You who wish to conquer pain, you must learn to serve me well

Man, I'm tired. Listening to King Sunny Ade; hopefully it will prove to be a stimulant. However it goes, I'm here with you now, my children. And I'm back home after house sitting for Spira. The transition has been bittersweet. Here are some highlights from my stay.

1. I caught up on Boardwalk Empire by watching several episodes I missed from last season. My grade: A. Fucking love this show.

2. Speaking of watching, I took advantage of Spira's Netflix account and watched The Descendents (not as good as I expected it to be. That's the problem with expectations: they disappoint), Herzog's Happy People (fur trappers living waaaay off the grid in Siberia - my grade: A, of course), Samsara (beautiful and trippy imagery) and Upstream Color, which I can only describe as the bastard son of Terence Malick and David Lynch (yes, two men can sire a bastard son. I wish I could tell you how, but I'm not allowed to).

3. And since we're on the topic, I also watched season three of Game of Thrones (Damn,son!), episodes of The Office (comfort food), The Sopranos, Veep (I feel like it tries too hard), Vice Guide, and 30 Rock.

4. Golly, I watched a lot of TV. However, I did other things, too. For instance, I practiced yoga virtually every day. I was feeling loose, son! Spira's new mat was such a pleasure to use, it was a bit of a bummer returning to my own. Looks like I might be shelling out some cash for a new mat. It will be a worthwhile purchase.

5. I also managed to work on music, not as much as I intended ( I had grand ambitions), but I got a couple  of new songs out of it. Both were written on piano, an instrument I've had an intermittent relationship with over the years. The first song I worked on managed to stick with me; I was sure I was going to lose interest in it, particularly because it was something born from lazy, begrudging noodling. Since I was so transfixed with chilling out, motivation was scarce and the song was the best I could muster. It stuck with me, this fairly simple piano piece, and before I knew it, I was enamored. It happens like that sometimes. Can't wait to finish it.

6. Missy D. I love that pup! We had a blast. We cuddled, we played, she made me laugh. Our ritual of running down the hall to the elevator at the beginning of every walk makes me smile every time I think of it. Bounding down the hall we went, looking at each other, smiling.

I'm home. And feeling restless. Last week, hell the last several months, have been challenging. There have been times I've been startled by the vigor of some of my negative traits. It's been educational, though. I'm getting through. Other things have been taking seed within. And, recently, I've been presented with a possibility that would change my life significantly. My week has been spent pondering a big decision.

 I may need another week.

Peace, toddlers.

Well, it may just be a lunatic you're looking for

I'm house sitting for Spira and typing away on a keyboard that had juice spilled on it not long ago. This means each word is a bitch to get out. Consequently, this will be a short post. 

I've got the next few days off and I hope to get some music written and recorded. Also, there will be some quality time with Missy D. And since Spira has Netflix and HBO On The Go, I'll be watching stuff like The Sopranos, Girls, Game of Thrones, The Descendants, and probably more. All potentially distracting me from music; I'll need to be focused. Spira has the Cadillac of yoga mats - it weighs about five pounds, is roomy, and offers terrific traction. I've used it a couple of times already. When I can afford one like it, I'll dish out the cash. It's a great ride.

Ok, this keyboard is too much. I'm out of here, bitches.

Lazy flies all hovering above

Mad Men marathon. Hasn't yet begun, not in earnest.. Earlier yesterday, I purchased the first three seasons at Newbury Comics for under forty dollars. It was the right thing to do and not just because it was a great deal; I haven't bought anything for myself in a while and the show is one of the best I've seen. So Don Draper, get ready to charm me.

Listening to Miles Davis's Bitches Brew. Ever since high school, when I was first exposed to it, the album has never been a truly enjoyable thing for me to listen to. It's a druggy trip, but not with the mellow vibes of say a Grateful Dead or Jimmy Hendrix. No, this is druggy in the downing a whole bottle of Robitussin kind of way. It can get creepy, man. Still, here I sit listening to it. Art serves a multitude of purposes, including discomfort. Ya dig?

Launch date for the Ignore Emporium FB page approaches. I'm eager to begin sharing music and collaborating with people in various, as of now secret, ways. Ideas have been brewing; I predict this will be a fruitful venture. Concurrently, I've been cracking away at a new song that's just about complete structurally. I'll  begin focusing on lyrics today. It's nice having a reason not to jump off a bridge.

I'll be heading over to Spira's in a bit. We're going to meet up with Bart's wife, Tuere (total misspelling, but whatevs) and head over to Beverly for an early dinner. I forget the name of the place, but I thinks it's a raw food joint. I'm probably wrong, so stay tuned to find out the truth.

Alright, children, I will now make my escape.

I want more

First of all, there's a new Midlake song I've been listening to and it's so good in so many ways I'm just going to leave it at that. The album will be released in early November; too long to wait. Too long. Anyway, the song embodies, and subtly so, progressive elements (Yes and Pink Floyd are brought to mind) but with modern sensibilities and....look, the song, Antiphon it's called, is just great. No more trying to describe it.

I've been away from this blog, longer than I realized. Well, these things happen.

The weekend approaches. I'm looking forward to it. Will probably be low key, which is fine. The last couple of weekends found me at parties and shit. Not complaining, just saying.

I seem to mention it quite frequently in my posts, but I have gone deeper into my yoga practice. The first sign was when I woke in the middle of the night in the middle of positioning myself into yoga poses. It felt great. First time I've ever, at least that I'm aware of, done this kind of thing in my sleep. Listening to that soft, still voice for word about whether I should move forward with yoga teacher training. Stay tuned.

Getting my Ignore Emporium FB site in gear. I'm enlisting some people to help out with it. It's about time.

I've been finding that some of my old patterns of behavior, particularly the negative ones, have lost their potency. Sometimes when I get pissed at something or someone, it just feels like I'm going through the motions. I don't really feel pissed, or if I do, it lasts only a short time. Saying that, well, I've still got plenty that is just as potent as ever. It's a process, my children. It's a process.

I really feel like watching a ton of Mad Men right now, but alas I don't have the capability. Worth owning on DVD, but I haven't done anything about it yet. What I'm trying to say is that I think you should consider buying me an early Christmas present. Think about it.

Alright, it's time to go read from The Dark Tower. I just started reading Toni Morrisson's Beloved today. It will be my lunch book. So far so good.

Here's the deal: I'll see you on the flippety-flip. Maybe tomorrow, perhaps in a few days. We'll see. The important thing to remember is that I'll never ever leave you.


Namaste, you damned dirty apes!

Letters are written, never meaning to send

The Sabbath. It is here and finds me in good spirits, albeit a touch groggy. I took a nap this afternoon and it didn't really take. That's alright; as I said I'm in good spirits. I'm equipped with some coffee from True Grounds and expect a boost to my energy level any minute now. Here's a news flash: I'm not terribly fond of the coffee at True Grounds and only went there because I'm out and didn't feel like making a trip to the grocery store. Their brew is watery and bitter, at least to my sensibilities. And they always fill the cup right up to the rim. I once asked my old roommate, Matt, who's a barista, why some coffee houses do this. His reply: "They assume you wouldn't be so foolish as to defile their brew with cream or sugar, so they fill it to the rim." Next time I'll defile their faces with a full, piping hot cup. 

Yesterday was Rachael and Mike's party up in Peterborough, NH. I went up with Spira and Missy D. It was nice not having to make the trip by myself. It took us a while to get there for various reasons, one of which had to do with becoming slightly lost along the rolling back roads of Peterborough. We kept our composure and eventually arrived safe and sound to the Austin compound, where children, dogs, and adults intermingled outside and in.

Foley was there. Hadn't spoken to him in a long time. Despite a vague rift that lasted months, our reunion was joyful from the start . I'm glad he was there. Got to meet his girlfriend, Tess, who was pretty damned cool.

The night was filled with merriment. There was sangria (made by Janelle and I haven't tasted better), beer, smoke, music (impromptu jam sessions in hangar sized garage Mike does his blacksmithing , the kitchen, and porch), and mucho laughter among friends old and newly met.

I crashed in the room off the kitchen which Spira had abandoned in favor of sleeping in my tent because of the mosquitoes. I shouldn't say crashed because I didn't spend too much time there. I had gotten under the covers and Rachael serenaded me and a few others with some old-timey hymnals on the piano that sat across the room. It was a highlight of the night.

When everyone went off to bed, I tried to combat the mosquito problem (and it was a problem - I had thought Spira was overreacting a bit when she abandoned the room - she had even contemplated driving home - but those fuckers were brutal) by hiding under the blankets, but those rascals found a way in and buzzed around my head incessantly.

After about twenty minutes of that, I made an executive decision to change locations. I went out to the car and got my camping pad and pillow and migrated to the basement where there had once been a couch but presently there were only boxes. I set my stuff in the dark and promptly fell asleep. It was a good decision; I slept through the night, dreaming of sugar plum fairies and what not.

Scott made us all blueberry pancakes this morning and we had coffee and toast. Spira and I left around eleven. We stopped at McDonald's so she could get some coffee and we both ended up getting a fillet-o-fish. I rarely - emphasis on the word rarely - get fast food these days, but on occasion a fillet-o-fish is in order. We both like them quite a bit and these indulgences are fine every once in a while. It was tasty, son!

A great weekend with friends. These days especially, I find myself really savoring my time with my people. I won't have them around forever.

And now it is time to get on with my evening. I may watch Synecdoche, New York or find a Charlie Chaplin film on YouTube. We'll see. The night is young and there is a whole menu of options. Wish me luck, worms!

Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me

Had to get away from some rabbit hole searching, so here I am with you. Consider it a blessing, for it could be no less. Ah, anyway....

Had the house to myself this weekend; Fred had gone mountain biking in VT and Evangeline was at a wedding in Chicago. It was nice, but I wasn't around that much to enjoy it. Still, practicing yoga in my underwear and going full out nude for Savasana, was sublime.

Oh, that Shitter! You may remember, but probably don't, a post not to long ago in which I carried on about a guy who was always in the bathroom taking a shit every time I went for a piss or to wash my hands. In a fit of inspiration, I dubbed him The Shitter. I didn't really portray him in a positive light. Might have had something to do with the fact that virtually every time I went to use the restroom, this guy would be in there taking wretched dumps. Yeah, a real gleeful time listening to the disgusting shit purging sounds - pphhhwwwwppptttt!!!!, flawwwwtttttttttt!!!! And that smell! You don't have to be in the employ of Scotland Yard to figure out where that fucker stuffs his face. All you need is a nose, my friend. Wendy's, Taco Bell, Dominos, KFC, - they're all represented in the putrid stench that fills the room. What an asshole!

Anyway, The Shitter is a real pain in the neck, but I suppose he's not so bad. The reason I brought him up at all is because he does something that is actually kind of endearing, but mostly hilarious. Sometimes I'll be in the bathroom and The Shitter will enter hurriedly and make a beeline for one of the stalls (actually, he only ever uses one; it's his favorite). Whenever this happens, I try to wrap up my business post haste so I don't have to get caught up in his noxious activities.

A week or two or ago, I found out that during his "emergencies", he does his best to keep his wolves at bay until I've left the room. How did I find this out? See, one time I decided I wasn't going to let this guy The Shitter dictate how I go about my business. I decided not to hurry out of the restroom this time. I washed and dried my hands at a relaxed pace and even opened the door in a casual manner. When I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a thunderous sound. "PPFFFLAAARRRRSSHHHHH!!" It startled me, but The Shitter had done everything in his power to shield me from his excremental wrath.

The next couple of times a similar scenario played out, I would open the door very slowly and linger a bit in the doorway, holding back laughter all the while. I imagined him all red-faced thinking to himself, "I can't hold out much longer. Why hasn't this asshole left?". And then..... well you know what followed.

So I guess The Shitter, in his own way, is actually considerate. And me? Well, you could say I'm a bit of a prick for playing games with someone's bowel movements. If it's true, whatever. I call it karma. And for the record, I've put up with much worse from him.

And your'e a very sexy girl, who's very hard to please

After work there was an expansive yoga session in which I incorporated a new vinyasa flow I'm pretty sure I would not have been able to execute six months ago. So, if you're wondering whether I'm proud of myself, the answer is yes. But I'm not being cocky about it. Onward and upward we go; no time to bask in glory. Well, there is a little time. So I guess I will  bask a little.

Ever listen to Persian classical music? You should. It's what I'm doing right now. Actually, listen to what you want to. I'm not going to try and stop you. I'm just trying to impress you with my cool music choice is all.

 Went to see Mark's band up in NH over the weekend. Craig and I went up together ( A side note. Craig showed up to my place an hour earlier than his target time. That's right, an hour early! I'm still processing it). Up to Fody's we went and it was a real good time. A night thick with kinship.  Got to see Janelle and Michelle perform for the first time. They didn't sing too many songs, but they delivered like champs on the ones they did. Me=Proud.

People bought me drinks all night. Even when I tried to buy someone a beer (Craig, partly because I spilled a full beer all over his person) there was some Twilight Zone glitch and the bartender ended up not charging us for the beers. I felt merry all night and flirted with women (some interesting exchanges I'm not sure I should write about) and laughed and  slow danced with Becky to a mid tempo song, drank beers, howled, and felt the high vibration of life.

Getting to spend an evening with some of my favorite people on the planet, including Rebecca who I hardly ever see anymore (we shared a long hug), was beyond gratifying. We stayed until closing time and I didn't want to leave. I could have gone all night with that group. But we left (Craig was a champ and drove) and when I was dropped off and sitting at my desk realizing how heavily buzzed I was (Right at the door of drunkenness!), I thought over some of the evening's events and eased into a tranquil, appreciative state.

Alas, you rascals, I must leave you and attend to other matters. I might watch The Maltese Falcon (such a great film!) or 12 Angry Men (it will be my first viewing, which is hard to believe). Or I might go gorge myself on watermelon like a buffoon. We'll see