Semi-Daily Scribbles

a lesson earned

and for anyone who peeks at this screen, i got a little nugget o' to pass along ... just keep showing up. sounds simple but it's one of the hardest things to do consistently throughout one's lifetime(s). good things are coming my way, though, thanks to the routine to which i tenaciously cling; being in a place at specific times and dates and performing tasks that outside a particular four-walled structure MAKE NO SENSE AT ALL. i'm sure you participate in a similar activity wherever you reside in the multiverse. it is easy to get tripped up when one dances to the rhythm of the day-to-day. sometimes there's no end in sight and progression feels like an automobile stuck in reverse (even under the best of circumstances it's not easy to power through life's obstacle course.) but hey, did you make someone's day today? that's about the only way to gauge if you've done anything worth a damn. create something right now that didn't exist yesterday, and say Hello to the next person that enters your periphery. keep raisin' the vibration y'all, and then tell me you don't see a little light slipping through the cracks.

doctor's note

 

call out
call out
call out like you do

check your privilege at the door

saying you've got allergies
will not suffice anymore

i think the flu is here to stay
its symptoms are the key to
The Gateway

PSA:
this song has helped more people than any number of hours spent having one's noggin prodded.

Status Check

Maybe this peace isn't completely soulless
To pick up a pencil and scratch on a pad
is au courant
I favor keys clacking and mispelled words
makin' music without even tryin'

I like your voice better in the Meditative Hour
each breath
A Flower
No tension
No tightrope
No walker

Over turbulent water

This journey has found its feet

We All Seek Enclosure

You are trapped beneath the tide. I'm up where the air is just right for a select school of fish. We are both searching for truth in tight spaces. There are stars beneath the waves that guide us. There are lights at the back of the house that never go out. Let me introduce you to Faith and Trust. They'll keep our blisters to a minimum as the fiery ring returns us to the fold.

Stage Fright

Second Acts. Encores.

Whatcha gonna do when you no longer have to punch a clock? I don't golf. The thought of a cruise ship holiday makes my butthole pucker. I've been making art since I was a child, so that's not going to change, but neither will it pay for my upkeep in old age. Old age ... what does that even mean in the times we are a-livin' in? My definition of old age is to put your years of experience to work in the service of others. Serve a greater cause than living the good life of a retiree (if you're lucky enough to have a big ass nest egg hidden somewhere.) But even if you do have a big ass nest egg hidden somewhere, answer me this: What need do you fill? I've been meditating on this question recently, especially as another year is streaking by. In six months I'll be another year older. Will I be any wiser? We'll see. Last week I had A Defining Moment that screamed in my face: Stop shoehorning yourself into situations that are only intended to dole out a paycheck. Yeah, I know, I've got angst in my pants. But this pantser is finally becoming a plotter. I need to plan out the next 20 years of my life with care.

Back to that Defining Moment, though. Eliza stopped me in the hall and asked how do visual and performing arts help her daughter excel in STEM? Well, music is math/math is music, so there's that. But the real answer, which I conveyed to Eliza, is that humans must exercise both hemispheres of their brains in order to build the world we'll be living in 50 years from now. It does not do to just be good with numbers. One has to dream a need into awareness, and then provide the blueprint to address it. That takes some pretty beefy creative muscles. Let's just hope the dream, the need, and the execution of a solution makes for technology that enlightens rather than enslaves us, but I'll save scribbling about that for another day. Eliza then asked "how do you have all the answers?" and "can I look inside your head?" Whenever we have water cooler chats she always learns something. According to Eliza, I'm a very good speaker and listener. She let me know should I ever become a psychologist, she wants to be my first client. Word of Mouth! Pay it Forward! Food for Thought ...

As I research next steps for non-retirement, fields of study that have long held my fascination are coming back into the picture. I'm being invited to pick up loose threads and weave a narrative that'll manifest a nourishing future. It is true. We return to Source eventually.

You are more than a memory.

You were a guy Patty and I chased around town; from The Fabulous Rainbow Tavern to Scoundrel's Lair to the Mural Amphitheatre. You always said hello to us by name (even though you probably thought we were a tad bit annoying.) You were really cute, though, and of course sang like no other motherfucker of our generation.

 

Fast forward years later ... you were a guy Michael and I saw around the neighborhood, like that time you were seated near the window of an Alki eatery and my family stared and tittered at you and your companion (again, you probably thought we were a tad bit annoying.) But hey, you were who you were as we explained to our eight-year-old niece that you sang like no other motherfucker of our generation.

 

And as random as it sounds, a care package I mailed to Mauritania while Ron was serving in the Peace Corps shined light on some rather dark times.

 

We've all fallen on black days, Chris. Some of us can sit back and laugh at the absurdity called life. I know that's not so easy for others. None of this shit really makes sense, does it? All we can do is hold on, help others, and make art which is exactly what you did the entire time you spent with us. I don't blame you for the decision you made, but I'll be crying for a while as I listen to your music.

 

The wind howled in a recognizable four-octave frenzy last night and shook our house. You are free and a part of everything now.

Sometimes Opportunity Forgets to Knock

doors are made
doors are found
perception dwells
underground

voices once heard
a four-letter word

nine months' worth
of one
nasty hang

is a memory best kept
on hold

(cue the music)

change is

it's ok if the songwriting suffers
the poetry stinks
snapshots of flowers
boring/blurry/bathed in shitty light
it's all right
the big red death moon
and a pox on your lips
brings big big change
and change is magic
disguised as one's biggest fear

Day, oh!

I prefer my music rough around the edges. When it comes to books, though? Ya shit better be tight. Mind your craft, mate. Clunky prose hurts my ear nubs, don't you know? And please, please adhere to the rules you've set up for your world. I can suspend my disbelief for days; no need to cave in to the sweet easiness of deus ex machina. Oh, and not every loose end can be tied up. We all have unresolved issues. See? Got my box of tissues right here! Anyway, had to say a few readerly words. Thanks for your time.

Good Show

So after the Swing Sisters rope and yodel their way through the dictionary with harp and hand saw, a palate cleanser is needed. Ah, I spy the goddess in position under the harsh, hot spotlight. She's a spray-painted vision in red. The goddess spins on pedicured toes and recites Joyce in her nasally voice and all is well with the right hemisphere and the left. Anyhow, it's all a show above and below. There's only one way to get to the top. Dig deep.