Pretty soon there will be no air to breathe, pretty soon there wil be no pretty sea to see

Over the last month or so, I've had issues with my car. It began with it not starting very easily some mornings. My mechanic in Andover thought a tune up would solve the trick. Sam is basically trustworthy but he has little interest in keeping costs low. His garage is next to my office building; which is why I continue to give him my business. The garage I go to in Somerville is my preferred destination; their only sin is not calling me to let me know what's wrong with my car and how much it's going to cost or that it's ready to be picked up. I have to stay on top of them like I'm a bookie and they're deadbeat gamblers. But it's been proven to my satisfaction time and again that they are trustworthy and have my best interests in mind.

 Even after a spiffy tune up that ran me close to three hundred greenbacks, my car still exhibited the same symptoms from time to time. I brought it to the garage in Somerville and they couldn't figure out what was wrong. They suspected the battery, but it had juice and tested fine. My sister's car had the same issues as mine and a new battery was the solution. I resolved to have them install a new battery if it happened again.

Well, it happened again. And again. And again. For various reasons, I waited until things got worse to take the car back to the garage. The other night, it died a couple of times on my way home from my mother's house. Not a fun time having the car suddenly shut off when you're going 65 on the highway. I'm grateful I didn't get in a wreck.


I paid a return visit to the Somerville guys yesterday. It took them most of the day, but they felt confident it was the IAC (Idle Air Control) valve that was culprit. They said the part cost approximately five hundred smackers, but rather than suggest a new one, like Sam might have done, they took out my existing one and gave it a thorough cleaning.  They think it made a difference. I've driven the car quite a bit since picking it up; so far, so good. They didn't charge me anything. Good guys. I brought them donuts today.
--

I just took a break to make some coffee. While waiting for the water to boil, I thought about some of the attractive women I saw at the courthouse in Cambridge today. And then something else started to boil, if you catch what I'm flinging. Eh? Know what I mean? Man, I'm attracted to all sorts of women! I draw the line at too old and too young and really unhealthy looking, but other than that, I'm pretty open. I'll take pretty much every other type of woman any day over the vacant-eyed skeletons I see gracing the cover of various magazines.

Today I was in full appreciation of J in the T. I was witness to several fine examples and the libido took control of my senses. I almost had to rush outside and stuff some snow down my pants. Instead I imagined Sean Hannity french kissing that woman from Throw Mama From The Train. Settled me right the fuck down.. Are you feeling me, brah?

So, yeah, I checked out a healthy assortment of women today and I thought about how much I appreciate them and also how it's a crying shame (and a waste of resources, for reals) that I'm not making love to them more often. I'm an attentive, sensual lover, son! Ask any prostitute. Ha!

Where's the love for Kevin Credible?

--
It's Friday and I'm tired. I'd like to revivify so I can get the most out of my night. Coffee helped, maybe some yoga or a cold shower will too. It's possible I'll continue my Parks & Rec binge (I hope to write about this special show in the coming days). I'd like to work on some music. Ignore Emporium is slated to practice this weekend after a lengthy hiatus (que bueno!); maybe I'll run through some of our songs. I should probably try to figure out some of Billy's encrypted messages. He's a huge John Dee fan these days and everything has to be esoteric.

G'night, you spiritual beings having a human experience!

Still and all it would be hours before I would get burned

About five years ago around this time of year and under similar weather conditions, I slipped on a patch of ice on a sidewalk near my place and added insult to an already injured shoulder by landing on it with all of my weight. If memory serves, the first injury was the result of an unfortunate tangled sleeping position. My shoulder had been sore for about a week before I slipped and fell. It took several more for it to feel better. Healing came a year or two later when I began practicing yoga in earnest.

I was out of shape then, not terribly, but the limited amount of attention I was giving my body was evident every time I looked in the mirror. I believe both injuries could have been avoided if I hadn't been so soft, for lack of a more flattering word, not only in body, but mind and spirit, as well.

I am in better shape than I was years ago. My yoga and meditation practices are in full bloom. I'm eating lighter. Last night I went for a brisk two mile walk in the fucking freezing cold. I sought out the more challenging sidewalks, ones narrow, slippery, and rutted haphazardly with marbleized, compacted snow. I moved quickly when I could.

I loved it.

I suppose there are safer methods of exercise, but this suited me just fine. You're forced to be mindful with every step; not a lot of room for the mind to go exploring. It presented the same type of challenges that hiking dicey trails or practicing advanced yoga poses present.

And there's that word "challenge". There are things in life I'm fearful to confront, but I like that I challenge myself on a consistent basis. These walks (I just came back from another one)  have been challenging and rewarding. Winter is not a gentle season, but it has its gifts if you're willing to look it right in the face.

Oh, I never slipped and fell once. Vindication (I guess)!

Anyway

I wish you a pleasant evening, each and every one of you.

Marlena, under Foster Grants, she's undercover from the dawn's advance

I'm listening to Julianna Barwick's The Magic Place and I'm transported to hazy summer days with their hissing summer lawns. Now I'm thinking about Joni Mitchell because she has an album called The Hissing of Summer Lawns. Okay, now I'm back to focusing on Julianna, but just for a bit because I don't want to make this post about her. I want it to be about offshore drilling (hey,it's a valid subject) but even more than that I want it to be about me and my thrilling, inspiring, and possibly sexy life. Anyway, let's wrap this Julianna Barwick business up toot sweet. I associate The Magic Place and it's dreamy looped vocals with summer because it was during one a couple of years ago that I first heard and explored this fine album. Those halcyon summer days seem so far away as I type this in the bleak, battered belly of an unrelenting murderous winter. So, yeah, Julianna Barwick and Joni Mitchell.

Anyway

Today started off with frigid temperatures and my car not starting. Same problem I've had; probably battery/weather related; I wasn't surprised. I had a feeling it would start but it took several more attempts than usual. I'm glad it did because I had work to do at the courthouse in Cambridge that couldn't be put off.

 On my way to Cambridge -white-knuckled driving all the way, thanks to potholes, blind spots and snow narrowed roads- I got to feeling a bit ornery and cynical and crept steadily into big fucking baby territory. Well, children, I caught what was happening and, thanks in large part to my yoga and meditation practice (mindfulness, son!), I snapped out of my malaise enough to enact a healthier, more pleasant mindset.

Matters improved. I maintained the perspective that we're all feeling the weight of winter and its attendant hazards; it's not only me the season is actively trying to murder. Consequently, there hasn't been a welter of positivity being generated (I say that, but I've been fortunate to have been around quite a bit of it). As a so-called spiritual person, I figured I should put my money where my mouth is and be am agent of light or, at the very least, not a fucking whiny baby prick. So I took every opportunity I could to offer someone a smile, share a kind word, help out in some way.

I had some issues with the copy machine at the registry of deeds and asked the woman at customer service for assistance. She admitted she was just covering for someone and didn't know how to use the copier. She sounded overwhelmed, a bit anxious. I let her know it was no big deal that I was in no rush. We had a nice conversation and she mellowed out a bit. I felt as light as a feather talking with her. When I left the registry, I helped an elderly woman insert coins in a meter (she couldn't reach it because of a snow bank). Lighter, still.

The rest of the day presented similar small-stuff -that -ain't-so-small opportunities to brighten some one's day that I took advantage of. And by doing so, my day was brightened. Giving is receiving. Sometimes I really get it, like I did today; other times, not so much. Whatever. We're fallible.

Anyway,

So my day didn't start off with a bang but it turned out swell. I am home, it's Friday. I had a deep yoga session followed by a dinner of my own sweet potato extravaganza recipe (it's my most cherished accomplishment in life, no shit). I'm about to have a mug of warm, creamy spiced chai with cashew milk that I'm sure will provoke a state of sustained ecstasy within me.

Not so bad.

Alright, I'm out of here, cherubs. I was going to brag about how I've been taking cold showers all winter like a boss but I've already filled my bragging quotient with my tale about how I was able to rise above all the negativity and shine my golden light down upon my flock like my pal JC. The story of my cold shower toughness will have to wait until next time.

 Stay tuned!

Toodles, Jacobites.

Hey, ooh, what'll I do? Looks like it's the end

When I arrived at work this morning, there was a fan going in the lobby and when I walked into the office, all the windows were open. It's practically Palm Beach weather today - about 23 degrees - but it's not warm enough to warrant all of that. I found out quickly from Tim and my nose that there was a strong gas odor in the building. The fire dept. claimed there had been a gas leak at the town hall and it had drifted into the vents of our building.

About a half hour later we were informed they had discovered a high amount of carbon monoxide in the building and that we should leave. So we left. Good thing, because I was starting to feel a bit woozy, which could have been the result of pounding a bottle of Robitussin in my car on the way to work, but probably not because I've built up a tolerance at this point.

Anyway

I went to Whole Foods for a few things and when I got back to my car, it stalled a couple of times in the parking lot and at the next two stop signs nearby. I made it back to the city; it didn't stall again. Hopefully, it was the result of something weather related, like snow in the exhaust pipe or some shit.

Once home, I shoveled the snow banks at the end of our driveway to increase visibility. I half expected to hear Steve scraping the shovel along his driveway with his vacant gimlet-eyed, shark-like persistence. He was nowhere to be found though, so I guess even Steve takes a break once in a.....

Stop the presses! As I type, Steve and his dad just pulled in the driveway and unloaded a brand new snow blower from the back of their truck. I'm not a betting man, but I'll bet everything I hold dear that he'll take it for a test run, or at the very least let it run idle for a while. There's no way I'm escaping a sound assault. No way.

I'm also willing to bet that ape probably needs to change his tighty whities (there is no doubt in my mind he wears anything else) from all the explosive orgasms he's been filling them with over this acquisition.

Guess what? He hasn't started the snow blower yet, but he's got shovel in hand and is going ape shit on his driveway. I thought he'd already gotten every last fucking flake, but I guess not. I suppose I should brace myself for another several hours of this. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?
--

My libido has been through the roof lately. I could use a proper shagging or two or three, to be sure. It's probably a good idea that I stay away from certain women for a while until I get a hold of this thing. Don't worry, I'm not grabby, but I may start to swoon.

Anyway

I've been listening to Terrence McKenna lectures the last couple of nights. One concerned the mysterious Voynich Manuscript and the other was given to The Jung Society and mostly concerned alchemy, hermeticism, and shamanism. What an intelligent, engaging man he was.

Btw, that fucking troglodyte is STILL scraping his shovel along his driveway. It's been about an hour. By my tally, he's devoted about a full day to the last storm. He's done this with shovels, a massive snow blower, and assistance from various people. Almost 24 hours.

Alright, I'm out of here.

Boston Strong!

And you ain't seen nothing like it since the Civil War

Here's the deal: my neighbor, Steve, cannot stop shoveling. Granted, we've had a historic amount of snow within the last few weeks, but it only takes so long to clear a driveway and one or two cars. Steve is out there hours and hours shoveling, long after his driveway and every square inch within the vicinity have been cleared of snow.

Saturday night he was out there from 10:45 P.M to 1:00 A.M. Yesterday he was shoveling from approximately 10:30 A.M. to 9:45. I think he went inside once or twice but he was out there constantly. I know this because the constant scraping of the shovel was a ubiquitous presence in my apartment. When it finally stopped, I almost couldn't believe it.

He spent most of his weekend moving snow around. And not just by himself; one of his friends always comes by with his way too big snow blower to assist. They smoke butts and drink Captain Morgan out of red plastic cups, all the while displacing snow with the tools of their trade as gleeful as puppies bounding through summer meadows.

Here's a joke. How long does it take two Somerville townies to clear a driveway of snow?

Forever and Ever!

I suspect the experience is more compulsive than gleeful for Steve, hence why he's been outside shoveling whatever snow he can find for the last two hours. Two fucking hours in the crippling cold! Remember, he had already devoted approximately fourteen hours to the task with the help of his friend who had a snow blower the size of a bull dozer. That didn't do the trick?


I've tried to frame my perception of Steve's snow shoveling in a more favorable light. Apart from the noise it causes (I should stress his driveway is right under my window), I don't care how often or why he shovels. Clearly, his behavior in this regard fascinates me - I don't think I've seen anyone so goddamned into clearing snow- as much as it irritates me, but do what thou wilt, buddy. For all the inconvenience it causes me (try recording music with all that racket outside your window), I hope that he truly finds pleasure in what he's doing.

Anyway

Day off today. I was set to drive to work, but Jeff let us know we had the option of staying home. The roads were nasty, he said. So I'm home.

I've been listening to

Sunn O )))

James Gang

Jessica Pratt

Father John Misty

Mourn

Bonnie Prince Billy

Hari Om Sharan

Genesis

That type of stuff. In case you were wondering.

See you in the movies!

Take me to heart, and I'll always love you

A blizzard is on the way. Oh, boy. Well, we've been toughened up by the relentless snow storms; we can handle this one; we're in fighting shape, robust.  Ah, enough weather talk; it's enough living through it.

I've been feeling pretty good these days. That is a good thing, right? Yeah, there have also been moments of fuck everything, I want to murder every single life form (minus my human and animal friends and family, of course) but they pass. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm a human being who is trying to get through this thing alive.

Anyway

I've been listening to The Big Three podcast. I've probably listened to every episode at least four or five times. What can I say? It's an essential part of my life; keeps me laughing on a regular basis. It's God's work those boys are doing.(Just found out there is a reunion episode about to air. I'm more or less in a state of ecstasy right now).

Pretty close to pulling the trigger on purchasing the new Father John Misty album. I've listened to several tracks already and it's clear it's the best thing he's done to date. Not sure if I'm feeling that vibe right now, so we'll see.

Ok, I purchased it and also Jessica Pratt's lovely and strange new album. Her voice is unique, probably not for everyone (shades of Joanna Newsom) but I jive with it. Holla!

Know what?

I'm out.


Peace.

It's going to be a long, cold winter

Another snow day. It's been snowing since Saturday and won't quit until tomorrow. Another storm in a couple of days maybe. I just read that the snow that's been removed in Boston over the last couple of weeks could fill Gillette Stadium ninety times. Clearly, we are seeing historical snowfall in these parts. And, for some reason, my disposition has been fairly positive. Well, the winter is not over yet; there is time for pathos.

Anyway, I'm in decent spirits because:

1) I haven't had to do much driving in the middle of these storms, save for Saturday night coming home from Spira's (that was a white-knuckled shit show, let me tell you). We've been lucky insofar as the storms have mostly occurred overnight and have been major enough that driving to work has not been an option.

2) Winter, especially brutally cold and snow-fraught ones such as this one, forces you inward. The inner landscapes get more attention and, if you're spiritually inclined (check) and/or introverted by nature (check) it's an opportune and not so uncomfortable time to clean out the basement, so to speak.

3) With all the snowfall, I've been getting a lot of exercise shoveling. Combined with my yoga practice, I've been able to avoid the seemingly requisite weight gain winter engenders. It feels strange saying it, but I may be more enthusiastic about shoveling than my neighbor, Steve. Ok, after reading that last line, I think it was a bit hastily rendered. Even though Steve hasn't been going bat shit crazy with the shoveling and snow-blowing (I think his snow blower broke or something which is fine with me), he's still out there hours and hours and hours and hours and hours shoveling every single fucking flake off his driveway.


Well, I've had it with snow talk. I think we all have. I've noticed fewer Facebook posts about how much the snow sucks. People are beat down and resigned; perhaps the impulse to complain is no longer there. Resignation.



I'll shovel today and I'll finish my Sopranos marathon (I've watched so much, the show appears in my dreams), do some reading, write music. We'll see.

Your words were like raindrops from a storm in a vase

Another snow storm, another day off from work. I went to bed late last night and woke up to my alarm. Shortly after, I received a text from Marcy: no work today. I tried going back to sleep; didn't happen. I can't decide if it was because I don't need as much sleep anymore or because my mind started cycling in anticipation of various morning noises (I'm talking to you, Steve The Snow Shoveling Demon). Either way, I'm up sipping coffee and plotting my next move.

I managed to catch the Super Bowl last night. I watched it free online and knew there was a good chance my computer would crash throughout the game. It did, mostly near the end.. I saw the game-changing Butler interception and then the computer, for the second time, crashed. All in all, things only went FUBAR four or five times. Not bad, eh?

Still, I was happy to have been able to catch the game. My attention to it wasn't all-consuming - I did things like record some tracks and watch some Sopranos - but I saw most of it. Here are some take aways.

- I like watching football but the overabundance of commercial breaks is a turn off, if not downright offensive. Since I haven't had cable TV for years and years (one of the healthiest decisions I've ever made), the welter of commercials, particularly early in the game, almost prevented me from sticking with what proved to be a great game.

- There was a point in the second half when I almost turned the game off. Seattle seemed to be in full control and the Patriots looked punch-drunk. I didn't want to be there when things got ugly. I had a feeling, though, that the Patriots would rally, would at least go down fighting. They'd done it before.

- When that miraculous  catch occurred, it seemed like the Pats were fated to lose. The Gods had made it known they favored Seattle by enabling that ball, which had been juggled to the point of absurdity, to land securely in the arms of the receiver. When you're the opposing team and you see something like that occur, how can you not feel dejected? Those fuckers, though, were resilient and mentally tough. They looked fate in the eye and, through sheer determination, brought it over to their side. To wit, the interception that saved the day.

- When it happened, I cheered loudly, jumped up onto my chair. Ultimately, I have no dog in this hunt, meaning the Patriots, the NFL, organized sports. Our culture's mad devotion to football indicates to me we're in a spiritual crisis, among other things. I find it kind of sad and obnoxious, but I say that with caution; I don't want to be that guy, the one who's the moral arbiter, the one who knows what's best for everyone. What the fuck do I know? Life ain't easy, son, so if you take some pleasure watching people throw and catch balls, tackle each other, then I say keep doing what you're doing, buddy. What I'm trying to say here is that I really savored this game. If there was ever an F.U. game, this one was it.

- Not much talk of Deflate-gate after the game. I figured, with the absurd amount of  gleeful emphasis the media put on it, it would be a leading topic of discussion. Guess the talking heads at ESPN, etc., forgot about it or something. Or maybe they didn't want to eat crow (Maybe I'm a homer after all, but it seems obvious to me they really, really, really wanted the Patriots to have the shit kicked out of them). Let's face it, the Patriots are the most hated team in the NFL, perhaps in all organized sports. This was their F-you game, a chance for retribution. I was kind of hoping someone like Thom Brady would have said something like "So are you going to blame this victory on deflated balls, you sons of bitches?"  No dice, but winning speaks volumes.

- Seems like every other televised Katie Perry performance is a thinly-disguised black magic ritual. I'm not even kidding.

--

I'll practice some yoga and go outside and shovel. Winter has decided to be a fucking asshole, but I'm not letting it get to me. Yet. Just have to take it one day at at a time.

Or some shit.

Peace, brethren.