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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.