weird if devotees of Carl Jung, instead of learning from his works, made yearly pilgrimages to his childhood home, the schools he attended, his office? Now, I'm not suggesting Jung is a religious icon like Jesus or Buddha, but I think you get the point.

The fact that Jesus and Buddha have religions formed around their teachings seems almost counter productive given the fact the each of them were saying "Hey, I'm just like you. You don't need to worship my ass, just apply my teachings to your own lives because WE ARE ALL THE FUCKING SAME. Really, stop being star-struck because that is the exact opposite of what you should be doing. " No gurus, folks. Start there and you're on your way to enlightenment.
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Trying to decide if I should practice yoga after I finish up here. Will my breakfast have digested enough by then? We'll see. I don't have much on the agenda today, so it's not like I won't have the time for a session.

Hung out with Spira and Pat the other night. Good times, but I think I may have inadvertently given Pat the idea that I was angry with him. I wasn't, but there was some miscommunication, to be sure. He was in a bit of a fragile state to begin with, which would have made it hard convincing him we were, as the kids like to say, all good.

That little blip aside, it was a good night. We ate pizza, played piano, hung out with Missy the dog, and talked about a bunch of stuff that you will never ever know about. How does that make you feel? Tell me later, I'm eager to finish up here.

I just ordered a copy of The Lost City of Z from Amazon. I can't wait to read it. I saw it at the book store yesterday, but held off spending the sixteen dollars because I knew I could buy it four times cheaper from Amazon. Will have to wait a few more days, but it'll be worth. Here's a summary of the book.

In 1925, renowned British explorer Col. Percy Harrison Fawcett embarked on a much publicized search to find the city of Z, site of an ancient Amazonian civilization that may or may not have existed. Fawcett, along with his grown son Jack, never returned, but that didn't stop countless others, including actors, college professors and well-funded explorers from venturing into the jungle to find Fawcett or the city. Among the wannabe explorers is Grann, a staff writer for the New Yorker, who has bad eyes and a worse sense of direction. He became interested in Fawcett while researching another story, eventually venturing into the Amazon to satisfy his all-consuming curiosity about the explorer and his fatal mission. Largely about Fawcett, the book examines the stranglehold of passion as Grann's vigorous research mirrors Fawcett's obsession with uncovering the mysteries of the jungle. By interweaving the great story of Fawcett with his own investigative escapades in South America and Britain, Grann provides an in-depth, captivating character study that has the relentless energy of a classic adventure tale.

Might watch some Breaking Bad on Netflix today. Been told again and again how great the show is, so when I saw it was streaming on Netflix, I said to myself, "Nice!". Okay, time for yoga, then maybe some recording.

One more thing. Yesterday, I saw a New Orleans style funeral march go by my house. The band was playing "In The Afterlife" and it was a sight to behold. Reason number 32 why I like living in the city.

Peace, you freaks of nature.

Ten silver saxes, a bass with a bow, the drummer relaxes, and waits between shows

The Gordon Lightfoot show was pretty cool. I'm impressed he's still touring; only 18 shows, but the guy is 72 and has had some serious health issues, like being in a coma for 6 weeks. My mother kept commenting that it was a young crowd, but I guess everything is relative because there were probably only a handful of people younger than forty.

Prior to the show, we ate at Bertucci's (sic?). We weren't seated right away, and I wondered if my mother was going to be okay with that. She can be pretty high-strung when out in public and is able to find things to complain about even when things seem to be running smoothly. I say this reluctantly; she's my mother and I love her very much and I don't want to portray her in a negative light. However..... she could definitely use a day at a spa, know what I'm sayin'? Relax, madre, relax.

I've come to realize she's always been like this and it's undoubtedly had an affect on me, but believe, at least in this way, I'm adult enough not to place blame. I love and respect my mother profoundly, and this trait is not central to her being. But, still, things rub off on you. I always thought my anxiety had been brought on by an existential malaise, but in hindsight, I think being in almost constant close proximity to my mother's demeanor had more to do with it.

To conclude, I had a great time with my folks. I sat between them at the show and cherished my time with them. Gordo played some songs that dealt with aging and mortality. It hit home. No one, not our friends, not our families, is a permanent structure in our lives. All is transient. I love my parents and if I don't leave this mortal coil before they do, it will be a hard thing to deal with.
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These days, I have an infinitesimal interest in watching sports. When I see people go ape shit over them, it's like I'm a visitor from another planet studying the habits of the locals. I guess, in a sense, I am from another planet when it comes to this, because a large majority of people in this, and other countries, have a passion for it and I can hardly muster anything more than a passing interest. Mind you, I'm not against anyone deriving pleasure from watching sports, it's just that for me it's not anywhere near a central concern in my life right now. Is that a sign that I'm evolving, or is it just that I've found other ways to waste my time? Hmm....
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Just finished wrapping up a new song. It ended up being an exercise in tension and release. It came out well, I think. I pushed the envelope a bit with this one and if felt liberating. Just sent it off to a couple of peeps.

Speaking of which, I've decided to be even more selective with who I share music with. I had spoken with Foley about the lack of interest and he made an interesting point. In his experience, he said, people will give more attention to a "finished product", meaning something constructed like an album, a complete package. When they get things fed piecemeal, they treat it less seriously, like a rough demo that is barely worth their attention. "It's only usually the musicians, the ones who take music seriously, that will give these songs their due."

I saw his point, though I think there's more to it than that. I've been conflicted. Writing and performing music is a central part of who I am and it's something I'd like to share with the people in my life. When I finally started sending songs out, I was eager to hear what some of them thought. As it turned out, most didn't even acknowledge the receipt of the songs, and some of the ones that did seemed a little put out, like I had assigned them another chore in their lives.

While there are times I'd really like to share my stuff with a broader group of people, I've learned it would be an exercise in futility. I'm not pissed or even miffed. I'm not even disappointed anymore. I'll be making music regardless of who listens. I've been sending stuff to Scott and that will be it. If anyone expresses interest, I will gladly send them as many songs as they'd like, but I'm also not about wasting anyone's time.

Speaking of music, I just dusted off the mandolin and twelve string acoustic. Time to incorporate them. Peace.

Every time I think about back home, it's cool and breezy

I'm glad I practiced yoga this afternoon, otherwise my senses would be duller than they are. Or maybe not. I went to Scott's bachelor party last night and didn't get home until around five o'clock this morning. Haven't gotten home that late in a long time. It's good for the soul to do so every once in a while, I think. Craig outdid me, though. After he dropped me off, he drove home to the Cape. He definitely saw sunrise.

I almost did, too. When I opened the door to my place, the chain lock was in position, barring my entrance. Fuck! Earlier, I had wondered if this scenario might come to fruition. It has in the past, several times. I usually don't get irritated, especially since I was the one who recommended we lock the door that way because Janelle's former shady dog walker still has a key to that door.

I knocked and called out, but no one responded. I knew it was a futile endeavor because that area of the house, as most visitors will attest, is a sound vortex. We never hear people when they're at the door. I went around to the back door hoping it was unlocked. It wasn't. At the door, I recalled the last time I was locked out of the house. It was the last time I came home around five in the morning. Rich was living here then.

My next option was to come in through a window. I went to our front porch and climbed in. Took a matter of seconds, which was disconcerting. Still, I was happy to be inside. I went to bed immediately and woke up around eleven, reeling from a horrific dream about a massive werewolf hunting me. The last thing I remembered was running deep into the woods behind my parent's house trying to find a hiding spot in the ink-black night. I knew it was only a matter of time before it found me. Glad I woke up.

Had a great time at the party, which was way up in Deerfield, NH. A tad off the beaten path, but well worth the drive. Craig and I didn't arrive until around nine. Scott's place is small, but it accommodated us all well. We set up a small drum kit, a bass amp, and a bunch of acoustic guitars, and jammed throughout the night. Some high-caliber musicians in attendance, to be sure.

I drank absinthe, more than I've ever had, ginger brew, and beer. It was nearing four o'clock when Scott suggested we all go make a fire. Good idea, but fuck it was late. Time to go. The alternative was sleeping in Craig's car or maybe somewhere on the floor in Scott's house. It was damn cold and I didn't bring anything warm, so going home, at least as far as comfort was concerned, was appealing. Good times!

Don't know if I'll do anything tonight. Might just chill out, as the kids say. I'm going to see Gordon Lightfoot tomorrow night with my parents. Should be interesting . Never been to a show with them. Not sure they've ever been to a show. Hmm....No, they must have seen at least one. I'll investigate the matter.

Rae and I made a trip to Trader Joe's the other night. She's as big a fan of the place as I am, so we had a good time shopping. Tried some California figs with goat cheese they were giving out as samples - tasty! - and hid Rae's carriage at one point. Funny watching her perplexedly searching for her missing cart. Oh, I'm such a prankster.

Maybe some recording tonight, but I'm willing to entertain other activities, including going out and being with friends, which is always a fulfilling experience. Will probably listen to a Joe Rogan podcast at some point. I'm hooked on his show. It's always mind-expanding and highly interesting, especially when he has Duncan Trussell on.

Dinner soon. I am going to make a salad with baby beets, tomatoes, mixed greens, cheddar cheese, sliced onion, black beans, carrots, and either some tempeh or a sliced up veggie burger. It's going to be 100% tasty.

Alright, that's enough for now. Peace.

Paint the black hole blacker

A nice weekend, though it's always a little sad saying goodbye to summer. Sure, there will still be warm days, but we're moving quickly to fall and then.....dreaded winter. The last couple of days were muggy; I won't miss that weather condition.

On Saturday, I attended a dinner party at Spira's. On hand were Pat and Allie, a guy named Ramon Spira had been on a couple of dates with, and everyone's favorite greyhound, Missy. We ate lobster, cornbread, fried yuka, and a salad of mixed greens, tomatoes, beets, and other stuff I'm too lazy to recall. Good times.

Last night, I Craig stopped by for a bit. We walked into Davis Sq. so he could get some dinner and then we headed back to my place. We listened to music and played with action figures.

This morning, I went to the laundromat. While I was waiting for my clothes to wash, I admired a very attractive woman who was putting clothes in the dryer. She sat near me and pulled out a book that looked familiar. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it was Martin's A Dance With Dragons.

It wasn't long before we were talking about the series. Upon a friend's recommendation, she started reading the books a few weeks ago and devoured them. She had finished A Feast For Crows last night and was eager to get to the new one today.

We talked for at least an hour. At one point, a guy sitting to my right chimed in about the series. He was a big fan, too. I can't tell you how satisfying it was to talk shop with other people. In the past, I had no one to share the experience with. I had no one to share the many "No fucking way!" moments that grace the books. It wasn't until recently that things have changed. The HBO show helped a lot. I was thrilled when Janelle started reading the books.

I never learned the name of the woman at the laundromat. At one point in our conversation she got up and took her clothes out of the dryer and then got involved with other tasks. I hung around for a couple of minutes hoping she'd come back over to the seats so I could tell her I appreciated the conversation before heading out, but the opportunity never presented itself.

I just watched Buried, a cool movie about a guy who wakes up in a coffin. He has no idea how he got there. Whoever abducted him, left a cell phone near him so they could keep in touch. The entire movie takes place in the coffin. Engrossing.

Ok, I need to go. I'm back from having a beer with Fred and his sister and it's later than I thought. The new week is upon us. Will it be a fine one. Yes, by my decree it will be.

Well, I'm on till the crack of dawn

A couple of weeks ago I had a dream in which my boss, Jeff, let us know that business was slower than it ever had been. Bad news, to be sure. I anticipated his next words to be something along the lines of us all losing our jobs. Instead, he spoke of a plan which would enable us to work more. I awoke from the dream and quickly forgot most of its contents. Because it didn't make much sense, I didn't invest any time in trying to plumb its depths. However....

I didn't forget the fact that the last time Jeff told us of the companies woes, I somehow knew beforehand what was going to happen. The other day Jeff called us in his office and told us matter-of-factly we're basically dead in the water as a company. Not good. But then he said his firm was going to start giving us business (Jeff has a law firm he runs separately in the same office space). By doing so, he'd be able to give us work while freeing up time for him to generate business for us. Sharon asked if this meant we might be able to work more hours. He replied that it was more than possible.

Am I tuned in to the work vibe or what?

I'll be joining Foley for some coffee soon at the Diesel Cafe. It's arguably the hippest coffee joint in the city, but I'm no big fan. Look at that: Foley just texted me in the middle of that sentence. He wrote: "Having a good time at Diesel talking to a cardboard cutout of you." Hmm....I'll have to go investigate.

Ok, it's now the following day. I ended up meeting with Foley for coffee, then we hit the liquor store and ventured over to my place for drinks, smoke, music, and conversation. My intention had been to hang out for a bit with him and then do some recording, but it ran late. That guy corrupted me, I tells ya.

I played him some Rufus Wainwright. We had been discussing our favorite song writers and I told him Rufus is one of the best I've ever heard. He said he'd never heard him, so I put on "Who are you, New York?". He listened a bit and then exclaimed, "This is some of the shittiest, tuneless, music I've ever heard." If it wasn't for my pure heart, I would have rushed outside, constructed a noose, and hanged that son of a bitch. Tuneless? Say what you want about Rufus, but he couldn't be tuneless if he tried. Oh, child Foley, you know not of what you speak.

Had a busy day at work. Jeff has had me setting up closing packages, which entails sorting through a welter of legal documents and putting them in their proper place. It was a crash course, but I maintained like a champ, son!

Our wayward campers haven't returned yet as far as I know. Mark called Craig's dad yesterday and found out they were still marooned in Vermont. Man, they must be ripe. I bet they're having fantasies about taking a hot shower. If you're back, welcome home! Sorry you had to go through that, but maybe it was a grand ol' time. Hope it was.

I think I'm evolving. Really, I think I'm expanding as an organism. As I said before, I've been meditating, practicing yoga, and engaging in all sorts of other consciousness-expanding activities. Well, maybe not all sorts, but I've been living right in that regard. Good thing, too, because this ship we call civilization is sinking. The question is, will we come out the other side better off? I think that we will.

2012 is upon us, bitches. Time for a reckoning.