Sunday, December 29, 2013

He's gone along with a stick in his hand

I've pretty much spent today listening to music. Here's a sample. All worth checking out.

Philip Glass

A profound experience listening to this opera. Holy shit, son!




Unknown Mortal Orchestra



Cool and trippy; catchy songs. Think a lot of his stuff is home recorded. Not sure. Anyway, I like what's going on.



Anne Briggs







She only recorded about thirty songs (The story goes that she hated the sound of her recorded voice) but she changed the face of English folk, influencing heavy hitters such as Sandy Denny, Linda Thompson, Maddy Prior, and June Tabor. I love her stuff so much.



Michael Hurley




I don't know why I've arrived at him so late, but I'm glad I eventually did. Great songwriter; he blends humor and more serious topics seamlessly. His "Twilight Zone" is one of my favorites. Not a huge fan of his album art, but it seems to fit his music in some inarticulate way.



Elyse



A lost classic reissued. Beautiful honeyed gravel voice and gently plucked guitars. Kind of a Donovan-folky vibe and sooooooo effin good! And I love the album art.



Ariel Pink





This guy is a musical freak. His songs on this record are reminiscent of eighties pop, but only if you funneled them through a kaleidoscope. I smile when I listen to this album because it's brimming with ideas, some of them hits, some misses, but always refreshing.



Mike Patton

I had no idea he recorded this album of Italian oldy pop songs. Backed by an orchestra, too. He really sells the songs and his voice is as amazing as ever.









Ali Farka Toure

African blues is what you get here from this legend. I don't listen to him nearly enough.


So mucho musica for me. Going to download Garage Band to my iPad at some point today and see what I can come up with. Might just lounge around and read and maybe nap, instead. That type of day.

Peace out, lovers








Friday, December 27, 2013

Eyes flaming, heart breaking, soul taking, my molly

Christmas has come and gone. It was a good one. My family was due; last year we spent Christmas still in grief and raw over my father's passing. A year later, we have adapted, our grieving expunged (not fully but enough), our hearts rekindled. Let's review.

Highlights:

1. My mom got me an iPad. It was a surprise. I didn't ask for one, though I did mildly suspect she had gotten me a Kindle Fire. She had bought a couple for my niece and nephew and more than once asked me if that was something I'd be interested in. I told her sure, but it wasn't something I felt I needed. The other day as I was registering my Kindle Paper White reader (a generous gift from my bosses) I discovered that I had two Kindle devices registered under my name. After a brief investigation, I discovered that one of the devices was a Kindle Fire. Mom must have purchased one for me and had it registered to my Amazon account, I thought. Despite wishing my mother hadn't spent that much money on me, I found myself getting excited over owning the tablet. A day later, I realized the reason the Kindle Fire had been registered under my name was because I had purchased one for her through my Amazon account. So, there I was feeling deflated over something a couple of days ago I had no expectation of receiving. And, next thing you know, I get an iPad. My poor heart could barely handle the plot twists. Anyway, my mother was clearly pleased by my reaction to the gift, which was akin to my ten year old self receiving the Huffy bike I'd asked for didn't think I'd get.

Actually, the iPad was the only highlight. Oh, I jest! No, the day was a good one, as I said, and being around my family was the most satisfying part. It was Mimi's first Christmas with us and she utilized every available second to hunt down food. Caught her atop the dining room table a couple of times. Good thing she's so adorable, otherwise she would have been beaten severely (at UNO). Later, at my grandmother's house, everyone was in good spirits even amidst the chaos of numerous children running about. I think I hung out more with the kids than the adults.

I visited with Spira afterward. We exchanged gifts and hung out for a bit before she had to head to the airport to pick up her neighbors. She wanted me to stick around, but I was pretty beat. Like a lot of people, I had been going virtually non stop throughout the week. On my way home, a couple of ambulances whizzed by. As I drove on, I saw they were headed to Broadway, which is near my place. When I reached my neighborhood, it was pitch black. Fuck - power's out! Someone must have hit a pole on Broadway. For the next couple of hours I sat in a cold, dark house. A part of me felt ornery about it, but mostly I was alright with it. I read from my Kindle (which, by the way, I've already loaded with a bunch of  free books, including Don Quixote, The Yoga Sutras, The New Testament, Mark Twain's How To Tell A Story, The Odyssey, Dracula, Frankenstein, The Golden Bough, a book of Buddhist scriptures, The Night of Long Knives). Lost the power again yesterday for a while but it wasn't so bad in the daylight. I practiced yoga and by the time I was finished, we had our power back.

Fred had messaged me that he had some exciting news. Turns out, he got a new washer for Christmas. Exciting news, to be sure. Now we don't have to take our clothes elsewhere to wash them. I had been using my mom's washer when I'd visit, but it will be nice not having to lug clothes around.

A good Christmas, yes. Next up New Year's Eve. I plan on getting blackout drunk.

Peace, toddlers!


Sunday, December 22, 2013

Though we live on the US dollar, you and me, we've got our own sense of time

I'm listening to Heinrich Schutz's Symphoniae Sacrae. I'd been listening quite a bit to Monteverdi over the last couple of weeks and Schutz seemed like a logical extension. Not as immediately gripping and sensual as Monteverdi, particularly his Un Concert Spirituel, but pleasant in its way. Not pleasant enough, as it happens, because I just switched back to Monteverdi. Eff you, Schutz-ey.

I finished The Dark Tower and it indeed was bittersweet. I know there were people who didn't enjoy the ending, but I think it's absolutely perfect. No other book of his that I've read ended as well. You pulled it off, King. Your Magnum Opus.

I walked over to Porter Square yesterday after yoga and meditation and I felt relaxed and open with still mind. I hit the bookstore and picked up a copy of Hesse's Siddhartha, which I'm about halfway through already. Hadn't read it in years; glad I thought to get it. I had been of a mind to read Narcissus And Goldmund, but there wasn't a copy at the store.

I ended up doing a lot of reading yesterday. I read from Mark Twain's The Mysterious Stranger and Other Stories, Edgar Allan Poe's Collected Works, and Siddhartha. It was an approach to reading I seldom engage in, this switching back and forth, but it worked rather well.

Feeling creative these last few days. I have a couple of new songs that I really like but need lyrics (big surprise). To ease the weight of expectation I put on myself, I've been plugging away at them in increments. I figure every time I spend time with them, no matter in which capacity, they're one step closer to completion. It's true: Idle hands are the devil's playthings.

Well, I should be off. There are things to do.  

Friday, December 20, 2013

And a flock of sheep to watch from where I lay

Friday is here. The weekend begins; I need it. It was a week that seemed to fly by while seeming to take forever to be done with. Every day gifted me with one headache or another, but there was also some learning, some peace. I'm engaged in a spiritual practice; practice being the operative word. Practice entails missteps and frustration along with the good stuff. So I go easy on myself and thank the Universe, The Divine Mother, Krishna, The Holy Spirit, Jesus, God, myself, whomever, for granting me the clarity to see where improvements can be made. And, you know, when things began to overwhelm me, respite arrived, always, in a timely manner.

Ok, here's the deal on Modern Vampires of The City. It's, very, very good. The songs are well crafted, balanced, and highly melodic. They've been swirling in my ears for the last several days. It's their best record; the songs fit together and there's not a dud  among them. Bravo, VW!

Some people get Christmas cards this time of year. Me, I get a jury duty summons. Came yesterday. You know, my first reaction was pretty sour, but it didn't take me long to figure out that I'm actually interested in going. T'will be my second appearance. The last time was years ago and I had the stomach flu. I was picked almost immediately and the case only lasted a few days. It wasn't so bad, stomach flu notwithstanding. One of the jurors was a former coworker of mine, fortunately one I had gotten along with. We hung out the whole time and it felt like one long field trip. It settled out of court just as things started getting as compelling as an episode of Law And Order.

The cold showers continue. I've reached the point where it's hard to imagine not taking them. The trick is you have to immerse yourself immediately, no dilly-dallying. One effect I've noticed is this coolness, pleasant like a minty piece of gum, that settles over my whole body periodically throughout the day. Another effect is that I find myself foregoing coffee in the morning. After the stimulation of a cold shower, I seldom feel the need. Overall, the cold showers have fortified me; my thoughts have felt sharper and my body has felt stronger,more durable. And getting into a cold shower every day, sometimes twice a day, is an affirming act. It illustrates I'm capable of enduring some discomfort in life in order to better myself.

I just worked on music for the last couple of hours. Got a lot done. I fleshed out some new songs and took some established ones out for a spin. I never feel so complete as when I'm in the thick of my songs.

I'm nearing the end of my Dark Tower re-read. It's going to be bittersweet. What should I read next? Here are some options:

1. Dune
2. Mother Night
3.The Collected Works of Edgar Allan Poe
4. Insomnia


We'll see. Alright, worms, I'm gonna make like a tree and get the fuck out of here.

Namaste


Wednesday, December 18, 2013

I'm ready for the house, such a modest mouse

So I went ahead and purchased Vampire Weekend's Modern Vampires of The City (iTunes: so convenient, so dangerous). After a few nights of listening to tracks from it, I determined there is certainly enough there to warrant a purchase. My final test was last night. I went to Grooveshark, selected the album, plopped on my new Audio Technica cans (name dropper!), and listened away in bed. I usually fall asleep listening to music in bed, particularly when it's late, but I ended up having to take the headphones because I was engaged and not sleepy. I went ahead and purchased the album this morning. I don't think I've plumbed its depths quite fully, so I'll take the cautious route and say that I like it.

The ride home from work was an hour and a half ordeal. The snow was coming down fast and furious (RIP, Paul Walker. You were a shining light that illuminated the entire world. Your films brought joy to millions and millions and millions of people. Sainthood is a given. Soar like an eagle through the landscapes of Heaven, you magnificent angel!) and driving was a slow affair. It wasn't so bad, but man, there were a few close calls.

I had some  low moments yesterday at work. They sprout up every so often and they hit like a typhoon (talk about fast and furious!). It's beyond frustrating to lose composure like that - some of the thoughts that trumpet in my ears....well, they aren't pretty -but I'm equipped to see them for what they are and I usually come out the other end wiser. For that, I'm grateful. I think that's what meditation has done for me; I'm able to see more clearly not only those dark spots, but how and why they manifest. I was watching a lecture from David Hawkins the other night and he spoke about why we get stuck. "You don't move on from certain things because there's still a pay off somewhere in the behavior. Once you get recognize what the pay off is, you can move on. I grasped what he meant.

Negativity had risen throughout the day, but I had the foresight to come down hard on it with this thought: "Here's the deal: Your commute home is not going to be pretty. You're going to need to be alert. And calm. If you want to stew and obsess over all the terrible aspects of your life, you can do so once you're safe at home." It worked. I snapped out of my malaise. It didn't return. Later at home, I received texts from Jeff and Marcy asking if I had made it home okay. That touched me. I've never had bosses who've done that. And then I watched an amazing documentary called The Animal Communicator.    It had a profound affect on me.

I've been listening to a lot of The Big Three podcast in my car and at home. I've been laughing an awful lot. Things aren't so bad. Sure, I've been having frustrating sexual dreams over the last several nights (The ones in which I'm about to have some kind of sexual interaction and invariably the act never happens due to distraction or some other wrench in the works. Last night's dream was actually pretty funny. I was about to receive oral favors and right as she lowered her head I woke up to the sound of someone shoveling outside my window. It was 3:45 in the morning. WTF!), but I realize they're my own creation and not the machinations of the Universe.

Alright, kittens, I'm tired and would be well served if I hit the hay early this evening. Sounds like a plan.



Sunday, December 15, 2013

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night

I'm listening to tracks from Vampire Weekend's Modern Vampires of The City and trying to decide if I should purchase it. I'm a fan of the band, to be sure - their first two albums are above average - but, even though Modern Vampires of The City is highly acclaimed (Rolling Stone named it their 2013 album of the year), I'm so far not too enthusiastic about it. That could change; maybe not. Who knows.

But I did go ahead and purchase Daniel Rossen's Silent Hour/Golden Mile EP, something that was a long time coming. Like Elliot Smith before him, Rossen channels the later works of The Beatles without borrowing too heavily. I hope he puts out a full length album; he's my favorite part of Grizzly Bear.

Fucking snow storm last night. Not even winter yet. I don't mind the snow so much, but I do mind the overall climate that's been beating the fuck out of us over the last couple of weeks. Bitterly cold, bleak, and, I'll say it again: bitterly cold. Basically we went from November to February, where it looks like we're going to stay for the foreseeable future. Fuck you, Mother Nature!

Aw, I didn't mean that.

Actually, yes, I did.

I stayed at Spira's last night and we had a little slumber party during the storm. I had gone over earlier in the day while she was at work and practiced yoga. Also read from The Dark Tower and lounged around with Missy D. When Spira arrived, we hung out a bit and then walked through the spitting snow nettles to the Galleria and did a little Christmas shopping.

Back at her place, we made a dinner of quinoa with sauteed mushrooms, meatless apple sausage, almonds, avocado, and pomegranate seeds. Later, we watched the re-broadcast of The Sound of Music featuring Carrie Underwood. I've never seen the original all the way through, but enjoyed this version quite a bit. My curiosity had been piqued after hearing all the harsh criticism regarding Underwood's performance.

Sure, her acting left something to be desired, but it was serviceable and unworthy, in my opinion, of all the criticism. People need to lighten up. I say rock on, Carrie Underwood.

After The Sound of Music, we watched Elf. It was my second time watching it -the first time was years ago - and I think I enjoyed it slightly less this time around. Kept seeing parallels between the story and the New Testament. No kidding. Buddy The Elf/Santa Claus, Jesus/God. Anyway, I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about Will Ferrel. Is he funny or not?

Craig's coming by in a bit. We'll hang out and I should be alert. Took a nap earlier followed by a cold shower and coffee. So, unless my energy level plummets drastically in the next few hours, I should be alert indeed.

The past week was fraught with a certain heaviness and some frustrating untimely news. It also featured the year anniversary of my father's passing. Still, it wasn't a bad week and I got through it.

Alright, kittens, I'm out. If I see the sun just once in the coming days, it will be enough to fortify my spirits for a while. Just once, Mother Nature. Whaddya say? Something tells me you've got another shitty week in store for us.

You fucking douche.




Tuesday, December 10, 2013

You don't actually exist, so I started shaking

Shitty winter weather. And it's not even officially winter yet. Dark and bleak; slate gray everything, icy roads - fuck it all. Hawaii sounds very good right now. Ah, it's not so bad - there are ways to deal with it - but man, I've never been a winter person.

I was meditating to the gamma waves album last night and my body went through some weird motions. Phantom itches, painless stomach convulsions, and other sundry ticks and twitches (Hey, it rhymes!).  And then I proceeded to have a night of heavy dreaming. Without going into detail, the dreams took place in my mother's house and there were ghosts. One was a cackling old hag. Freaky, man. I visited my mom after work yesterday, maybe that had something to do with it. That, and the fact that the older you get, the more ghosts you acquire.

Tracy and Ray's pub quiz was this weekend. I had a good time while I was there, but it left a weird taste in my mouth. Seems I angered a bunch of people without even realizing it. There was a facebook post that expressed as much, but I took it to be in jest. Later, I was told that people were legitimately pissed. I don't even know what to make of that. And then I got a parking ticket while I was up there. In a residential fucking neighborhood! No love for the K Man. If there's a pub quiz next year, I'm going to have to think carefully about attending. Anyway, it wasn't a horror show by any stretch of the imagination - as I said, I had a good time while I was there - but I think it's better I lock the memory deep down. Which is why, I'm changing the subject.

Had a deep yoga session after work. Needed it. Funny, I feel stronger and more toned than ever before, but when I saw some pictures of me from over the weekend, I looked like a doughy couch potato. Disappointing, but you know what - I'll take feeling good over looking good.

I've been taking cold showers every morning (the benefits are numerous - a no brainer) which has done wonders for me. Obviously, they're not as gentle and comforting, at least not initially, as hot showers, but they have way more benefits. Beats coffee, though not as tasty.

Alright, I'm out this piece. Cheers, pups!

Monday, December 2, 2013

My love explodes all over the world for you

For the most part, I've found some balance in life, but there is a low hum of impending doom. Sometimes it rises to the forefront and I become fearfully abuzz. Fearful thoughts about the condition of my life and where it's headed; a visual representation would look akin to Mordor.

So, not so great, but I reckon we all ride similar waves at various points in our lives. And I've been combating, to significant effect, this darkness. It's fixable, a good chunk of it. Like I said, I've found some balance.

While meditating the other night to a Gamma wave piece, I felt more than heard a loud springy sound. This came from within, like it emerged from a deep well. As it happened, I heard something fall to the floor in Evangeline's room. I was startled.

Before I mention this could be pure coincidence, which it very well could be, I should mention that the sound I heard seemed separate from the sounds I was hearing. I've listened to this recording multiple times and have never noticed this springy sound. It's possible, because of the frequencies at play in the recording, some not easily perceived, the springy sound was always there but just didn't register with me. I'll listen to it again; if I don't hear it, I'll begin to wonder.

Sure, the springy sound and the one from Evangeline's room happening at the same time could be pure coincidence. Or was it that I was in such a deep state of meditation that I was subject to, or the creator of, a poltergeist-like surge? Hmmm... Anyway, maybe I'll probe Evangeline about the incident. Delicately though, so as not to implant ideas in her head.

Thanksgiving went well. This happened:

- Mimi met Missy and barked at her for a while before giving up. She also spent the entire time trying to get at food. She is a rascal.

- I toasted Dad. Not as eloquently as in the movies, but I tried. It was sad there for a few minutes. He was missed. Was our last holiday with him.

- I drove my grandmother to my mom's house. When you're with someone with limited vision and hearing, you'd think you'd spend more time being with them than talking with them. Not the case with Nana: she can talk, that one.

- I cleaned  the gutter on my mother's porch. Had to use a ladder that was a real puzzle to assemble. This thing, according to the sticker on the side, folded up into at least three configurations. Pretty cool, I guess, but I needed a ladder, not a Transformer. Pain in the ass but I got the job done.

-Spira and I took Colleen and Patrick for a walk with the dogs. Colleen had been wanting to do it all day. We went down the street of my youth and it felt a bit weird, like I was exploring the attic in my head. Or something like that.

Spira and I hung out on Friday. She's a bad influence. We had brunch at her place that consisted of bacon, eggs, sausage, Pilsbury biscuits, and coffee. Then we walked over to the Galleria to check out the new Newbury Comics and see if they had the Close To The Edge remix. Spira didn't want to go at first. "But it's Black Friday! It's going to be a zoo!", she said. Usually, she's the one convincing me to go shopping, but I didn't think it was going to be so bad. We'd be in and out and wouldn't have to worry about parking, which is one of the worst parts of Black Friday.

We went and they didn't have it, but I did pick up the Steven Wilson remix of King Crimson's Red and Spira got a Star Wars origami book and some Star Wars socks. I love that she's such a geek. We checked out Old Navy. 50% off everything. Damn! So I got a winter hat, a hoodie, and some boxer briefs for under $25.00. Not bad. Spira found some stuff, too, and left her Newbury Comics bag at the counter (a subsequent call to the store gave her some relief; they said they'd hold it for her). The line went almost all the way to the back of the store, but it moved quickly.

Back at her place, we watched Top of The Lake, a show I had watched an episode of and then determined that we needed to watch it together. So we watched a few episodes, gave Missy D a heaping of TLC, listened to Red, talked about Kanye West (I basically had to explain to her who he was). A good day with the ladies.

Been listening to an audio book (thanks, YouTube!) of The Fellowship of The Ring these last few nights. It comes in 16 installments and I've been playing one before bed. Don't always make it very far before falling asleep, but I'm enjoying the experience all the same. Helped me through a difficult night last night (stomach problems - you don't want to know) Forgot how much more the book is fleshed out than the movie. Don't know who does the reading, but he's damn good. Nice warm English accent.

Ok, gotta go. Just finished watching the latest Walking Dead episode and I need to decompress. Heavy stuff, son!

Hey, where does Frosty The Snowman keep his money?

At the snow bank, of course. Haaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

So we will share this road we walk, and mind our mouths and beware our talk

My yoga sessions have been going deeper; at least today's. First off, I love my new mat. I've finally worn it in, which means the slight slippery sheen has worn off. It's probably the most expensive yoga mat out there and worth every dollar. If it's possible to become one with your mat, I think I felt that today.

Anyway, deeper sessions all around. I feel stronger and looser in my body than ever before - no creaks, no pains - and I'm also getting into the zone, aka mindfulness, more often. Which is helpful because my mind is prone to behave like a runaway train. Making dinner after today's session, I tried to maintain the state of mindfulness. I thought back to the days of working in restaurants. Chaos everywhere, but for some - I'm thinking of some line cooks I worked with - that  chaos is all on the surface, like the waves atop a stormy sea. Down deeper, there is stillness. That's where some of them go and that is why they stick with their jobs. It's an area of their of lives, perhaps the only one, in which they can experience the NOW of things. The zone, whatever you want to call it.

I find it in yoga and performing music. Some people find it in athletics or public speaking or meditating in a cave. We can find it at work. Being busy and productive makes the day fly by, which we love. Where did the time go, we ask? When you're absolutely present, time isn't much of a factor. Because our minds run the show, especially in this culture, that state of being present, of absolute focus, is usually fleeting. I think you're well served if you have an outlet that facilitates it. Now there's some Yoda shit for you.
--
The long weekend is here. Tomorrow, I pick up my grandmother, who I haven't seen in a while, and head over to mom's house for Thanksgiving. Spira and Missy D will arrive separately because they'll be heading to another dinner after leaving my mom's. I look forward to coming back here to an empty house - Evangeline's in Virginia and I believe Fred will be in Maine. I plan on recording if I can and possibly running around the place nude for no other reason than because I can. So there's that.

Dinner tonight: a rice bowl with steamed broccoli, zucchini, and squash. That's it? Nope, there's more. I sauteed the fuck out of some kale, mushrooms, corn, imitation crab meat (What can I say? I love the stuff.) and garlic in my favorite green onion-garlic teriyaki sauce. Forgot the chia seeds and feta cheese, but it tasted great. Really been paying attention to what foods go down my gullet.

Thinking of watching some Walking Dead tonight. Season 3 is up on Netflix, so maybe I'll start a re-watch. It's the perfect holiday show.The current season has been great. And creepier than ever. It dawned on me watching the last episode that things only get worse in that world. The longer they survive, the more zombies there are. And the more cutthroat and desperate the living become. Who knows, maybe someone will figure out how to wipe out the zombies, er walkers (as they're called in the show).

Might watch Windy City Heat again. Fucking love it! Probably will play some music, but look: I think we all can agree that a rundown of what I'm planning on doing, despite being a staple in my posts, is necessary. So with that...

Happy Thanksgiving, bitches!

Oh, and what is the only bee known to provide milk?


A booby!


Tuesday, November 26, 2013

I still remember the talks by the water

Today was thick with undulating situations (hold tight, pure of heart!) and I'm glad to be at home relaxing. Not a bad day, but all over the map, not literally so, but in ways.....ah, you know what I mean. Relaxing, yes - a hot soak beckons. I'm tired, listening to Yours Is No Disgrace and it fortifies. Okay, I'll shower, but while I'm here, I may as well put in a little time.

Speaking of Yes, I heard samples of the new Close To The Edge remix done by Steven Wilson, who I understand is much revered and sought after. I can see why. I love the original and never thought it needed a remix, but boy does what I heard sound amazing. The clarity, son! Gotta find out when the album will be made available.

Okay, it's time for that soak. I'll probably listen to a Big Three podcast (I can't get enough!) afterward and then meditate and read and shit. Need to reach a serene place; can't let the ornery, fearful side be predominant.

And Starship Trooper plays, one of my favorite songs in the whole wide world. I smile.

G'night, lads and lasses. And, you know what? I may be back before Thanksgiving with a new, perhaps different and possibly more sexy, post. Stay tuned.


Sunday, November 24, 2013

All kneeled down before he who takes and defiles

I decided to give Netfllix another try after they offered me a free month. Back to streaming, no DVDs. Their movie selection isn't that hot without going the DVD route, but it's worth the eight bucks a month. So far I've watched:

Room 237. I'd wanted to see it for a while. A documentary about the various theories about the true, veiled meaning of The Shining. It wasn't as good as I expected it to be, but it was worth watching. Some of the theories stretched credulity gossamer thin and others only slightly less. What the documentary showed was how you can connect the dots with practically anything. Was The Shining Stanley Kubrick's telling of the Holocaust? Was he confessing to helping fake the Apollo moon landing? Or was he telling the tale of the plight of the Native Americans? I see why people are prone to looking for hidden meanings in Kubrick's work. 2001 was rife with it and in my opinion so was Eyes Wide Shut. The Shining, though? I'm not sure. I'll entertain pretty much any idea, but whatever Kubrick was going for in The Shining, I don't believe the theorists in Room 237 were on to it.

Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired. A riveting documentary that focuses on Polanski's statutory rape trial. Whether he drugged and raped a thirteen year old girl isn't certain, but by his own account they had intercourse. He likes them young. While I think having sex with underage people is a harmful, scarring practice, I believe Polanski was treated unjustly during the trial.

Tonight I may finally watch The Artist, a film I've been eager to see. Or maybe it will be Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice. Or something else. Maybe I'll just lie in bed and think about all the wrong you've done me.

Spira's been under the weather. Today, I stopped over and we had some ginger tea and watched a documentary about The Lord of The Rings and how it reflected the world Tolkien lived in. Funny, we were just sitting on the couch talking and Spira put this on without any discussion. One of the many reasons why I love her.

Been listening to The Big Three podcast a lot. Really puts Windy City Heat into perspective. Every episode has me laughing hard at some point. I've tried explaining the movie and the podcast to a few people and every time I've come up flat. If I meet someone as into all this as much or even half as much as I am, I'll jump for joy. Right into the air!

Bitterly cold today, perhaps more windy than cold, but either way it sucked being outside. I don't know how many more winters I've got in me. Hurry up, Hawaii!

Looking forward to a short week. Thanksgiving approaches and it will be the first one without my Dad. One of the last times I saw him. I don't expect the day to be a downer, though. First of all, there will be kids at play. And then there's Mimi, who is anything but a downer; this will be her first holiday with us. Also, let's not forget Spira and Missy D. I expect there will be moments of sadness, but those will just be passing clouds.

Alright, I'm off. Just in case you were wondering, I finished reading The Dog Stars and I give it a thumbs up. A good read, but didn't reach the heights of Cormac McCarthy's The Road, which The Dog Stars seemed to be in awe of in tone and subject matter. Still, I recommend it.

Peace, Hobbits!

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

I stood then hummed, I tapped on her drum

Most likely I'll be all over the place with this post. I have no idea whether it will be short or  long. We'll see. The best way to find out is to begin. So let's begin the beguine, as my friend Cole Porter might say if he was still alive and not a skeleton.

I searched half-heartedly for music as similar to that haunting Bavarian singing that begins perhaps my favorite Herzog film, Heart of Glass, but I came up flat. So I'm giving Mazzy Star's new one a try. Pretty good; sounds like Mazzy Star. Make of that what you will.

Man, The Shitter is something else! I can't remember the last time I visited the restroom at work without this guy coming in and blasting away in one of the stalls. In a way it's impressive that he can match my pisses with shits. You know in Jaws when Brody sees how enormous the shark is, way beyond expectations, and utters that famous line, "Here's looking at you, kid"? Well, that's kind of like what happened when it dawned on me that The Shitter is shitting way more than I thought. When I first wrote about him, I figured, and kind of half-jokingly, that this roly-poly motherfucker was taking maybe three or four dumps between 9 and 5. Now I'm convinced this toilet maven is shitting at least seven times a day, maybe more. I could go on about my mixed feelings about this guy - they range from compassion and awe all the way over to loathing and disgust - but I fear I'd carry on a bit too much and that would disturb me just as much as it would you.

So...

One of the aspects of the last season of The Walking Dead that I didn't like was The Governor story line. Maybe that's too strong a way to put it; let's say I was wary of it. At some point, he became a monster out of a nightmare. A frothing, raving, indestructible monster. And so over the top. I feared the show was on its way to losing its moral complexity in favor of cheap histrionics. It never quite got to that point - came very close - and I'm curious whether I'll have a more favorable opinion when I go back and watch the season on DVD. I think I will. Especially in light of this past week's episode.

When I heard The Governor was returning ( I knew he would, given that he hadn't been disposed of by the end of last season), I thought, "Well, there goes what was shaping up to be a good season". But you know what? I liked how they presented him this last episode. No longer (at least for now) the raving villain, more a beaten man emerging from the ashes to a new life. We'll see how it goes, but I have hope.

My sister just called. Was on the phone with her for a while. We hadn't talked since the end of August. Time flies, so it does. Good conversation but now it's getting late and I must end this post. There was more to say, but whatever. Maybe for another time.

Aloha!

Sunday, November 17, 2013

I put my feet up on the coffee table, I stay up late watching cable, I like old movies with Clark Gable, just like my dad did

Woke up from  a nightmare this morning. In it I was with a few friends outside somewhere and another friend drove by on his bike and almost hit one of us. That friend, outraged, threw a two-by-four at him. The biker came back our way ready to fight. He got off his bike and charged toward the wood thrower. I got in his way and tried to hold him off. His blood was up and he started punching me. That got me angry so I picked him up like a sack of flour and slammed him to the ground several times.

The situation was diffused and the biker left the scene. Soon after, a policeman came by to investigate. He had a Russian accent (oh, yeah, turns out we were in Russia) and was chiefly concerned with my involvement in the scuffle. He informed me that our biker friend was injured. I explained to the cop that I was trying to prevent a more serious fight but he wasn't having it. He said he was going to dig deeper into the matter. "I might be seeing you again", he told me.

Next thing I knew I was with my grandmother who insisted we go to the hospital to visit the biker. Hospitalized? I didn't think I hurt bad enough to require hospitalization. Damn! So to the hospital we went. As we approached the biker's room, my grandmother told me she was disappointed in me for losing my temper. I tried to explain to her that I was the good guy here. "I tried to stop a fight, not start one!" I exclaimed, but she didn't seem to believe me.

We got to the reception desk and were informed that my friend had died from his wounds. Oh, boy, not good. The situation was FUBAR all of a sudden and my heart sank with the knowledge that I was going to jail. In Russia. Fuck.

As panic swelled, I remembered - hoped, really - that this was a dream. I somehow removed myself from it and woke up. I seldom get nightmares. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten a gallon of chili before bed last night.

I hit the yoga mat with vigor this morning, partially in an attempt to exorcise the dream from my mind. Seemed to work. Speaking of yoga, my new Manduka mat arrived earlier in the week. Today was my third time using it. So far, it's living up to the hype. Still a tad slippery, but that will change once the mat gets worn in a bit. That will be the last mat I have, I think. Lifetime guaranty and from what I hear the mat is durable as fuck (which is to say it's quite durable).

Spent the day with Spira and Missy D yesterday. We went to the beach and had a long walk. Missy D had a blast chasing birds and exploring. Afterward, we went to the Greek Corner for dinner. We had to wait a bit, but once seated we were served right away, which was good because we were both famished. We shared a sampler plate with tzadiki, hummus, stuffed grape leaves, and feta. Yum. For my entree, I had the spinach pie plate. Double yum!

And then we went to Target and browsed. We bought matching t shirts emblazoned with the Millennium Falcon and scoped out DVDs (I picked up Dances With Wolves and The Shawshank Redemption for $10). We followed that up with a viewing of Jiro Dreams of Sushi back at her place. It was a spiritual experience, that documentary. Good times.

We talked of the future. Spira wants to move to Maui and asked if I would go with her. A big move, one to consider carefully, but why not? Down the pike; we'll see what happens.

This past week was great. Busy at work; everyone working in concert and pleasant. My mat arrived, which was, you know, kick ass. Fred had taken a few days off and did some work around the house. He installed a new thermostat, which we badly needed, and restored the kitchen floor to it's former glory. My bank card and new check books arrived the same day my replacement license did; that was a huge relief. And I've been eating super healthy. A lot of kale, garlic, quinoa, fruit, and other veggies. And a lot of meditating. Who knows, maybe I'll become a guru or some shit.

Today I'll relax. I'll read, maybe watch a Big Three podcast (Saw Windy City Heat during the week and its genius, not apparent at first, overtook me. No time to elaborate, but these guys are layered comedians).

Maybe I'll get some sushi later. Hmmm....

There you have it. Peace, hatchlings.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Got a spot that gets me hot, but you ain't been to it, and I've got to get out of it before I get into it

Many people, or at least it seems that way, will have tomorrow off from work. Not me, I'll be making the trek in, but I have a hunch it will be a slow day; we'll probably leave early. That would be nice, don't ya think? The weekend makes its final exhale; it was a productive one.

How so? Tell us, tell us, tell us!

Why children, I have every intention to. But maybe not a complete recounting, which, if you knew what I'm omitting, would be fine by you. Trust me.

Last night, Spira and I hopped the T into Boston and saw Gravity in 3D. We had planned on going last weekend, but that was the day my stuff was stolen. I'm glad we went before it left the theaters because it is a movie that needs to be seen on the big screen. It's rare that I refer to anything as breathtaking, but I don't think I'd be out of line applying the word to this film. Everything was so seamless, vivid - I'm talkin' VIVID!

I also don't think I'd be out of line applying the word flawless to Gravity. If it has any flaws, they flew under my radar. All the elements, like players on a championship team, worked together at a high level. The acting was impressive (Sandra Bullock had no business winning an Oscar for that horrible, horrible movie The Blind Side, but she earned one with  her performance in Gravity. And Clooney was pitch-perfect); the soundtrack was very good - I took note on more than one occasion; hell, everything was very good.

If you want to see a true blockbuster, one that is visually stunning, action-packed (Right the fuck out of the gate! You've got maybe two or three minutes before things get heavy), and smart, see Gravity. Just do it, for my sake.

I'm so excited! In a few days, my new yoga mat will be arriving in the mail. After using Spira's heavy rubber mat, which was like driving a much nicer car than the one I have, I decided that it would be well worth it to invest in the best yoga mat I could find.

After some research, I arrived at the Manduka Black Mat Pro. It topped all the Best Yoga Mat lists I came across and every review I read were unanimous in their high praise. By almost every account, this was the Cadillac of yoga mats.

I drooled over the specs. The thing is heavy PVC, weighs about seven pounds. Lifetime warranty, but word is this mat doesn't wear down. Ever. It's twice as thick as most mats and, and.....oh, I'm boring the fuck out of you, but I'm drooling as I type. Anyway, the long and the short of it is I'm getting the best of the best yoga mats and I'm pretty damn excited. I fantasize about the ways it will improve and revivify my practice.

I went to my Mom's earlier today and helped her with some yard work and various other things. She treated me to lunch at Luigi's in Bedford (her favorite restaurant) and we talked about the holidays over our meals. We concluded that the yoga mat would be my Christmas gift from her. I haven't been this excited about a Christmas gift in a while. I will put it to good use. Thanks, Mom!


I've been meditating to Dr. Jeffrey Thompson's Gamma wave CDs. What a trip! Anyway, time has run out with this post, so the Gamma waves will have to wait.

Ciao, friend and foe.

P.S.

So yesterday I was at a red light listening to Frank Zappa. A couple of my windows were open. In the lane to my right was a city public works truck. For some reason I envisioned the construction dude driving the truck saying something to the effect of "Nice! Zappa!". Why this came to mind I don't know. Zappa's kind of an acquired taste; he's not as accessible as the NFL. But guess what happened? As soon as Montana began, the guy yells over to me, "Fucking Frank Zappa! Nice! Haven't heard him in years." I replied with "Well, listen away now" as I turned up the volume. Anyway, I just wanted to document that somewhere, whether you find it as fascinating as I do.


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Lawd, you made the night too long

Despite getting robbed over the weekend - I'll get to that in a minute - life has been pretty good. I was thinking earlier today that I'm surrounded, more or less, by  good people. Not a lot of toxicity hereabouts. Just the way I like it. So here I am, raising an invisible glass, making a toast of appreciation.

This past Saturday the plan was to doing some hiking in the Fells with Nina,Spira and the lovely Missy D followed by dinner and a movie (Gravity, son!). We took Spira's car - I sat in the back with Missy D -and when we arrived at the Fells, I debated whether to bring my wallet and phone on the walk. I decided to keep them in the car  because the only pockets I had were in my jeans and I didn't want anything falling out, not to mention having them there would be uncomfortable. To be safe, I put the phone and wallet under a blanket and, as we walked away from the car, I checked with Spira to make sure the doors were locked. She told me they were.

It was a nice day for a walk and we enjoyed it. Back at the car, I realized quickly that my stuff wasn't where I left it. The three of us looked everywhere, but no dice. Spira called my phone but it went straight to voice mail. That was when I knew for sure my stuff was stolen. I never shut my phone off and the battery had just been charged. So how did they get in the car? The rear window had been left wide open. None of us had noticed. Fuck.

As we drove away, I sat with the weight of everything I had to do, the stuff I needed to replace. And coating it all was the sticky feeling of being violated. I had just taken out close to a hundred dollars not an hour before our walk. Gone, son! And my phone? Why'd you have to steal that, too? Fucking asshole!

I won't go into the details about all the shit I had to do to get back on my feet, but there was a sizable list. Police report, banking, phone, etc. Fortunately, Spira had a pay-as-you-go phone and gave me some cash which helped a ton. I'd never experienced a situation like that when all of a sudden the stuff you need is taken from you. I had no ID, no money, no phone. I felt like a pauper.

Ah, but it wasn't so bad. I didn't let it overwhelm me; I stayed on task and kept a positive attitude (well most of the time). My mom was able to help out with a couple of things; I had the support of others, too. Situations like this suck, can get you cynical about the world, but I've seen it in a more positive light. As of last night, I took care of every thing that needed taking care of. That is good for me; I've been known to procrastinate. I feel good about the way I faced the challenges presented to me. So there's that. And, far from feeling cynical, I feel better about humanity. The support I got from people I know and ones I don't meant a lot and bolstered me with the sense I'd get through it all. And so far, so good.

We can't control what happens to us, but we can decide how we're going to react.

Namaste, friends!

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Please don't pull me out, this is how I would want to go

I feel like all I've been eating lately is quinoa in different variations. Not a bad thing -  eating quinoa hardly equates with eating, say, pizza and french fries all the time. So, yeah, I love quinoa and you can make it for me any time you wish. Tonight, I had it with raw garlic, sliced beets, feta cheese, split peas, chia seeds, and steamed broccoli and mushrooms. Fortify thine self!

My Dark Tower re-read continues. I'm on the last last installment, The Dark Tower. It's been a few years since I last read it, so in a way, it's like I'm reading it for the first time. I know many readers weren't pleased with the ending, but I liked it, felt it was suitable. We'll see how I feel this time around.

My dad's birthday was last week. Kind of tough, but not so bad. I had a vivid dream about him the night before (O where are you, Dad?) but it didn't flavor the day with much melancholy. I visited with my mom after work and it wasn't a sob-fest or anything. Now that my mom has Mimi in her life, there is more joy and comfort, less sadness and grief. Mimi is such a cute little affectionate rascal; it's hard not to smile in her presence.

I was just reading an article about Paul Pierce and it got me thinking about watching Celtics games with Adam. Seems like forever ago while also seeming like yesterday. Time is a paradoxical magician. I wonder if I'll ever see him again. My guess is no, but what the fuck do I know. Speaking of time passing, I have boxes of recordings from the "old days", music I made with bands, by myself, and with Adam. They've been in my closet for almost a decade collecting dust. I haven't been adverse to diving in, but I know that when I do, it will be a rabbit's hole that might stir some shit up, if ya dig.

This coming weekend is fairly booked. On Saturday, Spira and I are going to see Gravity (we better - I'm afraid it's going to leave the theaters soon and that would bum me out) and Sunday I head to Tracy and Ray's. Maybe I'll crash at Janelle's that night so my commute to work the following day will be easy-peasy.

Been listening to the new Midlake album courtesy of NPR. Man, they're channeling everything I love about music, especially old school Prog rock.Tomorrow I plan on get rip-roaring high and absorbing the fuck out of that album. Pardon my French, but I'm feeling enthusiastic.

Think I'll go watch the latest Walking Dead episode. So far this season is shaping up to be a fine one. Or I'll open Pandora's box like I've been doing and delve deep into conspiracies. We'll see, children.

And I'll meditate. Nothing is more important in life. You think I kid, but I'm serious.

G'night, hellions.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

In came the man for the watering can, he didn't see John hiding

It's already Tuesday. Where does the time go? It doesn't go anywhere because it's doesn't exist. We don't need to go into that now, the whole nature of time. Let's begin with this past Saturday, the day of the show, the show in which Spira displayed her wonderful paintings - the opening reception of her Spiritus exhibit, to be even more precise. Her friend Paul had some of his own paintings on display and I closed out the evening with an absolutely spellbinding set of heartfelt and achingly beautiful (this, according to the New York Times review I read in my sleep).

It was a special night but the week leading up to it was nothing short of challenging. For one, the cold I thought I had was more likely a sinus infection and it stuck around like an asshole. And my car needed some work. There were other things too, but I met each challenge head on, something I'm not sure I would have done not so long ago. I imagine there would have been more pouting and sardonic thoughts ("Of course I get a sinus infection; it's not like I have to sing or anything this weekend."). Alright, there was a bit of that, but only a bit and it was overshadowed by my being a proactive and willful motherfucker. I took care of my car and in doing so I cleared up a couple of ongoing, mysterious issues with it in one fell swoop; I hit the yoga mat with vigor despite feeling sluggish and ill; I practiced my music when I could and told myself I'd be better the night of the show. I brought the ruckus, son!

 I woke up Saturday morning with an aching jaw courtesy of my ailing sinuses. That was a new development I wasn't exactly giddy about. I tried running through a couple of songs and not only did my voice sound nasally and crusty, singing hurt like a motherfucker. Really, I thought. What.The.Fuck? Still, I didn't wallow in it, this misfortune. I practiced some yoga, meditated for an hour, took a long, steamy shower.

I felt better later and picked up Pat and Allie and headed over to Charlestown to grab a PA head and a couple of mics from Pat's rehearsal space. To and fro we listened to Led Zeppelin's Presence which got me pumped to play some music.

I was in good spirits when we got to the art studio, despite not knowing whether any of my friends would be coming. Only a few bothered to respond to any of my invites. I wasn't expecting a great turnout, but at the very least I hoped people would be courteous enough to at least acknowledge they were invited to the show. At least they were being consistent in their disregard.

Anyway, fuck 'em because it was a great night with some great friends. I got to see Kate (who took a bus to get there! - impressive), Craig, Foley, Pam, Pat,Allie, and a bunch of other solid people, some newly met. Hell, Missy D was in the house! Great atmosphere. The art was a pleasure to view and some fine conversations were had. Before I went on, almost all of us went outside and had a few (perhaps even more) puffs of a decreasingly illicit substance. Nina was in attendance. Have I mentioned her here before? I think I have, maybe indirectly. Perhaps I'll elaborate in a future post.

My set went well, despite numerous little screw ups. The audience was attentive, except for Missy D, who at various intervals, whined a bit ("Why is everyone so quiet and sitting still? And more importantly, why is no one rubbing my belly?"). She can be a bit of a diva, but it doesn't make me love her any less. I am smitten.

Afterward, I got some great feedback from people, particularly from a few I didn't know. I had noticed a couple of them sitting near the back of the room during my set. They seemed to be getting into it. Anyway, I won't bother relating what was said to me - I'd like to keep my ego in check at least slightly - but it was touching and got me to thinking about some things.

Well, it's time to go. Been watching Norm MacDonald's sublime Podcast. During each episode, he and his guests read jokes off of cards that Norm prepares. Some very, very funny stuff. I'll leave you with one I liked.

"I believe in only two things: No Means No and Never Take No For An Answer".

G'night, you damn dirty apes.


Sunday, October 13, 2013

Everyone needs love, you know that it's true, some day you'll find someone, that will fall in love with you

Man, I'm beat. Just got back from my mom's house. She had a bunch of miscellaneous chores for me to attend to and, while none of them were that taxing physically or mentally, or even spiritually, they did take their toll. Why? Because I've been nursing a fucking head cold since Thursday and I'm not my powerful, hale (and charming and good looking) self. Good times. Oh, and my car, but I'll get to that in a minute.

It was a good day with mom and the adorable Mimi, who made me smile all the live long day. Mom and I went out to lunch after we completed the various tasks. I was pleased I could help out some. Without my dad around, there are many tasks she can't perform. So I took out her bedroom A/C, attached a pull chain to a ceiling light, scraped moss off of her patio,blow-dried some weather-proofing plastic on one of her windows (my old roommate Rich came to mind - I think that was his favorite thing in the whole wide world to do), installed smoke alarms, and a few other odds and ends. Easy stuff, for the most part, but, as I said, I'm beat. Tears of fatigue are cascading down my cheeks as I type. Should I take a nap at this late hour or revivify with some coffee? I'm thinking coffee. I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

I'm back and the coffee is hot and tasty (I rock the French press, son!) Miles Davis's Agharta is playing and I'm ready to go. Okay, my car. Ughh.

Since I've had the car - close to a year now - every once in a while on the highway, a low hum would sound and the car would start to shake, as if I was pushing the engine well past it's comfort zone. Into the red, baby! The first time it happened, I was certain I was about to break down, but after slowing down, the car seemed to revert back to it's functioning self.

Every once in a while it happened. And, starting last week, every once in a while became frequently. Friday was the last straw. It marked the second day in a row this behavior asserted itself. Fuck. Yesterday I took the car to my mechanic, head stuffed to the gills and sore throat. Fun. Yada, yada, yada, they gave the car a tune up (new spark plugs, filters, etc.) thinking that should solve the problem. Cost me about three hunnert smackers. Nice.

When I picked the car up, I noticed right away it had a little spring in its step. Good sign. I was looking forward to driving to my mom's today free of concern, listening to Led Zep's mighty Presence (I had been listening to it online all week and the copy I ordered had just arrived in the mail). I envisioned smooth sailing down the highway listening to the rolling thunder of Achille's Last Stand.

Indeed it was smooth sailing  until....that's right the same fucking rumble showed its face again. You thought you got rid of me, you piece of shit? Ha! Since it didn't happen again, I'm hoping whatever the problem was, had shit itself out somehow. Maybe the new parts had to settle in. Or something. How do I know? Anyway, so that's an ongoing concern. Will the car hold up? I hope so.

Being sick sidetracked me from rehearsing for Saturday's gig. Whatever. I need to get better. It will be a quiet night. I'll probably watch Prometheus. Just watched a twenty plus minute video on YouTube that attempts to debunk all the criticism the film received. The guy made a solid argument. Made me eager to watch it again.

Alright, I'm out of here. Peace out, bronies.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Oh, to sail away, to sandy lands, and other days

I am beat. A busy day at work - thank goodness, we had been achingly slow for a spell - and afterward I went to the Market Basket in Andover and got halfway through my shopping when my cart disappeared. I had left it at the end of an aisle while I went looking for some soy sauce. When I got back, the cart was gone. I spent several minutes looking into other people's carts to see if they had mistakenly grabbed mine. I finally came to the conclusion that I was wasting my time. So I went back to the front of the store, grabbed a cart and started over. Later, in the produce section, I spotted my first cart. Someone had gone to the other side of the store with it before realizing they had the wrong one. That person was an asshole. And a moron. That is just my opinion.

I launched the Ignore Emporium Facebook page last week, replete with a kick ass logo, courtesy of Janelle. The page has been an overall success. And by success I mean the page has been met with overall indifference. People clicked '"like" when they received the invitation ( a good start); after that interest levels dropped significantly.

The only person who left feedback regarding the music I posted, was my old band mate, Steve. I had a feeling he would (Bless you, Steve!)I remember one time back in the day I played him a song I had recorded on my 4 track. As the song was playing, I said something to him and he raised his finger as if to say, "I'll be right with you". When the song was through, he said, "Ok, what were you going to say?" In other words, he actually listened to my song. I remember finding that focused attention refreshing. So, no, I wasn't surprised he actually listened to the songs I shared on FaceBook.

So, if you're counting, out of the nearly fifty people who liked the page, only Steve left feedback about the songs I posted (which, by the way, are the entire fucking point of the page). Actually, there was one other guy, some one I don't even know, who left me a comment noting that he couldn't play one of my songs. So there's another listener, but I have no idea what he thinks about what he heard. He never let on.

So what's going on? Could it be that people are listening and may even enjoy what they've heard but just haven't commented? It's possible, but if you liked what you heard, why not say as much? Not too long ago, Kat told me how much she had enjoyed one of my performances. She described how she and her son had gone home and watched some of the performance on video. It was nice to hear, especially considering it wasn't one of my better received gigs. A scene from The Office comes to mind. Michael Scott makes an unflattering and dismissive comment about Pam's art in front of her and a few other people. She walks away in a huff and Michael says "Actually, Pam's a great artist but I would never say that to her face?" Oscar, perplexed, says "Why wouldn't you say it to her face?" Michael had no answer. It's okay to let someone know you appreciate what they do.

Another option is that people have been listening and dislike what they've heard. That could explain the lack of feedback, but c'mon, you can't find one nice thing to say? Or, fuck, tell me why you don't like what you've heard. I'm fine with that; at least then you'd have given me the respect of some of your attention. Some fucking blood pulsing through the veins of the page. Anything but dead air.

I don't know what the case is because I've received virtually no feedback. Janelle didn't leave any regarding the songs I posted, but she's already heard everything I posted. She went above and beyond by creating the logo, leaving me an encouraging comment, and promoting my page on her wall. Spira promoted the page, too. Artists helping artists.

My music is an essential part of who I am; I've been doing it most of my life. These songs are my children; I've nurtured them, watched them grow. I've played through joy and abject grief. It has gotten me through some shit. I'm proud of what I've done. Leading up to the launch of the page, I was eager to share my music, this essential part of who I am, with my friends. I was looking forward to hearing people's thoughts and opinions.

My parents were supportive of my music but it only went so far. My father died never hearing a single song of mine. My parents never expressed an interest in seeing me play out or listening to any of my recordings. When my dad died, I hatched a plan to play him a farewell set in front of my friends and family. It felt like the right thing to do. My mother and sister both said they wouldn't attend. So I ditched the idea.

I only illustrate the above to point out why what's happening might cut a little deep. This type of thing has been a pattern with me (I don't have the energy to go over specific examples, they're out there). I should point out that over the years I've received some great support and encouragement by various people. It hasn't been all negative, to be sure. And, look, it's okay with me if people don't like my stuff. It's not for everyone. But to be dismissed so roundly by so many people - my friends - doesn't feel so okay. 

Oh, this is giving me a headache. It was affirming to vent, but I should be working on my music instead of fussing about the people who seem to be indifferent to it.

I don't know what to do with the FB page. I guess I'll leave it up and continue posting songs. Maybe someone will come upon it and dig what they hear. Or not. Who knows. I've got a gig to promote, but I'm not sure if I should bother. I'll have to think about it.

Things may pick up. I've planted some seeds, maybe they'll grow. I know there are people out there who will appreciate what I do. The longer my reach, the more likely I'll find them, or they'll find me. I'm looking forward to the gig and plan on bringing my A game. So it's off to rehearse.


G'night


Sunday, October 6, 2013

Into the blue again, into silent water

It is Sunday and it is being utilized as a day of rest. I woke up at 11:30 from a dream in which in which Missy D jumped up on the couch I was napping on and eased into a spoon position. Where were we? Oh, I don't know; vague, dim images of revelry in a large house - lot's of rooms, women. Man, my dreams like to party.

11:30. Late for me, but I went to bed after three and it's been raining. The perfect storm for sleeping in. Fred is in the basement hammering away and sawing. He's recently gotten into carpentry, a hobby the household has benefited from (a frame for the light fixture on the kitchen ceiling, a lid for the gaping hole over the trash bucket in our pantry). At first, I was wary of this new pursuit - over the last several weekends, Nice Guy Steve has been outside my window going to town with his skill saw. A nuisance, but made even worse when it gave Fred the idea to purchase his very own skill saw. So, sure, I was wary of a potential cacophony of saws blazing away, but so far it hasn't been an issue. I can dimly hear hammering away, but it's tolerable. Hell, I'm constantly bashing away on my guitar directly above him; above all else, I should cut him a little slack.

Listening to Bach sonatas and contemplating where to direct my energy. I'm thinking working on music will be the way to go. Then I'll probably read from Song of Susannah, the penultimate book in King's Dark Tower series. I'll watch some more of Celebration Day. Late last night I watched a good chunk. What a set list! The band is tight (I read that because they knew this show was a one-off with no tour to follow, they rehearsed a shit load). Aside from one or two irresponsible solos from Page, this is one of their better performances.

Or I'll stick with the sonatas and ride that cloud all day.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Maybe she thinks so, but just doesn't say so

Almost finished Wolves of The Calla, the fifth book of my Dark Tower re-read. It's been a treat being able to jump to the next book without having to wait a number of years for it to be published.

My desires waver this evening. All over the map and all equally potent. I'm feeling a strong sexual desire, but I also could work on music, or read, or watch some of Celebration Day, the Led Zepellin DVD Craig lent me (only a couple of songs in, but wasn't really feeling it - that could change). Or I could make a call or two. Go out. Lots of desires. A good problem to have, I suppose.

I'm all over the place. I apologize (kind of) if this has made you dizzy or peeved or whatever. I'll wrap it up in a jiff.

I enjoy thinking about my mom's dog, Mimi. She's so effin cute. You'd have to have the most evil ichor run through your veins to think otherwise. And she's made my mother's life a happier place. Anyway, I like having her sit on my lap while I pet and hug her.

Just because you haven't asked, I should point out that I'm listening to Amon Tobin's Supermodified, which is one of my favorite albums. Janelle turned me on to him back in the day when I was exploring electronic music. I remember getting the album in the summer and listening to it during long walks on the sandbars of the Biddeford pools. It's possible I did this high as fuck.

Well, I suppose I'm done with you. I'll keep you in my thoughts, faithful readers. And maybe one of you I'll see in a sexy rumination.

 Don't be alarmed, child. I'm a craftsman.


Thursday, October 3, 2013

I got so high, I scratched till I bled

I won't go as far to say that dominant aspects of my life are reaching unbearable peaks of despair, but I will say that it has become increasingly uncomfortable. There are several factors involved and most could be alleviated by having more money at my disposal. But it's not just money, though. It's the way I've approached life that is at the root of it all. I guess that goes without saying, but to me it hasn't always been self-evident.

So I deal and I hope things get better, more satisfying, exhilarating even. It can happen. Why not? Worries, concerns, fuck it. I come home and hit the yoga mat. Hard. Puts me in a resourceful, confident, and relaxed state. I come out the other end of a session invigorated. I work on my music. I meditate. I eat healthy. The worst is despair, that too afraid to do anything while the world crumbles around you way of being. Taking some kind of action on behalf of yourself is an affirmation. It strengthens.

I should get back to working on music. I'm alternating between practicing established songs and working on new ones. I'd like to have most or all of them completed by my show, which I know for a darn tootin' fact is on October 19th. And Spira said she wants to sing with me on a song. That will require rehearsing. Anyway, I've been having a lot of fun playing the songs. I'm not being very rigid about how they should be performed, focusing more on relaxing into them and letting the moment dictate where they should go. The closer you are to that, the better off you'll be as a live musician.

The Ignore Emporium page is up. I'm pleased with the layout (Janelle provided the logo, which I love) and I'm glad I have a forum to share my music. I'm aiming to keep a positive outlook about the experience. It hasn't been easy. Let's leave it at that. At the very least, I'm learning to develop a thick skin.

G'night, laddybucks.


Saturday, September 28, 2013

And we all go down together

I practiced yoga this morning and then watched Mad Men but before that I worked on music for about an hour. Got all that? And right around the time I was settling down for a nap, Spira called and asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with her and Missy D. Sounded good to me, though I lamented the nap I never got to take.
We walked along the beach in Revere. The signs read "No Dogs Allowed Until September 30th" and we took heed but eventually decided to abandon the sidewalk for actual beach. It was a good plan. Not one person gave a shit and Missy got to run like a launched missile. I benefited too; I was starting to get a serious blister from my shoe and being barefoot in the sand was a comfort.

By the time we made it back to the car, we were all pooped. When we got back to Spira's, Missy D went right to her bed and collapsed before I was able to get her leash and collar off. Spira and I let her sleep and went to the City Slicker Cafe for dinner. Spira found out they didn't have public restrooms, so our order changed to takeout. We brought the food to her studio down the street and pigged out because neither of us had eaten in hours and the walk took it's toll.

And then we practiced our art. She painted and I played and sang. I realized at some point that Spira's probably the only person to see my writing process. Last week, the first time, was a little awkward at first, but I relaxed into it eventually. Tonight it felt natural all the way through.

Alright, it gets late and I want to read from Wolves of The Calla and possibly squeeze in some Mad Men.

Pleasant dreams, rascals.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Hey, hey mama, what's wrong with you?

Feeling good. Just had a nourishing and delicious dinner. I made a quinoa dish that featured roasted sweet potato, steamed broccoli and mushrooms, beets, garden tomato, tempeh marinated in green onion teriyaki sauce, and feta cheese. I'm so amped I could run outside and beat up pedestrians.

I'm closer than ever when it comes to eliminating meat from my diet. Saw another documentary that showed in gruesome detail  how the meat we eat is processed. It makes me terribly sad watching this stuff, but it's the least I can do; feeling discomfort is nothing compared to what these poor creatures go through. How can I continue to look the other way, knowing how vulgar and immoral this whole business is? So, we'll see how it goes. Might still eat farm-raised meat. Or maybe not.

A fine day today. First of all, it's Friday. So there's that. Also, there were only a few of us at work today and we didn't have much to do, so we all left at four. Brittany, who's still relatively new was so happy we were leaving but confessed to me that she tried not to show it lest they think she hates her job or something.

Other things went well today, but they don't need to be mentioned here. Actually, nothing needs to be mentioned here, but you catch my drift. Right?

I had a dream last night in which I saw my Uncle Dick. I hugged him tightly and sobbed. I couldn't stop. I don't know what that was about, but I suspect it had something to do with my dad. The last time I saw Dick, which was a few months after my dad died, he reminded me so much of him it was eerie. Ah, the grief isn't as bad, but it lingers in the corners.

Just took a look at some drafts of the Ignore Emporium logo Janelle's been working on. We're getting there. Loving where it's headed. Means a lot her doing this for me.

Breaking Bad wraps up this weekend. I'm going to try watch it though I don't have cable. A way will be found. Or I'll watch it online a day or two later.

See ya, buddies!

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

I can't go for that, no can do

Well, it's Monday and it wasn't so bad, especially considering I'm taking tomorrow off. I am, it's true, and I need it. And not because I hate my job - I just feel burned out all over and a day off sounds very appealing right now. I will practice yoga, work on music, read, and maybe hatch a plan or two.

I binge-watched Breaking Bad over the weekend and am now caught up (not technically, I suppose, since I missed last night's episode). Pretty intense, but what else can you expect from this show. Still not on board with the idea that it's the best show ever, but it's definitely up there. I'll need to watch the whole series over before I can make any true assessment. It is very, very good; the quality is very, very high. That much I know. But there are other shows I can say the same thing about, like TJ Hooker or According To Jim. So, there's that.

TimberGiantBigfoot finally posted the footage I'd been giddy with anticipation to watch. Since I feel pretty certain  he's not a hoaxer, I'm going on record as saying this is some of the best authentic footage I've seen. It's nowhere near the Patterson-Gimlin footage as far as content, but to me it is very compelling.

I'm really happy for TGB. This guy has been at it for years and his patience has been rewarded. So what is shown in the clip? Well, let's back up a bit first. Often in TGB's videos, various sounds can be heard that correspond to primate (Sasquatch) behavior, i.e. wood-knocking, howls, rock-clacking. In one or two of his recent vids rock clacking can be heard. How can I be sure it's rock clacking? Well, clearly I can't be completely sure, but there's corresponding evidence to suggest that's what it was. So not only does it sound like two rocks being brought together, but when TGB walks towards the source of the sound, he finds two rocks, powdered white on the tips and smooth from use. Around them he finds a pile of nuts that, upon closer inspection, are almost impossible to break open without the use of some tool. What would one use? A hammer? Nut cracker? Either would work, I suppose. Rocks? Nah.

Fast forward to the recent compelling video. TGB is out walking in the woods and suddenly you hear "clack, clack" in the distance, coming from the deep brush. He walks towards the sound and hears it again. At one point he estimates that the sound is close. He aims the camera into the woods. Nothing. And then...something.

What he sees clearly surprises him (I've seen a lot of phony bigfoot vids and even when the acting is good it's never that good). TGB gathers himself and gets his footage, which lasts about a minute or so. At times it is shaky and there are a couple of edits that I wonder about (usually an indicator of tomfoolery, but in this case, I wouldn't be surprised if it was his swearing that he cut out, given that he's conscious of his kids watching the video and if memory serves, he's said he's done as much in the past), but what is shown clearly resembles a mountain gorilla (sagital crest, massive bulk, etc), albeit a reddish one. And what is cool is that you see the body pulse in time with subsequent rock clacking. When all is said and done, TGB walks over to where the creature was and finds nuts and rocks white-tipped with use.

That's all I'll share here. If you're interested, go check it out for yourself. Believe me, I'm conscious that most people I know and probably most of my readers find the subject absolutely ridiculous and won't give it the time of day. I feel no need to convert anyone, but I did want to share my excitement. It's rare when footage is released that is so compelling.
--
A good chunk of what I wrote above was written last night before the Internet cut out, something that is happening with greater frequency these days (probably we need a new router). When I went to reset the connection, I ended up having a long conversation with Evangeline and Fred. About what? Well, books and stuff. Really, though, it's none of your business. Alright?

Started reading The Dog Stars last night. I'd heard a lot of good things about it and I was intrigued by the premise (poetical man and his dog and gun-loving, militia-type neighbor surviving in post-flu pandemic world). The writing style is first person and brings to mind McCarthy's The Road, but this is not a rip off. Heller's writing is powerful and engaging and, from what I understand because I'm only fifty pages in, the story is a bit more hopeful than The Road.

I generally have great dreams and hardly ever have nightmares. Many of the great dreams involve revelry among friends, some I know in my waking life, others only in the dream. Often these parties take place inside a huge, secluded ocean front place. I awoke from one of these dreams this morning with tendrils of recall snaking through my foggy mind. I remember lying on the couch with her. She held me close, it felt natural, but I was starting to wonder if it was appropriate. She didn't release her hold, so I didn't protest.

I think when I die, I'll walk right into one of these parties. Hell, maybe before I die. Multi-verse anyone?

Well, let's get this day started. It's a bit chilly, hope it warms up a bit before I go practice yoga as close to naked as I can muster. And there will be music and dancing and laughter and....

Ignore Emporium. I was hoping to launch the FB page a couple of months ago but I've been holding out for a logo. Didn't like the idea of a half-assed presentation but I've got a gig to promote and I don't think I can wait much longer. So,what I'm saying is I'm going to probably throw together something just so I can the ball rolling. In the end, it won't matter what I present; I'm pretty sure people's reactions will border on indifferent. Way to be an optimist, Kev! Well, it may not be like that, but it's hard to gauge these things. All I have to go on is past reactions and well....the word lukewarm comes to mind. Guess what, though? It doesn't change the way I feel about my music. I just need to find my audience is all. Soon, children. Soon.

Good night and good luck.


Tuesday, September 17, 2013

And then taking from his wallet an old schedule of trains, he'll say I told you when I came I was a stranger

Oh, I don't know. The day was relatively quiet. Work wasn't very busy; I got out a bit early and picked up some groceries at the Market Basket in Andover. And here I am, back home, listening to Rimsky-Korsakev's Song of India, sipping coffee, and a puff or two. All in all, a fine day. The weather was sunny and crisp. Fall looms - but not yet, not yet.

Been reading from Chogyam Trungpa's Meditation In Action during lunch (Mother Night will have to wait a bit). One of the things I find attractive about Buddhism is its practicality. You can apply its teachings and not be spiritual or religious. No one to worship, no dogma - just tools to help you thrive in this life (lives). And I've been listening to the great philosopher, Alan Watts, cover much of the same ground. Every night before bed, I pick one of his talks on YouTube, shut out the lights, and try not to fall asleep (I always do, but hopefully I've been absorbing his words on another level).

Thought about my dad a lot today. Sometimes it's like that and sometimes, like today, I don't know what precipitated it. I miss him. Hard to believe, but it's almost been a whole year since he passed. I wonder if, in some capacity, our paths will cross again. Something tells me yes, but so much about this life is incomprehensible to me. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Fruit flies have invaded our kitchen. I've gone on the offensive and have reduced their numbers, but victory still eludes me. Stay tuned, children of the damned!

For the last few years, I've been an avid watcher of TimberGiantBigfoot's videos on YouTube. He's this guy named Jim who treks out in the forest near his home in Ontario and looks for signs of Bigfoot. He mostly goes out by himself, but occasionally he'll bring his children. He's captured a lot of compelling video over the years. I find him to be highly credible. If he's a hoaxer, he's taking the subtle approach. Most of what he gets on film are strange stick structures, wood knocking, rock clacking, foot prints, possible dens - that type of thing.

He does have a number of videos in which a large bipedal creature can be seen, but they're a small part of a large body of work. It's rare that he'll definitively claim what he films is Bigfoot related. It's clear he's convinced they exist; he makes no bones about it, but he does try to take an even-keeled approach.

So I enjoy watching his videos, particularly because I'm a Bigfoot geek, but also because I find them comforting. Why not? He seems to be a nice guy and he's hanging out in the quiet forest filming away. Tranquil (though often not for him because he's out there alone among wild dogs (he was attacked by one), mountain lions, wolves...oh, my!) Anyway, the reason I brought him up is because he just posted some still frames of a recent video in which he got some very compelling footage. Going off what he offered up, he definitely filmed something that strongly resembles a large, bipedal primate. Think I'm stoked? Of course I am, child. Of course I am.

And with that, I'm the eff outta here. Be good, rascals. And stay in school.




Sunday, September 15, 2013

Every time I thought I'd give it up, someone put me on

I hadn't seen my mother in three weeks. Probably the longest we'd gone, but the time apart was needed, at least according to me. We hadn't been getting along; months after my father's passing, we're all still trying to maintain a functioning family and, at least between my mother and me, old negative patterns had asserted themselves and in order to tip the scale in the other direction I felt a break was necessary. Another way of putting it is that I was no longer willing to put up with certain things. Anyway, nothing major, just a break.

When I arrived at her home last Thursday after work, I knocked at the door and was greeted by the bark of a dog. Into the kitchen ran the cutest little dog followed by my mother who looked happier than I'd seen her in a while. She opened the door and said "Surprise!". Indeed. Turns out she had visited an animal shelter with my sister and brother in law a week prior and came home with this little girl, a cockapoo, named Mimi.

It was a blessing. I had been worried about my mother. She'd been feeling the weight of being alone, rudderless. She had talked about getting a dog for a while but never did much about it. My sister and I talked the idea up as much as we could, sent her links to shelters, that sort of thing. With the colder weather coming, I had a feeling she was going to convince herself that she'd have to wait until next spring or summer to get a dog (she had used that excuse before). Envisioning my mother alone in that house through another winter was not a comforting thought.

So learning by surprise that she went and got a dog was a true relief and lifted my spirit higher than it had been in a long time. Mimi is the perfect dog for my mother. In fact, the last time she was close to getting a dog, which must have been over ten years ago, it was a cokapoo she was interested in. I went with her across town to see it, but my mother backed off. Fast forward to last week at the no kill shelter in Salem and there is Mimi, only there two hours, waiting for my mother.

Mimi follows my mother around but is not intrusive. She hops on the recliner with her and sleeps. Mimi's back story isn't horrible but it's clear she didn't get much attention. She was primarily used for breeding purposes. She stayed outside in a heated pen most of the time. Her owners got divorced and she had to be given up. It was a mutual rescue, this pairing of my mother and her. They found each other. Yes, a blessing.
-
 I finished reading Beloved yesterday. I can see why it garnered the acclaim it did. It touched me deeply. Morrison is a titan. I continue with the Dark Tower re-read (I'm about midway through Wolves of The Calla) and will start reading Vonnegut's Mother Night. It will replace Beloved as my lunch break book.

And then there is Mad Men. I'm on season two. What can I say? I love this show. Almost everything about is exquisite. I'm picking up on a lot of the subtle stuff I missed the first time around. When people make the bold claim that it could very well be the greatest television show of all time, I just nod slowly. While I don't make definitive claims like that about anything if I can help it, I will say a case can be made if you're into that type of thing.

Many times when I attempt to write lyrics, I sit and stare at a blank page for an excruciating amount of time. An hour could go by and I only have a couple of lines written. There are other times, like today, when inspiration flows like a babbling brook and I belt out some lyrics, son! A whole song finished! Well, there's the matter of a name, but that will be easy enough. USA! USA!

A gig in October. Ignore Emporium will make it's debut. It will move you to your core, I do declare  Stay tuned.

Oh, and also remember to scrub behind your ears when you bathe. Seriously.



Sunday, September 8, 2013

So I called up the captain, please bring me my wine

Bjork's Vespertine is necessary on a post party Sunday. It just is. It's a dreamy cloud with bite and just what I need. I'm not hungover - not really; I am sleepy and fuzzy-headed. I'll take that over a hangover any day. It was a late night at Mark & Becky's. The party was still going when Craig and I left around three thirty. I strode the edge of drunkenness; I nearly succumbed at one point deep in the belly of the night, but some impulse, one that has mercifully asserted itself many times before, placed itself in front of me and Gandalfed my ass. You shall not pass! So no hangover. U-S-A! U-S-A!


It was a memorable night. I got to congregate with a sizable group of quality people, which is always the perfect elixir for almost everything. There were no fights, only revelry. As I say, I was among quality people and one thing I love about them is their willingness to have fun. Well, isn't everyone willing to have fun? No, child, I'm afraid not. Many folks may say they are, but we know better, don't we? Covet the fun-loving; they are the gems.

Because the party was on the fancy side, people were dressed to the nines and looking fine.With all due respect to the men, who looked debonair, to be sure, I particularly enjoyed what the ladies had going on. I don't mean to be a cad - I suppose an case could be made that I am - but damn, son! Anyway, you know me deep to my core and know I love women and appreciate them on a whole variety of levels. That's right - appreciate. High five, Gloria Steinem!

It took me a long time to arrive at a place where I could unabashedly and confidently exhibit my appreciation for any given woman on a purely physical level without feeling kind of oily about it. I hate seeing guys treat women like toys, something lesser. I never want to be that guy, but there is a way to find a woman attractive, to even let her know in a bold manner, without coming off like a creep. So instead of saying, "How 'bout bending over, baby, so I can do you from behind?", I say "Well, aren't you a lovely sight".  That approach tends to provoke less face slapping. And, sadly, less love making. Oh, the complications of life.

Craig stayed over and late this morning we walked over to Kelly's Diner and had breakfast. Afterward, we hung out at my place for a while. Glad we were able to do that; he's one of my favorite people to be around. After he left I tried for a nap that didn't take and watched Mad Men. When I'm done here, I may work on some music. Perhaps I'll make some headway in the lyric department. I'll probably read from Beloved, which, if I haven't said it before, has been a profound experience so far. I'm a little more than halfway through. I'm not going to lie to you, it's not a laugh riot, but it's a great read.

Take care of yourselves, you princes and princesses of Maine. Some of you I desire more than others, but I mustn't reveal who you are. If Billy finds out, he'll get you.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Slip kid, slip kid, realization there's no easy way to be free

Listening to The Who's Who By Numbers. I've only within the last week become acquainted with it, which is surprising, taking into consideration the fact that I've been a longtime fan of the band. I'm enjoying it way more than I thought I would. I'd been under the impression that it's one of their weaker records (i.e. uninspired and sloppy, drugged out). Well, it's completely the opposite of that: the band is super tight and sharp, the songs are strong. And the production is wonderful. Wonderful, I say.

Not so wonderful has been the crushing weight of despair. Not as bad as that, I suppose, but I had to get your attention. My moods have been all over the place, my thoughts too. All I can do is play it out, keeping myself fit physically, mentally, and spiritually. Even at my worst, there is always the promising glint of hope.

For the last two weeks, I've been attempting to put lyrics to one of the piano songs I wrote while staying at Spira's. It's been a slow process. The song isn't even that long. Ah, I guess I want to get it as right as I can. The key, though, is not to get hyper-critical, which, as you know, kills any song dead. Chipping away, but I'll get 'er done, to quote Sir Larry The Cable Guy, the comeliest and bonniest of knights.

After work today, I got some groceries at the Market Basket in Andover and handled the extreme traffic like a champ. I was proud of myself. I was cool as ice, son! Let's see Billy do that. Nah, he's too invested in the whole mystique of explosive rage. Anyway, I picked up a couple of shower curtain liners to replace the absurdly filthy ones hanging filthily in our bathroom. I came home and went to town. I replaced the liners and scrubbed the tub, sink and toilet. Windexed the mirrors, mopped. I'm so happy that I was proactive. Happy, I say.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to close my eyes and meditate. I hope to tune in to the Holy Spirit and ride that wave for all it's worth. Maybe, if you follow suit, we can meet up somewhere in the multiverse and coalesce for a while. Whaddya say, children?

Actually, if you want to communicate, we can do so via text or Facebook. I'd rather my meditation be spent alone. No offense.

Alright, chaps, see you in the movies.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

I've got a bird that whistles, I've got a bird that sings

Maybe through repetition I've unwittingly trained my brain to look for it, but it seems I've been spotting, with greater frequency, people texting while driving. Yesterday on the highway the guy in front of me was going terribly slow and was having trouble staying in his lane. When I passed him, I discovered he was texting away, oblivious to the fact that he was operating heavy machinery and putting lives at risk. I've been toying with the idea of beeping at people engaging in this behavior. Beeping followed by two fingers pointed at my eyes and mouthing "Pay attention to the road, you brain-dead fuck!". I say toying with the idea because I'm not convinced the tactic won't startle them to the extent that they cause an accident. Maybe people should stop typing and focus on driving so I don't have to contemplate such matters.

Today, on the same highway, a young woman in the lane to my right was mirroring the same pattern as the guy (ape) from yesterday. Driving too slow and weaving. After watching Herzog's cautionary documentary about texting and driving, I'm convinced it should be mandatory viewing for everyone who drives. Anyway, I'm thinking of moving to the wilderness of British Columbia. Why? Oh, I don't know.

I'm taking a break from reading Peter Levenda's Unholy Alliance: A History of Nazi Involvement With The Occult. When I'm done here, I'll get back to it. I've read the book before but it was years ago. It's pretty dense and I don't think I retained much. Fascinating subject, though. And creepy. Knowing that our government recruited Nazi war criminals via Project Paper Clip to hold key positions at institutions like NASA is a disturbing on a few levels.

I'm about halfway through Beloved. I don't think I've ever read anything like it. The tone is equally comforting and unsettling. I'm enjoying it.

And what the hell? The strange sounds from the sky or deep underground or who the fuck knows where are popping up again. You may recall from a year or two ago a flap of these sounds that were reported from all over the world. Some of the recordings turned out to be hoaxes, but many seem legit. Spooky.



Oh, I don't know. Life is buzzing, always, in mystery.