it has been reported that political activist organizations in Minneapolis - St. Paul have been raided in a pre-emptive strike to prevent protest at the Rethuglican national convention...sign making materials and computers were confiscated...weapons of mass instruction...
...am i the only one freaked out by this?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Tsalagi People (Cherokee) believed that within each person was a battle between two wolves. Sitting with his grandson, a grandfather explained that one of the wolves was evil and was driven by anger, envy, regret, ego and the worship of war.
The other wolf was good and was driven by love, hope, compassion, and the promise of peace.
Thinking about the wolves already growing within him, the boy asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?
And the old man replied, "The one you feed."
from The Tao of Willie
by Willie Nelson
The other wolf was good and was driven by love, hope, compassion, and the promise of peace.
Thinking about the wolves already growing within him, the boy asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?
And the old man replied, "The one you feed."
from The Tao of Willie
by Willie Nelson
Monday, August 25, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Leaving Cherry
...dodging raindrops on the road out of Cherry, Az.
...played music for an annual gathering of friends (our fifth or sixth year in a row of doing so) and today was the first time we had to deal with rainy weather...got in about half our show before wetness and electrical storms forced a halt to the procedings...some folks were curious as to why i was so adamant about stopping, when it looked as if things might clear up...
i related to them the tale of one of my most bizarre (and embarrassing) moments on stage...many moons ago, whilst a senior in high school, my band Climbfree (mentioned in an earlier post) was contracted to play an after-the-football-game sort of gig in the one of the two auditoriums in the school at which i was enrolled...this venue was referred to as "the old gym" and had been relegated to gym classes, team practices and music and theater productions since a new facility had been constructed for the high profile jock-o-cratic functions of athletic prowess...the old gym had wonderful acoustics for rock & roll and we always relished the chance to play there...
...it was an early November night and a moderate snow was falling as we loaded our gear into the building and we eagerly rolled everything into place and plugged in...amps were switched on and that wonderful, comforting hum filled my head...i strapped on my bass and stepped up to the mic to say "testing...testing...one, two three..."
...before i uttered the first "t" of "testing", a blinding blue flash leapt from the microphone to my face and the next thing i remember was the emergency medical personel injecting me with something to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest...and i was lying there onstage in a puddle of piss, drooling like a mad dog...needless to say, the show did not go on that evening, as i was not able to find my ass with both hands...
...the wet soles of my spanish boots of spanish leather (thanks Bob) were the perfect conducting medium for a poorly grounded electrical system...
...been sporting Converse All Stars onstage ever since...
Thursday, August 21, 2008
canyon tree
...along the hiking trail on the south rim of the Grand Canyon stands the massive skeletal remains of an old pine tree surrounded by it's progeny, sprouting through gnarly ancient roots...tourists clamber up into the low, wide boughs and pose for photographs...some carve their names in this venerable old creature, feeble markings signifying a brief glimmer in the relative spans of time...
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Azura
this is my friend Azura
this seemingly inanimate object
possesses more life than
a goodly number
of humans i know
it speaks when i cannot...
Not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas...
...as it turns out, my bass didn't get off the plane with me in Phoenix, but went on to Las Vegas, where it had a marvelous time with a couple of hookers, but lost heavily at the keno tables before being loaded back on the jet and sent back home...
bad, bad guitar...you have to stay in your case until the next show...
bad, bad guitar...you have to stay in your case until the next show...
Monday, August 18, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
...this post finds me in Ohio, my point of origin and as i tap away at the keyboard i am at my parent's old house, now owned by my younger brother...more specifically, i am in the basement, sitting in the exact spot where my first band, The Nite Riders used to practice, well, that is when we weren't in Keith's attic or Wes's garage...Wes was ceremoniusly asked to leave the band cuz he was a pain in the ass control freak spoiled doctor's son whose gear was way better than his ability...enter Steve...much better musician and singer...unfortunately, shortly thereafter, Keith's parents made him quit the band because his grades at school weren't up to snuff...Jack becomes new drummer guy and the band changes it's name to Climbfree...i always liked that name...there were all sorts of goofy band names at that time...Strawberry Alarm Clock, Chocolate Watchband, Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs, ? and the Mysterians, and many others that slip my mind at the moment, but in the spectrum of things i thought "Climbfree" was a pretty cool name...that band hung together for four years until i graduated and moved away to attend art school...
...i just received an e-mail the other day that the former dean of the college passed away...he was a mean old bastard thirty some years ago...i shudder to think how nasty he may have become...but then again when he stopped teaching, perhaps he became a nicer person...he taught a class called "Color Concept" and it was a required class for all incoming Freshmen...and The Dean was brutal to almost everyone who walked through the door...the class met one day in seven, monday morning, a perfect way to fuck up a good week...we would spend days and days on our weekly assignments, our little artistic experiments in color, and with fear and trepidation we would enter the lecture hall and hand them over to be critiqued...all the pieces would be lined up on easels across the stage and The Dean would pace back and forth madly, always in a charcoal gray suit and powder blue shirt...he would pick up someone's artwork, yell derisively about it, "TOO BLUE!!" ...or too this or not enough that...one day he actually screamed "YOU MUST EAT YOUR ART!!" and bit the piece he was holding...and after his brief and brutal critiques, he would fling our little masterpieces into the air, so by the end of his lecture the stage would be littered with paintings and drawings which would have footprints from being tromped on as he yelled and stomped to and fro...every week, you could see guys in the shadows of the lecture hall, restraining one another from leaping on stage and kicking his crazy ass, thus ending our educational experiences...
...anyway...rest in peace, Dean...maybe now you're a nice guy...
...i just received an e-mail the other day that the former dean of the college passed away...he was a mean old bastard thirty some years ago...i shudder to think how nasty he may have become...but then again when he stopped teaching, perhaps he became a nicer person...he taught a class called "Color Concept" and it was a required class for all incoming Freshmen...and The Dean was brutal to almost everyone who walked through the door...the class met one day in seven, monday morning, a perfect way to fuck up a good week...we would spend days and days on our weekly assignments, our little artistic experiments in color, and with fear and trepidation we would enter the lecture hall and hand them over to be critiqued...all the pieces would be lined up on easels across the stage and The Dean would pace back and forth madly, always in a charcoal gray suit and powder blue shirt...he would pick up someone's artwork, yell derisively about it, "TOO BLUE!!" ...or too this or not enough that...one day he actually screamed "YOU MUST EAT YOUR ART!!" and bit the piece he was holding...and after his brief and brutal critiques, he would fling our little masterpieces into the air, so by the end of his lecture the stage would be littered with paintings and drawings which would have footprints from being tromped on as he yelled and stomped to and fro...every week, you could see guys in the shadows of the lecture hall, restraining one another from leaping on stage and kicking his crazy ass, thus ending our educational experiences...
...anyway...rest in peace, Dean...maybe now you're a nice guy...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
two thousand miles and
twenty four hours away
a return to ancestral ground
dark black earth scent
green upon deeper green
still in my head
no matter how much
the desert dries my brain
old friends remain
and we will gather in our
dwindling numbers and
raise a glass to those who
have gone before and
to days that lie ahead
music will be made
in familiar haunts
to familiar faces and
in unknown places
to the new friends
we find there...
twenty four hours away
a return to ancestral ground
dark black earth scent
green upon deeper green
still in my head
no matter how much
the desert dries my brain
old friends remain
and we will gather in our
dwindling numbers and
raise a glass to those who
have gone before and
to days that lie ahead
music will be made
in familiar haunts
to familiar faces and
in unknown places
to the new friends
we find there...
i have given up my heart
to one who wishes not to hold
whispered secrets to a world
where words are bought and sold
mechanical man moves mindlessly
through days and nights
dark and light
fingers move
notes come out
there is little doubt
that only the fool hears their
hollow ring
cannot sing
only hoarsely shout
in an empty room
the same words over
and again
the same mad mantra
as reason slips away...
to one who wishes not to hold
whispered secrets to a world
where words are bought and sold
mechanical man moves mindlessly
through days and nights
dark and light
fingers move
notes come out
there is little doubt
that only the fool hears their
hollow ring
cannot sing
only hoarsely shout
in an empty room
the same words over
and again
the same mad mantra
as reason slips away...
Saturday, August 09, 2008
...and as i was sputtering and turning blue the thought occurred to me that this is a real fucked up way to go...done in by the munchies...
...you see, sometimes i'm a bit famished when i get home from a gig, and waiting seductively in the fridge was some leftover spicy Thai curry...zapped it up in the microwave and i thought i had found all the bay leaf that they toss loosely into the mix, but there was one chunk left, lurking up against a mushroom and when i shovelled it into my face, that little leaf slid down and blocked my breathing apparatus...
...thus started the aforementioned blueness and sputtering and probably other gutteral noises usually not uttered by a civilized homo sapien...obviously i survived this quandry as i am sitting here typing...a second quick thought leapt in and said "HEIMLICH YOURSELF, YOU DUMB FUCK!!...so i doubled up both fists, placed them over my solar plexus, and slammed myself into the kitchen wall and launched the killer vegetation and it actually stuck to the wall...no shit...
...and they say meat will kill you...
...you see, sometimes i'm a bit famished when i get home from a gig, and waiting seductively in the fridge was some leftover spicy Thai curry...zapped it up in the microwave and i thought i had found all the bay leaf that they toss loosely into the mix, but there was one chunk left, lurking up against a mushroom and when i shovelled it into my face, that little leaf slid down and blocked my breathing apparatus...
...thus started the aforementioned blueness and sputtering and probably other gutteral noises usually not uttered by a civilized homo sapien...obviously i survived this quandry as i am sitting here typing...a second quick thought leapt in and said "HEIMLICH YOURSELF, YOU DUMB FUCK!!...so i doubled up both fists, placed them over my solar plexus, and slammed myself into the kitchen wall and launched the killer vegetation and it actually stuck to the wall...no shit...
...and they say meat will kill you...
Monday, August 04, 2008
okay...let me get this straight...Dr. Bruce Ivins worked with the Army's chemical and biological weapons department at Ft. Detrick for eighteen years, had been receiving psychiatric treatment since 2000, said to have "homocidal tendencies" by his doctor, and still allowed to work with some of the most dangerous and toxic substances known to mankind and worked there up until the day that he "committed suicide"...
...right...
...and we all still have to take off our shoes at the airport and put all of our toiletries in clear plastic bags...
what the fuck?
...right...
...and we all still have to take off our shoes at the airport and put all of our toiletries in clear plastic bags...
what the fuck?
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