Christmas fast approaches. Are you ready, those of you who partake? Have you bought and wrapped all of the gifts you'll be handing out? Are you counting down the days to Saturday with ease and comfort, satisfied the grunt work is behind you and all you need focus on are the good times you hope you'll have? As for me, procrastination is in my blood as much as anything else. I expect I'll be shopping right up until Christmas. Maybe not, though. There are still a few days left and it's conceivable I might overachieve and have all my shopping done with a couple of days to spare. We'll see.
--
Years ago, I worked at a tool wholesaler warehouse in Lowell in a dilapidated building. This place occupied the lower depths of existence. I stayed there too long, but I came out the other end of my experience there with some pretty good stories. Almost every person I worked with was memorable, for better or worse. The job was shitty overall, but the host of characters I was exposed to made it worth it. As time goes by, with my work experience having become more ordered and civilized, I look back upon those days more fondly than I ever thought I would.
Here's one story among many. It will give you an indication of what I was dealing with at this job. One day, my boss Thom came over to me and told me John, my coworker, wasn't coming in to work. He looked distressed, so I asked him if everything was alright.
"I just got off the phone with John's father. John was in a terrible car accident this morning and is fighting for his life as we speak."
I studied Thom's face. He was a notorious liar and was not above lying about something as awful as this. Still, he looked sincere. I found it hard to believe that he would joke around about something like this. But then again, maybe he would. I asked him if he was joking with me.
"I'm as serious as a heart attack!", he said. "Do you think I'd joke about something like this?"
"I do. Just two weeks ago, you told a sales rep that Nick died in a car accident (Nick was at lunch when the rep came by. I was there when Thom told her, in all seriousness, that Nick crashed into a Hostess truck. Nick was overweight and the joke, as poor as it was, would have been evident if Thom hadn't affected such a grave countenance. The rep, a kind woman in her thirties, had been friendly with Nick and was visibly shaken by the news. I waited for Thom to tell her the truth. He never did. She left, muttering something about wishing she'd known so she could have attended the funeral).
"Oh, I was just fucking around; she knew it was a joke."
"No she didn't."
Thom got in my face and said loudly, "I'm being serious. John's probably not going to make it." His eyes welled up with tears, but I was still uncertain whether he was being truthful. I was about eighty percent sure he was lying. Aside from Thom's incriminating history of pulling morbid pranks, it seemed odd to me that while John was fighting for his life, his father decides he better call his son's boss and let him know what was going on. I questioned Thom about this and he became furious.
"Look, you can believe what you want, but this boy is in bad shape and I'm worried about him. Don't ask me again if I'm lying!"
If Thom was lying, he was certainly putting his all into the ruse. For the next hour or so, I began to believe that Thom had told the truth about John. I was still doubtful, but I had done what I could to get Thom to break and he never budged. I began to worry over my fallen coworker. I thought about the fragility of life.
It was deep in this reverie when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw John appear. My feelings were conflicted. On the one hand, I felt great relief that my friend was in good health and on the other I wanted to strangle Thom. I let him know how pissed off I was at him, how twisted he must be to think that his practical joke was even slightly humorous. He laughed in the face of my outrage and suggested I lighten up a bit. It was then that I knew for sure that this kind, grandfatherly, figure, was a sociopath.
The end.
Ok, I'm off to work on some music and at some point I'll watch one of the segments from The Power of Myth. If you ever get a chance to, watch this fine series of interviews with Joseph Campbell conducted by Bill Moyers. If nothing else, it'll make you feel a wee bit smarter.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
I'm the one, natural one
I don't watch the weather reports, but from what I was told by numerous people and from what I could see with my own eyes, the devastating snow storm we were supposed to be buried by, missed us. For most of the day, not a flake of snow was evident. Around one thirty, it started snowing, but only a little, as if it were an after thought. By the time I drove to the Registry of Deeds in Lawrence, which was around two thirty, the ground was covered and it looked like something substantial was in the works.
The drive was slow, but manageable. When I got back to work, the snow had abated. Marcy told me we were only supposed to get a dusting. Well, it's almost eight and the snow is coming down hard, son! I'm glad my commute home was prior to the mess that's out there now. Granted, it's not a blizzard, but what I see out there is not what was advertised. At least to me. Again, I don't watch the weather, so this could be exactly what was forecast for all I know.
I went for a run after work. I like running on snow, so it was a good run, despite the last few miles taking place in snow that was asserting itself mightily. After supper, I walked over to the laundromat through the wind and, you guessed it, snow. For the record, I dislike winter more and more every year. It's not so much the snow, but the overall bleakness. Someday I will move to warmer climes. I say that every winter.
--
Earlier today, I asked Therese where she was spending Christmas. Here's a sampling of her response, which took about ten minutes to complete. Actually, let's refrain from that. I couldn't bear reliving even a portion of her diatribe. Just know that she covered her job history, which I've heard many, many times, and I'm willing to bet I could draft a resume for her from memory. She also told me about her brother's leather jacket that she still owns after all these years and her husband wears occasionally, her dislike of her son's girlfriend, her husband's job, and a bunch of other stuff that had little bearing on the question in hand. I'm fond of Therese, but I wouldn't mind it if she took the direct route now and again.
--
This past Friday was Spira's first movie night at her place. She just bought a colossal HD TV and decided movie night was one way to put it to good use. We had a meal of left overs from her party the week before and we- and by we I mean Allie, Hian, Spira, and myself - watched Frosty, The Snowman, which just happened to be on, and It's A Wonderful Life, which Allie and I lobbied for. Spira and Hian had never seen it; we thought it was time they were exposed to this classic.
I hadn't seen Frosty in years and suspected it would feel dated. I was wrong - it held up well. Glad I saw it. And you know what else? I'm out of here. The phone is a-ringin' and I need to answer it. Aloha.
The drive was slow, but manageable. When I got back to work, the snow had abated. Marcy told me we were only supposed to get a dusting. Well, it's almost eight and the snow is coming down hard, son! I'm glad my commute home was prior to the mess that's out there now. Granted, it's not a blizzard, but what I see out there is not what was advertised. At least to me. Again, I don't watch the weather, so this could be exactly what was forecast for all I know.
I went for a run after work. I like running on snow, so it was a good run, despite the last few miles taking place in snow that was asserting itself mightily. After supper, I walked over to the laundromat through the wind and, you guessed it, snow. For the record, I dislike winter more and more every year. It's not so much the snow, but the overall bleakness. Someday I will move to warmer climes. I say that every winter.
--
Earlier today, I asked Therese where she was spending Christmas. Here's a sampling of her response, which took about ten minutes to complete. Actually, let's refrain from that. I couldn't bear reliving even a portion of her diatribe. Just know that she covered her job history, which I've heard many, many times, and I'm willing to bet I could draft a resume for her from memory. She also told me about her brother's leather jacket that she still owns after all these years and her husband wears occasionally, her dislike of her son's girlfriend, her husband's job, and a bunch of other stuff that had little bearing on the question in hand. I'm fond of Therese, but I wouldn't mind it if she took the direct route now and again.
--
This past Friday was Spira's first movie night at her place. She just bought a colossal HD TV and decided movie night was one way to put it to good use. We had a meal of left overs from her party the week before and we- and by we I mean Allie, Hian, Spira, and myself - watched Frosty, The Snowman, which just happened to be on, and It's A Wonderful Life, which Allie and I lobbied for. Spira and Hian had never seen it; we thought it was time they were exposed to this classic.
I hadn't seen Frosty in years and suspected it would feel dated. I was wrong - it held up well. Glad I saw it. And you know what else? I'm out of here. The phone is a-ringin' and I need to answer it. Aloha.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
And two eyes made out of coal
If I hear another Christmas song on the radio, I think I might dunk my head in a bucket of burning pitch. At work, once Thanksgiving is through, the radio station in my office is changed to one that plays only Christmas music. I probably covered this before, but hearing the same music every day, multiple times a day, is maddening. Even if I was filled to the brim with joyous Christmas spirit, this incessant barrage of songs would puke it right out of me. A little goes a long way. Know what I'm saying? From what I gather, no one in the room likes it, but for whatever reason, no one will change the station. I'll get through it. I guess it's not so bad hearing Feliz Navidad or I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus at least three times a day. I guess.
Anyway, speaking of Christmas spirit, let's try to salvage some. I do believe I pledged in my last post to revisit the Christmas specials of my youth, so let's proceed. As I go, I will only relate what my memory allows; I will not cheat and use the Internet to refresh it where necessary. The following list, therefore, should not be seen as comprehensive - there may be omissions - nor will it be presented in order of preference. In other words, I'm winging it and we'll see how it fleshes out.
The Year Without A Santa Claus
I barely remember this special because some religious group got it banned from TV throughout most of my youth. If I remember correctly, said group took issue with Mr. Heatmiser. Guess they thought he was the Devil or something. Anyway, because it was unavailable, it became like the Holy Grail to us kids. We used to speak in fond reminiscence about it. I should watch it sometime. It's been years.
Frosty The Snowman
Ah, this was a good one. I haven't seen it since I was a kid, but I used to love it. Do I remember correctly that every time Frosty came to life he said, "Happy Birthday" in a kind of dopey voice? I think he did. And was that Fred Astaire who narrated the show? Wasn't he a mailman or an engineer? Anyway, this special touched me. I think I even cried during it, you know, when things looked bad for Frosty.
Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer
The gold standard. Man, those Rankin/Bass specials used to produce. An indication of how great they were is that they're still broadcasting them. By today's standards, the effects are primitive, but I'll take 'em over the sterile CG I see so much of these days. Back to Rudolph.
Great story, and even better for having The Abominable Snowman in it. And that Yukon Cornelius was damn cool, too. This was an adventure Homer would have been proud of. Tons of action peppered with humor and romance. And the Christmas spirit shined down on the whole thing. This one is the best of the best.
Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out that door. This was one of my favorites. I've probably seen this one more than any other. The Burgermeister Meister Burger was a great character. So was the Winter Warlock. And that penguin.....I forget his name. Rankin/Bass brought the ruckus once again. Wait a minute. Was this the one with Fred Astaire as the mailman or engineer or whatever? Hmmm... I should know, I just watched this when it was on a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, like I said, this was one of my favorites.
Twas The Night Before Christmas
I used to like this one quite a bit, even though it was animated and not produced by Rankin/Bass. I remember it centered on a family of mice and one of the kids, a really nerdy sort, screwed up the clock (?)- my memory is hazier than it should be with this- and, as a result, Santa Claus wouldn't be able to come. I remember liking at least one of the songs. Fivel(sp)? Was that his name? Oh, I don't know. Let's move on.
Charlie Brown's Christmas
Was that even what it was called? Anyway, I'm close, whatever it is. Another classic with a hip jazzy score. One of the songs, with the chorus of kids singing, always effects me in a deep place. I always seem to miss this one when it's on; this year, I caught the very end. At least I got to see the sorry little tree.
Ok, my computer is being a pain and running too slow. With that, I'll have to finish this up before things get FUBAR.
Anyway, speaking of Christmas spirit, let's try to salvage some. I do believe I pledged in my last post to revisit the Christmas specials of my youth, so let's proceed. As I go, I will only relate what my memory allows; I will not cheat and use the Internet to refresh it where necessary. The following list, therefore, should not be seen as comprehensive - there may be omissions - nor will it be presented in order of preference. In other words, I'm winging it and we'll see how it fleshes out.
The Year Without A Santa Claus
I barely remember this special because some religious group got it banned from TV throughout most of my youth. If I remember correctly, said group took issue with Mr. Heatmiser. Guess they thought he was the Devil or something. Anyway, because it was unavailable, it became like the Holy Grail to us kids. We used to speak in fond reminiscence about it. I should watch it sometime. It's been years.
Frosty The Snowman
Ah, this was a good one. I haven't seen it since I was a kid, but I used to love it. Do I remember correctly that every time Frosty came to life he said, "Happy Birthday" in a kind of dopey voice? I think he did. And was that Fred Astaire who narrated the show? Wasn't he a mailman or an engineer? Anyway, this special touched me. I think I even cried during it, you know, when things looked bad for Frosty.
Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer
The gold standard. Man, those Rankin/Bass specials used to produce. An indication of how great they were is that they're still broadcasting them. By today's standards, the effects are primitive, but I'll take 'em over the sterile CG I see so much of these days. Back to Rudolph.
Great story, and even better for having The Abominable Snowman in it. And that Yukon Cornelius was damn cool, too. This was an adventure Homer would have been proud of. Tons of action peppered with humor and romance. And the Christmas spirit shined down on the whole thing. This one is the best of the best.
Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out that door. This was one of my favorites. I've probably seen this one more than any other. The Burgermeister Meister Burger was a great character. So was the Winter Warlock. And that penguin.....I forget his name. Rankin/Bass brought the ruckus once again. Wait a minute. Was this the one with Fred Astaire as the mailman or engineer or whatever? Hmmm... I should know, I just watched this when it was on a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, like I said, this was one of my favorites.
Twas The Night Before Christmas
I used to like this one quite a bit, even though it was animated and not produced by Rankin/Bass. I remember it centered on a family of mice and one of the kids, a really nerdy sort, screwed up the clock (?)- my memory is hazier than it should be with this- and, as a result, Santa Claus wouldn't be able to come. I remember liking at least one of the songs. Fivel(sp)? Was that his name? Oh, I don't know. Let's move on.
Charlie Brown's Christmas
Was that even what it was called? Anyway, I'm close, whatever it is. Another classic with a hip jazzy score. One of the songs, with the chorus of kids singing, always effects me in a deep place. I always seem to miss this one when it's on; this year, I caught the very end. At least I got to see the sorry little tree.
Ok, my computer is being a pain and running too slow. With that, I'll have to finish this up before things get FUBAR.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Find a place to call my own, and try to fix up, start a brand new day
While it won't go down as one of my most epochal, the weekend went well. Spira's Christmas party was on Saturday. Lots of good food - most everyone made a dish - and there was some alcohol flowing. Not all of it down my gullet, mind you, but I imbibed enough to make me more charming and dynamic. Alas, not enough to get me laid, but at least once a woman brushed my shoulder as she walked by. I vowed never to wash that shoulder ever again. And I won't.
Mary was there. We don't hang out as much these days, but it was gratifying seeing her. Mary is Foley's sister and we've known each other for a long time and have always had an easy way between us. Foley had wanted to pair us up back in the day, but for whatever reason it never happened. When Mary left the party, Pam came over to me and said, "I think she really likes you". I explained that Mary is happily married, but Pam held to her observation. "Even still, I think she really likes you." I'm not sure Pam had it right, but even if she did, what then? Best not dwell on it.
Spira did a great job with the party. I like seeing her happy and happy she was. And Missy the dog looked adorable (Is it allowed for a pure-hearted, masculine, heterosexual male to use the word adorable in any context? Hmmm....). She received plenty of attention in her poofy green, bell-bedecked, collar thingy (I know there's a name for it, but I'm too dull-witted presently to conjure it). If only Baby Boy Z was there in the smoking jacket I often picture him wearing. He would have been the belle of the ball instead of me.
Craig and Karen crashed at our place after the party. Karen was a little worse for wear and needed to be helped on to the futon. Craig and I stayed up talking until four thirty. I fell asleep immediately upon hitting the bed. I woke up around eleven thirty pleased that everyone was still around. Janelle made a delicious omelet for breakfast. Nice having a full house.
In one of our conversations, Craig said something to the effect of having had more of a religious experience staring at the Sun through the trees in the woods behind his house than he ever did going to church as a youth. Good stuff. I don't think Craig has studied Taoism much, but he summed it up pretty well.
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.
--
Over time, I have been left with little or no Christmas spirit. It happens, I know, as one gets older, but I think it's too bad. When I was growing up, the Christmas season was a sacred time. I used to start getting geared up for it well before Thanksgiving. I'd scour the television for anything Christmas related. This was not such a simple task in early November, but I always found enough to get me excited. For whatever reason, "Yogi Bear's First Christmas" would be one of the first shows to air. It wasn't one of my favorites, but it holds a special place because of the function it served: like a robin sighting marks the first sign of spring, this program started the Christmas season off.
I'm of a mind to revisit the Christmas specials of my youth, but I've got other things I want to do. Maybe in my next post. Yes, my next post. See you then.
Mary was there. We don't hang out as much these days, but it was gratifying seeing her. Mary is Foley's sister and we've known each other for a long time and have always had an easy way between us. Foley had wanted to pair us up back in the day, but for whatever reason it never happened. When Mary left the party, Pam came over to me and said, "I think she really likes you". I explained that Mary is happily married, but Pam held to her observation. "Even still, I think she really likes you." I'm not sure Pam had it right, but even if she did, what then? Best not dwell on it.
Spira did a great job with the party. I like seeing her happy and happy she was. And Missy the dog looked adorable (Is it allowed for a pure-hearted, masculine, heterosexual male to use the word adorable in any context? Hmmm....). She received plenty of attention in her poofy green, bell-bedecked, collar thingy (I know there's a name for it, but I'm too dull-witted presently to conjure it). If only Baby Boy Z was there in the smoking jacket I often picture him wearing. He would have been the belle of the ball instead of me.
Craig and Karen crashed at our place after the party. Karen was a little worse for wear and needed to be helped on to the futon. Craig and I stayed up talking until four thirty. I fell asleep immediately upon hitting the bed. I woke up around eleven thirty pleased that everyone was still around. Janelle made a delicious omelet for breakfast. Nice having a full house.
In one of our conversations, Craig said something to the effect of having had more of a religious experience staring at the Sun through the trees in the woods behind his house than he ever did going to church as a youth. Good stuff. I don't think Craig has studied Taoism much, but he summed it up pretty well.
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.
--
Over time, I have been left with little or no Christmas spirit. It happens, I know, as one gets older, but I think it's too bad. When I was growing up, the Christmas season was a sacred time. I used to start getting geared up for it well before Thanksgiving. I'd scour the television for anything Christmas related. This was not such a simple task in early November, but I always found enough to get me excited. For whatever reason, "Yogi Bear's First Christmas" would be one of the first shows to air. It wasn't one of my favorites, but it holds a special place because of the function it served: like a robin sighting marks the first sign of spring, this program started the Christmas season off.
I'm of a mind to revisit the Christmas specials of my youth, but I've got other things I want to do. Maybe in my next post. Yes, my next post. See you then.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing
I am tired. I went for a run after work in the frigid air and darkness. I was appropriately garbed, but it was an uncomfortable experience and I was pleased when it was through. On a side note: my calves hurt; they never do after a run. Oh, well, these things happen.
This will be a short post. I know I always say that and end up reneging on the claim, but this time I mean to be congruent. It's getting late and I've matters to attend to, most of which would bore the life right out of you. For one thing, there's some pending Bigfoot footage being uploaded tonight that I want to see. It'll be in Hi-def, so whatever it is will be vividly rendered. And I want to work on some music, read from Billy Budd (my re-read of Jordan's Wheel of Time series has been put on hold), and watch some Deadwood. I love this show so much, I would kill my parents if it told me to. Seriously, I would.
John Lennon died thirty years ago today. He preached peace, unity, and love, only to be assassinated for it. They do it to them all-Jesus, Gandhi, MLK- because the potency of their message cannot be tolerated in a world governed by violence. Who since Lennon has fervently preached peace as not just a concept, but something achievable? We consider ourselves advanced, but we're still up to the same bullshit in this world. Violence begets violence; division begets division. Let's give peace a chance.
Oh, I was supposed to be brief with this post. Alright, I'm out of here.
This will be a short post. I know I always say that and end up reneging on the claim, but this time I mean to be congruent. It's getting late and I've matters to attend to, most of which would bore the life right out of you. For one thing, there's some pending Bigfoot footage being uploaded tonight that I want to see. It'll be in Hi-def, so whatever it is will be vividly rendered. And I want to work on some music, read from Billy Budd (my re-read of Jordan's Wheel of Time series has been put on hold), and watch some Deadwood. I love this show so much, I would kill my parents if it told me to. Seriously, I would.
John Lennon died thirty years ago today. He preached peace, unity, and love, only to be assassinated for it. They do it to them all-Jesus, Gandhi, MLK- because the potency of their message cannot be tolerated in a world governed by violence. Who since Lennon has fervently preached peace as not just a concept, but something achievable? We consider ourselves advanced, but we're still up to the same bullshit in this world. Violence begets violence; division begets division. Let's give peace a chance.
Oh, I was supposed to be brief with this post. Alright, I'm out of here.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Five to one, one in five, no one here gets out alive
I am like Lazarus risen. Perhaps that is a little strong; rather, just these last couple of hours, I've been feeling better, at least in the physical sense. And maybe, too, in the spiritual sense, though I suspect that affliction may take a bit longer to heal, if it does at all. One thing at a time. The cold I caught last week that, up until today, seemed to be gaining steam in breaking me down, has loosened its hold on me. Whether I'm out of the woods, I'm not sure, but I do feel better, and at this stage, when not much has felt good to me, I'll take any reason to celebrate, no matter how small.
I'm going to make this post short. I'm in the process of determining how I should approach this blog henceforth. On the one hand, it has served as a vehicle, when necessary, to vent whatever it is I've kept to myself that needs to get out lest I blow. In this regard, the blog has served as an elixir when no other has been found or offered. On the other hand, there are my readers to consider, some of whom are friends, current and former. While this is my house you are entering when you read this blog, and if you disagree with the way in which I conduct myself herein, you can step back outside, hopefully with the understanding that you weren't coerced into entering in the first place, I do feel, on occasion that I'm showing my hand too often to some that would rather I didn't at all (There is also the opposite to consider, that people love watching a train wreck and mine offer the right sustenance, i.e. keep 'em coming, kid, and don't spare a single detail in these accounts of your decline).
In other words, I'm making things known that I'd be better served keeping close to the vest. After learning the hard way not to expect too much from my friendships, particularly the close ones, I've been in the practice of keeping my mouth shut when it comes to personal issues. The question is, should I extend that policy to my blog? I don't know, and I'm not even sure I have should have this policy of withholding in place at all. Ideally, I would prefer open dialog between myself and certain others, enough so that I didn't feel I was being a burden. I don't say this with any venom, but I do with some regret and frustration. Things turn out how they turn out and I've adjusted, am adjusting. There are several factors involved that have caused this outcome; this is not an indictment of my friendships, only a lament that things couldn't be different.
This professed short post has found it's legs. Better I hobble it before it gets ahead of me. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this has been one of the hardest times of my life. A confluence of shitty things has been visited upon my sorry ass and it's been taxing. My dark night of the soul? I feel as if I've a few already, but if I had to pick one, this would be it. Dark days, like a bitter cold, have penetrated through my layers all the way to my spirit. Ah, but as I said above, I've been feeling a bit more hale and that is a good step on the staircase of getting right.
--
It hasn't been all terrible. It never truly is, I suppose. There has been the wonderful Deadwood on DVD to keep me company. The best written show I've ever seen. There has been Melville's Billy Budd, which just for the language alone, has been a treat, despite its tangential nature. There has been an increased intimacy and evolution regarding my music. There was Mara's brunch yesterday, which turned out differently, and perhaps better, than I anticipated.
Being as just about everyone she invited didn't show up for one reason or another, it was a cozy affair between Mara, her friend Dave, and myself. Dave is an older gent who, in his capacity as a DJ at a college radio station, has been a luminary in the local folk scene for decades. Mara used to work with him and, consequently, ended up with boxes of cds that she's had no use for. She brought them out yesterday for Dave and me to peruse. I found a Richard and Linda Thompson cd I'd been wanting and a few others. The rest that I took with me were recommendations by Dave and Mara.
I haven't listened to most of the cd's yet. There have been three I've had in heavy rotation. One by Archie Fisher, another by Dick Gaughan, and the third by the french traditionalist, Gabriel Yaub. Quality stuff and quite educational. The Dick Gaughan cd is a live one recorded in Edinburgh and the performance, just voice and guitar, is flawless. And this cat ain't strumming chords like Pete Seeger, no he's doing some complex stuff under those vocals. And the vocals - the phrasing and every other aspect - is so well done. These assessments hold true for each artist and it's why I've found listening to them educational. Beautiful stuff, the folk traditions of Europe.
So not all sour, but I'm crossing my fingers. At the end of the day, I don't want the doldrums to get the better of me. I want to rebound and start enjoying my life, an act, I say with sadness, I've more and more begun seeing as something as impossible as giving birth to a baby. Ah, but I've got some fight in me and if I'm to fall, it won't be done whimpering.
Leigh, I want to thank you for your kind words and support. I read them when I felt at my lowest and they perked me up. You are a sweet one and served as an angel on my shoulder.
I'm going to make this post short. I'm in the process of determining how I should approach this blog henceforth. On the one hand, it has served as a vehicle, when necessary, to vent whatever it is I've kept to myself that needs to get out lest I blow. In this regard, the blog has served as an elixir when no other has been found or offered. On the other hand, there are my readers to consider, some of whom are friends, current and former. While this is my house you are entering when you read this blog, and if you disagree with the way in which I conduct myself herein, you can step back outside, hopefully with the understanding that you weren't coerced into entering in the first place, I do feel, on occasion that I'm showing my hand too often to some that would rather I didn't at all (There is also the opposite to consider, that people love watching a train wreck and mine offer the right sustenance, i.e. keep 'em coming, kid, and don't spare a single detail in these accounts of your decline).
In other words, I'm making things known that I'd be better served keeping close to the vest. After learning the hard way not to expect too much from my friendships, particularly the close ones, I've been in the practice of keeping my mouth shut when it comes to personal issues. The question is, should I extend that policy to my blog? I don't know, and I'm not even sure I have should have this policy of withholding in place at all. Ideally, I would prefer open dialog between myself and certain others, enough so that I didn't feel I was being a burden. I don't say this with any venom, but I do with some regret and frustration. Things turn out how they turn out and I've adjusted, am adjusting. There are several factors involved that have caused this outcome; this is not an indictment of my friendships, only a lament that things couldn't be different.
This professed short post has found it's legs. Better I hobble it before it gets ahead of me. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this has been one of the hardest times of my life. A confluence of shitty things has been visited upon my sorry ass and it's been taxing. My dark night of the soul? I feel as if I've a few already, but if I had to pick one, this would be it. Dark days, like a bitter cold, have penetrated through my layers all the way to my spirit. Ah, but as I said above, I've been feeling a bit more hale and that is a good step on the staircase of getting right.
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It hasn't been all terrible. It never truly is, I suppose. There has been the wonderful Deadwood on DVD to keep me company. The best written show I've ever seen. There has been Melville's Billy Budd, which just for the language alone, has been a treat, despite its tangential nature. There has been an increased intimacy and evolution regarding my music. There was Mara's brunch yesterday, which turned out differently, and perhaps better, than I anticipated.
Being as just about everyone she invited didn't show up for one reason or another, it was a cozy affair between Mara, her friend Dave, and myself. Dave is an older gent who, in his capacity as a DJ at a college radio station, has been a luminary in the local folk scene for decades. Mara used to work with him and, consequently, ended up with boxes of cds that she's had no use for. She brought them out yesterday for Dave and me to peruse. I found a Richard and Linda Thompson cd I'd been wanting and a few others. The rest that I took with me were recommendations by Dave and Mara.
I haven't listened to most of the cd's yet. There have been three I've had in heavy rotation. One by Archie Fisher, another by Dick Gaughan, and the third by the french traditionalist, Gabriel Yaub. Quality stuff and quite educational. The Dick Gaughan cd is a live one recorded in Edinburgh and the performance, just voice and guitar, is flawless. And this cat ain't strumming chords like Pete Seeger, no he's doing some complex stuff under those vocals. And the vocals - the phrasing and every other aspect - is so well done. These assessments hold true for each artist and it's why I've found listening to them educational. Beautiful stuff, the folk traditions of Europe.
So not all sour, but I'm crossing my fingers. At the end of the day, I don't want the doldrums to get the better of me. I want to rebound and start enjoying my life, an act, I say with sadness, I've more and more begun seeing as something as impossible as giving birth to a baby. Ah, but I've got some fight in me and if I'm to fall, it won't be done whimpering.
Leigh, I want to thank you for your kind words and support. I read them when I felt at my lowest and they perked me up. You are a sweet one and served as an angel on my shoulder.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Ha!
Just came across this from The Onion. The Universe has a great sense of humor, me thinks. Okay, you got me. I'll lighten up.
Universe Admits To Wronging Area Man His Entire Life
'Dave's Got A Right To Be Angry,' Says Cosmos
The cosmos admits it could have given Schwartz good organizational skills but deliberately chose not to.
"Dave has good reason to say the universe is conspiring against him, because, well, it is," said the cosmos, acknowledging that it has thwarted Schwartz's hopes and dreams from the moment of his conception. "He may sound melodramatic when he goes on and on about the whole world having turned against him, but he's actually not that far off. The forces of time and nature genuinely want him to fail at life, and fail hard."
"So, yes, his anger and frustration are totally understandable," the universe added. "Pointless and futile, but totally understandable."
Sources close to Schwartz have long speculated that his failure to find success in work, love, and life stemmed from his own poor decisions and lack of resolve, but the very source of all causality verified Tuesday that, just as Schwartz has always claimed, the blame for each misstep and unfortunate circumstance rests squarely on the cosmos's shoulders.
Using the metaphysical concepts of blind chance and cosmic predetermination, as well as other powers beyond human comprehension, the universe claimed to have "done its best" to increase the earthly burden on Schwartz, carefully engineering everything from his difficulty concentrating for more than five minutes, to his receding hairline, to the time he threw up on the playground after eating a whole bag of candy.
"We've pretty much been riding Dave's ass from day one," confirmed the eternal concept of fate, which Schwartz has specifically, and accurately, blamed over the years for his inability to find a decent parking spot anywhere, ever. "Like that time he was dating the perfect woman and we introduced him to Deborah, who lured him away from the love of his life and proceeded to make his next two years a psychosexual nightmare of neediness and betrayal. That was all us."
"Oh, yeah, and then we rigged it so she dumped him," added fate, chuckling. "By the way, Deborah's doing great now. Rich husband, two beautiful kids, house on Martha's Vineyard—we set her up real nice."
According to the universe, it has for more than four decades enjoyed "torturing" Dave by presenting him with desirable life options—such as that big promotion at work, or the fantastic deal on that 1998 Mazda Miata—and then placing them just far enough out of his reach that they remain unattainable.
In addition, numerous ethereal essences and karmic forces stepped forward this week to come clean about "really piling it on" during periods of Schwartz's life when he already had enough on his plate and couldn't be expected to take much more cosmic punishment without snapping.
"Back in '02, we purposefully made enough things go right for Dave that he actually managed to convince himself that fate didn't exist and that the universe was a hopeful place full of limitless possibilities, all of which could be his as long as he believed in himself and maintained a positive outlook," the universe said. "Two days later—boom—we slam him with an IRS audit and some back pain."
"Totally threw him for a loop," added the whole of all existence. "He literally looked up at us and asked us, 'Why? Why are you doing this to me?'"
When questioned Tuesday as to the motive for its actions against Schwartz, the universe told reporters that it had no good answer except to speculate that perhaps its essential nature was simply "cruel and meaningless or something."
At press time, Dave Schwartz was stuck in a traffic jam with severe indigestion
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