Living in the bubble, but for how long? This has been my calculus for as long as I can remember, and for good or for ill, it has shaped the way I approached my life. Here's what I mean by the bubble... and maybe to get at it, I'll approach it from the opposite end. See those folks in northern Japan... no bubble. See those folks in Tuscaloosa whose place got demolished by the most intense tornadoes anyone has ever seen.... no bubble. See those folks in Iraq, Afghanistan, Chechniya, Somalia, Yemen, Mexico, Myanmar, Cambodia or those homeless folks on so many street corners etc.... no bubble.
The bubble means you can turn the tap and get clean water. You can go to the store and there are mountains of food for those with the money to buy. You can hop in the car, fill 'er up and be on your way. No armed thugs are trying to bust through the window, no machete waving warriors are on a killing spree in the neighborhood. It looks like it will last forever.... or does it? I've never assumed that I get to live out my days inside the bubble; it always felt more tenuous than that. I've always felt that these are the good old days.
And I've somehow managed to use the fragility of the bubble as an excuse to not immerse myself fully in the process of life. Why bother to dig in and prepare for the future when no future is assured, or even likely? Why plant seeds when the likelihood is that I won't be around to harvest the fruit? It's a self-perpetuating lack of self perpetuation, and I do believe that it has run out of its ability to be useful, because it makes my a cynical person who is somehow rooting for destruction and mayhem to justify my choices (or lack thereof). And who in their right mind would root for that? (one wonders)
It feels too late to change course at this point (what with the world ending and all), (he said self-mockingly), as I've got too many decades into this approach to reinvent myself totally. And there is some sense I have that I DO want some kind of justification for how I've conducted myself all these years. So rather than think about reinventing myself totally, I wonder if there is some kind of refinement that I might undertake, in the hopes of finding more joy and less self-loathing, because one of the perils of not buying in to the societal hand book is feeling like that ship has sailed and I didn't get on board. Even though I supposedly rejected the play book, I bought in on some level, bought in enough to hate myself for not living up to the thing I didn't buy into. Lots of negatives there, and yeah, I've experienced a lot of self-punishing for my choices.
So I'd like to find a way to reorient myself, or rather reprogram myself in the direction of acceptance. I was thinking about this yesterday as I was driving over the pass toward Bend, where I have some gigs later today. (It's 3:40 in the morning, and I woke up, so let's write a bit before going back to sleep). I have tended to devalue myself lately, even my successes, let alone my failures, and I wonder if it's just something that I do instinctively. If I were to be totally self-critical, (which isn't that hard for me)... hey I'm 'successful' at self criticism (he said pathetically), I tend to view my triumphs as somehow undeserved. 'Well, he's skating by on his charm and talent.' Within that statement is, of course, the unstated implication that 'but he could do so much more' or 'talent without discipline is such a waste' or 'he has really squandered the gift'
That mindset certainly sucks the life out of the room, and I've been guilty of it way too much over the years. So here I am at 57, pushing 58 years old, in pretty good health, )one hopes), still a lot of vibrancy in my body, still dancing and able to move, still able to light up a room when I make music, but with a heavy heart and a burden to bear. I wonder if I could transcend my 'judgment' cloud and find a way into a more sunlit, peaceful place. And it brings up what to me is one of the basic questions of human existence. Can we actually change ourselves inside the journey? Can I understand myself enough to know how to fix what needs fixing and then take the steps in that direction? And the direction I'd like to take it is toward gratitude and joy, away from judgment and loathing.
Away from judgment and loathing, toward gratitude and joy.
I think I need some help on the journey, it's a rough one to make on my own, especially if I'm weighing myself down. So the first ally that I'd like to enlist is myself. It's time to line up and head in the same direction that is indicated by the map. Away from judgment and loathing, toward gratitude and joy.
And I ask God to help me find the clarity and serenity to keep on the path... away from judgment and loathing, toward gratitude and joy.
And I will ask my friends, the ones I have and the ones I will have, to join me on that journey ... into gratitude and joy.
You'd think that I'd ask my family at some point for help too, but that thought doesn't flow naturally yet, seems loaded and fraught, too much unresolved stuff and maybe that's a different post, somewhere down the road. Let's table that one for now, or maybe let's not. Why be afraid of what's in there? I guess that rather than ask for help from my family, I'd prefer to offer help and service... away from judgment and loathing, into gratitude and joy.
I just skimmed what I had written so far and my first reaction was to find it self-indulgent and shallow, which is an object lesson in itself, as well as an indicator that it won't be so easy to turn off the judgment and aim for the gratitude. In other words I got judgmental about trying to turn off the judgment. Oy! (he said Jewishly) But there is something reassuring in that irony, because even through all of the self-criticism, there is some kind of awareness that is greater than all of the mind games. I see it, I get it, I'm amused by it and I hope to use it. And I hope to use it on the journey from judgment to gratitude. Or to put it in New York terms.... 'Hey judgment, Go Fuck Yourself!
And with that statement, I experienced my first real 'ding' of excitement or clarity. (at 4:30am). I don't quite 'get it' yet, but there is something that is very right about telling judgment to go fuck himself. It's likely a good use for that critical attribute that I certainly possess and have tended to aim at myself, with mostly unhappy results. How bout I send that beam of criticism toward itself... could that make it disappear? (or at least leave me the fuck alone?) (he said, New Yorkily). I do believe that there is something of value in that equation, indeed I do.
Yep, there's clean water in the tap, there's gas in the car and food in the refrigerator. And I'm grateful for those things. But there's a bigger gratitude that I'm after, and it's gratitude for this life and this bubble that allows me to ponder and practice and make a joyful noise. (which I will do in about 5 hours time). Better get some more sleep now.... Over and out...
I Need a Song....
It's 7:48 in the morning on a cloudy Wednesday, and at 10:30, I'll be teaching a music class for a bunch of 5 year old children. Their teacher, Shawna is starting to prepare for a Graduation Ceremony which is about 6 weeks away, and she asked if I knew a good song about 'family' which the kids might sing at the event. She told me that she'd check out some of her sources, folk music books etc to try and find something. Me, I hear the request and my first thought is to try and craft something for the event. So let's try. I've never blogged a song-writing session before; usually I'll grab a guitar and see what I can come up with, but I'm going to try and do it from the computer (with a guitar nearby). Hopefully I won't get 'blogged down' in the process.
So how do you write a song? I think in terms of the hook, in this case a simple chorus which the kids could strongly sing, using their best voices. It would be one that would make the parents get tears in their eyes. Often my 'go to' move is a 1V V 1 progression, that has that feeling of roundness and repetition, so I'll start there (again). The key of C is the perfect key for kids usually, so I'll start there too. Pause, grab the guitar, start playing in C.
It's you (it's you) and me (and me)
Living in our family
Nowhere else I'd rather be
Than right here by your side
With you (with you) and me (and me)
Living life so happily
Pause, shower, thoughts, yes I'm aware of the irony of a lonely, disconnected man trying to write songs about the joys of being in a family. It's totally absurd, yet I persist, probably like the guys who wrote those love songs or made those movies which painted lovely pictures of familial warmth and contentment, while the authors were banging the secretary or trying not to get too drunk before noon.... but I digress....
Now where was I? It's kind of tricky to write a song about 'family' in 2011, because it doesn't feel right to paint a totally rosy picture about 'living life so easily' or 'mom and dad' because it just doesn't ring true anymore. So there's a bit of finesse involved. I guess it's a balancing act in which I have to idealize it a little bit, but not too much. That feels like the right approach. I don't want to be too 'noir' with it. 'Daddy got laid off, mom is running up the credit card again, the case worker thinks I'm going to get placed in a foster home' (although that does sound like a fun tune to write... dark lyrics over top of a cheerful sounding kids song) but I tri-gress...
It's you (it's you) and me (and me)
Living in our family
Nowhere else I'd rather be
Than right here by your side
With you (with you) and me (and me)
It's as simple as ABC
Oh how happy we can be
Living in our family
9:19am It's done, It's going to work and now it's in my heart... happy....
So how do you write a song? I think in terms of the hook, in this case a simple chorus which the kids could strongly sing, using their best voices. It would be one that would make the parents get tears in their eyes. Often my 'go to' move is a 1V V 1 progression, that has that feeling of roundness and repetition, so I'll start there (again). The key of C is the perfect key for kids usually, so I'll start there too. Pause, grab the guitar, start playing in C.
It's you (it's you) and me (and me)
Living in our family
Nowhere else I'd rather be
Than right here by your side
With you (with you) and me (and me)
Living life so happily
Pause, shower, thoughts, yes I'm aware of the irony of a lonely, disconnected man trying to write songs about the joys of being in a family. It's totally absurd, yet I persist, probably like the guys who wrote those love songs or made those movies which painted lovely pictures of familial warmth and contentment, while the authors were banging the secretary or trying not to get too drunk before noon.... but I digress....
Now where was I? It's kind of tricky to write a song about 'family' in 2011, because it doesn't feel right to paint a totally rosy picture about 'living life so easily' or 'mom and dad' because it just doesn't ring true anymore. So there's a bit of finesse involved. I guess it's a balancing act in which I have to idealize it a little bit, but not too much. That feels like the right approach. I don't want to be too 'noir' with it. 'Daddy got laid off, mom is running up the credit card again, the case worker thinks I'm going to get placed in a foster home' (although that does sound like a fun tune to write... dark lyrics over top of a cheerful sounding kids song) but I tri-gress...
It's you (it's you) and me (and me)
Living in our family
Nowhere else I'd rather be
Than right here by your side
With you (with you) and me (and me)
It's as simple as ABC
Oh how happy we can be
Living in our family
9:19am It's done, It's going to work and now it's in my heart... happy....
Money money money money
It's the journey, right? Isn't that the cliche that we eventually end up at? The goal is the journey itself, which is a fine little mind-bender right out of the gate. When looking for purpose or meaning, it's not about a final destination or goal, but about the camino, if you will. I guess I captured that idea pretty well a month or so ago in the verse which says:
May you have a gentle road
Good friends along the way
Can I help you carry that load
Where we going anyway?
But I'm not ready to quite sum it up yet, as my brain has been tickled by the unexpected little knot of 'the goal is the journey', which seems like a contradiction. I realize that I'm playing with words and wanting them to fit into some kind of clever arrangement, but beyond that, I get a sense that there is some mysterious truth that is wanting to surface.
Just as an exercise, let me consider the hypothesis that it's ALL about the goal and the journey is irrelevant. You got to be driven, you got to succeed, you got to get there, put the blinders on, go go go. It's all about the goal, sunny, rainy, it's all about the goal, solo, hooked up, it's all about the goal, go go go goal. No time for reflection, no time for connection, to time for perception, it's all about the goal. (as an aside, it might be nice to actually have a goal to plug into this hypothesis, but if I could do that, I probably wouldn't be on this exercise anyway). Is that the problem, is it simply a case of not being able to formulate a goal that leads me to wonder about goals and journeys? Maybe the goal is to formulate a goal? Very possibly, but let's set that aside for a moment and return to the meandering.
Only there's no meandering in reaching the goal, it's a one way, pressing, non-distracted, non-distractable push toward the finish line (he said as he distractedly got up to go bring in the newspaper, an apt metaphor for my state of mind at the moment, which is the opposite of non-distracted). Or maybe it's just the ADD kicking in.... again :-) But I'm not putting myself down, just reporting on the ironies and amusements of my situation.
I just re-read what I have written thus far, and was reminded of that essay I wrote at the age of 17, when I was supposed to be taking a history test about American Foreign Policy. For some reason I didn't register that there was a test that day, so I was totally unprepared, hadn't done the reading. The teacher hands out the essay test and all around me, kids are feverishly writing their essays, while I was in some kind of thoughtful stupor, being turned off by their rushing pens and intent expressions.
I suppose I could have tried to fake it, use my rhetorical powers to try and at least pass the test (so to speak), but on this day, I just didn't have it in my to go in that direction. Something came over me and I began to write what turned out to be an early blog entry, I suppose. Instead of trying to bullshit my way into a C grade, I just wrote about what I was feeling, being a guy surrounded by intent faces and hurrying pens. And I got pretty fired up about it the longer that I wrote. I remember one passage of the paper in which I said something like, 'And why are they writing so fast? So they can get a good grade on the test, so they can get a good mark in the class so they can get into a good college so they can get a good job and MAKE A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY! I followed that up with, 'it makes me sick'
I do remember feeling exhilarated by the writing and the self-expression. My teacher was apparently not quite as impressed, as he gave me the well-deserved F on the test, as if I cared. The next day in school, I got a visit from the guidance counselor, who showed up in my homeroom, asked to have a word with me, and then asked me if everything was all right. I assured him that I was fine, and I probably asked him if he liked the paper. Flash forward 40 years, and my brother Mick discovered that paper while doing some cleaning at our mom's house and he's going to mail it to me as a memento of a different time. Only thing is, I haven't changed all that much.... or have I?
I do know that my essay was about the same thing I started with here, thinking about goals and in that case, rejecting the money goal, which is truly the elephant in the room when it comes to this culture, at least. We are so oriented to money here in the west. I don't know if it's a universal condition, but it's certainly a western one. And now with the benefit of 40 years perspective, I can see that my rebellious rejection of money as the end game has caused me to conflate it with any other more worthy goal which I might imagine for myself. I haven't changed much from that angry teenager who is rejecting his father's values as a way to define his own path. Even today, when I set out to think about goals, or the idea of goals, there was a shadow present, and it was the idea that money is the ultimate goal here, so what's the use of really trying to come up with a goal, when my soul still rebels at the money piece. Hmmmmmm I feel like I made some headway, and it looks like this:
It's time to stop conflating 'money' and my issues with it into every thought process about what I might hope to achieve. By now, I've proven the point that I'm not my father, and it's time to step out from under that shadow and that self- limiting way of looking at things. Money is not the goal, it might be just a part of the journey. Time to chemically remove it from the metaphysical equation and let some more light in. On three.... 1 2 3 and it's done. Let the sunshine in...
May you have a gentle road
Good friends along the way
Can I help you carry that load
Where we going anyway?
But I'm not ready to quite sum it up yet, as my brain has been tickled by the unexpected little knot of 'the goal is the journey', which seems like a contradiction. I realize that I'm playing with words and wanting them to fit into some kind of clever arrangement, but beyond that, I get a sense that there is some mysterious truth that is wanting to surface.
Just as an exercise, let me consider the hypothesis that it's ALL about the goal and the journey is irrelevant. You got to be driven, you got to succeed, you got to get there, put the blinders on, go go go. It's all about the goal, sunny, rainy, it's all about the goal, solo, hooked up, it's all about the goal, go go go goal. No time for reflection, no time for connection, to time for perception, it's all about the goal. (as an aside, it might be nice to actually have a goal to plug into this hypothesis, but if I could do that, I probably wouldn't be on this exercise anyway). Is that the problem, is it simply a case of not being able to formulate a goal that leads me to wonder about goals and journeys? Maybe the goal is to formulate a goal? Very possibly, but let's set that aside for a moment and return to the meandering.
Only there's no meandering in reaching the goal, it's a one way, pressing, non-distracted, non-distractable push toward the finish line (he said as he distractedly got up to go bring in the newspaper, an apt metaphor for my state of mind at the moment, which is the opposite of non-distracted). Or maybe it's just the ADD kicking in.... again :-) But I'm not putting myself down, just reporting on the ironies and amusements of my situation.
I just re-read what I have written thus far, and was reminded of that essay I wrote at the age of 17, when I was supposed to be taking a history test about American Foreign Policy. For some reason I didn't register that there was a test that day, so I was totally unprepared, hadn't done the reading. The teacher hands out the essay test and all around me, kids are feverishly writing their essays, while I was in some kind of thoughtful stupor, being turned off by their rushing pens and intent expressions.
I suppose I could have tried to fake it, use my rhetorical powers to try and at least pass the test (so to speak), but on this day, I just didn't have it in my to go in that direction. Something came over me and I began to write what turned out to be an early blog entry, I suppose. Instead of trying to bullshit my way into a C grade, I just wrote about what I was feeling, being a guy surrounded by intent faces and hurrying pens. And I got pretty fired up about it the longer that I wrote. I remember one passage of the paper in which I said something like, 'And why are they writing so fast? So they can get a good grade on the test, so they can get a good mark in the class so they can get into a good college so they can get a good job and MAKE A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY! I followed that up with, 'it makes me sick'
I do remember feeling exhilarated by the writing and the self-expression. My teacher was apparently not quite as impressed, as he gave me the well-deserved F on the test, as if I cared. The next day in school, I got a visit from the guidance counselor, who showed up in my homeroom, asked to have a word with me, and then asked me if everything was all right. I assured him that I was fine, and I probably asked him if he liked the paper. Flash forward 40 years, and my brother Mick discovered that paper while doing some cleaning at our mom's house and he's going to mail it to me as a memento of a different time. Only thing is, I haven't changed all that much.... or have I?
I do know that my essay was about the same thing I started with here, thinking about goals and in that case, rejecting the money goal, which is truly the elephant in the room when it comes to this culture, at least. We are so oriented to money here in the west. I don't know if it's a universal condition, but it's certainly a western one. And now with the benefit of 40 years perspective, I can see that my rebellious rejection of money as the end game has caused me to conflate it with any other more worthy goal which I might imagine for myself. I haven't changed much from that angry teenager who is rejecting his father's values as a way to define his own path. Even today, when I set out to think about goals, or the idea of goals, there was a shadow present, and it was the idea that money is the ultimate goal here, so what's the use of really trying to come up with a goal, when my soul still rebels at the money piece. Hmmmmmm I feel like I made some headway, and it looks like this:
It's time to stop conflating 'money' and my issues with it into every thought process about what I might hope to achieve. By now, I've proven the point that I'm not my father, and it's time to step out from under that shadow and that self- limiting way of looking at things. Money is not the goal, it might be just a part of the journey. Time to chemically remove it from the metaphysical equation and let some more light in. On three.... 1 2 3 and it's done. Let the sunshine in...
Passover day 5
Give us this day, but no daily bread. I can't exactly say why I'm keeping kosher this Passover season, but so far, I've managed to refrain from eating any bread, not that I haven't been tempted. It's such a part of my makeup to want to grab 'the staff of life' (insert joke here). Last night at the Greek restaurant where I went for dinner with my friend Larry, the waitress put a couple of pieces of delicious looking bread in front of me, and it was all I could do to resist its leavened allure. At a certain point I said to my buddy, 'could you put this over there and get it out of my immediate sensory field' (or words to that effect), because I felt an instinctive pull to grab a hunk and stuff it in my mouth. It was almost primordial; rather than simply thinking 'I'd like a piece of bread', it was more like, 'Bread, Eat' Man want Bread!, coming from a the body, not the brain, (or so I could imagine)
But I managed to avoid it, along with the treats at the cafe where we went for coffee afterward. Actually, now that I think about it, I believe that I did have a treat a few nights ago when I might have spaced out the fact that we were still in the passover time, so it's not a case of me being all kind of 'purist' about the holiday. But there is certainly something to be said for depriving oneself of what one thinks one wants and seeing what happens as a result.
I'm reminded of my Rabbi friend Jeff Marx's thought process when I asked him for a consult about a story I was working on. I was trying to write a piece about bullying, but I was having trouble coming up with the right tone for the story. Should I concentrate on the bully himself, or the victim or the classroom as a whole? I presented the dilemma to Jeff, and his first thought was, 'What is the opposite of bullying?' He followed up immediately with the phrase, 'Use your power for good', and that struck me as the perfect approach. And I was intrigued by the way he had arrived at this solution. He made a conscious choice to consider the opposite, and because of that decision, he immediately hit upon a great idea. I heard the words 'Use your power for good' as a melody and an anthem. The hook of the song was written in a flash. I didn't write it, actually, it just 'was'.
It makes me wonder if that act of considering 'what is the opposite' might have some utility in other areas of my life. I think I know my ruts pretty well by this point, those pathways which seem to direct my thoughts around the same mental route. I'm going to place a thought in my brain which says, 'when you find yourself aware that you're going down that familiar pathway, stop to consider 'what is the opposite''. Especially when I get daunted by the familiar 'there is too much to do' paralysis about career building tasks, website maintenance, album recording, social media outreach, business building, mailing list creation, promotional work, equipment upgrading etc etc etc, it would be wise to consider 'what is the opposite of this feeling of helplessness?' I do believe that there is some solution lurking there.
Speaking of the word 'daunted', which I mentioned in the last paragraph. I was having a very interesting conversation with a new friend, Rico, in which I mentioned that word. I had just met him, a fifty something, charismatic Argentinian guy who has recently made Eugene his home. He's a very bright individual, makes his living as a translator, bilingual marketing guy. He's very plugged into the new forms of social networking, is posting stuff all the time, making connections, drawing people to him, and he's definitely got the knack for the new media. I could tell by the way he instinctively took some pictures and brief video at the blues jam and then posted it to his facebook, as a matter of course.
We got talking during the break and I had an immediate sense that he had a lot of what I need, so I was interested in having a conversation. At one point, I mentioned that I am daunted by the amount of stuff that I need to do in the social networking arena which I don't know how to do. Then I stopped and asked him if he understood the word 'daunted'. The reason I asked him is because his accent is fairly strong, and I wasn't sure of the level of his English comprehension. He assured me that he knew what it meant, telling me that he's been in the states for 30 years, works as a translator etc. I ribbed him a little, saying that if he's so great in English, why does he have such a strong accent?
This made him laugh, and his answer was that the times he was going to try and lose the accent, he would have a girlfriend who would say, 'But I love your accent'. (sounded like a convenient excuse, but who am I to judge?). Then he continued and said that when he gives a talk, he will invariably start out like this: 'I apologize for my accent, but if there is something you don't understand, please raise your hand.... AND I'LL SAY IT LOUDER!. It was a 'laugh line', and my first reaction was to say, 'What are you, Jewish?' It just seemed like such a Jewish take, to use a little comedy shtick as a way of dealing with a little quirk like an accent. He says, 'Yes, I am, nobody ever guesses this, you are the first'. We both laughed a lot about it, and I think it's very amusing to sniff out a Jewish approach to life and comedy, even if it has a Spanish accent. Takes one to know one, I guess.
But I managed to avoid it, along with the treats at the cafe where we went for coffee afterward. Actually, now that I think about it, I believe that I did have a treat a few nights ago when I might have spaced out the fact that we were still in the passover time, so it's not a case of me being all kind of 'purist' about the holiday. But there is certainly something to be said for depriving oneself of what one thinks one wants and seeing what happens as a result.
I'm reminded of my Rabbi friend Jeff Marx's thought process when I asked him for a consult about a story I was working on. I was trying to write a piece about bullying, but I was having trouble coming up with the right tone for the story. Should I concentrate on the bully himself, or the victim or the classroom as a whole? I presented the dilemma to Jeff, and his first thought was, 'What is the opposite of bullying?' He followed up immediately with the phrase, 'Use your power for good', and that struck me as the perfect approach. And I was intrigued by the way he had arrived at this solution. He made a conscious choice to consider the opposite, and because of that decision, he immediately hit upon a great idea. I heard the words 'Use your power for good' as a melody and an anthem. The hook of the song was written in a flash. I didn't write it, actually, it just 'was'.
It makes me wonder if that act of considering 'what is the opposite' might have some utility in other areas of my life. I think I know my ruts pretty well by this point, those pathways which seem to direct my thoughts around the same mental route. I'm going to place a thought in my brain which says, 'when you find yourself aware that you're going down that familiar pathway, stop to consider 'what is the opposite''. Especially when I get daunted by the familiar 'there is too much to do' paralysis about career building tasks, website maintenance, album recording, social media outreach, business building, mailing list creation, promotional work, equipment upgrading etc etc etc, it would be wise to consider 'what is the opposite of this feeling of helplessness?' I do believe that there is some solution lurking there.
Speaking of the word 'daunted', which I mentioned in the last paragraph. I was having a very interesting conversation with a new friend, Rico, in which I mentioned that word. I had just met him, a fifty something, charismatic Argentinian guy who has recently made Eugene his home. He's a very bright individual, makes his living as a translator, bilingual marketing guy. He's very plugged into the new forms of social networking, is posting stuff all the time, making connections, drawing people to him, and he's definitely got the knack for the new media. I could tell by the way he instinctively took some pictures and brief video at the blues jam and then posted it to his facebook, as a matter of course.
We got talking during the break and I had an immediate sense that he had a lot of what I need, so I was interested in having a conversation. At one point, I mentioned that I am daunted by the amount of stuff that I need to do in the social networking arena which I don't know how to do. Then I stopped and asked him if he understood the word 'daunted'. The reason I asked him is because his accent is fairly strong, and I wasn't sure of the level of his English comprehension. He assured me that he knew what it meant, telling me that he's been in the states for 30 years, works as a translator etc. I ribbed him a little, saying that if he's so great in English, why does he have such a strong accent?
This made him laugh, and his answer was that the times he was going to try and lose the accent, he would have a girlfriend who would say, 'But I love your accent'. (sounded like a convenient excuse, but who am I to judge?). Then he continued and said that when he gives a talk, he will invariably start out like this: 'I apologize for my accent, but if there is something you don't understand, please raise your hand.... AND I'LL SAY IT LOUDER!. It was a 'laugh line', and my first reaction was to say, 'What are you, Jewish?' It just seemed like such a Jewish take, to use a little comedy shtick as a way of dealing with a little quirk like an accent. He says, 'Yes, I am, nobody ever guesses this, you are the first'. We both laughed a lot about it, and I think it's very amusing to sniff out a Jewish approach to life and comedy, even if it has a Spanish accent. Takes one to know one, I guess.
Lesson plan Earth Day edition
I have a fairly important gig this morning to deliver an Earth Day performance for about 80 little kids from the University preschool programs. They will be marching to campus for a little demonstration, then joining me at the Condon School nearby for a special Rich Glauber interactive event. And even though I could likely waltz on in there and do my thing, I feel the need to think about it and come up with a plan. (likely because my voice is at half strength, the room is large and I want to deliver a good event) So here goes the thought process.
Start with 'You'll sing a song' and do it eventually in different animal voices. Wolves, whales, sheep, bees, cats...
5 little fishes, swimming in a pool
5 big elephants, walking down the street
I just learned 'April Showers' and it's quite a fine little ditty. Maybe I'll bust it out today, this being April and all, and I love the message of the song. And I love the idea of including an old song or two to link the generations. I might couple it with 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame' which could also be an April song. That would constitute the retro part of the show. Does it tie into 'Earth Day'? Not really, but I could certainly make it so, talking about how people can enjoy the beautiful weather on earth by playing games and having fun outdoors.... as opposed to say, sitting in front of the computer. Yeah, that works, a little public service announcement :-)
I wrote a fun little preschool song called 'That's not the way we do it' about mistakes people make, and how they should clean up their act. Here's a sample verse:
Grandma likes to read the paper, she buys one every single day
But sometimes she forgets to recycle her paper
She goes to the garbage can and throws her paper away....
That's not the way we do it, not the way we do it
That's not the way we do it, please don't do it anymore
Uncle Bob likes to go fishing, he's even got his own fishing boat
One day he drank three cans of Pepsi, then he threw them in the water
Just to see if they would float...
It's cold and cloudy this morning, might be another rainy day
So I got lazy and used my car, even though the place I went to
Was only a mile away...
Bizzy Bugs
Going to the Zoo
Itsy Bitsy Spider in Spanish and English
In My Garden
Shine a Light with Percussion for the finale... Happy Earth Day, everyone!
Start with 'You'll sing a song' and do it eventually in different animal voices. Wolves, whales, sheep, bees, cats...
5 little fishes, swimming in a pool
5 big elephants, walking down the street
I just learned 'April Showers' and it's quite a fine little ditty. Maybe I'll bust it out today, this being April and all, and I love the message of the song. And I love the idea of including an old song or two to link the generations. I might couple it with 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame' which could also be an April song. That would constitute the retro part of the show. Does it tie into 'Earth Day'? Not really, but I could certainly make it so, talking about how people can enjoy the beautiful weather on earth by playing games and having fun outdoors.... as opposed to say, sitting in front of the computer. Yeah, that works, a little public service announcement :-)
I wrote a fun little preschool song called 'That's not the way we do it' about mistakes people make, and how they should clean up their act. Here's a sample verse:
Grandma likes to read the paper, she buys one every single day
But sometimes she forgets to recycle her paper
She goes to the garbage can and throws her paper away....
That's not the way we do it, not the way we do it
That's not the way we do it, please don't do it anymore
Uncle Bob likes to go fishing, he's even got his own fishing boat
One day he drank three cans of Pepsi, then he threw them in the water
Just to see if they would float...
It's cold and cloudy this morning, might be another rainy day
So I got lazy and used my car, even though the place I went to
Was only a mile away...
Bizzy Bugs
Going to the Zoo
Itsy Bitsy Spider in Spanish and English
In My Garden
Shine a Light with Percussion for the finale... Happy Earth Day, everyone!
Voice My Lost
Lost my voice last night after a couple of fairly strenuous gigs, but it wasn't like I strained it, more like some phlegm got in there and just shut it down. Which is unfortunate, because it's a busy time right now with lots of appearances, and without a voice, it makes it tough. I had to cancel one today, a real nice senior's gig at one of the local places, and it's a gig that was booked 4 months ago. I hated to lose it, but if I had tried to do it, I would have put myself totally out of vocal commission for days. So I let the activities director know that I couldn't sing and if he could find a replacement, then he should. I said that I'd be willing to play the piano and accordion and act like a clown if he needed me to, but singing was out. He found a replacement so it all worked out, I suppose.
Tomorrow is the gig that I'm irreplaceable on, as it's about 80 preschool kids coming in for an Earth Day event at the University. I've done this gig for the past couple of years, and it's been a lot of fun each time. And this year, I'm inviting my friend Spencer to come and roll some video of the performance, which is part of the larger plan of getting my promotional and social media reality more up to date. There is a good possibility that this will be a chance to get some great footage, so here we go. Spencer is 'the guy' as far as I'm concerned, 23 years old, has a good camera and lots of knowledge of the modern technological world which intimidates me greatly.
He shot some footage yesterday at a nice senior's performance I did across town and we met today to look at footage and start producing a 3 minute promotional video that I can use to garner some new gigs. I liked what I saw, a fun-loving, interactive artist who really got the party going for the senior set. But it's more than that; it's very life affirming for folks to sing. Sometimes their memories are going, not all the words are in there, but a lot of them are, and there is a lot of joy in singing the old songs, feeling successful and happy and still going strong. That's what I was seeing in their smiles and laughter, and in my own too... So we chose about 5 or 6 brief sections of songs that Spencer will edit into a little promo piece that he'll put up on Youtube.
After the senior gig, I hustled over to Cozmic Pizza to play a 'free family night' event that was a little chaotic, not totally enjoyable, and I could feel that my voice was going. Uh oh! But I made it through and then went over to the Wednesday night Blues Jam at Quackers. It was very dead, but I hung around and then was delighted to see my friend Joanie walk through the door around 9:30. She is the dream date; we've been friends and dance partners for decades, and the comfort level on the dance floor is 25 years in the making. Joanie and Marv have been married for nearly 40 years, but in their free time, he likes to fish and she likes to dance and they give each other their space to do just that.
It's such a gift to have a friend like that, we're both incredibly grateful for the connection, and I joke that it's like having a girlfriend without any of the negatives. Over the years, many people have assumed that we're a couple because we've been out and about hundreds of times, but nope, just friends and fellow dancers, and what a blessing it continues to be. We both love to improvise and play act and 'get down' on the dance floor, and last night on 4/20, that's exactly what we did.
Then I got to play the last set, as usual, and it was one of the best ever. Since there were very few people in the place, we tried out some stuff without feeling the pressure to keep the dancers on the floor. Byron was on guitar, and he's made some really clear chord charts for tons of songs; last night we did a great version of the jazz standard 'Come Rain or Come Shine' along with 'My Girl' by the Temptations, and it's hard to describe how pleasurable it is to play that stuff with great musicians. We know how to follow one another; all the endings were tight, it's a kind of artistic teamwork that makes me incredibly happy (even without a voice)
Tomorrow is the gig that I'm irreplaceable on, as it's about 80 preschool kids coming in for an Earth Day event at the University. I've done this gig for the past couple of years, and it's been a lot of fun each time. And this year, I'm inviting my friend Spencer to come and roll some video of the performance, which is part of the larger plan of getting my promotional and social media reality more up to date. There is a good possibility that this will be a chance to get some great footage, so here we go. Spencer is 'the guy' as far as I'm concerned, 23 years old, has a good camera and lots of knowledge of the modern technological world which intimidates me greatly.
He shot some footage yesterday at a nice senior's performance I did across town and we met today to look at footage and start producing a 3 minute promotional video that I can use to garner some new gigs. I liked what I saw, a fun-loving, interactive artist who really got the party going for the senior set. But it's more than that; it's very life affirming for folks to sing. Sometimes their memories are going, not all the words are in there, but a lot of them are, and there is a lot of joy in singing the old songs, feeling successful and happy and still going strong. That's what I was seeing in their smiles and laughter, and in my own too... So we chose about 5 or 6 brief sections of songs that Spencer will edit into a little promo piece that he'll put up on Youtube.
After the senior gig, I hustled over to Cozmic Pizza to play a 'free family night' event that was a little chaotic, not totally enjoyable, and I could feel that my voice was going. Uh oh! But I made it through and then went over to the Wednesday night Blues Jam at Quackers. It was very dead, but I hung around and then was delighted to see my friend Joanie walk through the door around 9:30. She is the dream date; we've been friends and dance partners for decades, and the comfort level on the dance floor is 25 years in the making. Joanie and Marv have been married for nearly 40 years, but in their free time, he likes to fish and she likes to dance and they give each other their space to do just that.
It's such a gift to have a friend like that, we're both incredibly grateful for the connection, and I joke that it's like having a girlfriend without any of the negatives. Over the years, many people have assumed that we're a couple because we've been out and about hundreds of times, but nope, just friends and fellow dancers, and what a blessing it continues to be. We both love to improvise and play act and 'get down' on the dance floor, and last night on 4/20, that's exactly what we did.
Then I got to play the last set, as usual, and it was one of the best ever. Since there were very few people in the place, we tried out some stuff without feeling the pressure to keep the dancers on the floor. Byron was on guitar, and he's made some really clear chord charts for tons of songs; last night we did a great version of the jazz standard 'Come Rain or Come Shine' along with 'My Girl' by the Temptations, and it's hard to describe how pleasurable it is to play that stuff with great musicians. We know how to follow one another; all the endings were tight, it's a kind of artistic teamwork that makes me incredibly happy (even without a voice)
Why I write, in a nutshell...
Disaffected, rejected, not completely unexpected
Constricted, conflicted, most likely self-inflicted
Distracted, impacted, but the source has been contacted
Inspect it, reflect it, in time maybe correct it
Constricted, conflicted, most likely self-inflicted
Distracted, impacted, but the source has been contacted
Inspect it, reflect it, in time maybe correct it
Chad Gadya (Life and Death at the Seder)
We celebrated a fabulous Seder tonight, and as often happens, it was deeply meaningful and rich with symbolism and personal drama.
Our host, Doctor H, was three weeks removed from a near death experience in which he was trapped under an overturned drift boat, helplessly wedged underwater, unable to escape and not too far from his demise. It was also 'near-death' in the sense that the owner of the boat, W, actually did die in this mishap, and he was a fishing buddy of the doc, not to mention an expert boater. But not on this day.
There was a third guy in the boat, a friend of the owner, who was an inexperienced boater, and W made the fatal mistake, as it turns out, of giving his buddy the oars and helping him learn about operating a drift boat on the McKenzie River. It was clear that the rookie didn't know what he was doing, but with enough supervision and paying attention, it would be OK (allegedly).
As these things often happen, it was a brief lapse of attention on the part of W, who didn't realize that the boat was drifting toward some submerged logs, and by the time he instructed his friend to 'steer over there', the friend made one inefficient pull on the oars, then missed the water on his next pull, fell backwards into Doctor H, and in an instant they overturned in a hard current, and got pitched out of the boat. The rookie got thrown clear and managed to grab a branch and pull himself onto the shore. Doctor H got slammed by the boat, broke his fibula in 6 places and was trapped for about a minute underwater with no ability to free himself.
As he describes it, he was looking up into the light and first thinking that was the sky, and then wondering if it was that 'tunnel' that you hear about. The boat had him trapped and he thought for an instant of giving up, but fought that impulse and kept struggling. The boat was rocking around in the churning water, and at one point it moved enough for the doc to be pulled out by the current. It was as if God had said, 'Let this one stick around for awhile'. He floated about 20 yards downstream to where he could pull himself on to a little beach. But there was a big rise above him, and with a shattered fibula, he couldn't get any farther, but he was alive. His buddy W drowned under the boat.
It was a very dramatic story, but that's not why it's 'blog-worthy'. That came later, in the singing of Chad Gadya, a traditional song we sing toward the end of the seder. It's one of those songs that starts out small and keeps growing, like the 12 days of Christmas, and we were going one by one around the table, with each reader having to read a longer and longer paragraph (all in one breath). Joanie had mentioned something about how you never know who is going to have to read the longest one, and I naturally thought uh, it would be easy to figure out, just do the math, how many verses? how many people? but I kept it to myself.
And we did a great version of the song, me on guitar, everyone getting into it, having fun, each of us singing a solo paragraph, then all on the Chad Gadya chorus. Wouldn't you know that the final verse belonged to our host, and here's what his lyric was:
Then came the Holy One, Blessed be G-d, And destroyed the Angel of Death
That killed the butcher That slew the ox That drank the water That quenched the fire
That burned the sticks That beat the dog That bit the cat That ate the kid
My father bought for two zuzim Chad gadya (2x).
It's the first time that 'the Holy One' makes an appearance in the song to defeat the Angel of Death etc etc, and that's almost exactly how we were describing his escape from the clutches of death. Doctor H had said that at first he described his ordeal by saying that he had freed himself from the boat, but later he realized that no, he really didn't do that, it just happened, not through his efforts, it was more a God thing. And then he turns out to be the one to sing that verse. I couldn't help but mention the incredible 'coincidence' of the way the song played out. And just now, as I've tried to describe in words what it felt like, I've been at a loss for words, which rarely happens when I sit at the computer to pour out the blog. I rarely struggle with words, but I just took three cracks to come up with the word 'coincidence' in quotes, and that certainly doesn't do the feeling justice. I suppose it's because you can't write about God stuff in the normal parlance of every day life. It was a qualitatively different experience, and it happened under a big fat full moon in the month of April, on the day of liberation.
That's one of the things about the Passover Holiday, and why it's so profound. We are instructed to celebrate the holiday as if we ourselves were experiencing the escape into freedom. It was a great seder, among the very best ever. I'm still buzzing.
I've had this altered passover feeling before, wrote a song about it once nearly twenty years ago, and it's the same feeling now that I tried to capture then...
Is it the pull of the moon is it the rising tide
I got life in the blood tonight
I hear stories in the whistle of the wind
Get ready, we're leaving again
This night, this night, all right
What about this night?
This night, this night
Why is this night so different?
Our host, Doctor H, was three weeks removed from a near death experience in which he was trapped under an overturned drift boat, helplessly wedged underwater, unable to escape and not too far from his demise. It was also 'near-death' in the sense that the owner of the boat, W, actually did die in this mishap, and he was a fishing buddy of the doc, not to mention an expert boater. But not on this day.
There was a third guy in the boat, a friend of the owner, who was an inexperienced boater, and W made the fatal mistake, as it turns out, of giving his buddy the oars and helping him learn about operating a drift boat on the McKenzie River. It was clear that the rookie didn't know what he was doing, but with enough supervision and paying attention, it would be OK (allegedly).
As these things often happen, it was a brief lapse of attention on the part of W, who didn't realize that the boat was drifting toward some submerged logs, and by the time he instructed his friend to 'steer over there', the friend made one inefficient pull on the oars, then missed the water on his next pull, fell backwards into Doctor H, and in an instant they overturned in a hard current, and got pitched out of the boat. The rookie got thrown clear and managed to grab a branch and pull himself onto the shore. Doctor H got slammed by the boat, broke his fibula in 6 places and was trapped for about a minute underwater with no ability to free himself.
As he describes it, he was looking up into the light and first thinking that was the sky, and then wondering if it was that 'tunnel' that you hear about. The boat had him trapped and he thought for an instant of giving up, but fought that impulse and kept struggling. The boat was rocking around in the churning water, and at one point it moved enough for the doc to be pulled out by the current. It was as if God had said, 'Let this one stick around for awhile'. He floated about 20 yards downstream to where he could pull himself on to a little beach. But there was a big rise above him, and with a shattered fibula, he couldn't get any farther, but he was alive. His buddy W drowned under the boat.
It was a very dramatic story, but that's not why it's 'blog-worthy'. That came later, in the singing of Chad Gadya, a traditional song we sing toward the end of the seder. It's one of those songs that starts out small and keeps growing, like the 12 days of Christmas, and we were going one by one around the table, with each reader having to read a longer and longer paragraph (all in one breath). Joanie had mentioned something about how you never know who is going to have to read the longest one, and I naturally thought uh, it would be easy to figure out, just do the math, how many verses? how many people? but I kept it to myself.
And we did a great version of the song, me on guitar, everyone getting into it, having fun, each of us singing a solo paragraph, then all on the Chad Gadya chorus. Wouldn't you know that the final verse belonged to our host, and here's what his lyric was:
Then came the Holy One, Blessed be G-d, And destroyed the Angel of Death
That killed the butcher That slew the ox That drank the water That quenched the fire
That burned the sticks That beat the dog That bit the cat That ate the kid
My father bought for two zuzim Chad gadya (2x).
It's the first time that 'the Holy One' makes an appearance in the song to defeat the Angel of Death etc etc, and that's almost exactly how we were describing his escape from the clutches of death. Doctor H had said that at first he described his ordeal by saying that he had freed himself from the boat, but later he realized that no, he really didn't do that, it just happened, not through his efforts, it was more a God thing. And then he turns out to be the one to sing that verse. I couldn't help but mention the incredible 'coincidence' of the way the song played out. And just now, as I've tried to describe in words what it felt like, I've been at a loss for words, which rarely happens when I sit at the computer to pour out the blog. I rarely struggle with words, but I just took three cracks to come up with the word 'coincidence' in quotes, and that certainly doesn't do the feeling justice. I suppose it's because you can't write about God stuff in the normal parlance of every day life. It was a qualitatively different experience, and it happened under a big fat full moon in the month of April, on the day of liberation.
That's one of the things about the Passover Holiday, and why it's so profound. We are instructed to celebrate the holiday as if we ourselves were experiencing the escape into freedom. It was a great seder, among the very best ever. I'm still buzzing.
I've had this altered passover feeling before, wrote a song about it once nearly twenty years ago, and it's the same feeling now that I tried to capture then...
Is it the pull of the moon is it the rising tide
I got life in the blood tonight
I hear stories in the whistle of the wind
Get ready, we're leaving again
This night, this night, all right
What about this night?
This night, this night
Why is this night so different?
He thinks he's gonna get it, but he's not....
OK this will be one of the rare times when I'll write the title early, rather than halfway through. Why is that, Rich? Because I heard this phrase 'He thinks he's gonna get it, but he's not' in the context of a party when some food fell on the floor and the dog went over, ready to eat it up. Two different people said the same thing, and it struck me as a perfect song lyric, a perfect sing along chorus line.
It didn't hurt that some musicians were playing a minor blues in the next room of the party, something about 'there's nothing like a woman' over top of an E minor bluesy thing. I wasn't too interested in those lyrics.... not my tune, but it didn't take much to start imagining a minor blues tune called 'He thinks he's gonna get it ...(but he's not)' over a similar progression. It's one of those things that comes into being out of real life and hearing things that roll off the tongue... and the funny bone.
It also didn't hurt that I had taken a toke and a little bit of wine and was therefore in that creativity zone that is ever looking for the next thing to write and laugh about, in a good way. It's one of those kind of songs that can almost write itself, as I had ideas for verses two and three within about 10 seconds.
First verse is about a dog thinking he was gonna get some tasty treats off the floor
Second verse is about a dude who acts like a dog, thinking he's gonna get some 'tasty stuff' maybe even on the floor....Third verse is about some of the other ways we start counting our chickens, maybe the guy expecting the bonus or the promotion, not entirely sure there, but it will emerge in the process of writing the lyrics. And quite likely there may be some autobiographical piece in there too. Oh wait a minute there already is... see verse two...
What a great object lesson this evening, as I stopped watching the Blazers playoff game at halftime, and went to a friend's birthday party. There was a big musical gathering there that wasn't my particular scene, too noisy, not enough dynamics or room to move, so I ended up jamming with a few folks in the kitchen, playing baby boomer hits like Dream, Born to Be Wild, So Happy Together, singing in harmony and having fun. After each song, we'd stop and let people pass through on their way outside, as it was a narrow kitchen we were occupying. Big fun when the music is flowing.
I ended up sharing some of my originals later in the evening when the party cleared out, and I also got a very interesting offer from my friend who is about to launch a social networking website. He's been following my blog and is interested in having me be a contributor to the new project. It's an unpaid offer at present, which doesn't matter to me, but the idea of building an audience, getting out there, diving in to the social networking scene, this is exactly what I've been missing, so of course I'm intrigued. I'm ready to collaborate and learn. I feel like I have exhausted this particular chapter of the journey, and I'm ready for the next one.
Everything was coming out funny tonight. At one point this joke emerged from an improv: 'My baby's got big feet. I call her DeeDee' (like the shoe size, get it?) People laughed when they heard it. I think it's 'between-song patter'
Another joke line was for Jeff Foxworthy and his 'You may be a redneck' shtick. Our hosts had made this incredible ham for the party, had cooked it themselves, and I asked how the hell they did it, it was so delicious. Robert said he used a can of Dr Pepper in an oven bag with the ham. Here's the line: "If you think Dr Pepper is a marinade..... you may be a redneck" What the hell, it seemed funny at the time. It's all in the pronunciation, and I'm guessing that if someone got the line to Foxworthy, he'd use it in his act.
The best part of the evening was spending quality time with friends, rather than alone time with a basketball game. Make a mental note of that, richard. It's better to be out there in the real world (such as it is)((he said parenthetically)). Now I have to write that song. It's on the front burner... He thinks he's gonna get it but he's not...
It didn't hurt that some musicians were playing a minor blues in the next room of the party, something about 'there's nothing like a woman' over top of an E minor bluesy thing. I wasn't too interested in those lyrics.... not my tune, but it didn't take much to start imagining a minor blues tune called 'He thinks he's gonna get it ...(but he's not)' over a similar progression. It's one of those things that comes into being out of real life and hearing things that roll off the tongue... and the funny bone.
It also didn't hurt that I had taken a toke and a little bit of wine and was therefore in that creativity zone that is ever looking for the next thing to write and laugh about, in a good way. It's one of those kind of songs that can almost write itself, as I had ideas for verses two and three within about 10 seconds.
First verse is about a dog thinking he was gonna get some tasty treats off the floor
Second verse is about a dude who acts like a dog, thinking he's gonna get some 'tasty stuff' maybe even on the floor....Third verse is about some of the other ways we start counting our chickens, maybe the guy expecting the bonus or the promotion, not entirely sure there, but it will emerge in the process of writing the lyrics. And quite likely there may be some autobiographical piece in there too. Oh wait a minute there already is... see verse two...
What a great object lesson this evening, as I stopped watching the Blazers playoff game at halftime, and went to a friend's birthday party. There was a big musical gathering there that wasn't my particular scene, too noisy, not enough dynamics or room to move, so I ended up jamming with a few folks in the kitchen, playing baby boomer hits like Dream, Born to Be Wild, So Happy Together, singing in harmony and having fun. After each song, we'd stop and let people pass through on their way outside, as it was a narrow kitchen we were occupying. Big fun when the music is flowing.
I ended up sharing some of my originals later in the evening when the party cleared out, and I also got a very interesting offer from my friend who is about to launch a social networking website. He's been following my blog and is interested in having me be a contributor to the new project. It's an unpaid offer at present, which doesn't matter to me, but the idea of building an audience, getting out there, diving in to the social networking scene, this is exactly what I've been missing, so of course I'm intrigued. I'm ready to collaborate and learn. I feel like I have exhausted this particular chapter of the journey, and I'm ready for the next one.
Everything was coming out funny tonight. At one point this joke emerged from an improv: 'My baby's got big feet. I call her DeeDee' (like the shoe size, get it?) People laughed when they heard it. I think it's 'between-song patter'
Another joke line was for Jeff Foxworthy and his 'You may be a redneck' shtick. Our hosts had made this incredible ham for the party, had cooked it themselves, and I asked how the hell they did it, it was so delicious. Robert said he used a can of Dr Pepper in an oven bag with the ham. Here's the line: "If you think Dr Pepper is a marinade..... you may be a redneck" What the hell, it seemed funny at the time. It's all in the pronunciation, and I'm guessing that if someone got the line to Foxworthy, he'd use it in his act.
The best part of the evening was spending quality time with friends, rather than alone time with a basketball game. Make a mental note of that, richard. It's better to be out there in the real world (such as it is)((he said parenthetically)). Now I have to write that song. It's on the front burner... He thinks he's gonna get it but he's not...
If I could make a wonderland....
I took a little break from myself
Couldn't seem to face it again
Tired of the same old song
It's been playing since I don't know when
They say that dissatisfaction is often the catalyst for change and if that's the case, then there must be some change on the horizon, because I had an acute bout of unhappiness a couple of days ago that left me crying on the couch with a sense of helplessness and dismay. Interestingly, M called me at the moment of my most piercing sadness and it gave me to opportunity to blurt out my 'I don't know what to do' truth to someone who really does care. So I'm there crying and feeling lost and being comforted by a voice on the phone from around the world, and I'm both feeling the pain as well as the absurdity of my situation. And by absurdity, I'm referring to the fact that the odds of our relationship surviving the long separation are so slight, given the distance and my track record, yet I'm clinging to her friendship as some kind of lifeline in my hour of need. I'm kind of amused/chagrined that my best option at the moment is a working class woman from Thailand who is calling me on the phone after her shift at the bar. Wow...
Actually that's not entirely accurate as she's had a couple of days off due to the water festival which is going on all over Thailand, so she called me from her apartment. And then again a few hours later after she went to the temple to see the monks and make an offering. In the meantime, I did some kind of unhappy lesson planning for a kids gig that I had in the book for Friday, and it turned into something special fairly beautiful, in that there was a bit of auto-biographical energy that came through.
Friday was a budgetary day off school for the local kids, a sad residue of the fact that the system is broke and one way to address it is to cancel school days. I'm part of a team that offers 'Yea Days' (Youth Escapades in the Arts) at the local chidren's museum when there is a day off from school. Yea Days are the creation of my writer friend Louisa, whose concept is pretty cool. The kids come in, are told a story by a professional story teller and then break into a round robin format in which they have workshops in art, music, writing and science, all based on the story. At the end of the day we reconvene and share some of the work that we did; kids will show their artwork or read some of their writing to one another. It's a wonderful concept, and I've been the main 'music' guy basically since it's inception a decade or so ago.
The theme for yesterday's event was 'Alice in Wonderland', and even though that wasn't the exact story that was told, it was the same concept of entering an alternative world. I had to come up with something that would fit in with that idea. As is normally the case, my inclination is to try and create something new, a new song which would hook the kids yet give them room to contribute and add. I really did want to use it as an opportunity for group song-writing as that was what I had said I would do in my lesson plan.
So I sat at the piano, deep into my own personal sadness and came up with a simple idea about making a wonderland.
If I could make a wonderland
Oh what a world it would be
Plenty of friends to understand
So many things to see...
I wrote it in C, made it quite a simple and lilting chorus that I figured kids would embrace, then wrote a bridge that would make space for their contributions. It felt right, not to mention pertinent, and I presented it as part of a little story about an unhappy child who feels like he doesn't have any friends. He is home alone and writes this thing, hoping to create a happier universe for himself. The kids had done some amazing artwork earlier in the day, and I asked them to share it as part of my session. They talked about their pieces while I took notes. So there were clouds that looked like cats and flying silver wolves, golden skies, swirling rainbows that came out of their imaginations and became part of the song. It was a beautiful experience and every time we came back to the chorus they got stronger and stronger with it. I'm not exactly sure what a 'Gestalt' is, but it had that sense of well rounded, multi-faceted completeness and it felt just great. Both sessions loved the activity as did I. (There were only two sessions because of a light turnout, so we all taught two classes of 12-13 kids)
That wasn't the only thing I did in my hour, but it was the centerpiece and it worked out beautifully. During the sharing time at the end of the day, some of the kids who knew me from before were all snuggly with me and I totally enjoyed the contact and the kid energy. I've definitely been feeling unloved, and I got a lot of love and vibration from the kids, not to mention the fact that I did a great job on the gig, so it was a very positive way to spend an afternoon. And maybe there's a new song that comes out of it as well. The kids really liked it, as did I.
Then last night, after sending in my taxes and going to a Zumba class, I decided to try something new, meet some new people, so I went over to the University, and checked out the weekly ballroom dance event that I've been aware of for decades. I saw that there was a lesson from 7:30 - 8:30 followed by dancing, so I got myself there and took the intermediate Viennese Waltz lesson as they were short a few leads. I could do it fairly well, and it was fun. Of course I was scouting the terrain for any lovely single women, and no one stood out, but it seems like a good scene, and I was glad to have gotten out of my lonely room (as it were) and tried something different. I enjoyed the lesson and danced a few dances afterward before calling it a night at 10pm. I'll go back there again, it's good to meet some different people and situations. And I'm ready to learn some new dance stuff.
Now it's Saturday morning 7am, time to try and knock out the Saturday puzzle before my jazz dance workout. Then I'll come back here and start getting the house together as Mark will be here in a couple of days and I need to tighten things up before his return....
I'm feeling like I made it through a rough stretch and there is light ahead...
Couldn't seem to face it again
Tired of the same old song
It's been playing since I don't know when
They say that dissatisfaction is often the catalyst for change and if that's the case, then there must be some change on the horizon, because I had an acute bout of unhappiness a couple of days ago that left me crying on the couch with a sense of helplessness and dismay. Interestingly, M called me at the moment of my most piercing sadness and it gave me to opportunity to blurt out my 'I don't know what to do' truth to someone who really does care. So I'm there crying and feeling lost and being comforted by a voice on the phone from around the world, and I'm both feeling the pain as well as the absurdity of my situation. And by absurdity, I'm referring to the fact that the odds of our relationship surviving the long separation are so slight, given the distance and my track record, yet I'm clinging to her friendship as some kind of lifeline in my hour of need. I'm kind of amused/chagrined that my best option at the moment is a working class woman from Thailand who is calling me on the phone after her shift at the bar. Wow...
Actually that's not entirely accurate as she's had a couple of days off due to the water festival which is going on all over Thailand, so she called me from her apartment. And then again a few hours later after she went to the temple to see the monks and make an offering. In the meantime, I did some kind of unhappy lesson planning for a kids gig that I had in the book for Friday, and it turned into something special fairly beautiful, in that there was a bit of auto-biographical energy that came through.
Friday was a budgetary day off school for the local kids, a sad residue of the fact that the system is broke and one way to address it is to cancel school days. I'm part of a team that offers 'Yea Days' (Youth Escapades in the Arts) at the local chidren's museum when there is a day off from school. Yea Days are the creation of my writer friend Louisa, whose concept is pretty cool. The kids come in, are told a story by a professional story teller and then break into a round robin format in which they have workshops in art, music, writing and science, all based on the story. At the end of the day we reconvene and share some of the work that we did; kids will show their artwork or read some of their writing to one another. It's a wonderful concept, and I've been the main 'music' guy basically since it's inception a decade or so ago.
The theme for yesterday's event was 'Alice in Wonderland', and even though that wasn't the exact story that was told, it was the same concept of entering an alternative world. I had to come up with something that would fit in with that idea. As is normally the case, my inclination is to try and create something new, a new song which would hook the kids yet give them room to contribute and add. I really did want to use it as an opportunity for group song-writing as that was what I had said I would do in my lesson plan.
So I sat at the piano, deep into my own personal sadness and came up with a simple idea about making a wonderland.
If I could make a wonderland
Oh what a world it would be
Plenty of friends to understand
So many things to see...
I wrote it in C, made it quite a simple and lilting chorus that I figured kids would embrace, then wrote a bridge that would make space for their contributions. It felt right, not to mention pertinent, and I presented it as part of a little story about an unhappy child who feels like he doesn't have any friends. He is home alone and writes this thing, hoping to create a happier universe for himself. The kids had done some amazing artwork earlier in the day, and I asked them to share it as part of my session. They talked about their pieces while I took notes. So there were clouds that looked like cats and flying silver wolves, golden skies, swirling rainbows that came out of their imaginations and became part of the song. It was a beautiful experience and every time we came back to the chorus they got stronger and stronger with it. I'm not exactly sure what a 'Gestalt' is, but it had that sense of well rounded, multi-faceted completeness and it felt just great. Both sessions loved the activity as did I. (There were only two sessions because of a light turnout, so we all taught two classes of 12-13 kids)
That wasn't the only thing I did in my hour, but it was the centerpiece and it worked out beautifully. During the sharing time at the end of the day, some of the kids who knew me from before were all snuggly with me and I totally enjoyed the contact and the kid energy. I've definitely been feeling unloved, and I got a lot of love and vibration from the kids, not to mention the fact that I did a great job on the gig, so it was a very positive way to spend an afternoon. And maybe there's a new song that comes out of it as well. The kids really liked it, as did I.
Then last night, after sending in my taxes and going to a Zumba class, I decided to try something new, meet some new people, so I went over to the University, and checked out the weekly ballroom dance event that I've been aware of for decades. I saw that there was a lesson from 7:30 - 8:30 followed by dancing, so I got myself there and took the intermediate Viennese Waltz lesson as they were short a few leads. I could do it fairly well, and it was fun. Of course I was scouting the terrain for any lovely single women, and no one stood out, but it seems like a good scene, and I was glad to have gotten out of my lonely room (as it were) and tried something different. I enjoyed the lesson and danced a few dances afterward before calling it a night at 10pm. I'll go back there again, it's good to meet some different people and situations. And I'm ready to learn some new dance stuff.
Now it's Saturday morning 7am, time to try and knock out the Saturday puzzle before my jazz dance workout. Then I'll come back here and start getting the house together as Mark will be here in a couple of days and I need to tighten things up before his return....
I'm feeling like I made it through a rough stretch and there is light ahead...
Perspective
I got a dose of 'the man with no shoes was feeling sorry for himself... until he saw the man with no feet' last night. I had spent the day kind of feeling sorry for myself, down on myself, sick of my ruts, when I went over for my weekly trip to the Blues Jam. And there I got the message that hey dude, chill out, don't you realize how lucky you are? I got it in back-to-back installments, the first from Candyce, who had just spent the past two days with a dying woman. Candyce is a hospice volunteer and she is spending time with someone whose candle is nearly extinguished.
So she was in a bit of an altered state and was incredibly aware of the gift of health and vibrancy and breathing and strength. And I'm like, oh yeah, I remember. Soon after our conversation, I talked with a new friend Rico, from Argentina, who commutes between Minnesota and Oregon. He was in love with the Oregon winter (the one that we all whine about) because compared to winter in Minnesota, this is heaven. Same story, appreciate what you have because it could be so much worse. Thank you, teachers, I got it.
So she was in a bit of an altered state and was incredibly aware of the gift of health and vibrancy and breathing and strength. And I'm like, oh yeah, I remember. Soon after our conversation, I talked with a new friend Rico, from Argentina, who commutes between Minnesota and Oregon. He was in love with the Oregon winter (the one that we all whine about) because compared to winter in Minnesota, this is heaven. Same story, appreciate what you have because it could be so much worse. Thank you, teachers, I got it.
Seriously bleary, really, Dr Leary. I'm waking up this morning with a headache which I will immediately 'treat' with three ibuprofen and a cup of delicious iced coffee. And then rather than putter around before dance class (at 8:30), I'll sit here at the computer and open up a vein, see if there is something waiting to emerge. And the subtext of whatever I write is that by the time I get up and showered and out the door, I'll bet that my head will feel better. So there is some kind of calculus involving meandering thoughts, molecules of ibuprofen in an iced coffee solution and 'radons' of headachiness. I wonder if there is a word for degrees of headache. No I won't try and Google that... I know a blind alley when I stumble into one... But I'll have in the back of my mind the idea of headache giving way into the new day.
I had a really good time making music last night at a potluck for the Temple Beth Israel preschool. My old friend Carole Diller is the director of the school and we go back to 1984 when she arrived in town. I had been here for about a year at that point, and she said last night that the first time she set foot in the synagogue, there was this guy playing piano, and she thought, 'hmm, this feels pretty cool'. Of course that 'guy' was supposed to be mopping the floor or some other task at the time, as he was the janitor for a brief period, but I guess 'he' preferred to jam on the piano rather than sweep up. (but I digress.... and I digressed). Carol took over the preschool directorship that year and immediately boosted into a prominent position in the community, and she's been running it pretty much ever since, now in the new building.
Last night she brought me in to do a 'family singalong' as part of the potluck, so that was the plan. But of course, little kids have a very short attention span for any one activity, so I would have to mix it up, keep it moving, get them active, use some tricks etc in order to hold their attention. And I gave them something I'm pretty proud of, even if it only earned me $50. I suppose it's yet another in the long line of examples in which money and satisfaction don't necessarily coexist on the same graph. (perhaps that's the 'Rich Glauber' calculus) he said with a slightly rueful smile.
I got some very nice compliments after the performance, but the one that sticks came from one of the young preschool teachers who said, 'I can't believe how they will do every thing you say. If I were to try and get them to stop playing at the count of 4, I know that lots of them wouldn't do it, or wouldn't hear me' She was talking about crowd control, and maybe I'll write a little bit about that, as it is a crucial aspect of making a show work out well.
Crowd control sounds vaguely military and hard handed, and there is some aspect of that at work, but only when necessary. Far more important is logistics and setting the scene for success. I emailed Carole the day of the show to find out what she was looking for, and where was the event going to take place. Was it going to be in the preschool or the sanctuary or the social hall? I need to know these things so I can visualize what I need to do. She told me that she billed my part as a family sing-along, and that it was going to be in the social hall. (the cavernous and cold social hall, by the way). She would ask the synagogue to set up the PA system for me if I needed to use it.
My original plan was to go to a Zumba class and leave just a little bit before the end to rush over to the synagogue and do the gig, but I decided I didn't want to do that, be all sweaty and rushed. This decision was made a little easier when my friend Jack invited me for a round of disc golf in the afternoon, so I felt like my body got what it needed as far as exercise, and I didn't have to dance. That gave me more time to prepare, and it also enabled me to go and hang out with the families, get to know them a bit, get some suggestions for songs that they love etc. I've been mostly absent from the synagogue over the past couple of years, and there is always a new crew of kids coming up through the ranks. So it was nice to visit, learn some names and make some connections.
I had what I thought was a great idea, so I enlisted seven or eight kids to help me by rolling the spinet piano out of the sanctuary and into place in the social hall. Kids are really wanting to have a role, and of course they were happy to help and it was really cute to see them moving the piano, working together, carrying the bench etc. I figured that it would give them some ownership of the music, and that when, during the show, I asked everyone to come stand around the piano, they would be more inclined to do so. I had it in my head to share the idea that before video games and TV, people used to gather around the piano and sing together. It worked beautifully.
The PA was set up on the west side of the building, and I've done some events from over there and it always felt wrong. (Funky Shui, as I like to call it, instead of feng shui). I looked around and decided that the best place to do this event would be on the east side, in a little corner made by the cabinet that holds the prayer books. Carole had brought down a nice carpet for the kids to play legos on, so I asked my piano movers to bring the carpet into place near that little nook. We set up a cozy little spot and I invited everyone to come on over, kids on the floor, parents on chairs around the outside of the carpet. It was comfortable, and it was a venue that could work for this kind of gig. And now for the military touch...
One of the kids, Ari (who I've known for ever) was still finishing his ice cream so he wanted to sit in a chair. 'I'm a grown-up' he said. (he's 8 years old, the older brother of Joseph and Shira who go to the preschool). Another of the older boys decided he wanted to be in a chair also. I said all kids on the floor, and I was on the floor too. I said, Ari, finish your ice cream and sit down here with us, and my tone was such that he knew that I meant it, and that I wasn't going to start the show until we were all ready. He and the other guy quickly complied and the moment passed by without much notice, but to me, it was absolutely crucial to establish that little bit of authority right at the beginning. If I had let the older kids sit in chairs, then some of the other kids would want to do the same thing and it just wouldn't work as well. I have some ego and power tripping energy around this little interaction, and I've been around long enough to know that 'this is the work, this is the hard part', because once I get people in place for an event, I know that I can keep it going great. The hard part is getting the stage set properly.
It's no different than trying to have a 'moment' at a party. Let's say there is a gathering of friends to honor someone or to celebrate someone's event. When adults get together, they slip into conversational mode, chatter chatter, blah blah, the music is on in the background and everything is normal. But to change from that scene into the focused scene is often difficult. Some people are threatened by having to be quiet and in a larger group. Or maybe they're not threatened, but they want to keep blabbing and don't want to give up their autonomy. I've always felt that it was my job to create the group moment. It was my job to wrangle the unwilling into a different mind-set, to deal with the resistance and use my will to set the scene. To channel my 'inner Mussolini' and make the trains run on time?
So that little moment in which I insisted that the boys sit on the floor with everyone else feels important to me. Once they're on board and we're all together, than good things will ensue. Which they did. I feel like if I had let them do what they wanted instead of what I asked, it just wouldn't have been as positive an experience. Ditto for the parents coming to join us as one group. People have a tendency to want to do their own thing, sit back and shmooze while the kids are being 'entertained', and I try to encourage them in the nicest way to join us, be part of it, it's good for the kids etc. It's 'the work'. And everyone was on board, gracias a dios.
It was a great 40 minutes of music and community. I got to break out some of the Jewish material that I don't often do. I started with 'Here we go cheerio' which is a tune that I borrowed and then wrote a bunch of comedy lyrics for about a cat and dog going into the synagogue. Sample lyric... 'outside the door, they tried to press the buzzer, That's no doorbell, That's the mezuzah! The cat tried to pray but she didn't know how, when the people sang 'shema', she said, 'meow'.
I sang 'You'll sing a song' by Ella Jenkins, and I've been using that one for decades now to open up a little kid show. Great song and I get different voices going from the kids and a little movement too. We did '5 Little Martians', which is something I wrote as a pre-literacy rhyme with body motions. I told the story of Ezzie the Klutz about the kid who is clumsy but ends up teaching the community about how to really celebrate in the synagogue. We sang around the piano and that was awesome. We did 'Side By Side' and 'You are my sunshine', and it ended with a big marching version of McNamara's Band, and yeah, the kids stopped playing when I said the number 4. They also skipped around the social hall with instruments and returned for the big finale. It was just great! We could have done more, they were totally with me, but it was a school night, and sometimes less is more so that was that. And my headache is gone.... Time to shower and dance...
I had a really good time making music last night at a potluck for the Temple Beth Israel preschool. My old friend Carole Diller is the director of the school and we go back to 1984 when she arrived in town. I had been here for about a year at that point, and she said last night that the first time she set foot in the synagogue, there was this guy playing piano, and she thought, 'hmm, this feels pretty cool'. Of course that 'guy' was supposed to be mopping the floor or some other task at the time, as he was the janitor for a brief period, but I guess 'he' preferred to jam on the piano rather than sweep up. (but I digress.... and I digressed). Carol took over the preschool directorship that year and immediately boosted into a prominent position in the community, and she's been running it pretty much ever since, now in the new building.
Last night she brought me in to do a 'family singalong' as part of the potluck, so that was the plan. But of course, little kids have a very short attention span for any one activity, so I would have to mix it up, keep it moving, get them active, use some tricks etc in order to hold their attention. And I gave them something I'm pretty proud of, even if it only earned me $50. I suppose it's yet another in the long line of examples in which money and satisfaction don't necessarily coexist on the same graph. (perhaps that's the 'Rich Glauber' calculus) he said with a slightly rueful smile.
I got some very nice compliments after the performance, but the one that sticks came from one of the young preschool teachers who said, 'I can't believe how they will do every thing you say. If I were to try and get them to stop playing at the count of 4, I know that lots of them wouldn't do it, or wouldn't hear me' She was talking about crowd control, and maybe I'll write a little bit about that, as it is a crucial aspect of making a show work out well.
Crowd control sounds vaguely military and hard handed, and there is some aspect of that at work, but only when necessary. Far more important is logistics and setting the scene for success. I emailed Carole the day of the show to find out what she was looking for, and where was the event going to take place. Was it going to be in the preschool or the sanctuary or the social hall? I need to know these things so I can visualize what I need to do. She told me that she billed my part as a family sing-along, and that it was going to be in the social hall. (the cavernous and cold social hall, by the way). She would ask the synagogue to set up the PA system for me if I needed to use it.
My original plan was to go to a Zumba class and leave just a little bit before the end to rush over to the synagogue and do the gig, but I decided I didn't want to do that, be all sweaty and rushed. This decision was made a little easier when my friend Jack invited me for a round of disc golf in the afternoon, so I felt like my body got what it needed as far as exercise, and I didn't have to dance. That gave me more time to prepare, and it also enabled me to go and hang out with the families, get to know them a bit, get some suggestions for songs that they love etc. I've been mostly absent from the synagogue over the past couple of years, and there is always a new crew of kids coming up through the ranks. So it was nice to visit, learn some names and make some connections.
I had what I thought was a great idea, so I enlisted seven or eight kids to help me by rolling the spinet piano out of the sanctuary and into place in the social hall. Kids are really wanting to have a role, and of course they were happy to help and it was really cute to see them moving the piano, working together, carrying the bench etc. I figured that it would give them some ownership of the music, and that when, during the show, I asked everyone to come stand around the piano, they would be more inclined to do so. I had it in my head to share the idea that before video games and TV, people used to gather around the piano and sing together. It worked beautifully.
The PA was set up on the west side of the building, and I've done some events from over there and it always felt wrong. (Funky Shui, as I like to call it, instead of feng shui). I looked around and decided that the best place to do this event would be on the east side, in a little corner made by the cabinet that holds the prayer books. Carole had brought down a nice carpet for the kids to play legos on, so I asked my piano movers to bring the carpet into place near that little nook. We set up a cozy little spot and I invited everyone to come on over, kids on the floor, parents on chairs around the outside of the carpet. It was comfortable, and it was a venue that could work for this kind of gig. And now for the military touch...
One of the kids, Ari (who I've known for ever) was still finishing his ice cream so he wanted to sit in a chair. 'I'm a grown-up' he said. (he's 8 years old, the older brother of Joseph and Shira who go to the preschool). Another of the older boys decided he wanted to be in a chair also. I said all kids on the floor, and I was on the floor too. I said, Ari, finish your ice cream and sit down here with us, and my tone was such that he knew that I meant it, and that I wasn't going to start the show until we were all ready. He and the other guy quickly complied and the moment passed by without much notice, but to me, it was absolutely crucial to establish that little bit of authority right at the beginning. If I had let the older kids sit in chairs, then some of the other kids would want to do the same thing and it just wouldn't work as well. I have some ego and power tripping energy around this little interaction, and I've been around long enough to know that 'this is the work, this is the hard part', because once I get people in place for an event, I know that I can keep it going great. The hard part is getting the stage set properly.
It's no different than trying to have a 'moment' at a party. Let's say there is a gathering of friends to honor someone or to celebrate someone's event. When adults get together, they slip into conversational mode, chatter chatter, blah blah, the music is on in the background and everything is normal. But to change from that scene into the focused scene is often difficult. Some people are threatened by having to be quiet and in a larger group. Or maybe they're not threatened, but they want to keep blabbing and don't want to give up their autonomy. I've always felt that it was my job to create the group moment. It was my job to wrangle the unwilling into a different mind-set, to deal with the resistance and use my will to set the scene. To channel my 'inner Mussolini' and make the trains run on time?
So that little moment in which I insisted that the boys sit on the floor with everyone else feels important to me. Once they're on board and we're all together, than good things will ensue. Which they did. I feel like if I had let them do what they wanted instead of what I asked, it just wouldn't have been as positive an experience. Ditto for the parents coming to join us as one group. People have a tendency to want to do their own thing, sit back and shmooze while the kids are being 'entertained', and I try to encourage them in the nicest way to join us, be part of it, it's good for the kids etc. It's 'the work'. And everyone was on board, gracias a dios.
It was a great 40 minutes of music and community. I got to break out some of the Jewish material that I don't often do. I started with 'Here we go cheerio' which is a tune that I borrowed and then wrote a bunch of comedy lyrics for about a cat and dog going into the synagogue. Sample lyric... 'outside the door, they tried to press the buzzer, That's no doorbell, That's the mezuzah! The cat tried to pray but she didn't know how, when the people sang 'shema', she said, 'meow'.
I sang 'You'll sing a song' by Ella Jenkins, and I've been using that one for decades now to open up a little kid show. Great song and I get different voices going from the kids and a little movement too. We did '5 Little Martians', which is something I wrote as a pre-literacy rhyme with body motions. I told the story of Ezzie the Klutz about the kid who is clumsy but ends up teaching the community about how to really celebrate in the synagogue. We sang around the piano and that was awesome. We did 'Side By Side' and 'You are my sunshine', and it ended with a big marching version of McNamara's Band, and yeah, the kids stopped playing when I said the number 4. They also skipped around the social hall with instruments and returned for the big finale. It was just great! We could have done more, they were totally with me, but it was a school night, and sometimes less is more so that was that. And my headache is gone.... Time to shower and dance...
Song and Dance Man
I just spent the past hour or so working on some piano stuff, actually practicing, although like most things in my life, it's not the most consistent or strategic form of practice. My style is to play music, try to inspire myself, not with a highly disciplined approach (that would certainly yield better results, if one were to operate that way), but I'm seemingly oriented toward a more 'flit around' approach. (insert joke here).
And at the moment, I'm not really interested in trying to change that, because that would imply that there's something wrong with me. Of course, there is plenty wrong with me, but there's plenty right also, so I feel like hanging out there for awhile. And one of the things that is clearly right is this ability to make music come alive in the moment, like I've just been doing for the past hour.
It's kind of a miracle to tap into that force, to string some chords and melodies together, add a perky rhythm, and it's party time. There's a deep mystery underneath the happy sounds, and I'm blessed to be able to visit that place pretty much whenever I want to. One of the nicest compliments I ever received was from a woman who I met on a camping trip in the Washington Cascades. The group was partying hard (once the kids went to sleep) and we were making hours of music around the campfire, making up songs, cracking each other up, having a ball. She said to me, 'the chemistry changes when you play music'. She said it in comparison to when most people pick up a guitar and play a singalong. We know that scene, sometimes it's fun, sometimes not, just a guy and a guitar.
When I play, it's more of an incantation then a song. I do it for some deeper reason than just singing a song start to finish. I think of it as an invitation, maybe an initiation, because we are entering into sacred time and space every time we strap on. That's how I feel about it. And it's not about the 'beauty of the music' or the quality of the performance. That's for other people to pursue. I'm into the moment, into the .... what's that word that I can't think of? It's like when the Catholics line up to eat the wafer. It's not a consecration, but it's a word like that, I think it starts with a C.
We have the potential for the deepest kind of sharing when we enter into the music place. That's why I often will stop a song in the middle, have people fill in the missing words, invite their voice into the moment, so that suddenly, music isn't just another thing that we do for a few minutes, it's something that's totally live and unpredictable and possibly magical. That possibility is always present, like it is everywhere in life if we are attuned. Me, I get attuned in a musical way, that's my metier and I rhymed it that way. OK?
I'm still trying to think of that word, and I'm getting closer. It's the same word that is the agreement between Abraham and God. It's the same word as the agreement between Jews and the creator to circumcise their little boys at the age of 8 days because it represents that 'C word' between them. Do I have to Google it? No, I'll get it, and in the meantime I'll get some mental exercise of trying to root it out of my brain. (Hey, it's Monday and I don't do the Monday crossword, so I'll get the same stimulation this way). It's more than a collaboration.... it's a C C C what the fuck is it? (he said jovially) It's not a congress... OK let's define it, maybe that's more important than the word itself (he said, hopefully, trying not to think about if this is the first hint that he might be slipping into dementia because he can't think of a word)
I'm talking about a process of giving between people, in which the magic only happens when everyone contributes. It's one of those situations where the whole is more than the sum of the parts. When the music is really on, when the chemistry is really altered is when there is an unspoken sense of wonderment and magic and 'the moment'. I always want to come back to that concept. It's that indescribable, holy place outside of time and space. It's the 'moment'. That's where I have my closest 'God' experiences.
And I couldn't stand not knowing the word anymore, so I Googled the term Brit Mila which is the Hebrew expression for circumcision. And the word is 'Covenant'. Let's look that one up, senor Google. Aside from the legalistic meanings about a solemn agreement between two parties to do such and such, there is this more prosaic meaning that is the fifth one down the list:
(Biblical) God's promise to humanity after the Flood, symbolized by the rainbow.
I like the rainbow in there, as that feels akin to what I'm attempting to describe. When I do music, the intention is to make that sonic rainbow, but it only happens when there is some kind of tacit agreement that we are gonna go for it, not be cynical, not know all the answers, but be open to the magic. That's my invitation when I play, and I wouldn't have the temerity to call myself a shaman, I don't know enough about that (and I'd probably blow the training), but I do have some of that energy inside me that comes out in the musical moment.
OK blah blah blah, enough of that chatter. The real thing I want to get to is a new song that I've been thinking about for a few days, and got seriously started on today. It's called 'Song and Dance Man' and it's yet another of the old time swinging Americana grooves that I adore. I realized a few days ago that what I've become is a 'song and dance man', for good or for ill. I had that flash after spending Saturday night dancing with my friend Joanie down at the Vets Club. We've been doing it (dancing) for decades now, and are very comfortable with one another. She is such a tremendous friend, a great dancer and we have a ton of fun on the dance floor. And I danced a dance with a few other women as well, because at this point in my life, I know how to partner dance and it's great to be able to lead someone on the floor who doesn't really know how to dance, is very nervous about it, but she can have a good time because I know how to make her comfortable, let her feel the music and just have fun with it.
And as I was thinking about it, I realized that yeah, I've got a lot of hours into dancing, both in dance class and in the clubs. I'm no great dancer by any means, but I'm fun to dance with, and that's enough for me. It's a social skill like being a good conversationalist (check), and it gave me the thought that Holy Crap, the best definition for me is 'Song and Dance Man' with all that the term implies. I'm not entirely sure what all is implied in that old expression, but I have a sense of it, especially since I am it. A guy who's great at a party, maybe not so good at say, a mortgage. But I'm going to embrace it and write that song and celebrate the moments. And I've got some great energy coursing through right about now, perhaps the product of playing and writing this morning, maybe just being aligned with who I am. 'Song and Dance Man' (chuckle)
And at the moment, I'm not really interested in trying to change that, because that would imply that there's something wrong with me. Of course, there is plenty wrong with me, but there's plenty right also, so I feel like hanging out there for awhile. And one of the things that is clearly right is this ability to make music come alive in the moment, like I've just been doing for the past hour.
It's kind of a miracle to tap into that force, to string some chords and melodies together, add a perky rhythm, and it's party time. There's a deep mystery underneath the happy sounds, and I'm blessed to be able to visit that place pretty much whenever I want to. One of the nicest compliments I ever received was from a woman who I met on a camping trip in the Washington Cascades. The group was partying hard (once the kids went to sleep) and we were making hours of music around the campfire, making up songs, cracking each other up, having a ball. She said to me, 'the chemistry changes when you play music'. She said it in comparison to when most people pick up a guitar and play a singalong. We know that scene, sometimes it's fun, sometimes not, just a guy and a guitar.
When I play, it's more of an incantation then a song. I do it for some deeper reason than just singing a song start to finish. I think of it as an invitation, maybe an initiation, because we are entering into sacred time and space every time we strap on. That's how I feel about it. And it's not about the 'beauty of the music' or the quality of the performance. That's for other people to pursue. I'm into the moment, into the .... what's that word that I can't think of? It's like when the Catholics line up to eat the wafer. It's not a consecration, but it's a word like that, I think it starts with a C.
We have the potential for the deepest kind of sharing when we enter into the music place. That's why I often will stop a song in the middle, have people fill in the missing words, invite their voice into the moment, so that suddenly, music isn't just another thing that we do for a few minutes, it's something that's totally live and unpredictable and possibly magical. That possibility is always present, like it is everywhere in life if we are attuned. Me, I get attuned in a musical way, that's my metier and I rhymed it that way. OK?
I'm still trying to think of that word, and I'm getting closer. It's the same word that is the agreement between Abraham and God. It's the same word as the agreement between Jews and the creator to circumcise their little boys at the age of 8 days because it represents that 'C word' between them. Do I have to Google it? No, I'll get it, and in the meantime I'll get some mental exercise of trying to root it out of my brain. (Hey, it's Monday and I don't do the Monday crossword, so I'll get the same stimulation this way). It's more than a collaboration.... it's a C C C what the fuck is it? (he said jovially) It's not a congress... OK let's define it, maybe that's more important than the word itself (he said, hopefully, trying not to think about if this is the first hint that he might be slipping into dementia because he can't think of a word)
I'm talking about a process of giving between people, in which the magic only happens when everyone contributes. It's one of those situations where the whole is more than the sum of the parts. When the music is really on, when the chemistry is really altered is when there is an unspoken sense of wonderment and magic and 'the moment'. I always want to come back to that concept. It's that indescribable, holy place outside of time and space. It's the 'moment'. That's where I have my closest 'God' experiences.
And I couldn't stand not knowing the word anymore, so I Googled the term Brit Mila which is the Hebrew expression for circumcision. And the word is 'Covenant'. Let's look that one up, senor Google. Aside from the legalistic meanings about a solemn agreement between two parties to do such and such, there is this more prosaic meaning that is the fifth one down the list:
(Biblical) God's promise to humanity after the Flood, symbolized by the rainbow.
I like the rainbow in there, as that feels akin to what I'm attempting to describe. When I do music, the intention is to make that sonic rainbow, but it only happens when there is some kind of tacit agreement that we are gonna go for it, not be cynical, not know all the answers, but be open to the magic. That's my invitation when I play, and I wouldn't have the temerity to call myself a shaman, I don't know enough about that (and I'd probably blow the training), but I do have some of that energy inside me that comes out in the musical moment.
OK blah blah blah, enough of that chatter. The real thing I want to get to is a new song that I've been thinking about for a few days, and got seriously started on today. It's called 'Song and Dance Man' and it's yet another of the old time swinging Americana grooves that I adore. I realized a few days ago that what I've become is a 'song and dance man', for good or for ill. I had that flash after spending Saturday night dancing with my friend Joanie down at the Vets Club. We've been doing it (dancing) for decades now, and are very comfortable with one another. She is such a tremendous friend, a great dancer and we have a ton of fun on the dance floor. And I danced a dance with a few other women as well, because at this point in my life, I know how to partner dance and it's great to be able to lead someone on the floor who doesn't really know how to dance, is very nervous about it, but she can have a good time because I know how to make her comfortable, let her feel the music and just have fun with it.
And as I was thinking about it, I realized that yeah, I've got a lot of hours into dancing, both in dance class and in the clubs. I'm no great dancer by any means, but I'm fun to dance with, and that's enough for me. It's a social skill like being a good conversationalist (check), and it gave me the thought that Holy Crap, the best definition for me is 'Song and Dance Man' with all that the term implies. I'm not entirely sure what all is implied in that old expression, but I have a sense of it, especially since I am it. A guy who's great at a party, maybe not so good at say, a mortgage. But I'm going to embrace it and write that song and celebrate the moments. And I've got some great energy coursing through right about now, perhaps the product of playing and writing this morning, maybe just being aligned with who I am. 'Song and Dance Man' (chuckle)
Howl
If for no other reason than I said I would, I guess I could, and I probably should.
There's a mouthful of innuendo, and it sums up the conflicted and nuanced nature of the artist as a not so young man. I'm not liking myself too much at the moment and I'm loathe to get into why that is so. Fuck all, haven't I been doing that for months now? (he said evasively)
I wish I had a quick fix, a better mix, some new tricks
I think I just got triggered now by accepting a gig which I don't particularly want to do, as it will be an unfocused gathering of too many little kids at some spring carnival in May. But the fucked up thing is not the gig itself, but the terrible fact that I should be delighted to do gigs like this and I would be if..... if.....
If I had the perfect CD to sell after the gig.... the one that has all the songs that they just heard and then mommy can spend $10 and take it home and play it for the little dude at nap time, and Richie can walk away from the gig some $300 richer instead of $75 richer, which is what I'm charging for the half hour.
OK, Glauber, the gig is 6 weeks away. You've already made a start on that CD a couple of years ago at Rob's studio, and if he can pull it up, it wouldn't take all that much to get it done. Get a little artwork together and voila, 'product' that people want. Then you could sell them at your little kid gigs and birthday parties and Family Music Time etc, and all those things would become profitable instead of a hassle. Um, one question, why are you so stupid? (he said smartly). What have you been waiting for?
This is kind of funny because solutions don't usually come when I'm pissed off at myself, but this is one time where it did come in that angry state. And the reason is because I continue to force myself to sit at the computer every day and try to express what is going on inside, even if I'm pissed off and frustrated, even if I have nothing to say, even if there's something in the way.
I do have a lot of pissed off energy coursing through tonight, might be one of those nights to bundle up and take the Dostoevsky walk through the dark town, put on my dark clothes, get out in the mist and be pissed, burn off some energy, hope that it feels better tomorrow. Howl at the moon Aaaaawooooooo
There's a mouthful of innuendo, and it sums up the conflicted and nuanced nature of the artist as a not so young man. I'm not liking myself too much at the moment and I'm loathe to get into why that is so. Fuck all, haven't I been doing that for months now? (he said evasively)
I wish I had a quick fix, a better mix, some new tricks
I think I just got triggered now by accepting a gig which I don't particularly want to do, as it will be an unfocused gathering of too many little kids at some spring carnival in May. But the fucked up thing is not the gig itself, but the terrible fact that I should be delighted to do gigs like this and I would be if..... if.....
If I had the perfect CD to sell after the gig.... the one that has all the songs that they just heard and then mommy can spend $10 and take it home and play it for the little dude at nap time, and Richie can walk away from the gig some $300 richer instead of $75 richer, which is what I'm charging for the half hour.
OK, Glauber, the gig is 6 weeks away. You've already made a start on that CD a couple of years ago at Rob's studio, and if he can pull it up, it wouldn't take all that much to get it done. Get a little artwork together and voila, 'product' that people want. Then you could sell them at your little kid gigs and birthday parties and Family Music Time etc, and all those things would become profitable instead of a hassle. Um, one question, why are you so stupid? (he said smartly). What have you been waiting for?
This is kind of funny because solutions don't usually come when I'm pissed off at myself, but this is one time where it did come in that angry state. And the reason is because I continue to force myself to sit at the computer every day and try to express what is going on inside, even if I'm pissed off and frustrated, even if I have nothing to say, even if there's something in the way.
I do have a lot of pissed off energy coursing through tonight, might be one of those nights to bundle up and take the Dostoevsky walk through the dark town, put on my dark clothes, get out in the mist and be pissed, burn off some energy, hope that it feels better tomorrow. Howl at the moon Aaaaawooooooo
Old time music...
Saturday morning, 10:45, with no impulse to write save the impulse to stay with the program and keep to that particular discipline which has been serving me well. I'm also disciplined these days in getting my workouts in, riding the bike, getting to dance class etc. I don't have a lot of work this week, but at least I'm keeping active in body and mind. So no complaints.
Yesterday I got an audition, based on my phone calls of the day before, to go and play some music at a home for memory patients that's on the west side of town. I had thought I was just going to meet the director at 2pm, but when I got there, I saw that a whole crowd was gathered and that I was going to do a freebie. That's fine, no big deal, so off I went.
Interestingly, I was a tad late, two minutes maybe, due to hitting every traffic light and getting behind some terrible drivers, and I was cursing and impatient most of the way there. It's one of those things that happen from time to time, I'm running late, I shouldn't be driving anyway, as I could have put my guitar on my back and used the bike, but Tiger Woods was rolling at the Masters, and I wanted to see him play one more hole. (Yep, it's hard to not watch the Masters). So there I am running late, pissed off at the world, even making a wrong turn, so by the time I arrived at 2:02pm, I was in a lousy mood. And as I walked up to the house, the thought occurred to me, 'Can I go ahead and play music as if nothing had happened and I were in a great mood?' I figured that the answer would be 'yes', and sure enough, that's what happened.
It's fascinating how that happens, and it's certainly not the first time. I can remember a number of occasions when I was working with kids and I just did not have the energy. 'How can I get out of this?' I would think to myself. Then the class shows up, and I'm immediately transported into another dimension and my own little mind trips melt away immediately, as if they were a figment of my imagination (which they were, of course). Yesterday was one more example of that phenomenon.
I walked in, met the director, Arliss, and she brought me to the parlor, in which about twenty folks were waiting for the music to start. There was a spinet piano at one end of the room, bright sound, pretty much in tune, and I had my guitar along as well. The group was a mix of old timers and younger folks, who all had some kind of brain thing going that required them to be living in this nice lock up. I did my thing, interacted well, got some laughs, took requests, and of course it was successful. There were a bunch of singers in this group, so it was a very fun experience to make the music come alive.
Arliss has this philosophy that the residents themselves get to vote on who they want to have come and entertain, and I hadn't heard that before, though it makes total sense. They liked country music, so I'll need to learn some more Eddie Arnold and classic stuff like that. They enjoyed having me there, and now they'll be in my book for a gig per month, first Thursday of the month at 2pm. It's only $50, but if I were to have twenty of them per month, that's a thousand bucks per month of fun public service in the early afternoons. I enjoy each and every one of those old-timer gigs, and it's good for both my repertoire and my music practice. So I will keep adding them to the book.
Am I sick of working with kids? Not exactly, but I definitely feel the movement toward the senior set. It's like a get to do a history lesson every time out; I get to play Gershwin and Berlin and Porter and country and western songs for people who grew up on that music (like I did). It's just better stuff to play, traveling around the circle of fifths, getting jazzy and bluesy. And often, when people are losing their memory, the old songs are the last things to go, so there is a lot of satisfaction and success that they can feel when they remember the words and the good times. It's all positive on those gigs, so it's no wonder that I'm moving in that direction.
And sometimes I marvel about 'how did this happen?'. How is it that I turned into the guy who plays like it's 1935 and does the razzamatazz and the old time hidey ho here in 2011. I think about growing up in New York, kind of immersed in that world of show tunes and Tin Pan Alley, even though I was a generation or two removed from it. I wish I could go back and hear my grandfather play those songs again on the piano, because I know he could teach me some things, some songs I wasn't familiar with etc. It's a New York legacy somehow, like hearing "Heart and Soul" on the piano every time you went to a place with kids and a piano. It's just ground zero (if you'll pardon the expression.
Last year I was driving around south Florida with my dad in his Caddy, and he's listening to the oldies station, mostly big band stuff. And it occurred to me that out of a hundred people in my age group, I'm likely one of the only ones who would think it's cool to listen to that music. We came up on the Beatles and Stones, the Who and the Jefferson Airplane, and most of us thought that the music of the thirties and forties was not worth listening to. I was definitely into rock when I was a kid, and God knows I still love the Beatles, but the stuff that came before is just great, and the older i get, the more I love to swing.
It's about craft, how to turn a phrase, how to guide the music into a satisfying journey, how to explore different sounds and then bring it back around to the top. Those are the skills that interest me and that make me want to go and create something new, even though it sounds old. I should probably put out an album of the songs I've written in that old time style. And what makes the old time style? In a word, I'd say it's the diminished chord. Let's see, here is a list of my grown-up songs that are kind of old school.
If I told you that I love you
When I was ready for you
Sweet as cherry pie
All I want this holiday...
One little glance
Because I want you
Friends
American song
The older I get (the more I got to swing)
Talent show
Sentimental me
Saturday Market
That's an album's worth right there. I don't know who would buy it, but if I record it, then at least it will outlive me. Got that, Rashid? This is part of your father's creative output, and maybe you could share it with my grandchildren. Keep the circle going...
Yesterday I got an audition, based on my phone calls of the day before, to go and play some music at a home for memory patients that's on the west side of town. I had thought I was just going to meet the director at 2pm, but when I got there, I saw that a whole crowd was gathered and that I was going to do a freebie. That's fine, no big deal, so off I went.
Interestingly, I was a tad late, two minutes maybe, due to hitting every traffic light and getting behind some terrible drivers, and I was cursing and impatient most of the way there. It's one of those things that happen from time to time, I'm running late, I shouldn't be driving anyway, as I could have put my guitar on my back and used the bike, but Tiger Woods was rolling at the Masters, and I wanted to see him play one more hole. (Yep, it's hard to not watch the Masters). So there I am running late, pissed off at the world, even making a wrong turn, so by the time I arrived at 2:02pm, I was in a lousy mood. And as I walked up to the house, the thought occurred to me, 'Can I go ahead and play music as if nothing had happened and I were in a great mood?' I figured that the answer would be 'yes', and sure enough, that's what happened.
It's fascinating how that happens, and it's certainly not the first time. I can remember a number of occasions when I was working with kids and I just did not have the energy. 'How can I get out of this?' I would think to myself. Then the class shows up, and I'm immediately transported into another dimension and my own little mind trips melt away immediately, as if they were a figment of my imagination (which they were, of course). Yesterday was one more example of that phenomenon.
I walked in, met the director, Arliss, and she brought me to the parlor, in which about twenty folks were waiting for the music to start. There was a spinet piano at one end of the room, bright sound, pretty much in tune, and I had my guitar along as well. The group was a mix of old timers and younger folks, who all had some kind of brain thing going that required them to be living in this nice lock up. I did my thing, interacted well, got some laughs, took requests, and of course it was successful. There were a bunch of singers in this group, so it was a very fun experience to make the music come alive.
Arliss has this philosophy that the residents themselves get to vote on who they want to have come and entertain, and I hadn't heard that before, though it makes total sense. They liked country music, so I'll need to learn some more Eddie Arnold and classic stuff like that. They enjoyed having me there, and now they'll be in my book for a gig per month, first Thursday of the month at 2pm. It's only $50, but if I were to have twenty of them per month, that's a thousand bucks per month of fun public service in the early afternoons. I enjoy each and every one of those old-timer gigs, and it's good for both my repertoire and my music practice. So I will keep adding them to the book.
Am I sick of working with kids? Not exactly, but I definitely feel the movement toward the senior set. It's like a get to do a history lesson every time out; I get to play Gershwin and Berlin and Porter and country and western songs for people who grew up on that music (like I did). It's just better stuff to play, traveling around the circle of fifths, getting jazzy and bluesy. And often, when people are losing their memory, the old songs are the last things to go, so there is a lot of satisfaction and success that they can feel when they remember the words and the good times. It's all positive on those gigs, so it's no wonder that I'm moving in that direction.
And sometimes I marvel about 'how did this happen?'. How is it that I turned into the guy who plays like it's 1935 and does the razzamatazz and the old time hidey ho here in 2011. I think about growing up in New York, kind of immersed in that world of show tunes and Tin Pan Alley, even though I was a generation or two removed from it. I wish I could go back and hear my grandfather play those songs again on the piano, because I know he could teach me some things, some songs I wasn't familiar with etc. It's a New York legacy somehow, like hearing "Heart and Soul" on the piano every time you went to a place with kids and a piano. It's just ground zero (if you'll pardon the expression.
Last year I was driving around south Florida with my dad in his Caddy, and he's listening to the oldies station, mostly big band stuff. And it occurred to me that out of a hundred people in my age group, I'm likely one of the only ones who would think it's cool to listen to that music. We came up on the Beatles and Stones, the Who and the Jefferson Airplane, and most of us thought that the music of the thirties and forties was not worth listening to. I was definitely into rock when I was a kid, and God knows I still love the Beatles, but the stuff that came before is just great, and the older i get, the more I love to swing.
It's about craft, how to turn a phrase, how to guide the music into a satisfying journey, how to explore different sounds and then bring it back around to the top. Those are the skills that interest me and that make me want to go and create something new, even though it sounds old. I should probably put out an album of the songs I've written in that old time style. And what makes the old time style? In a word, I'd say it's the diminished chord. Let's see, here is a list of my grown-up songs that are kind of old school.
If I told you that I love you
When I was ready for you
Sweet as cherry pie
All I want this holiday...
One little glance
Because I want you
Friends
American song
The older I get (the more I got to swing)
Talent show
Sentimental me
Saturday Market
That's an album's worth right there. I don't know who would buy it, but if I record it, then at least it will outlive me. Got that, Rashid? This is part of your father's creative output, and maybe you could share it with my grandchildren. Keep the circle going...
Gray Giddy Gray OK
One more time to the well, chop wood, carry water, but only in the metaphoric sense because here in modern city life, even a baby boomer retirement hippiedrome like Eugene in 2011, the water comes out of the faucet and the heat emerges when I turn the dial. 'mo wonder I'm alienated' (he thought cynically, as he went to the refrigerator to pour a cup of sweetened iced coffee). I need something besides metaphoric tasks?
Well, that may be, as the cobwebs start to clear and the first sweet swallow makes it's way down my overfed gullet. Yeah, overfed is right, it's just too damn easy to eat in this culture, too much money, too much food combined with lack of exertion makes us pretty soft, I can feel the process happening, but I'm gonna fight it hard, keep using my bike and my body.
But still I have the pang of 'wouldn't it be nice to curl up and watch a basketball game on the couch, have some food and just get lost in the vicariousness' Damn it's powerful, and I haven't found a way past it, even though I know in my heart that my essence is other than that. I'm in the Stockholm Syndrome of modern life in which my captors become my safety net (allegedly). 'Oy' (he said, kvetchingly)
I had a little setback this week, nothing major, but it was certainly illustrative of my mindset. I had a date a week ago with that woman who I know from dance, and it was pleasant enough, a little guarded on her part, but that's appropriate. I'm more interested in my own behavior actually, she can do her thing any way that she wants. She likes me as a 'friend and dance partner' but is pretty clear that there will be no sexual energy between the two of us. We had a couple of emails back and forth after the date, and that's where I got this particular information.
The setback wasn't in being 'rejected' or anything like that, it was more about my giddy reaction to her resistance. Here's a woman who I'm kind of attracted to telling me that she's pretty clear that we're not going there. First thing I thought was 'oh, she's not totally clear', there is an opening. And I was reminded of the scene in Dunb and Dumber where the girl tells the guy it's a one in a billion chance that they'd ever go out, and he says, Aha, there's a chance, or something equally ridiculous. That was my reaction too, just like in the movie.
So I was both very understanding and relaxed about 'hey, whatever', but at the same time, there was some giddy energy about what I call 'the happiness of pursuit'. (see what I did there?' It's supposed to be the pursuit of happiness, but for me, it's flipped and I have this energy that simply loves the juxtaposition of a skeptical woman, and a charming man. It conforms to some deep seated paradigm that I carry around inside, and when the places are set, watch out, here comes the charm, or something like it. And along with the charm comes a feeling of well-being and energy and 'the world is green' and spring is in the air and Boom Boom Boom.
(sigh)
I wrote her back a kind of giddy email, one of those, 'sure let's just be friends, but let's go on a hike or something tomorrow', that was a lot of wordplay and over familiarity, and I'm guessing that she saw through the alleged 'friendship' and into the giddy seduction, yes I know I keep using the word 'giddy' but that's what it was, and I got an email back saying 'I can't hike tomorrow, thanks for the invitation'. It sure seemed like the 'blow off email' because that's about how I'd do it, were the situation reversed, so I felt the air go out of the balloon and felt like I was busted. This might be totally in my own mind, and I could be reading into the situation, but that doesn't really matter. I busted myself anyhow, and that's likely more important than knowing for sure whether she busted me.
The result of it, however, is that things are not so green, it's still cold, it's still me, there's no Boom Boom Boom, and I have to still make sense of my life outside of the giddy fix. It feels good to write about it, because there is some sense of well-being in simply describing that thing that happens. I guess it's that old saw about a reflective life, not that I can remember how it goes at this point. What the hell is it? (he thought, trying to turn his brain inside out to recall that saying about a life worth living is one of reflection, or something like that. That's not even close, I realize, but I'll find it. OK here it is, (thank you, Senor Google) 'The unexamined life is not worth living' (Socrates, at his trial for heresy).
The unexamined life is not worth living. And my brain immediately goes to the question, 'does that mean that the examined life is worth living'. That idea is implied, certainly, but does if follow logically? Then it gets into the territory of logic and the 'if P and not Q', type of analysis. I just wrote a good typo when I typed 'anarlysis', because, yeah, it's gnarly. But I digress (again) And I wrote 'bit I digress'. Yes Dr Freud, my mind is a fertile field of incongruity. By the way, I took a logic class in college and I really liked it, mostly because we learned about many fallacies that people use in conversation or argument, and this was during the Nixon administration with the likes of John Mitchell, H R Haldeman, Nixon and the other criminals going on TV day after day and spewing their garbage. I could sit back and say, "uh, Mr President, that's a 'false cause argument', or Mr Mitchell, you have equivocated, sir". It's true, those lying bastards were a gold mine of logical fallacy.
So what's the takeaway from this post? And the reason I ask is because I think I will start titling these posts at the end of the story, rather than the beginning. That way, it will be easier for me to remember them and go back and have a look at something I wrote in the past, using the title as a reference marker, rather than wading through miles of words. The takeaway from this visit is something like 'gray giddy gray, OK.
Well, that may be, as the cobwebs start to clear and the first sweet swallow makes it's way down my overfed gullet. Yeah, overfed is right, it's just too damn easy to eat in this culture, too much money, too much food combined with lack of exertion makes us pretty soft, I can feel the process happening, but I'm gonna fight it hard, keep using my bike and my body.
But still I have the pang of 'wouldn't it be nice to curl up and watch a basketball game on the couch, have some food and just get lost in the vicariousness' Damn it's powerful, and I haven't found a way past it, even though I know in my heart that my essence is other than that. I'm in the Stockholm Syndrome of modern life in which my captors become my safety net (allegedly). 'Oy' (he said, kvetchingly)
I had a little setback this week, nothing major, but it was certainly illustrative of my mindset. I had a date a week ago with that woman who I know from dance, and it was pleasant enough, a little guarded on her part, but that's appropriate. I'm more interested in my own behavior actually, she can do her thing any way that she wants. She likes me as a 'friend and dance partner' but is pretty clear that there will be no sexual energy between the two of us. We had a couple of emails back and forth after the date, and that's where I got this particular information.
The setback wasn't in being 'rejected' or anything like that, it was more about my giddy reaction to her resistance. Here's a woman who I'm kind of attracted to telling me that she's pretty clear that we're not going there. First thing I thought was 'oh, she's not totally clear', there is an opening. And I was reminded of the scene in Dunb and Dumber where the girl tells the guy it's a one in a billion chance that they'd ever go out, and he says, Aha, there's a chance, or something equally ridiculous. That was my reaction too, just like in the movie.
So I was both very understanding and relaxed about 'hey, whatever', but at the same time, there was some giddy energy about what I call 'the happiness of pursuit'. (see what I did there?' It's supposed to be the pursuit of happiness, but for me, it's flipped and I have this energy that simply loves the juxtaposition of a skeptical woman, and a charming man. It conforms to some deep seated paradigm that I carry around inside, and when the places are set, watch out, here comes the charm, or something like it. And along with the charm comes a feeling of well-being and energy and 'the world is green' and spring is in the air and Boom Boom Boom.
(sigh)
I wrote her back a kind of giddy email, one of those, 'sure let's just be friends, but let's go on a hike or something tomorrow', that was a lot of wordplay and over familiarity, and I'm guessing that she saw through the alleged 'friendship' and into the giddy seduction, yes I know I keep using the word 'giddy' but that's what it was, and I got an email back saying 'I can't hike tomorrow, thanks for the invitation'. It sure seemed like the 'blow off email' because that's about how I'd do it, were the situation reversed, so I felt the air go out of the balloon and felt like I was busted. This might be totally in my own mind, and I could be reading into the situation, but that doesn't really matter. I busted myself anyhow, and that's likely more important than knowing for sure whether she busted me.
The result of it, however, is that things are not so green, it's still cold, it's still me, there's no Boom Boom Boom, and I have to still make sense of my life outside of the giddy fix. It feels good to write about it, because there is some sense of well-being in simply describing that thing that happens. I guess it's that old saw about a reflective life, not that I can remember how it goes at this point. What the hell is it? (he thought, trying to turn his brain inside out to recall that saying about a life worth living is one of reflection, or something like that. That's not even close, I realize, but I'll find it. OK here it is, (thank you, Senor Google) 'The unexamined life is not worth living' (Socrates, at his trial for heresy).
The unexamined life is not worth living. And my brain immediately goes to the question, 'does that mean that the examined life is worth living'. That idea is implied, certainly, but does if follow logically? Then it gets into the territory of logic and the 'if P and not Q', type of analysis. I just wrote a good typo when I typed 'anarlysis', because, yeah, it's gnarly. But I digress (again) And I wrote 'bit I digress'. Yes Dr Freud, my mind is a fertile field of incongruity. By the way, I took a logic class in college and I really liked it, mostly because we learned about many fallacies that people use in conversation or argument, and this was during the Nixon administration with the likes of John Mitchell, H R Haldeman, Nixon and the other criminals going on TV day after day and spewing their garbage. I could sit back and say, "uh, Mr President, that's a 'false cause argument', or Mr Mitchell, you have equivocated, sir". It's true, those lying bastards were a gold mine of logical fallacy.
So what's the takeaway from this post? And the reason I ask is because I think I will start titling these posts at the end of the story, rather than the beginning. That way, it will be easier for me to remember them and go back and have a look at something I wrote in the past, using the title as a reference marker, rather than wading through miles of words. The takeaway from this visit is something like 'gray giddy gray, OK.
After the Storm....
Yesterday was cold rain, lots of snow in the mountains, a great day to not be homeless. I got my taxes done and don't owe too much, thanks to my tax person, Joann, and now her daughter who is working with her. Joann has been doing my taxes since the 80s and now she's a big-shot partner in a happening firm, and I'm very lucky that she keeps me on as one of her 'back in the day' clients. It's practically pro bono as she charges me $650 and then knocks off $500 for a grand total of $150. Plus the fact that she has all my info in her computer and it's super easy for her to fill in the blanks and bang out the return. This is one of the blessings of not making a lot of money, taxes are a breeze. The idea of trying to do my own taxes, would be on a par with performing a self appendectomy.
And as a postscript to how lucky I am in this realm, when I went in yesterday for my annual meeting with Joann, she was behind and the secretary asked me if I'd mind meeting with the daughter instead. My first reaction was a little nervousness about a change in plan, but what the hell, let's do it. And the daughter, sorry I can't remember her name, was kind of surprised that I only get charged $150. 'She must like you' was her comment. I said, 'she must have some others from back in the day who are on that scale'. 'Um, not really'. Joann is cool, very left-brain and linear, happy in what she does, and she and her husband Chuck are building a rental empire around here. He spends all of his time maintaining the holdings, doing the gutters, repairing and painting and cleaning etc. They're a hell of a team. And I'm a lucky dude to not have to hassle with tax season.
I just took a break from this blog to make a bunch of phone calls to Senior Centers, assisted living centers etc, because I'm finding that I really like those gigs, they have a little bit of money, and there is no reason why I shouldn't play at least one of those gigs a day, make my little $40 or $50 for that hour and spread some love around. Besides, I was getting sick of sitting here and looking inside (not that I'm done with that by any means, but I need to balance it out with uh, making some money and spreading the music around). It's not the full solution by any means, but it's a step in the right direction.
I got some business counseling a few years ago from a retired, now un-retired executive, and the best piece of advice he gave me was 'Do something to promote yourself every day. Do at least one thing'. I can actually accomplish that goal, as opposed to say, change your entire lifestyle and be a different person... Small steps...
There was a funny slice of Eugene life the other day at the 'Jail', which is a local teriyaki place run by this pretty cool Korean guy. It's the best deal in town and his chicken is grilled and tasty. I stopped in on my way home from a gig to order some take-out. While I was waiting for it, I noticed a little mouse staggering around near the baseboard molding, looking like he was on his last legs. I'm guessing he had been poisoned, and he didn't have long to live. I pointed him out to the worker, and of course a couple of customers heard me so they took a look. There were two Arab students there, and they immediately wanted to cancel their orders which had just been placed. Some redneck, out of work logger type guy, wearing a baseball cap said, 'Why, a mouse is probably a God wherever you come from?' It was just an ignorant statement, racist and dumb, but I was struck by the culture clash in that moment. The students didn't quite hear what he said, they weren't paying attention, as their whole focus was getting their money back. I could tell that the idea of a mouse in a restaurant was totally unacceptable to them, regardless of whether or not it had gotten into the food. So between the Spanish speaking, Korean owner, the redneck logger, the Arab students and the East Coast scribe, it was just another day in the life of Eugene, OR
And as a postscript to how lucky I am in this realm, when I went in yesterday for my annual meeting with Joann, she was behind and the secretary asked me if I'd mind meeting with the daughter instead. My first reaction was a little nervousness about a change in plan, but what the hell, let's do it. And the daughter, sorry I can't remember her name, was kind of surprised that I only get charged $150. 'She must like you' was her comment. I said, 'she must have some others from back in the day who are on that scale'. 'Um, not really'. Joann is cool, very left-brain and linear, happy in what she does, and she and her husband Chuck are building a rental empire around here. He spends all of his time maintaining the holdings, doing the gutters, repairing and painting and cleaning etc. They're a hell of a team. And I'm a lucky dude to not have to hassle with tax season.
I just took a break from this blog to make a bunch of phone calls to Senior Centers, assisted living centers etc, because I'm finding that I really like those gigs, they have a little bit of money, and there is no reason why I shouldn't play at least one of those gigs a day, make my little $40 or $50 for that hour and spread some love around. Besides, I was getting sick of sitting here and looking inside (not that I'm done with that by any means, but I need to balance it out with uh, making some money and spreading the music around). It's not the full solution by any means, but it's a step in the right direction.
I got some business counseling a few years ago from a retired, now un-retired executive, and the best piece of advice he gave me was 'Do something to promote yourself every day. Do at least one thing'. I can actually accomplish that goal, as opposed to say, change your entire lifestyle and be a different person... Small steps...
There was a funny slice of Eugene life the other day at the 'Jail', which is a local teriyaki place run by this pretty cool Korean guy. It's the best deal in town and his chicken is grilled and tasty. I stopped in on my way home from a gig to order some take-out. While I was waiting for it, I noticed a little mouse staggering around near the baseboard molding, looking like he was on his last legs. I'm guessing he had been poisoned, and he didn't have long to live. I pointed him out to the worker, and of course a couple of customers heard me so they took a look. There were two Arab students there, and they immediately wanted to cancel their orders which had just been placed. Some redneck, out of work logger type guy, wearing a baseball cap said, 'Why, a mouse is probably a God wherever you come from?' It was just an ignorant statement, racist and dumb, but I was struck by the culture clash in that moment. The students didn't quite hear what he said, they weren't paying attention, as their whole focus was getting their money back. I could tell that the idea of a mouse in a restaurant was totally unacceptable to them, regardless of whether or not it had gotten into the food. So between the Spanish speaking, Korean owner, the redneck logger, the Arab students and the East Coast scribe, it was just another day in the life of Eugene, OR
What am I, a question?
I guess it's just part of the improv, otherwise known as my life, to have a seat on the pillow which protects my ass from the hardness of a wooden chair, then open up the blog and see what ensues. The first field on the screen is 'Title', and sometimes I fill it in if I think I know what I'm going to write about, but there have been a few times where I've changed the title based on what happened later on in the writing. It's just a little mind game I suppose, or perhaps an amusing hoop to jump through, the idea being 'can I really title something before I know what is going to happen?' So right away there is a question, which is probably a good starting point.
Buckminster Fuller famously wrote 'I seem to be a verb' and I've always admired that thought. Now that I look at it, I realize there are two things that I like about it. 'I seem' is such a nice way to describe the act of introspection. It's not a sure thing, but an inquiry. 'I seem' implies that it's a process, not a fixed black and white certainty. It's whimsical and humorous in a way, not taking itself totally seriously, but describing the act of looking inward. And then 'to be a verb' conjures up all manner of interest, most obviously in the notion that we are taught that a noun is a person, place or thing, but here he is talking about his self person not being a noun, but a verb. Wait, how is that possible? It's the opposite of what we've been taught. It makes you stop and think.
Am I a question? doesn't have the same ring, but it's in the same family of inquiry. Maybe I should make it more Jewish. 'What am I, a question?' And it's an interesting thought, triggered by a simple screen on the computer that asks for 'title'. Hmmmmm.... I like questions, and to free-associate for a minute... on the show 'Jeopardy', the contestants have to make sure that their response 'is in the form of a question'. Here is the answer, what is the question? It's a little whimsy built right into the structure of the show, and Jeopardy is by far my favorite of any game show that has ever appeared on TV. Perhaps the format is a big part of it. Here is a category, here is an answer, what is the question?
And then there is the Jewish joke where one Jew asks his uncle, 'Uncle Max, why do you always answer a question with a question?' and Max says, 'Is there something wrong with answering a question with a question?' It's a simple joke and not particularly funny, but it tickles me, likely because it's a case of the words and the 'thing' being intertwined. Max is using words that both respond to the question and illustrate the question. The words are the 'thing', which of course reminds me of the fact that in Hebrew, the word for 'word' is the same as for 'thing'... 'davar'. That would be quite a deep, not to mention 'navel-gazing' explanation for why I like the joke, but it is kind of interesting that it's a Jewish thing and a Jewish joke. (have I lost you yet?)
In the back of my mind for years now, I've had the idea that I'd like to write a song about the crossword puzzle. And I assume that the reason it popped into my head just now is that the key to solving the more difficult puzzles is the ability to be fluid when it comes to word meanings. Many times the constructor will try to throw you off the trail with a clue that sure looks like it's talking about one thing, but if you open your mind up, you can see that 'wait a second, it could also be this other thing, or a verb, or a plural'. I don't have any examples off the top of my head, and I don't want to pause and ponder, but it's just the way it is. One has to be very flexible in the mind and not insistent that the word you're looking at is necessarily the meaning that you think. It is a question more than a definition, the question being, 'what else can this be?'. And then when your mind hits on another possibility, which turns out to be correct, and opens up a section of the puzzle which was troublesome, that's a damn good feeling.
In the winter time, my housemate is in Tucson, so we don't have home delivery of the newspaper, which means that I tend to go down to the Jiffy Market and have a coffee and knock out the puzzle on one of the papers they provide. I've been doing it for years, so all the regulars know me and give me some good-natured bantering. I put on my glasses, grab a pen, check the time, since I like to have a sense of how long it takes me to get it done, and then I go to work. I'll banter back too, of course, like if Jay keeps talking to me while I'm trying to solve, I'll call him my 'handicap', or ask if someone else will talk to him so I can do what I came to do. Or if Bert says something obnoxious, I'll reply 'OK, Bert, the clue is 'feline' and it's C A blank', referring to his limited crossword ability. He likes to solve, but isn't great at it, so while I'm doing the Sunday Times puzzle, he does the Premier Crossword, which is kinda like getting your news from USA Today and your meals from MacDonalds. But hey, to each his own.
But if I were going to write that song, how would it be? Something about the questions, and the question is me? There would want to be some kind of trick in which the act of trying to get the answer becomes more than just filling in the squares, but an inquiry of deeper questions as well. I think I understand something about it, and it's tying my head up in knots at the moment, this thinking about thinking. I can get brain fatigue sometimes, like doing one too many pushups and then it's time to switch gears. In my case, I'll grab a guitar right about now and see if anything comes. But I do understand that something did come this morning, and it's likely the key to the composition. It's about questions, both large and small, and the way that we approach them? There are many answers to choose from, and maybe that's one more definition of the word 'freedom'.
Buckminster Fuller famously wrote 'I seem to be a verb' and I've always admired that thought. Now that I look at it, I realize there are two things that I like about it. 'I seem' is such a nice way to describe the act of introspection. It's not a sure thing, but an inquiry. 'I seem' implies that it's a process, not a fixed black and white certainty. It's whimsical and humorous in a way, not taking itself totally seriously, but describing the act of looking inward. And then 'to be a verb' conjures up all manner of interest, most obviously in the notion that we are taught that a noun is a person, place or thing, but here he is talking about his self person not being a noun, but a verb. Wait, how is that possible? It's the opposite of what we've been taught. It makes you stop and think.
Am I a question? doesn't have the same ring, but it's in the same family of inquiry. Maybe I should make it more Jewish. 'What am I, a question?' And it's an interesting thought, triggered by a simple screen on the computer that asks for 'title'. Hmmmmm.... I like questions, and to free-associate for a minute... on the show 'Jeopardy', the contestants have to make sure that their response 'is in the form of a question'. Here is the answer, what is the question? It's a little whimsy built right into the structure of the show, and Jeopardy is by far my favorite of any game show that has ever appeared on TV. Perhaps the format is a big part of it. Here is a category, here is an answer, what is the question?
And then there is the Jewish joke where one Jew asks his uncle, 'Uncle Max, why do you always answer a question with a question?' and Max says, 'Is there something wrong with answering a question with a question?' It's a simple joke and not particularly funny, but it tickles me, likely because it's a case of the words and the 'thing' being intertwined. Max is using words that both respond to the question and illustrate the question. The words are the 'thing', which of course reminds me of the fact that in Hebrew, the word for 'word' is the same as for 'thing'... 'davar'. That would be quite a deep, not to mention 'navel-gazing' explanation for why I like the joke, but it is kind of interesting that it's a Jewish thing and a Jewish joke. (have I lost you yet?)
In the back of my mind for years now, I've had the idea that I'd like to write a song about the crossword puzzle. And I assume that the reason it popped into my head just now is that the key to solving the more difficult puzzles is the ability to be fluid when it comes to word meanings. Many times the constructor will try to throw you off the trail with a clue that sure looks like it's talking about one thing, but if you open your mind up, you can see that 'wait a second, it could also be this other thing, or a verb, or a plural'. I don't have any examples off the top of my head, and I don't want to pause and ponder, but it's just the way it is. One has to be very flexible in the mind and not insistent that the word you're looking at is necessarily the meaning that you think. It is a question more than a definition, the question being, 'what else can this be?'. And then when your mind hits on another possibility, which turns out to be correct, and opens up a section of the puzzle which was troublesome, that's a damn good feeling.
In the winter time, my housemate is in Tucson, so we don't have home delivery of the newspaper, which means that I tend to go down to the Jiffy Market and have a coffee and knock out the puzzle on one of the papers they provide. I've been doing it for years, so all the regulars know me and give me some good-natured bantering. I put on my glasses, grab a pen, check the time, since I like to have a sense of how long it takes me to get it done, and then I go to work. I'll banter back too, of course, like if Jay keeps talking to me while I'm trying to solve, I'll call him my 'handicap', or ask if someone else will talk to him so I can do what I came to do. Or if Bert says something obnoxious, I'll reply 'OK, Bert, the clue is 'feline' and it's C A blank', referring to his limited crossword ability. He likes to solve, but isn't great at it, so while I'm doing the Sunday Times puzzle, he does the Premier Crossword, which is kinda like getting your news from USA Today and your meals from MacDonalds. But hey, to each his own.
But if I were going to write that song, how would it be? Something about the questions, and the question is me? There would want to be some kind of trick in which the act of trying to get the answer becomes more than just filling in the squares, but an inquiry of deeper questions as well. I think I understand something about it, and it's tying my head up in knots at the moment, this thinking about thinking. I can get brain fatigue sometimes, like doing one too many pushups and then it's time to switch gears. In my case, I'll grab a guitar right about now and see if anything comes. But I do understand that something did come this morning, and it's likely the key to the composition. It's about questions, both large and small, and the way that we approach them? There are many answers to choose from, and maybe that's one more definition of the word 'freedom'.
Another Day....
Another forty bucks? Oh well, last week was profitable, and hey, $40 is something, plus I get to make old-timers happy for an hour, and that means I get to make myself happy for an hour too. Feeling pretty good after dance class; my body has been getting a lot of exercise, what with yesterday's brisk walk, then a 27 hole disc golf outing, followed by a Zumba class in the evening. I've been getting on my bicycle also, now that the weather is starting to warm up and I'm feeling the guilty need to get out of the car whenever possible. It is better to ride the bike for so many reasons, exercise, environmental impact, pace of life, sense of peace, saving money, so I'm planning on being on the bike as much as possible, and that means not waiting til the last minute to go somewhere and 'needing' the car because I'm late.
Lots of errand stuff to take care of today, and the most interesting of them is to try and wire $100 to M so she doesn't have all the responsibility of paying for the phone calls she's been making to me. She is living pretty much hand to mouth, and now that the high season is over, her tips are less, and it's more of a struggle for her to put money into her phone. I've been meaning to make a contribution and today is the day.
Yesterday on the phone, she said,'Do you mind if I don't call you for a month or so?' and I said, as long as we're in contact on the email, that's fine. But I like talking to her and when I understood that it was economics that would keep us from talking to one another, well, clearly it's time for me to go to the bank and step up. Which brings up a significant point about her.
M has never asked me once for any money, other than a couple of bucks to buy some food for after her shift or something. The standard modus operandi in the farang/thai relationship dance is that the woman asks the man for like $250/month so she can afford to wait for him and be ready when he comes back. It's the way a lot of women there make their living, and of course, I was keeping a close eye out to see if that would be our pattern. And she has asked me for nothing, which I take as a strong mark of her character and her uniqueness. She's not 'one of those' ladies who is trying to 'play' her boyfriend. I knew that instinctively early on, and she has given me no reason to think otherwise, so it adds to my high opinion of her.
And it's funny that when I told her on the phone that I would send some money there, her first statement was, 'you don't have to, honey, and I know you don't want to because you think I will use it for alcohol' or words to that effect. Actually, I wasn't worried about that, but the fact that she brought it up makes me appreciate her ability to put herself in my shoes, to empathize with what I might be feeling, so I take the statement as a positive. I'll send a little money so that she can call me without having to pay for it, that's all. She's going to drink some while she has the job in the bar, and she is always assuring me that it's under control and she keeps it within limits. I pretty much believe her, but I've still got some 'we're gonna have to deal with this' energy about it. But we don't have to deal with it now, and I'm going to try and get her some cash, because she deserves it. I can make more in one good day than she can make in a month, so it's right to share the wealth, ya know...
I also have to shop around for new car insurance, perhaps in vain, but I'm pissed off at Progressive who has summarily boosted my payment by $140 every six months due to a bullshit 'quota' ticket I got last fall in Woodburn, OR. It was a ridiculous and obvious attempt to fill the coffers of the local municipality, as I drove through a yellow light and got pulled over. The cop said something like 'technically its a violation if you are still in the intersection when the light turns red'. (Once a cop starts an explanation with 'technically', you know it's full of shit). He can pull over someone each and every light, and that's what he was doing, as I saw him do the same thing to another sap, right after he wrote up my ticket. I was angry about it then, but Woodburn is 80 minutes away from Eugene, so I didn't want to waste a day fighting it. So I wrote the letter, got it reduced by $75 or something and figured, oh well, what the fuck. But now I"m hearing from my insurance that they'll raise my rates for the next three years due to the ticket, for a grand total of $740, which added to the ticket itself, makes it about a $900 fine for a crime I didn't commit. I'd have fought it had I realized this was going to happen. So it's time to make that call to Geico and see if fifteen minutes can save me 15 percent. Grrrrrr Fuckers!
OK, dude, off the computer and into the errands. Ready set go!
PS I just got off the phone with Geico, and I got a great quote for the same coverage that I had with Progressive. Since I have a good driving record over the years, they were able to forgive the bullshit ticket, and I'm happy to report that I can now call Progressive and tell them to go and fuck themselves, er I mean I can call Progressive and cancel my insurance. And yeah, please send me a check for the $6 or whatever of pro-rated insurance which you now owe me. You're history, Progressive. I gave you a chance but you pulled the old 'if we do it for you, then we'd have to do it for everyone' line. Adios! And I'm pretty happy that I wouldn't accept that bullshit.
Lots of errand stuff to take care of today, and the most interesting of them is to try and wire $100 to M so she doesn't have all the responsibility of paying for the phone calls she's been making to me. She is living pretty much hand to mouth, and now that the high season is over, her tips are less, and it's more of a struggle for her to put money into her phone. I've been meaning to make a contribution and today is the day.
Yesterday on the phone, she said,'Do you mind if I don't call you for a month or so?' and I said, as long as we're in contact on the email, that's fine. But I like talking to her and when I understood that it was economics that would keep us from talking to one another, well, clearly it's time for me to go to the bank and step up. Which brings up a significant point about her.
M has never asked me once for any money, other than a couple of bucks to buy some food for after her shift or something. The standard modus operandi in the farang/thai relationship dance is that the woman asks the man for like $250/month so she can afford to wait for him and be ready when he comes back. It's the way a lot of women there make their living, and of course, I was keeping a close eye out to see if that would be our pattern. And she has asked me for nothing, which I take as a strong mark of her character and her uniqueness. She's not 'one of those' ladies who is trying to 'play' her boyfriend. I knew that instinctively early on, and she has given me no reason to think otherwise, so it adds to my high opinion of her.
And it's funny that when I told her on the phone that I would send some money there, her first statement was, 'you don't have to, honey, and I know you don't want to because you think I will use it for alcohol' or words to that effect. Actually, I wasn't worried about that, but the fact that she brought it up makes me appreciate her ability to put herself in my shoes, to empathize with what I might be feeling, so I take the statement as a positive. I'll send a little money so that she can call me without having to pay for it, that's all. She's going to drink some while she has the job in the bar, and she is always assuring me that it's under control and she keeps it within limits. I pretty much believe her, but I've still got some 'we're gonna have to deal with this' energy about it. But we don't have to deal with it now, and I'm going to try and get her some cash, because she deserves it. I can make more in one good day than she can make in a month, so it's right to share the wealth, ya know...
I also have to shop around for new car insurance, perhaps in vain, but I'm pissed off at Progressive who has summarily boosted my payment by $140 every six months due to a bullshit 'quota' ticket I got last fall in Woodburn, OR. It was a ridiculous and obvious attempt to fill the coffers of the local municipality, as I drove through a yellow light and got pulled over. The cop said something like 'technically its a violation if you are still in the intersection when the light turns red'. (Once a cop starts an explanation with 'technically', you know it's full of shit). He can pull over someone each and every light, and that's what he was doing, as I saw him do the same thing to another sap, right after he wrote up my ticket. I was angry about it then, but Woodburn is 80 minutes away from Eugene, so I didn't want to waste a day fighting it. So I wrote the letter, got it reduced by $75 or something and figured, oh well, what the fuck. But now I"m hearing from my insurance that they'll raise my rates for the next three years due to the ticket, for a grand total of $740, which added to the ticket itself, makes it about a $900 fine for a crime I didn't commit. I'd have fought it had I realized this was going to happen. So it's time to make that call to Geico and see if fifteen minutes can save me 15 percent. Grrrrrr Fuckers!
OK, dude, off the computer and into the errands. Ready set go!
PS I just got off the phone with Geico, and I got a great quote for the same coverage that I had with Progressive. Since I have a good driving record over the years, they were able to forgive the bullshit ticket, and I'm happy to report that I can now call Progressive and tell them to go and fuck themselves, er I mean I can call Progressive and cancel my insurance. And yeah, please send me a check for the $6 or whatever of pro-rated insurance which you now owe me. You're history, Progressive. I gave you a chance but you pulled the old 'if we do it for you, then we'd have to do it for everyone' line. Adios! And I'm pretty happy that I wouldn't accept that bullshit.
Re-gather, Re-write, Re-collect
And here is the challenge once again... can I find a way to have success when the datebook isn't filled up with interesting gigs? Can I keep my energy up, my habits clean, my intention focused even when there are no flowers to buzz around? In short, can I be the ant instead of the grasshopper?
It was such a fun week of work, and I felt very fulfilled on many levels, largely, I suppose, because I got to connect with lots of appreciative people, young and old. I was nearly giddy with it, and I wonder if that giddiness can lead to a crash, as it might violate the 'walk down the middle' philosophy which has been my mantra the past few months. I suspect it is so, because I had this reaction of wanting to keep the buzz going, by 'any means necessary' so I've had a little indulgence the past couple of days, and I feel that sense of 'be careful', because I know that later today, If I don't nip it in the 'bud' so to speak, I'll be setting off on the roller coaster of mood swings and highs and lows.
It feels grounding to actually write those words, as my spirit knows it to be true. So what is an ant to do? I had some kind of a manic sense that I need to 'replace' the high of performing with some other kind of high, but that anxiety is a function of seeing things from the high spot, as if life were to be experienced as a series of loop the loops, one after another. And when I try to conceive of another way of conceiving, I feel this deflation and pang of sadness, a wanting to not let go of the thrill. It's a pang all right, and it's a signpost on the way to 'what's the use?... I can't be any other way, Who am I kidding?' Because those thoughts surely follow that little pang of deflation.
And if I were to take it further (before I try to reel it back in), it conjures up a world in which my true nature is frustration and being unfulfilled, and the peaks which I do experience are exceptions to the rule. I can fight off the self loathing at different times, but I don't really deserve it, as the happy times are based on my talent and gift and charm, and not really on any sustained ant-like effort on my part. It's a gold leaf facade on a crumbling foundation. 'Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, the carny show begins in ten minutes. See the incredible shrinking man!'
I'm having this experience that is like looking down from a skyscraper and imagining what it would be like to step off. It's a sickening and heart quickening meditation of mortality. I remember being at the CN Tower in Toronto, and they have this glass panel that you can walk across while looking down a thousand feet. It's really hard to actually step on it. All of your senses are telling you to not do it, we're just not made to walk over a thousand foot drop. But you want to do it anyway to feel that queasy thrill of fear.
Back to the gold leaf.... It's so easy to disparage myself at this point, and I guess I'll keep doing it for a bit so maybe I can learn a little something more about the process and perhaps stumble upon an antidote. It's spring, most people are spending time getting their gardens in, working the soil, planting seeds, tending the earth, immersing in a linear process that eventually will yield a harvest of good feeling and good food. As ye sow, so shall ye reap. I'm the opposite of that process. I'd rather 'plant my seed' you know where, and go ahead and visit your garden one night when no one is looking so I can enjoy some ill-gotten green stuff. Who wants to get dirty in the garden? I know people love it, and I'm jealous in some way, feeling that I'm missing some fundamental human channel of earth connection. But I don't want to garden alone. I'd be into it as part of a group, that sounds fun and do-able, but to just tackle it alone does not appeal.
Aha, alone... That's probably part of it. I'm quite solo these days, another function of my rootlessness. I've got no partner, I've got no this, I've got no that, and it's a little scary, while at the same time, it feels like it's the way I'm structured. Or as I goof on myself about relationship... 'It's either an amazing run of coincidences, or maybe it's me?' There is definitely something in my make-up that is ungrounded and rootless and solo. And at this juncture, I walked to the refrigerator to grab some pasta and sauce and put it in my mouth, try to fill up the emptiness I suppose, or maybe I'm just hungry? Ah the mysteries of the examined life... sometimes it can be ridiculous to think too much. (but I'll keep doing it, I imagine) mmmm pasta...
I can see that it's so easy to indulge the 'what's wrong with me' side of things rather than the 'what's right with me' side. Maybe what's wrong with me is that I want to indulge the 'what's wrong with me' (MC Escher just threw down his pen in frustration)
And I resist going to the 'what's right with me' card because I've gotten the message (from my brothers primarily) that I'm egotistical and attention seeking, and I've internalized that message somehow and then my 'gift' becomes distorted like I'm seeing it in the funhouse mirror. Now they don't have to attack me anymore because I can do it myself, thank you very much. And it becomes my existential inquiry. How do I deal with my own gift? If I try to describe it, I sound like an asshole. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't try to describe it... there's a thought. Maybe just fucking give it. But that anger comes out because I feel short-changed somehow. Don't people understand the depth and majesty of my brilliance? he said half-mockingly on the asshole highway)
I do want the recognition, I am attention seeking, I have a need to express music and comedy and 'the moment'. It's a gift and a burden both. It's the Rich Glauber dues.
It was such a fun week of work, and I felt very fulfilled on many levels, largely, I suppose, because I got to connect with lots of appreciative people, young and old. I was nearly giddy with it, and I wonder if that giddiness can lead to a crash, as it might violate the 'walk down the middle' philosophy which has been my mantra the past few months. I suspect it is so, because I had this reaction of wanting to keep the buzz going, by 'any means necessary' so I've had a little indulgence the past couple of days, and I feel that sense of 'be careful', because I know that later today, If I don't nip it in the 'bud' so to speak, I'll be setting off on the roller coaster of mood swings and highs and lows.
It feels grounding to actually write those words, as my spirit knows it to be true. So what is an ant to do? I had some kind of a manic sense that I need to 'replace' the high of performing with some other kind of high, but that anxiety is a function of seeing things from the high spot, as if life were to be experienced as a series of loop the loops, one after another. And when I try to conceive of another way of conceiving, I feel this deflation and pang of sadness, a wanting to not let go of the thrill. It's a pang all right, and it's a signpost on the way to 'what's the use?... I can't be any other way, Who am I kidding?' Because those thoughts surely follow that little pang of deflation.
And if I were to take it further (before I try to reel it back in), it conjures up a world in which my true nature is frustration and being unfulfilled, and the peaks which I do experience are exceptions to the rule. I can fight off the self loathing at different times, but I don't really deserve it, as the happy times are based on my talent and gift and charm, and not really on any sustained ant-like effort on my part. It's a gold leaf facade on a crumbling foundation. 'Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, the carny show begins in ten minutes. See the incredible shrinking man!'
I'm having this experience that is like looking down from a skyscraper and imagining what it would be like to step off. It's a sickening and heart quickening meditation of mortality. I remember being at the CN Tower in Toronto, and they have this glass panel that you can walk across while looking down a thousand feet. It's really hard to actually step on it. All of your senses are telling you to not do it, we're just not made to walk over a thousand foot drop. But you want to do it anyway to feel that queasy thrill of fear.
Back to the gold leaf.... It's so easy to disparage myself at this point, and I guess I'll keep doing it for a bit so maybe I can learn a little something more about the process and perhaps stumble upon an antidote. It's spring, most people are spending time getting their gardens in, working the soil, planting seeds, tending the earth, immersing in a linear process that eventually will yield a harvest of good feeling and good food. As ye sow, so shall ye reap. I'm the opposite of that process. I'd rather 'plant my seed' you know where, and go ahead and visit your garden one night when no one is looking so I can enjoy some ill-gotten green stuff. Who wants to get dirty in the garden? I know people love it, and I'm jealous in some way, feeling that I'm missing some fundamental human channel of earth connection. But I don't want to garden alone. I'd be into it as part of a group, that sounds fun and do-able, but to just tackle it alone does not appeal.
Aha, alone... That's probably part of it. I'm quite solo these days, another function of my rootlessness. I've got no partner, I've got no this, I've got no that, and it's a little scary, while at the same time, it feels like it's the way I'm structured. Or as I goof on myself about relationship... 'It's either an amazing run of coincidences, or maybe it's me?' There is definitely something in my make-up that is ungrounded and rootless and solo. And at this juncture, I walked to the refrigerator to grab some pasta and sauce and put it in my mouth, try to fill up the emptiness I suppose, or maybe I'm just hungry? Ah the mysteries of the examined life... sometimes it can be ridiculous to think too much. (but I'll keep doing it, I imagine) mmmm pasta...
I can see that it's so easy to indulge the 'what's wrong with me' side of things rather than the 'what's right with me' side. Maybe what's wrong with me is that I want to indulge the 'what's wrong with me' (MC Escher just threw down his pen in frustration)
And I resist going to the 'what's right with me' card because I've gotten the message (from my brothers primarily) that I'm egotistical and attention seeking, and I've internalized that message somehow and then my 'gift' becomes distorted like I'm seeing it in the funhouse mirror. Now they don't have to attack me anymore because I can do it myself, thank you very much. And it becomes my existential inquiry. How do I deal with my own gift? If I try to describe it, I sound like an asshole. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't try to describe it... there's a thought. Maybe just fucking give it. But that anger comes out because I feel short-changed somehow. Don't people understand the depth and majesty of my brilliance? he said half-mockingly on the asshole highway)
I do want the recognition, I am attention seeking, I have a need to express music and comedy and 'the moment'. It's a gift and a burden both. It's the Rich Glauber dues.
Success!
What a day Saturday was! I had three local appearances to do some music, and each one was just tremendously satisfying. It started with the opening of Saturday Market, where for the 8th or so year in a row, I get to play the opening day Kids set. My friend Kim Still books the stage and she saves that day for me. It's a bit of a tradition at this point, as if to say, here's another year of the market and Rich will do his thing to make the kids and the community happy.
It was a really fun show, but the highlight had to be when a little rain shower came through. I had the impulse to sing 'Oh What a Beautiful Morning' as some kind of wry comment on the weather, but not only in that 'ironic' sense. Deeper than that is the idea that if we are singing, breathing and expressing joy, it is a beautiful morning, regardless of the weather. Plus I like that song.
And as I sang it, I got the sense that the shower was passing through, so I said, 'if everybody sings, the sun will come out'. And sure enough, that's exactly what happened, as if on cue. People sang along, stronger and stronger and by the end of the song, it was blue sky up above and a warming sun. After my set, Kim said to me, 'You won't believe how many times that has happened at the market', and she would know, having been on her post for twenty years now. I don't know if other musicians have exhorted the audience to sing and thereby bring out the sun, but that's what I did, and it was a little bit of magic on a Saturday morning.
After the set, I had to pack up and hurry to do some music at the Tamarack Wellness Center, where a group was organizing a 'Family Fun Day' for families impacted with cancer. I was to do some interactive stuff following lunch, and I got to play with Sluggo, who is the mascot for the local minor league baseball team. He's a really talented comic actor and it was fun to interact with him and a group of kids. When I showed up, he had the kids around him shaking hands and being silly. I figured I'd start with 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame', and we did it twice. But the second time, I sang, 'And it's root root root for the YANKEES, if they don't win it's a shame'. Of course Sluggo, with his Emeralds shirt and hat, reacted with unhappiness and got a laugh, so I said, root root root for the Dodgers... The Mariners, and finally the Emeralds, and he was funny and improvisational, and I could see it was going to be a good collaboration.
We used instruments, scarves, creative movement and it was a great set. The kids and parents were delighted, there was a great flow to it all, and everyone was very happy about it, and it's all for a good cause. One of the highlights was making a little parade with the song 'Macnamara's Band'. I like that song for a few reasons. It's a cool melody, perfect for marching, perfect for instruments 'The drums go bang, the cymbals clang, the horns they blaze away...' And there is a part where I have the kids (and Sluggo) play two times on their instruments. Da da da da clap clap da da da da clap clap, da da da da clap clap da da da da clap clap. That little bit of variation makes the whole thing come alive in a dynamic way. It's age appropriate and musical and provides a nice contrast with the straight marching rhythm of the rest of the song. And I especially like using the song because the idea came to me when I was talking to Rosie's dad Everett, a ninety year old former minister who used to lead group singing and dancing (play party games) way back in the day. "before the Twist came in and ruined everything" in Everett's words.
I was talking to him once about music in the older days, and I asked him what were some of the songs that he liked to use with the community. 'I can't remember, it was so long ago', he replied. 'Come on, Everett, give me one song', I encouraged. 'I really can't remember'. 'Come on, one song'. He said, 'well, Macnamara's Band was pretty popular'. I said, thanks Everett, I like that song, I'll learn it'. So I did, and sure enough it's a great song for the community. I love it when I get to enlist the help of other people in creating stuff for the community. Maybe I'll do a post about it sometime. There are lots of examples...
The final piece of yesterday's puzzle was at the Jello Art Show, where I was to have a guest slot in the Radar Angels performance. I sang the song 'Boom Boom' as a country western piece and my character was called 'Jigglin' Willy Johnson'. After I was introduced, my first line was 'You can call me Billy the Yid'. Both names were the result of a Facebook thread which I started to enlist the help of my creative friends in giving me a name to use as a horny cowboy at the Jello Show. It was a very funny list of names that emerged, and I chose those two. :-)
The song itself was a huge hit in the show, and that is so gratifying on so many levels. For one, I wrote the thing, and it's always a thrill to create something that is well received. And it's funny and has something to say, which adds to the feeling of accomplishment. And it's naughty and somewhat risky which ups the ante and adds to the feeling of accomplishment when it comes off right.
The song became a collaboration with dancers Joanie and Mark, who acted out some of the story, and did some comic interpretations of the material. We had very limited rehearsal, but they are great improvisers and dancers and we had a lot of confidence in one another. And there was a drummer and bass player who jumped in halfway through, as per my instructions, to pump some extra energy into the tune, give it an arc, if you will. Everybody, including me, did great, and wow, what a feeling to put a lot of effort into a three minute performance piece and then have it work out really well. The audience gave it a great ovation. I was buzzed to the max afterward.
As always, the Jello Show is videotaped from a good vantage point, and I'm anxious to see if the video person got a good version of the song. If so, I'll post it on my Facebook page and share it with the world. I haven't seen the dancers do their thing as I was focused on the audience, but it felt right and the crowd reaction was great, so I'm looking forward to seeing what it looks like.
Now I have a couple of hours to prepare for a little gig this morning at the Unitarian Church where I'm a guest at their kids service about the earth. I'll do a couple of songs and will collaborate with my friend Candee Cole who is the religious education director there and who is bringing me in for the giglet. Candee is funny, and she is the one who came up with the name 'Jigglin' Willy', which I used last night. Oh yeah, the fun continues....
It was a really fun show, but the highlight had to be when a little rain shower came through. I had the impulse to sing 'Oh What a Beautiful Morning' as some kind of wry comment on the weather, but not only in that 'ironic' sense. Deeper than that is the idea that if we are singing, breathing and expressing joy, it is a beautiful morning, regardless of the weather. Plus I like that song.
And as I sang it, I got the sense that the shower was passing through, so I said, 'if everybody sings, the sun will come out'. And sure enough, that's exactly what happened, as if on cue. People sang along, stronger and stronger and by the end of the song, it was blue sky up above and a warming sun. After my set, Kim said to me, 'You won't believe how many times that has happened at the market', and she would know, having been on her post for twenty years now. I don't know if other musicians have exhorted the audience to sing and thereby bring out the sun, but that's what I did, and it was a little bit of magic on a Saturday morning.
After the set, I had to pack up and hurry to do some music at the Tamarack Wellness Center, where a group was organizing a 'Family Fun Day' for families impacted with cancer. I was to do some interactive stuff following lunch, and I got to play with Sluggo, who is the mascot for the local minor league baseball team. He's a really talented comic actor and it was fun to interact with him and a group of kids. When I showed up, he had the kids around him shaking hands and being silly. I figured I'd start with 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame', and we did it twice. But the second time, I sang, 'And it's root root root for the YANKEES, if they don't win it's a shame'. Of course Sluggo, with his Emeralds shirt and hat, reacted with unhappiness and got a laugh, so I said, root root root for the Dodgers... The Mariners, and finally the Emeralds, and he was funny and improvisational, and I could see it was going to be a good collaboration.
We used instruments, scarves, creative movement and it was a great set. The kids and parents were delighted, there was a great flow to it all, and everyone was very happy about it, and it's all for a good cause. One of the highlights was making a little parade with the song 'Macnamara's Band'. I like that song for a few reasons. It's a cool melody, perfect for marching, perfect for instruments 'The drums go bang, the cymbals clang, the horns they blaze away...' And there is a part where I have the kids (and Sluggo) play two times on their instruments. Da da da da clap clap da da da da clap clap, da da da da clap clap da da da da clap clap. That little bit of variation makes the whole thing come alive in a dynamic way. It's age appropriate and musical and provides a nice contrast with the straight marching rhythm of the rest of the song. And I especially like using the song because the idea came to me when I was talking to Rosie's dad Everett, a ninety year old former minister who used to lead group singing and dancing (play party games) way back in the day. "before the Twist came in and ruined everything" in Everett's words.
I was talking to him once about music in the older days, and I asked him what were some of the songs that he liked to use with the community. 'I can't remember, it was so long ago', he replied. 'Come on, Everett, give me one song', I encouraged. 'I really can't remember'. 'Come on, one song'. He said, 'well, Macnamara's Band was pretty popular'. I said, thanks Everett, I like that song, I'll learn it'. So I did, and sure enough it's a great song for the community. I love it when I get to enlist the help of other people in creating stuff for the community. Maybe I'll do a post about it sometime. There are lots of examples...
The final piece of yesterday's puzzle was at the Jello Art Show, where I was to have a guest slot in the Radar Angels performance. I sang the song 'Boom Boom' as a country western piece and my character was called 'Jigglin' Willy Johnson'. After I was introduced, my first line was 'You can call me Billy the Yid'. Both names were the result of a Facebook thread which I started to enlist the help of my creative friends in giving me a name to use as a horny cowboy at the Jello Show. It was a very funny list of names that emerged, and I chose those two. :-)
The song itself was a huge hit in the show, and that is so gratifying on so many levels. For one, I wrote the thing, and it's always a thrill to create something that is well received. And it's funny and has something to say, which adds to the feeling of accomplishment. And it's naughty and somewhat risky which ups the ante and adds to the feeling of accomplishment when it comes off right.
The song became a collaboration with dancers Joanie and Mark, who acted out some of the story, and did some comic interpretations of the material. We had very limited rehearsal, but they are great improvisers and dancers and we had a lot of confidence in one another. And there was a drummer and bass player who jumped in halfway through, as per my instructions, to pump some extra energy into the tune, give it an arc, if you will. Everybody, including me, did great, and wow, what a feeling to put a lot of effort into a three minute performance piece and then have it work out really well. The audience gave it a great ovation. I was buzzed to the max afterward.
As always, the Jello Show is videotaped from a good vantage point, and I'm anxious to see if the video person got a good version of the song. If so, I'll post it on my Facebook page and share it with the world. I haven't seen the dancers do their thing as I was focused on the audience, but it felt right and the crowd reaction was great, so I'm looking forward to seeing what it looks like.
Now I have a couple of hours to prepare for a little gig this morning at the Unitarian Church where I'm a guest at their kids service about the earth. I'll do a couple of songs and will collaborate with my friend Candee Cole who is the religious education director there and who is bringing me in for the giglet. Candee is funny, and she is the one who came up with the name 'Jigglin' Willy', which I used last night. Oh yeah, the fun continues....
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