Dangerous Enlightenment

New Album: Poems, Etudes and Dances

2010-06-01T06:40:00.000-05:00

<a href="http://stuartdummit.bandcamp.com/album/poems-tudes-and-dances">Prelude in C by Stuart Dummit</a>

2010-02-14T21:13:00.001-06:00

New video for "Ambienteno ReLux"
http://ping.fm/drMTc

2010-02-14T14:08:00.001-06:00

http://ping.fm/F94Qw
An idea for a tattoo...

2010-02-14T10:08:00.001-06:00

Ambient music album "Ambienteno" is now available. Set your own price: http://is.gd/8mYTq
Go ahead - if you want it to be, it's FREE!

2010-02-12T09:24:00.001-06:00

I am now using ping.fm to update many of my websites. This may be exactly what the doctor ordered.

Universal Health Care

2009-08-19T13:35:00.002-05:00

No links, no one else's opinion, no grandstanding - just what I think. Health care in the United States of America is a right, not a privilege. For those who oppose it because it means the "socialization" of the U.S.A., I counter with an appeal for them not to use public roads, not to send their children to public schools, not to use the public library and suggest that the U.S. Military should be outsourced to private industry - maybe Haliburton. That would cement the anti-socialist cause.

For those who are afraid that a government run option for health insurance would undermine free enterprise, then, perhaps UPS and FedEx should be our main mail carriers and we can get rid of the U.S. Postal Service all together. That would take care of one of the socialist complaints, too.

Listen: I work for a state run hospital. I have a health condition that requires constant care, medication and supervision. I can and do work full time and at a job that requires a relatively high level of skill - I am one of those folks at the computer help desk that does everything from reset passwords to modifying interface preferences on the back end of clinical medical record / ADT /billing applications... not just sweeping floors here - I work this job and I have the health insurance offered by the state and the hospital and the university that it is attached to - and still, a full third of my income goes toward insurance co pays. Though my job sounds like it should be a high paying one, it isn't. My doctor has actually told me that I might be better off financially if I were to go on disability - and he states that I would qualify. That is so very sad if you ask me. Here I am, able and willing to work. I pay huge fees for insurance and the rest of the money goes to co pays and spend downs.

Some tell me that if I feel that I'm under paid that I should get another job elsewhere. Fine. I have no problem with that...except for the fact that under current law any insurance company would be able to deny me because of the pre-existing health condition.

I do not have all the answers and I know that members of the U.S. House of Representatives and the Senate and the Office of the President don't have the answers either - but a change is needed and what is being proposed is a far cry better than the system as it stands now.

Redesigned Website

2009-08-18T13:04:00.002-05:00

So much is going on these days. The DURATION show at the Blue Note on July 25 was great - lots of good feedback. With that show over, the same personnel now are 100% Hormone Junkies. YAY! We're practicing for a show in late September at the Earthdance Festival here in Columbia, Missouri. We'll be playing a few of the same songs from the DURATION show, plus three songs from the new HJ album: Arsenal - which should be out by then.

Before all of that happens, though, I want to have good, working websites up - for myself and for Hormone Junkies. I am not the most fluent at such creations, but I do what I can. I've started reworking my own website http://DEStudios.net and I'm somewhat pleased, but it doesn't have the interactivity that I was hoping for. I'll be tidying things up in the next few days and then I hope I'll be able to get to work on the Hormone Junkies site.

In the meantime, I am totally jazzed about the prospects of getting back into the swing of things.

DURATION Video Tickle No. 2

2009-07-18T14:41:00.002-05:00

Here's a video "tickle" of a rehearsal for a reunion show of a band I was in back in the 80s called DURATION. The show will be on Saturday, July 25, 2009 at the Blue Note in Columbia, Missouri. Only 2 of the 3 members of the band are able to be in the show, but the third member, Bob, has given us his blessings. Me, Stuart, I'm on guitar and bass, Cathy Wickell is on drums, and sitting in for Bob Brass on keyboards is Hormone Junkies electro wiz, Richard Cravens.

It's Sarah Palin....AGAIN

2009-07-05T09:48:00.002-05:00

She's BACK! And I'm almost as tired of her as I am of "Michael Jackson is dead, let's act like fools" prime news coverage. But, because I actually have respect for the work that Mr. Jackson did and I have none whatsoever for what Sarah Palin has done, I offer up one more time my song and video in honor of her nothingness.

More love coming soon....

Woo HOO! It's AudioBoo

2009-06-30T14:10:00.003-05:00

Here's a preview of the upcoming series of podcasts that will be available for download.

Listen!

Thought for the Day

2009-06-21T10:34:00.003-05:00

>> Empty handed I sit before you and behold, there is an instrument in my hands;
I travel here on foot yet I ride on the back of a mule;
And when we pass over this bridge, it is not the water that flows beneath us,
But the bridge. <<

--paraphrased and reset from Fudaishi

Mental Dystrophy

2009-05-25T08:35:00.005-05:00

I have been working up a set of music that I can play in coffee houses and the like with minimal setup and equipment, yet with enough of a technological edge as to challenge the listener. I want to show a certain realness and humanity to digital, electronic sounds. I want to tell a story, but, since I am a part of that story, it's hard for me to narrate it from the outside. Sometimes I feel as though my abilities are diminished by atrophied real world skills.

While recording the music that I've been practicing, I come upon, from time to time, examples of what happens in odd inspired moments that others might never know except for the fact that I have caught them on the computer before they scurry off into the aether without other humans ever hearing their twisted but insightful sighs.

Here is one that was caught recently. I've called it Mental Dystrophy. Flawed and clumsy at times, brilliant and facile at others, I am happy to allow others to share this intimate time with me.

Been making nose again

2009-05-19T11:17:00.004-05:00

Despite having a chest cold these last few days, I've been inspired to get more music out. Several weeks ago I got the BOSS Loop Station out and started tinkering with things and ended up creating several soundscapes that seem to work just fine. I submitted them to Tesla Software, a company that creates several great iPhone apps for optimizing brain power. Skeptical? Don't be. It's good stuff. Here's hoping they like what they hear!

In the meantime, I'm getting the three pieces from the Loop Station session ready for release. It will be, as is often the case, free with an option to donate.

And now, I need to walk Max and then get back to bed. Health and Wealth and Happiness, y'all!

Olympus Mons Video

2009-05-01T10:41:00.005-05:00

I got an HD camera but I don't have any good HD editing software - yet! The video looks like feedback but it's actually a recording of a couple of movies on TV edited with blinking eye images and some stills of the actual Olympus Mons on Mars.

Of course, you can still download the MP3 of the audio for FREE from the link on the sidebar to the right. Hope you enjoy, and if you feel like donating, that would be cool, too.

OLYMPUS MONS

2009-04-04T17:02:00.003-05:00

Click on the images to get to the final (for now) version of Olympus Mons. To the right you will see a PayPal donation link. Please, do not feel obligated to donate, but if you like the music and wouldn't mind more, then I encourage you to help out. More than anything I want the music to get out there and for folks to enjoy it.

I've had a blast working on it and learning so much about Logic 8 and a host of other things as well. The more I do, the more I learn, the more I want to be doing more and more of this.

On listening to the track, you may notice some references to the great David Byrne and Brian Eno album My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. To say that it has been an inspiration is just the beginning. If you don't know the record, do a search on it and buy it. It is nothing short of amazing.

As for the technical stuff, I used Logic 8 as my digital audio workstation software, the Mac OS X text reader for the vocals, Crystal soft synth, Logic's sound sculptor and Ultrabeat. I also played the guitars with the Line6 POD XT live digital sound modeler. The track was produced at Dangerous Enlightenment Studios in association with Stolenflowers Media with assistance from Richard Cravens.

In the not-too-distant future there will be a dedicated page for more music and podcast downloads, images and information about my work, Hormone Junkies and other projects. Again, if you choose to donate some funds it would be greatly appreciated but it is by no means necessary.

Thanks to everyone, especially Dick and Joel for all of their help!

Hit and Run - Brilliant

2009-03-31T09:40:00.000-05:00

New Single Out Soon!

2009-03-10T11:17:00.003-05:00

I've run into some snags with the release of the album Neologism, so I'm putting out a single for y'all. It should be available for free download by March 15. I will also be putting it up on iTunes and Amazon MP3, and I'll have PayPal links so anyone who feels inclined can help out the cause can do so. I'd be appreciative if you did.

Olympus Mons is yet another experimental slab of sound - different yet the same as my other work. I have abandoned the idea of creating guitar only music. It was a novel idea and the work I did with that mindset is good and has served me well. Time to move on. This time around I'm taking advantage of synths, drum machines, samples and yes, guitars. It's dance music. Insert goofy attempt at evil laugh here.

Stay tuned and stay alert. Don't let opportunities pass you by. Life is good. Challenging, but good.

Taking Art Out of the Entertainment Section

2009-03-06T08:55:00.004-06:00

A friend of mine sent me a transcript of Karl Paulnack's address to the freshmen at the Boston Conservatory. This is amazing. There was no click back or source notation, but I'm posting the whole thing here because it is important. I'll write more on it later.

If anyone has source information, please let me know - I want to give credit where credit is due.

" Welcome address to freshman at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of music division at Boston Conservatory.

“One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school—she said, “you’re WASTING your SAT scores.” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you; the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp.

He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture—why would anyone bother with music? And yet—from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning.”

In September 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.

And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.

At least in my neighborhood, we didn’t shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn’t play cards to pass the time, we didn’t watch TV, we didn’t shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang “We Shall Overcome”. Lots of people sang America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of “arts and entertainment” as the newspaper section would have us believe. It’s not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can’t with our minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber’s heartwrenchingly beautiful piece Adagio for Strings. If you don’t know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie Platoon, a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn’t know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what’s really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings—people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there’s some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn’t good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks. Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can’t talk about it. Can you imagine watching Indiana Jones or Superman or Star Wars with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in ET so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn’t happen that way. The Greeks: Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I’ll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important; music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago.

I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland’s Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland’s, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier—even in his 70’s, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterwards, tears and all, to explain himself.

What he told us was this: “During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team’s planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn’t understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?”
Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year’s freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this:

“If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life. Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.

You’re not here to become an entertainer, and you don’t have to sell yourself. The truth is you don’t have anything to sell; being a musician isn’t about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I’m not an entertainer; I’m a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You’re here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don’t expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that’s what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.” "

Layoffs Causing Remainders to Bail

2009-02-18T09:15:00.000-06:00

My employer, under a hiring freeze has fired three workers in the past 2 months. As a result, there are not enough people to cover the shifts of a 24/7 help desk-call center. In response to this, management has redone our schedules and will, come the beginning of March, require us to work different shifts, ranging from 7 a.m to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday, to 12 hour shifts from 7 p.m to 7 a.m. spanning weekends. Also, the workers will now be "on call" for covering for evening and weekend workers. To make matters more interesting, employees will not be paid for the on-call time. In short, our free time is now no longer ours.

We were blind sided by the email that arrived yesterday and, according to management, if we have problems with the schedule as it was delivered to us, we are to resolve the issues between ourselves.

It seems that the economic situation is now to a point that the reduced work force is causing more pressure on those who remain employed and many of them are now at the breaking point. For myself, this new schedule precludes my having a second job and caring for my mother who I visit nearly every weekend.

The new schedule almost seems designed to force us to quit. If any more employees are taken from the schedule, then coverage will be impossible. But, being a college town, management will, no doubt, be allowed to hire from the hungry pool of newbies at below fair market wages and save tons of money on wages and benefits.

Conspiracy theory? Yup. No doubt. Whether this is the case or not, the reality is that I cannot work the new schedule, my cube mate, a single mom currently on hemodialysis will not be able to work the new schedule and our former supervisor, a family man with a wife who rides to work with her husband every morning not just to save money, but because they only have the one car, well, unless they can get someone to pick one of them up way out in the country when their schedules diverge or when he is called in after hours, he will not be able to work the new schedule.

That's three of us. Three out of hundreds of thousands of people out of work.

The Sound and the Sway (reprint from MySpace)

2009-01-13T13:44:00.001-06:00

The Sound and the Sway
Category: Music

When Dick and I first started talking about working together, before Hormone Junkies became manifest and long before we even mentioned the idea of a project together, we spoke about how music makes us feel. We listed bands, composers, artists and their works that caused that special surge in our internal systems, and those that initiated intellectual movement - soul and substance. We were up front about the fact that music, for us, was not a vapid method of passing the time, it was not a place holder for physical and mental inactivity, but an engaged essential state and process. Music was not to be played then not listened to. It was not to be performed and then not moved to. It was not just artificial environmental decoration - no. It is essential. It moves us on the inside and the outside. It engages us from the top of our brains down, through our eyes and mouths and throat and lungs, down and into our muscles and bones, our hips, our thighs and calves to our feet and our toes. It makes us dream and it makes us dance.

And that is how we got to "dance" music. A dance band. That's what we wanted. We wanted to dance. But, we realized immediately between us that our dancing was not limited to 120 beats per minute, kick drum on the down beat, syntho-throbbing, sub woofer pulsing club tunes, though we by no means dislike that type of dance music - we, in fact, love and embrace it. To us, though, dance music is so much more. We spoke to one another about bands like Talking Heads, the Orb, Underworld, and New Order. Groups that have gotten our hips and feet moving in the past - dance music. But, we realized that we also would dance to Yes's The Ancient or Sound Chaser and to Eno's King's Lead Hat and Energy Fools the Magician. Hell, we'd dance to the music of Elliot Sharp and Henry Cow. Our idea of dance music seems much broader than that of some of our colleagues. For us it's the sound and the sway, the meaning and the movement.

So, the sounds that channel through us, the music that we facillitate and the vibrations that we initiate, that music is all dance music. Sometimes it will make you dance, some times it will let you dance and sometimes it will dare you to. In any case, it is there for your head and hips alike. Al Gore reminded us that an African proverb states "when you pray, remember to move your feet." We offer foot moving music for all sorts of prayers.

PROOF of CONCEPT is OUT

2008-12-11T08:39:00.003-06:00

We got confirmation yesterday that Amazon.com has the MP3 downloads for the Hormone Junkies EP "PROOF of CONCEPT" ready. Folks, it's less than $3 for three amazing songs. How can it NOT be worth it?

Hormone Junkies

2008-11-24T13:05:00.001-06:00

Hormone Junkies is a new band with great potential. Visit their website at www.hormonejunkies.com and join their Facebook group page at http://tinyurl.com/6gttsf

What kind of music? Kind of Acid Jazz over dance rhythms with a post-prog rock flavor...with some Stockhausen and Cage thrown in.

The Case Against Racism in 2008

2008-10-07T12:52:00.005-05:00

Never thought a speech from a leader of the AFL/CIO would ever bring tears of pride to my eyes - here it is:

Click on the TITLE to take you to Andrew Sullivan's "The Daily Dish"

Don't Vote

2008-10-01T14:15:00.001-05:00

It's Sarah Palin Again

2008-09-20T20:13:00.007-05:00

I've got a bite on my arm
From teeth with razors of sin
Gushing blood all around
It's Sarah Palin again

I feel the cold in the room
Can't you feel the heat flee?
The caring mother's have died
And sent their sons out to sea

It's Sarah Palin again
It's Sarah Palin again

Now I'm finally feeling warm
I see the flames from a pyre
Oh my God! What has she done?
She's throwing books on the fire!

It's Sarah Palin again
It's Sarah Palin again

She's just simple and small
Just a bug in my eye
I'm still bleeding from her bite
I guess I'll never know why

I won't demean the pigs and fishes
By using them to compare
I still fear for our lives
She makes me not want to care
Somebody's got to care....

Not Sarah Palin again
Not Sarah Palin again

©2008 Stuart Dummit/DEStudios.net

Class

2008-05-31T15:53:00.005-05:00

This is a billboard near my home in Columbia, Missouri. Ain't we got class?

The Great Divide

2008-04-23T15:33:00.002-05:00

I know these things to be true:

I am a coward. I am a whore. I am an excuse waiting for a broken promise. I am an atheist who prays to God out of fear.

I am a professional seeker of convenient truth. I am a reader of self help books. I am a denier of self help techniques. I am a theist who won't accept God's choices. I am the tongueless singer, I am the ear-less listener, I am the eyeless observer.

I am an embarrassed Oprah-holic.

About as well intentioned as a jerk like me can be, I try...I actually try to be the kind of man that I espouse as superior. "...he turns his attention to himself and molds his character."

I have been reading Eckhart Tolle's books the Power of Now and A New Earth. It's all an exercise in reflexive perception and awareness. "Be aware of yourself being aware." I do that and I feel inadequate. "Thought causes pain and suffering" I think, therefore I hurt.

But, he's right.

The line, which is an abstraction created by the human mind, is drawn in the air that surrounds my being and thereby manifests the space on either side of the line. And in those spaces we can place the good and the bad, the effective and the ineffective, that which works and that which doesn't.

Which side am I on?

Gotta Find Something Better (repost from Tribe.net)

2008-01-08T09:52:00.001-06:00

Hello folks.

It's Tuesday morning and this is the second day in a row that I've called in sick to work. I'm actually not feeling well, but it's not medical - it's emotional. I hate my job. I really hate it. And what's more is that I find that I like hating it. The negativity fuels that hatred and it just continues to grow and grow. The cycle must come to an end.

I had decided that I would make it to the end of May at the current job and then quit. That would mean that I had fulfilled one of my New Year resolutions - to not be working at my current job by the time I turn 50. I reach that milestone in early June. But I don't think I can make it, folks. I have to find something different and I need to find it fast.

The major issues I have are 1) Health Care - I live in Missouri and the options for someone with a chronic disease without insurance are few and not particularly encouraging. 2) I owe lots of money, mostly due to the fact that my current insurance doesn't cover all my medications, so I've put them on credit cards and I don't currently make enough money to pay them off. Out of pocket I spent over $2500 last year on medication. And then there are the hospital and physician costs that insurance doesn't cover. 3) General expenses - I have over $1250 a month in just general expenses. That' not counting food and clothing. Just rent, car payment, insurance and general bills.

Soooo...I need to find a way to make money, be happy and move forward with my life. Any suggestions?

Think good thoughts.....

New Music

2007-12-08T11:35:00.000-06:00

I really want you folks to listen to my music. I want feedback and I want to know that I'm not kidding myself. I've uploaded an industrial piece called IND01 to my MySpace page. Help me out and visit the site, make a comment, tell me that you believe in me!

What I'm Doing

2007-12-02T11:43:00.000-06:00

Hello Friends!

Just a fast note to let you know what's up. I'm working on music quite a bit lately, and if you want to hear some of it, go to my MySpace site...the link is up in the title. Otherwise, I'm doing some writing, looking for ways to get out of my job, and, as always, looking for a partner in crime...or organic bed warmer or...well, you know!

Max is doing well. Total sweet-pea! I love him to no ends.

Family is doing okay. Dad's health isn't the greatest, but we do what we can to keep him comfortable and Mom is putting the Saints to shame with her selflessness and love. God, I admire that woman!

Here's a recent picture for all that care. Peace, Happiness and Fulfillment!

Stuart

Leopard Mac OS X (v. 10.5) Review

2007-10-27T10:10:00.000-05:00

Okay - last night I stood in line to get a copy of Apple's latest major upgrade to their UNIX based operating system OS X - Leopard. If you're into the numbering game, this is version 10.5 and it's been around 2 years since a major upgrade.

Now, for all of you Windows folks out there who are stunned by Vista, imagine that Mac users have had many of those "wow" gizmos as a part of their computers for the last 24 months, and with the release of Leopard, the icing has been sweetened and any doubts have been put to rest. And before you say "Hey! But you're a Mac user anyway. What do YOU know about computers? You're just a Microsoft hater!" Well, I've been working with computers since 1991, I started on a PC with just DOS, then Windows 3.1, then IBM's OS/2 (which, by the way, is still pretty damn cool) and then, by 1996, I was in the computer biz and still make my major living as a desktop support agent for a hospital that uses primarily Windows XP. I also have experience with Linux, various flavors of UNIX and, believe it or not, just got my first Mac less than a year ago. So, I'm not prejudiced. I'm just amazed.

I'm not going to tell you that it's all good. It's not. My FTP program doesn't work and when I launched Yahoo! Messenger, it automatically shut down. I was able to find a suitable Open Source FTP client that works fine and an update of Yahoo! seems to fix that problem as well. I'm sure that I'll find other applications that have a hard time with the new OS, but for the most part, everything is working fine - and FAST! And because Apple is constantly working to improve they system and upgrades are delivered seamlessly and securely, I really can't complain.

It took about 2 hours for my MacBook Pro with 1.5 Gb of RAM to upgrade to the new software - it really was one stop shopping. What's great is that immediately I was able to be productive again, with printing in place, all of the drivers necessary for smooth work flow were functioning and I was able to take advantage of some of the new totally cool features.

On a Mac, there is an application Dock that usually resides along the bottom of the screen where you can set the icons for your most used programs. You actually do just set them there, like on a shelf. You can ask the Dock to stay put or hide itself when not in use to maximize workspace. You can even stack things up on this shelf - just like stacking magazines you can stack documents or even programs - just put the stuff in a folder and place it on the Dock. When you click on it, you can either see it fan out directly from the stack, or you can have it show up in a grid pattern.

You can also create separate work spaces on the computer so you can have all your web apps on one screen, and all of your office apps on another, and then move between them with a keyboard shortcut or the click of a mouse. Keep your games up and running and switch to your work screen quickly when someone comes into the room. Sweet.

There is also an automatic backup feature that allows the system to take a periodic snapshot of your system, keep a copy of it remotely (like on an external drive) and then you can browse through them like files and choose the right one if you need to get back to an older state on your computer.

And, if you own a freestanding copy of Windows XP or Vista, you can run it right on your Mac.

Now, all of these things have been written about before by folks who are far better at it than me, but here's the dirt - despite some stumbling here and there, this thing works and it works well. I have yet to actually explore some of the finer tweeks to the system and I'm sure I won't experience some of the "under the hood" changes until application developers start integrating them into new applications. But, for now, I'm a happy computing guy and I don't really have to spend a week or so learning how to use the new operating system or downloading replacement drivers or replacing old programs that don't work anymore. No. I got the best that technology has to offer right here on my laptop. And it's one virile cat!

New Project at Scented Shadows

2007-10-21T09:35:00.000-05:00

Hey friends! There is a new project started at the brother site of Dangerous Enlightenment, Scented Shadows. Here's the url: http://meta4.blogspot.com/2007/10/new-project.html - clicking on the title will also take you there.

Doing Fine

2007-10-02T13:51:00.001-05:00

Sorry that I've neglected to post regarding my health. I've been busy trying to catch up with the world and trying to renegotiate the way I deal with it. Not a particularly easy task.

As it turns out, there is no tumor in my lung - only fungus. The fix as it was presented to me was a bottle of very expensive pills. 60 of them for the price of about $2140. That's one month's worth. The side effects are not particularly fun, but I'm thinking that I may be near the end of the course of the treatment. The prescription allows for another 30 days of meds, but I am hoping that the docs will say I am free to get back to just 4 pills a day. Whatever they say, I go back on the 16th of October for another CT scan of my air sacs to see how things look.

Now, I mentioned above that I'm trying to renegotiate the way I deal with the world. What that really means is that I'm trying to find a new way to support myself. Some way that will pay the bills, give me appropriate health care and offer me a way to spend more than a fraction of the day with a smile on my face. I'm thinking that the answer may be freelancing. Freelance writer, artist, musician, teacher, hobo, bum.

I'd be good, wouldn't I?

So, I'm working that angle and I'll let y'all know how things are going. More regular posts will be coming soon.

a thought from early this morning

2007-09-21T08:32:00.000-05:00

Gladly I would trade one vision for another
Until I realized that they were actually the same
And then it would be too late -
But, at least I would know

Doing Well, Not Doing Well

2007-08-29T07:50:00.000-05:00

What's been happening in my life? Well, I've been sick. Yes, I've had a bout with some sort of bug that slapped me down for a few days with a 103 fever and a headache from the dark side. And sweating...never thought a human could produce so much water through their pores. Enough fluid to put out a medium sized fire!

I took a trip to the ER where I was poked, prodded, bled, x-rayed, CAT scanned and tapped. Yes, they stuck a spigot in my spine and took some fluid. I'll write a detailed piece on the whole episode later. It was not a good PR experience for the health care system.

A real downside to the visit was that they found a dark spot on my right lung. It's hard to tell, so they say, if it's pneumonia, fungus, tumor or what. The doctor's response? A needle biopsy. That was supposed to happen yesterday, but in the infinite wisdom of the machine of the hospital, no one told me not to eat past midnight the night before, and I was led to believe that I would be able to drive myself home after the procedure. That was so much not the case that it was decided to postpone the biopsy. Now it will happen on Friday and I will meet with my doctors on the next Friday.

In the meantime, I've decided that I no longer can work at my present job. The stress is enough to kill a man and, though I don't really have a plan for making money I have come to the conclusion that there has to be a better, healthier way.

So, today I visit some social service institutions and try to arrange some assistance. If working part time is the way to go, then that's what I'll do. I need to be able to pay my bills and pay off my debts - no small feat - and I need to be able to take care of the Max Monster - the astounding Beagle who shares my life. He's getting older, too, and sometimes his health is not what it could be. I need to make sure he gets the best care that can be afforded when he needs it.

Okay. Enough for now. I will post more when I know more. My spirits are high, though perhaps artificially propped up for the time being. I am scared, but that isn't such a bad thing. I have Max to protect me - right? Right.

Save Internet Radio

2007-07-17T10:01:00.001-05:00

I will not, at this time, mount the soap box and preach to you. There should be no need for that. Instead, I offer a web link to a site that might help educate you on an important issue. The question is: Do we, as citizens, want the government to regulate forums of speech, communication and artistic expression using charges and fees that will force individuals and small, inadequately funded organizations off the internet air-waves?

Please, educate yourself on this important issue that needs to be addressed immediately - before the government sweeps it under the rug. Please comment on your thoughts about Internet Radio, copyright laws, fair usage, intellectual property and other related issues!

Save Internet Radio!

Welcome to the New Technology!

2007-06-23T12:43:00.001-05:00

Okay. Here's something interesting. This blog is being created using a Widget from the Mac OS X Dashboard - I haven't even had to log into Blogger to get this up and running! Very Cool.

In other news, the DEStudios website will be undergoing a major upgrade in the next few days. Please be patient with me and I promise it will be amazing once it is up and running!

In the meantime, let me thank all of you for visiting and there will be REAL blog and website updates soon!

It's HERE!

2007-05-15T14:31:00.001-05:00

Starlight & Darkness
the New Album from
STUART DUMMIT
is now Available!

Well folks! It's done. The album is up on the internet and ready for download. It is available in its entirety at three of the most popular internet music sources: iTunes, eMusic and Rhapsody. And you can download some of the individual tracks from those locations or from my MySpace site.

I want to thank two people specifically for their help in getting this thing off the ground - Jeff Wheeler for his technical and spiritual support, and Eric Letourneau for his encouragement. Couldn't have done it without either of them!

Most of this album was recorded in about a three week period on a Macintosh laptop computer in my apartment in Columbia, Missouri. One track, the long "Fluid Metal" was actually recorded way back in the early 1990s on a Fostex 4 track cassette machine in my apartment in San Francisco. Jeff Wheeler assisted in cleaning up the sound a bit and encouraged me to include it. An edited version of this piece was on my previous album Ecce Homo, which will be re-released later this year.

I hope you folks out in the universe of data packets and electronic impulses will help me out and pay for a download or two. It will go a long way towards getting me out from behind this desk, out of this tie and into my jeans with a guitar in my hands - the way I'm supposed to be!

I've Been Banned

2007-04-12T15:18:00.001-05:00

You know that you have arrived when, by merely being who you are, you offend.

A friend of mine who is currently traveling over seas sent me an image today that put an odd smile on my face. Apparently, he tried to access my website while in the Dubai International Airport and the page was blocked.Now, what is interesting is that I examined the captured image that my friend sent me which included the web browser frame and the URL. He wasn't trying to view any of the pictures on the web site - they might contain some questionable images, and that would make sense to block the site if they violated Islamic Law. But, no. The only thing on the web page that he was trying to access was a music file. That is the only thing on the page. And it is instrumental music - no possibility of the lyric being offensive. Go figure.

I suppose the real beauty is that I've told several of my friends so far and all of them have said, "Congratualtions! I'm so proud of you!" I feel...I feel so...so important!

And Then There Was MUSIC

2007-04-11T21:07:00.001-05:00

It's happening, folks! I'm working at getting my music out to the world!

My album, Starlight and Darkness is done and soon it will be available on iTunes, eMusic and Rhapsody. With all of its flaws, and it is flawed, I'm really proud of it. It flows nicely and it has some integrity. So much "New Age" music is so synthetic. It sounds so completely programmed and antiseptic that it's difficult to believe that humans made it. That in mind, I found myself not getting too concerned when a glitch shows up here or there, or that the recording isn't always pristine. I'd like to think that there is a "real" sound to the recording.

I've set up a MySpace site for my music - you can preview two of the songs from the album there plus two musical sketches that may show up in some form on a future recording.

While I'm at it, I need to thank two people that mean a lot to me and helped me along in the process - Jeff Wheeler, who helped with re-engineering the track Fluid Metal and also kept me on course. And then there's Andre-Eric Letourneau - the man who steered me toward this project and inspired me. To them and all my other friends, I say Thank You!

Eat This In Remembrance Of Me (...then brush your teeth!)

2007-04-03T14:30:00.000-05:00

Do you remember the artist Cosmio Cavallaro? He's the guy that covered a motel room with melted cheese. Not an action that I personally understand or relate to, but that's fine. I can respect without understanding. Well, Mr. Cavallaro has presented the public with a life sized, anatomically accurate sculpture of Jesus, the human manifestation of the Christian deity, also referred to as "the Son of God" and "Jesus Christ," and recognized by Christians as the Messiah prophesied by the ancient Jewish seers. Follow any of the links in this blog to check out the sculpture.

Now, from an aesthetic point of view, I find the "My Sweet Lord" sculpture far more satisfying than cheese covered architecture. The form of the sculpture seems (from the pictures at least) to be quite elegant and is by no means disrespectful. For some reason, though, many are taking offense at the idea that it is made of chocolate.

What? How can people be offended by a representation of Jesus made from a substance that is loved, revered and consumed by so many of us! They say it is disrespectful. And I do not understand that.

So, we get into some art theory here. Mr. Cavallaro seems to have succeeded in getting many slow witted Americans to consider an issue that would have either bored them or zoomed right past them if addressed in a more theoretical way, and that is the impact and validity of conceptual art. An art form that depends on the idea as much as the execution or artifacts that remain after the art has taken place. In this case, it is not the artist's ability to create a likeness or to elicit an emotional response via shape, form, texture, color, but to pull that response from the idea of the materials used to create it.

So, to those who are offended, perhaps it is the idea that there is a depiction of their deity created out of a sweet and desirable treat that, in recent months, has been shown to have positive effects on human health in the form of antioxidants. Sheesh! Talk about hard to please!!!

What really confuses me, though, is the reactions of those interviewed about the sculpture. They were largely offended by the idea that it was made of chocolate, which I've commented on, but many felt it necessary to say to the interviewer that they wouldn't eat any of the chocolate.

The wouldn't eat the chocolate. Hmmm... Now, I know that from time to time, when looking at a painting by Renoir that I am tempted to go up and lick the surface because his reds look like cherry and strawberry candy and the greens and blues are most definitely spearmint and peppermint, but this is something completely different. These are people who worship a god that manifested itself as a human male, who was said to have lived as a human with all of the ups and downs, but maintained his divinity and, through some machination of logic determined that his own death would "atone for the sins of mankind."

Yikes.

What is more is that he, before he arranged his own arrest, for which, by the way, his associate, assistant and confidant was, until recently, blamed for betrayal and marked as a traitor rather than the faithful and strong servant that he was; this Jesus Christ, before he was taken away to be executed, he instituted a ritual, a sacrament, if you will, of symbolic cannibalism. He broke bread and told his followers that it was his body. He passed a cup of wine and told them that it was his blood. He told them to eat and drink in order to remember him. Some of the Christian sects out there actually believe in this thing called transubstantiation - this notion that after the bread and wine are blessed by the appropriate holy man, the bread actually turns into flesh and the wine actually turns into blood. And these Christians consume it. They eat their God! Except, of course, when their God is represented in chocolaty sweet goodness.

This is just insane.

So, I tip my hat to you, Cosimo Cavallaro! You've ruffled some feathers, sure, but you've focused some attention on our human foibles - and that is commendable.

....and then there is the giant Barack Obama Jesus with the neon halo.....

CNN Article
CNBC Article

Change Is The Only Thing That Doesn't

2007-03-30T15:19:00.001-05:00

So much going on these days, and I suppose that is a very good thing.

I met a guy online a few weeks ago. I do that quite a bit as some of you may know. And, yes, he's attractive, plays the same side o' the fence as I do and he's an artist and musician - and not your garden variety, either. No, he's higher class.

Oh yes, and he's French Canadian.

Well, the point is that we seem to like one another and that gives me a huge lift, but he also challenged me to produce an album's worth of musical material within a 2 to 3 week period. It needed to be "relaxation music." Why such specifics? That's fodder for another blog, so let me continue:

I took the challenge and here, at the end of two and half weeks, I've got an album's worth of music which will be released in cyberspace in either late May or early June on iTunes, E-Music and Rhapsody. The title of the album is "Starlight and Darkness" and it is, for want of a better method of describing it, a suite of ambient pieces that describe an evening, from the gloaming of the day, through the fall of night, the emergence of the stars, the transportation of awareness to the space between reality and dreams and the eventual return of daylight.

There are problems with the recording, I will not lie. It was, for the most part recorded on my Mac with tools that are not necessarily up to professional standards, but that's okay. It still sounds pretty good. Damn good in fact!

The first "single" is my arrangement of "Shenandoah" which is subtitled "Daughter of the Stars." It was played on a local community radio station the other night. I can't believe how scared I was when I found out! But it sounded fine.

You can listen to that radio station, by the way, on the internet! Just go to the KOPN home page and click on the appropriate link!

What now, you might ask? Well, the Canadian artist and I will meet at the end of April and see what happens there. No matter what happens, I've found someone that understands where I'm coming from artistically and we will no doubt collaborate on some projects. Also, after having made an album of low key ambient music I feel it's time to make a leading edge psychotopunk record. Something that might even be difficult to listen to....three......fore..........

What do you mean "You can dance to it?"

2007-03-30T14:35:00.000-05:00

A O I O on MySpace

A friend of mine was listening to the music of my band, AOIO, the other day and he kept shaking his head.

"I just don't get it, Stuart. There's no melody, no drums, no pop hooks - how can you call this music?"

All I could say was, "at least you can dance to it!"

He looked at me with a dubious eye, as though I had just called the Pope "a conservative German Papist with expensive red Prada loafers and a Papal iPod" and said, "What do you mean 'You can dance to it?' There's absolutely NOTHING danceable about that stuff!"

Without missing a beat I responded, "It's because you're only using two legs to dance. Everyone knows that guys dance better when they use all three legs!"

Become a friend of A O I O and learn to dance on all three legs!

A O I O on MySpace

Changes - Part II

2006-12-09T08:17:00.000-06:00

Here's a real hoot for you: I just bought a Macintosh computer. Yup, I'm writing this entry on my new MacBook Pro laptop. OS X, 2 GHz Intel Dual Core processor, 1.5 Gb RAM, 60 Gb hard drive and a 15.3" widescreen display. And I'm in love.

I'd worked with Macs before, oh, about 10 years ago or so, back in the PowerPC days. I was working as a computer sales person and I volunteered to be the resident Mac guy. I learned a bit here and there, but essentially I remained a PC addict. Perhaps because so much of what I needed to do on a computer involved using PCs in the workplace. When I started working for the hospital, I discovered a culture of Macintosh Intolerance. And, even thought I never wholly bought into the prejudice, I allowed its effects to survive.

Lately, though, I've come to realize that none of my Windows based PCs has lasted more than 2 years. Some essential component always seems to fail. And the OS just doesn't have the kind of robustness that I would expect after so many years of development. I needed, I wanted, to try something different. And then these babies went on sale.

I suppose the most surprising thing to me is how incredibly powerful both the hardware and the software are. The bundled software is amazing and the OS itself is about as rock solid as they come - it is UNIX after all. I still have tons to learn about this beast, but it's fun again. And having fun is a very important thing for me.

NOTE: If there are any Mac folks out there that can help me with loading the X windows interface (X11 as it is called) I would appreciate it. I keep getting the message that it cannot be installed because newer software is currently installed on the volume [and it's not] - I've done some searching and found that others have run into the same problem, but no one has posted a fix.

Wow....what an adventure. (now THAT is a bit sad - my adventures are taking place from behind a keyboard!)

Changes

2006-12-09T07:39:00.000-06:00

It seems that change is in the air. Change is good, isn't it?

I haven't posted anything in quite a while, not because I haven't had anything to say, but because the shifts from one perspective to another happen so quickly that it resembles trying to navigate a fun house after a few drinks. The floor seems to slide and invert beneath me and the angle of the walls refuse to stay the same. But, this morning, I'll do my best to update everyone on the situations as they are understood by me.

Apartment living certainly has its advantages and, after the recent 15" snowfall I am altogether glad that I didn't have to worry about the roof caving in or any of that old home-owner stuff. Still, the impermanence of renting weighs on me from time to time. What should happen if.... Yes, the unknown can assault us from many different angles.

Max is doing better. His leg seems all but healed and he even runs around and does his trademark Max Butt Wiggle when he sees friends and family. Watching him closely though, reveals that the leg is not set quite right, or isn't quite as strong, or something to that effect. But maybe it is just age. He's somewhere between 7 and 8 years old now and time does take its toll, n'est pas? I guess that it's at this point that I comment on how the difference in life span between a human and a canine can offer the biped a certain unique perspective on existence. I watch Max, his puppy-ness, his young adulthood, now his waning middle age, and realize that in him I can become familiar with a cycle of life seen from an uncomfortable distance. I didn't know Max when he was born, but we came together when he was only a year or so old - still with his puppy mindset in tact. I will most likely outlive him and, if I have working braincells at that time, I imagine that I will be able to see his life as a whole and, because I am who and what I am, I will analyze it, consider it, and take it into me. The bundle of memories that I retain will be labeled as "Max's Life."

It is the condensation of the existence of another into a package. Maybe it is the way we cope, by objectifying. I would hope I would be able to maintain a little more compassion. (I originally wrote the word humanity, but upon a quick second thought, I realized that it is most likely very human to reduce a life into a bundle that can be tossed around....) I'm not sure where I'm going here...maybe you do.

It has been a year now since Sheila died. It has become more difficult rather than easier as the river continues to flow. Instead of time healing these wounds, the friction keeps the lesions open and the impurities of the passing torrents infect and irritate the scarred flesh. I still have moments when I think to myself "I need to tell Sheila about this," or "I wonder if Sheila still has a copy of that...." And each time something like this happens, the renting of my flesh becomes more tender, bleeds a bit more, and I come closer to being able to cry the big cry.

More Than This

2006-10-16T09:16:00.000-05:00

It has been far too long since I've written anything and, I'm afraid, I don't have the time nor the brain power to present anything particularly interesting for you to devour. So, I'll provide a quick update and then get on with the business of staying afloat.

The music is doing well. I'm actually practicing with three bands currently - D4, a C3 cover band that will be playing at the Halloween masque being produced by Lizzie West, and then we've been asked to play backup along with White Buffalo, Lizzie's band, for the same show - that's two different bands there, and then there is A O I O - my band with percussionist/keyboardist Jeff Wheeler. Now that's the juicy stuff! We're hoping to have a single released fairly soon to whet the public's whistle.

Some of you may have heard that Max, the Wonder Beagle, was injured right before Labor Day - he's doing much better now. The cold weather, I am afraid, might prove an irritant to his injured leg - it was chilly the other morning when we went for a walk and he limped far more than he has in the last week or so. We've gotten my old electric hot pad out and we'll see if he takes advantage of the theraputic nap-space.

And for all of you interested parties, I am still officially single and looking for Mr. Right. So, get those applications in while there's still time!

Things to look forward to in the coming months -

Launch of the A O I O web presence -

PerkinsWood has completed recording the sound track to a documentary about Elvis Impersonators - it's getting quite the buzz, so keep your eyes and ears open!

Lizzie West and company are producing a Halloween Ball/Masque in Columbia, Missouri, on October 28. It promises to be an interesting experience!

So...in case you would like some extra info, check out these sites:

Official C3 Web Site

Official PerkinsWood Website

Official Lizzie West and White Buffalo website

More to come - and soon....I PROMISE!

Sounds - Images - Words

2006-05-22T09:58:00.000-05:00

It takes quite a bit of concentration for me to work this process of defining myself as an artist that works in various media. Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing between my picture making and my music making and at other times the two seem so very different that I think of myself as two very different people doing very different things. I think that is why in my earlier days I took on the term "Split Brain Syndrome" as a performance name. Maybe it still applies.

I have recently started collecting musical instruments again and started playing a lot more. I have all sorts of musical ideas and I even am thinking about rerecording some old music and doing some arrangements of Christmas songs to perform in churches come the holiday season. I really like the idea of playing in both churches and bars...what's the saying? Different strokes for different folks?

And then there is the writing. I love to write and some of what I've written is very good - some, not so good. Still, I love doing it and it is worth putting out there. Oddly enough, I find that it is the one thing that is always there for me, whether I'm spending time making sounds or making pictures. Perhaps it is true about language being the thing that ties it all together.

Soooo...it's time for new business cards. Gonna have to make a new design and advertise as an artist. I'll even put my new Mobile Phone Number on that sucker - And I NEVER thought I'd have one of those blasted things, but I suppose if I want to be contacted I need to make it easy.

sigh

Sound

2006-05-12T13:56:00.000-05:00

Although I love music, I may have to admit that it is actually sound that has my attention. I love sound. I love making sound - sound that is organized, sound that isn't organized. Layers of sound: refined and planned, raw and random. Sound that comforts. Sound that threatens.

I got the guitar and I got the effects bay and now I want to get a looping station and the guitar synthesizer unit. I know that this represents a lot of money, but I find that I want the tools to realize some of the things that happen in my head - and I want to subject the world outside of my head to that which goes on within.

And the sound - does the sound have the ablility to transform me? Will producing these noises, these vibrations, these patterns - will they change how I see myself and/or how others see me? Can what one hears alter what one sees? Is this societal synesthesia?

I see what you're saying.

I hear where you're coming from.

I Know I Shouldn't, But...

2006-04-19T15:30:00.000-05:00

I will be getting my tax refund in just a few days. I filed last week after refiguring my return multiple times in hopes of finding another few cents worth of deductions. I should know better, though. Despite the fact that I got a whopping 2% raise last year, my gross adjusted income for 2005 was somehow less than for 2004. Sadly, I'm too tired to make a big deal of it. I'm sure that someone out there has an obscure and obtuse rational for it - and I really don't want to feel the hot air streaming from their pie-hole.

The point, though, of this particular entry in my web journal, my online confessional, my electronic sandwich board, is to make public my intention to do something foolish, unsound from a financial point of view but something that will make me a happy, happy boy.

I'm a gonna buy me a guitar.

He's a handsome cuss, ain't he?

Solid mahogany body, rosewood fingerboard, active pickups for a hot, low buzz sound and looks that can kill. To compliment this beast, I'm planning on getting a Line6 PODxt LIVE effects bay with more integrated digital gizmos than you can shake a stick at. Basically, this will allow me to modify the sound in a multitude of ways without spending lots o' cash on individual effects pedals.

I've been playing this guitar in a local shop for over a month and it sings beautifully. It fits up against my body like the perfect dance partner and when I finger the neck and pluck those strings the sounds of satisfaction fill the room.

Who says you can't buy love?

Falling In Like - a reprint

2006-04-11T15:11:00.000-05:00

Earlier this year I set up a page for myself on MySpace. I am not an addict in any sense of the word, but I do enjoy it and have met some interesting folk and have had more than a few interesting conversations.

Oddly enough, I have found that one of my blog entries has gotten some attention from some people and, in fact, they have mentioned reading it and re-reading it.

Wow. My first classic blog. And because it is restricted to MySpace users and I would like to possibly get some feedback from others, I reprint the February 27 missive here and now.

Originally posted in MySpace Blog by me.

Falling in Like

I know better than to think that one can "fall in love" with someone over the internet. Falling in love, anyway, is a suspect occurrence as far as I'm concerned. We can "fall in lust" with someone; realize that based on pictures and detached text based conversations that we want to do the nasty with that virtual being that may be half way around the globe, but love, in my book at least, love takes time. Time to get to know, to share space, to become familiar with the various moods, scents, sounds and masks of the other. All that being said, I have discovered that it is very easy for me to "fall in like" with someone with nothing more than phone lines and data packets between us.

Yet, from time to time (and now is one of those times) I meet guys that make me feel kinda warm inside. I discover that I'm checking my email over and over again in case they may have messaged me. I go to their own web page and look at their pictures and try to imagine them in instances not bound by the rasters of the http world. And what is more, I find myself imagining having coffee with them, going to movies with them, cooking breakfast together, meeting their friends, their families. I imagine all of these things and more, I imagine not just having sex with them, but making love with them. These are very distinct things in my estimation - they often can go hand in hand, but not always.

It's not love, but isn't it more than just "like?" In many ways it is so....so domestic. It's not just lust because I've realized that I'm attracted to what that person says and how he presents himself. That can be just as (if not more) attractive than bulging biceps (though there's nothing wrong with bulging biceps...or bulging just about anything!) I can read their posted list of general interests, favorite movies, TV shows and books, and it's not just the subtle clues and queues to his erotic tastes (favorite TV characters: Grizzly Adams or Bill Goldberg, favorite occupation: cruising musclebound leatherbears) but the innocuous interests like Dungeons and Dragons, Rilke, geeky SciFi TV shows and unpopular (yet really cool) music - it is those things that feed my imagination.

I've met quite a few great people since I set up a MySpace profile for myself. It's a pretty neat system, despite its flaws. And of those great people, more than a couple have gotten the juices flowing. And of those that have gotten my juices flowing there are a few: three, two, one...that make me really want to have a taste - I want to be more than just virtual friends, I want to hear and tell more than just glib aphorisms that cater to a general population. I want to maintain the "lust" and explore the "like" and keep the possibility of "love" alive.

What is this?

2006-04-04T11:05:00.000-05:00

I installed some of my painting in the Boone County Government Offices Building yesterday as a part of a local "community art program" that puts the work of locals in businesses and government buildings in our area. Not a bad deal, really. I've been doing this for about a year and I've sold some work as a result.

What I'm displaying are not difficult pictures at all. Nothing too challenging, but neither have I offered up images of crying clowns or big eyed waifs. Perhaps I should.

The space is a modern rotunda of sorts. There is an open round area where there are offices and payment windows, and there is a stairway with a landing that's about 10 steps up then splits into two staircases that lead up to the second floor. On the landing there is a wonderful space for paintings and I chose to hang Ocean Interface there. I thought it was beautiful!

From the comments that I heard while installing the rest of the pictures I guess I was wrong.

"What...what is this?"

"I could do that!"

"They call this art? I call it 'stupid'."

I bit my lip. I wasn't going to say anything - and I didn't.

Now, I know that I'm no Rembrandt. I know that there are those who have the ability to capture even the most base imagination, the most uncultured neuron, and I may not be one of those people, but I'm no hack.

I didn't think it would bother me, but see...I'm writing about it the next day. Obviously, my skin ain't nearly as thick as I thought it was.
________________________________

The exhibition continues through the end of June at the Boone County Government Office Building, 803 E. Walnut St. Columbia, Missouri, 65201

Snapshot

2006-03-27T10:47:00.000-06:00

A snapshot of me right now would show the exterior. I've got on a dark blue sweater with burnt orange stripes across the chest and around the upper arms, black, loose fitting trousers and my boots. My hair is very short and my beared is neatly trimmed. Though I'm only 47 my skin is some what wrinkled, but there are those that say that it lends me character. I just think I've got lousy skin.

I had just shy of enough sleep last night - so there shouldn't be any significan bags under my eyes, but I know that if I lay down for just a minute I could be fast asleep [and, as an aside, I would love to lay down on my bed right now...Max would come up and sit beside me, maybe sniff at me a bit, then position himself either for a belly rub or to cuddle up with me, my arm around him and the two of us, human and canine, would drift into a pleasant slumber......]

Because the hair is so short, my head having been shaved about a week and a half ago, the grey is actually quite noticeable. That's okay. I'm not THAT vain.

But, if the camera were to focus on my eyes, not the potential bags beneath them or the crows feet to their sides or the greying fuzz above them, but into my eyes directly, they might find some tension there, some saddness, some concern.

Generally I think of myself as a happy person. I laugh, I joke, I even giggle. I enjoy being silly sometimes, though I won't deny my serious side, either. I have been known, though, to make fun of my serious side. I think that is healthy. Yet, when people ask me how I am, I rarely lie. I don't sugar coat things. I won't say "fine" just because it is expected. And one can usually tell by looking into me how things are going.

And what is this leading to? I is gonna dump on y'all. Yup. Despite trying to "think positive" and not reenforce the negative by talking about it too much, despite knowing that looking at these things, knowing them, accepting them and then letting them go so as to move forward is the best thing to do, I realize that I don't let go of them. I hold on to these things. I allow them to fester and to continue to stink up my existence.

I went to pick up my medications on Friday. I knew that the 3 month supply would be expensive, but I was in shock. $965.00. And then I got home and you know what? My insurance isn't paying for all of the tests that I had done during my last visit to the doctor. And then, you know what? The CD burner on my laptop burned out. And the CD that is the masterdisk of my "album" Ecce Homo that is all of a sudden getting some attention - it's damaged. It isn't working. Even if the CD burner on my laptop were working, I can't make copies now. And no one came to look at the house last week.

Now, I know that there are those worse off than me. I am not so blind as to not know that. Our discomfort is always a relative thing. I know that all of these things dim the light in my eyes nonetheless, and it does not become dark there, nor a neutral grey, but deep within those eyes there is a form and a color - and it is the form of resignation and the color of mortally injured hope.

So, can these things be seen in that snapshot?

Of Sounds and Sorrows

2006-02-23T10:25:00.000-06:00

I'm at work.

It is an un-fun time for me because I'm at work.

There are so many things that I could and would be doing if I were not at work.

My job is killing me. It was a slow thing at first, injuring a bit of my pride here, snuffing out a bit of creativity there, but nothing that I couldn't recover from. Yet, as the days, the months and the years crawled by, bigger chunks of my soul began to be extinguished. And now, as I look at the past few months I realize that entire matrices of dreams, desires and aspirations have been wiped out. Gone is the complex fantasy of major artistic accomplishment. Erased are the expectations of future musical compositions and recordings. Dead are the dreams of making a difference. And I attribute it all to this job.

I think it was when I was on a trip during my college years that I realized that as soon as you start thinking about what you've done on that trip, even if it is before you get home, the trip is basically over. The events and accomplishments of the past have become more interesting than the possibilities of the future. Similarly, when you start reliving past glories more than you strive toward new ones, you may well want to ask yourself, "What more is there to do with my life?"

With all of this held deftly in a compartment in my mind I observe the fact that I picked up a guitar several weeks ago and began playing again. I began playing music that I played 20 years ago. I played and sang songs that reflect my mindset from that period. I spent time remembering what it was like to stand on stage and play and sing. A long time ago in a land far away.

I got an email from a old bandmate of mine a few weeks ago. He was remembering the great times we had playing and mentioned the possibility of doing it again. Also, I recently found videotapes of performances from the 80s and 90s - I'm digitizing them, editing them and burning them to DVD. Again, I imagine being on stage again but occupy myself with trying to recapture times gone by.

How much am I reviewing the past and how much am I looking to the future? Has that which has come before been established as more interesting than that which is yet to come? Have my dreams been sufficiently murdered so as to preclude the possibility of a continued, ever expanding, ever enriching life? Is this what is called a "midlife crisis?"

The other day I posted 3 MP3 music files on the DEStudios website - music that I recorded in the late 80s. It's good stuff, but it's not new. Do I have new music in me still? Would anyone want to hear live music from a 47 year old who wishes he had been famous enough to even be thought of as a "has been?"

I wonder.

I wonder if it is really the job that is killing me or is it my unwillingness to take a chance and break away.

I wonder if there are new paintings in me still. I wonder if there is new music. I wonder if there is a novel still there waiting to be released.

I wonder if there is a soul mate, a lover, a partner that I'll meet before I die. Before remembering the past is the only thing that I have left to look forward to.

New NRA Bumper Sticker Proposal

2006-02-15T07:21:00.000-06:00

Guns don't shoot people, Vice Presidents do!

©2006 Stuart Dummit

Green Grass

2006-01-26T14:00:00.000-06:00

[This post is actually from a new blog on a "Yahoo 360" page that I'm experimenting with. I may post the link here soon...SD]

Once again I have been reminded that the grass is often greener on the other side of the fence. There is, no doubt, a lesson here. And, as it is with such lessons, we may be able to recite the page from the chapter book verbatum, but to integrate its message, its meaning and its essential reality into our own thought-free behaviors is another story altogether. These lessons cannot be book learned but must be absorbed by the soul. And they often take a lifetime to realize and incorporate.

Yet another fine argument for the transmigration of souls.

So, what are the particulars of this lesson of the greener grass? In this instance, finding the perfect partner. Are all the good ones (the ones that I would want) in another city? Does one sell off all of ones tables, chairs, rugs and boxes of books so that one might chase this (perhaps) mythical being? When does one know when the grass is changing color, and if one discovers that the hue has become richer in the lawn being left behind, does one torque oneself 180 degrees and go back?

Does one wait where one is, in the gloaming silence, alone with only lustful, untempered illusions masquerading as thoughts, and pray that he manifests right in front of you, hand outstretched in friendship, offering the potential for adventures in eros, agape and lessons learned together?

I sit on the lawn, the knees and butt of my jeans stained by the grass, and twiddle my thumbs, waiting.

New Life

2006-01-19T11:15:00.000-06:00

So, the realtors are doing their job and the house is being shown several times a week. With each showing the reality of the situation becomes more and more apparent. I'm gonna have to move! (Oh, let's rephrase that: I'm gonna GET to move! Yeeee HAAAW!)

Because of this ever-opening flower of revelation, I am coming to terms with the clutter that I have amassed through the last several years. I have so much stuff it isn't funny. Actually, it is funny. Why on earth is there a paperclipped stack of grocery store receipts in a box full of old, warped cassette tapes sitting in my storage room? Why? For what earthly reason did I clip a newspaper article about a local diaper factory nine years ago and decide it was worth keeping? Why did I videotape the entire run of "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" back to back with "Babylon 5" - why?

And look at all of these OTHER videotapes.....and I have a computer that can transfer the video tapes to DVD..... hmmmmm.....

So, guess what I did? I went to the store, bought a bunch of blank DVDs and started playing with the video to DVD transfer gizmo on my laptop. Now, my VCR is old and not so happy, but I think I can get a better one for not too much money. When I'm done with the transfers I can sell it at my garage sale. Yeah.... Now, I'm not thinking that those "Lois and Clark" episodes will get transferred - they were recorded at EP, not very nice to look at these days, and anyway, that's a lot of transferring to do! But I found a videotape of me playing solo guitar at a local nightclub back in 1991. An old science fiction movie is being projected behind me and, man - it's pretty damned good! Somewhere there is a video of the last Duration concert - Duration was a band I was in during the mid 1980s. We were pretty strange. Our shows tended to make people drink a lot. There was Robert, the keyboard/guitar player who looked so much the emaciated pale skinned euro-rocker part - and when he wore red lipstick he seemed oh-so-wonderfully 80s. Some people had heard that there was a fag in the band, and thought it was him. There was me, the real gay guy, who just looked like I hadn't had a good meal in a week or two. I was the guitar player. Then there was Kathy, our drummer. She looked normal. There were rumors that she took off her shirt when she played, so we got a huge lesbian following. She only took off her shirt during practice, though. Sorry, ladies. - But there is a videotape of that concert somewhere...damn it would be cool to have THAT on DVD!

Now, there will be no illegalities going on here - I'll only be copying videotapes that were home produced, like the music shows and those oddball art events from the early 80s. The upshot is that I'll be able to get rid of a lot of these old videotapes and lighten my packing load plus, I'll be offering new life to some of these relics from my past.

Please, allow me this time to sit on this virtual curb, head in hands, and muse pensively over a life lived thus far....

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T13:33:00.000-06:00

Just a fast post to wish all of you who really do read this thing a Happy New Year! I've actually got a lot so say but no time to say it! Damn this change of life situation! I have yet to really get that final room cleaned up and the clutter is starting to spread again in the rooms that I have bulldozed through!

Max is doing fine. He likes the cool weather and has enjoyed having Pa around to take him for long walks these last two weekends.

Brokeback Mountain is finally showing in St. Louis and Kansas City, so I'm thinking that I will try to see it next weekend. If I can get Grandma and Grandpa to puppy sit for me that is.

I will try to write a proper post some time soon. Until then, be happy, be safe, be.

The Next Step

2005-12-19T14:09:00.000-06:00

I signed the papers to put the house on the market. It won't actually be listed until right after Christmas, but the decision has been made, the price has been set and I am going to do it. Finally. I have taken the next step in moving forward.

The plan as it stands right now is this: I unload tons of my junk; the clutter that I have collected through the ages, the objects, the things, the little pieces of paper with strange little marks on them that I have saved from years gone by. I reduce my belongings to that which will fit in the back of a truck. Then, I sell the house and use the money I make to buy that truck to put my shit in. I pay off loans and credit cards and rent a small apartment where Max and I can stay until I've saved up more money - at least $5000 to move on. Then Max and I go.

Go where?

Well, that's a good question. I would like to find a place where I can afford my medications, where I can be with or meet someone to spend my life with, somewhere that has access to culture, nature and prospects for growth.

I need to ask an important question here. Am I running away from something? Maybe I am. I am running from a place where I feel stagnant. I am running from a trap that was fine to linger in for a while, but now, in this particular time, I find that the level of poison in my system is too much. I can feel it seeping into parts of my being that I don't want tainted.

There is one major thing that bothers me and that is my desire to maintain a close physical connection with my parents. I know that I don't have to be around to take care of them, but a large part of me still wants to stick around. I want to be there for them, but I also need to get moving on my own life and, from what I'm feeling now, the two situations don't share a similar space. I can only trust that this and other intrusive thoughts are addressed as they need to be through the passage of time.

So there it is. I consolidate, sell, regroup and hit the road with Max, the intrepid Beagle and bestest of friends, and I pray for the best.

I don't know what is next. I don't know if this is the right thing to do. I don't know. I just don't know. But, isn't that the fun part? Not knowing?

I've started thinking about trucks. I've started thinking about going on camping trips with Max. I've started thinking about driving across country with Max, my camera, my computer and a tent and a fishin' pole.... my, how the imagination begins to fly when someone even mentions opening the door to the cage...

Engineering A Life

2005-12-06T10:37:00.000-06:00

I live in Missouri. It is a beautiful place at times, with rolling hills, creeks, streams and rivers that cut through the fertile soil. There are flowering, fragrant trees and flora of myriad scents and shapes; elegant deer prancing through hardwood forests and wondrous natural features like caves, fields of huge granite boulders and broad, sky-domed prairies that yield to the wild and adventure laden West. There is history here, too. Lewis and Clark, Jesse James, the Pony Express, the World's Fair. Yes, it's beautiful, it's interesting, it's nice. There are even pockets of culture and broad, progressive thinking. Intellectuals. Writers, musicians, artists and thinkers exist in the cities and small towns alike. But it's hell living here. I feel so alone and isolated here and I want to get out.

How do I do that? How do I dissolve the ties that bind me to this place and move - move forward, or even take a step or two to the side, just to initiate some action? Sure. Just sell the house, sell all that you do not need, pack your bags and go. All fine and good, but I need to make sure that I can get my meds. They're damned expensive and without them I'm dead. I mean really dead. So, I need to make sure that I have money or a job that pays or insures, or move to a state that has adequate health care.

That thins out the possibilities a bit.

And then there is the family issue. My mom and dad are here. I pride myself on doing my best to take care of them. They have taken care of me for so long, don't I owe it to them? Or is there really a point where I can think of myself without feeling guilty?

I wonder if having any control of my own life is an illusion or not. Is will power and perseverance all that is necessary to craft a desirable living situation, a job, a lifestyle that makes me happy? Or am I bound by situations beyond my control?

I can do my best to do the necessary tasks, to make the calls, do the footwork, initiate processes, follow the rules and play the game, but I have no control over how others ultimately behave. And the final outcome of so many essential things ends up in their, not my, hands. If the results are not to my liking then I pick myself up, dust myself off and start again.

A lifetime can be spent doing that.

So, how does one engineer a life, craft an existence, manipulate the materials of being into a comfortable lair?

That is not a rhetorical question.

a smattering of thought

2005-12-05T15:21:00.000-06:00

I was thinking about my friend, Sheila, who died on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Josh, the guy that was doing the lion's share of the care giving, and some other friends have begun going through her belongings. Sheila had requested that I take whatever from her CD collection that I wanted, and she also designated some strange and wonderful things that she wanted me to have: a collection of masks, an ancient kimono, some dusty, smoky parasols that used to hang in her house.

I still have not cried. I am thinking that I might not. Our main topic of conversation from the time that she was diagnosed with cancer through our final conversation was death and the cast and hue of the world through the eyes of one who is ill, one who has been told that they are dying. In a sense, I have been crying since the first day that she told me.

I was offered a chance to speak at a memorial that they are holding for her. I declined, though an extemporaneous burst may still occur. Yet, I was reading from my own writings and realized that a verse that I had penned and which is posted on the Scented Shadows blog, is most appropriate.

The Day the Gingko Leaves Fell

I recall that brisk and bracing day:
Yellow golden fans edged in green
Whipping, swirling 'mid Sol's heatless ray
And drifting down to lay between
The stalks of grass with random pose
To make mosaics on the lawn
A single day the gods have chose
The gingko's cloak to mandate gone.
I remember, I think, that chilly day
The skirt shaped leaves upon me lay
As 'neath the branches I lightly sleep
And life's clear moments Time's burglar reaps;
He takes away, I seem to recall,
The fleeting scent of the leaves of Fall
And then the painting behind my eyes,
The light around and within dies.
I recall it, I swear, I know I remember
That bracing wind of late November.
The day the gingko leaves laid down
To rest like me...

©2004-2005 Stuart Dummit

....My friend from San Francisco is set to arrive on Friday. I got a message from him today that simply said that he was excited about meeting me.

That caused a warm rush through my system. Let the Universe and Creation do as it will. For what it is and for what it has been, I am thankful. For what it may be or might become, I can only stand hopefully by without judgment, without preconception but with healthy and more than just lustful anticipation.

I should note, however, that the coupling of endings and beginnings in this cluster of time has not gone unnoticed. Is there some sort of cosmic meaning here? Or do events merely unfold randomly without any rhyme or reason...

And what about that coatless button laying just outside the back door....

I'm Here

2005-12-02T15:54:00.000-06:00

I haven't gone away. I'm here. Stuck on the ground, my head in the clouds, wandering through the thicket and briars, tripping over scattered junk and wires, breathing irregularly and with a fair amount of effort.

* * *

My best friend died last week. It wasn't unexpected. In fact, I have been preparing for this for the last two and a half years. Still, it hurts. It hurts but I haven't had a good cry over it yet. Instead, it is festering in me and I don't know how to release it. I know that it is impacting my general behavior. Probably not for the better.

I also have been involved in a long distance obsession. A guy on the West Coast, by the look of his pictures and the sound of his voice, handsome, desirable, available...but there is physical distance. And there are still no guidelines for dealing with blossoming relationships through data ports and over phone lines. On paper and through words we seem to be compatible; both looking for the same thing embodied in someone like the other. The panic of insecurity and fear of stupid things constantly falling out of my mouth belies the inappropriate attachment that I have allowed to develop. He is scheduled to visit me in a week, yet I have not heard from him since night before last. Have I done or said something? Has he changed his mind? Is it me? Am I paranoid?

Most certainly.

I am going to sell my house. I have to trash all of the junk that I've collected over the years. I have to clean and repair and tidy and plan. I have to escape. This isn't an easy job.

Speaking of jobs - the one that brings in the most money is still getting me down. I can honestly say that I hate my job. I'm not alone. So many people do. Why, then, do I feel alone.

Many old friends are coming into town for my friends memorial service. My friend from the West Coast is scheduled to be here that weekend. What a program for getting to know someone that you might want to fall in love with. "Hi. Let's make out, go for brunch, then attend a funeral for someone that you do not know."

Escape? Me?

Yes.

I want to run away. I want to be free. But, I want to belong. I want to be wanted and needed. I want to be desired but I still want to be free. Is this the koan of my existence? Of everyone's existence?

And through it all, Max, the beagle, still wants his noon time walk, he still wants to visit his friends in the bookstore, he still wants his belly rubbed and he still wants to curl up next to me in bed. And with this, I am content.

talk talk talk

2005-10-24T10:47:00.000-05:00

I need some advice from my faithful readers...all three of you. I'm a 47 year old boy with illusions of perpetual youth but, in this particular poker game the cards are permanently stacked against me. Recently, as you all know if you've read my blog, I've made great strides in reversing the ravages of disease and time and I think I really DO look and feel better. The diet is hard to maintain but I'm doing my best, and going to the gym is still one of my favorite things to do...and I've got the sore (yet bigger) muscles to show for it! I even can fit into my size 34 slacks! (Okay...it's a bit of a squeeze, but I can do it! Next stop, size 33!!!!)

Another factor is that stress is taking its toll. And the cause of this stress is a 3 letter word: J - O - B. (More later on my theory of 3 letter words.) Aside from the built in stress of working at a computer help desk for a hospital where doctors, nurses and assorted medical technicians and support persons, all with either inflated egos or an inbred inability to follow instructions (all to often, both,) who constantly call with a chip the size of Texas on their shoulder, there is the fact that I am forced to dress uncomfortably in my work. If I were going out on the town or in the public eye, wearing the whole shirt and tie thing wouldn't be so bad. Given the budget, I'd love to have some nice suits and could pull off the look pretty easily. That usually translates into comments like, "You clean up real good!" And actually, I shower daily. But, I sit in an office cubicle. The only time I'm seen is when arriving or departing the workplace, when I go to the lounge area for coffee (or tea) and when I go to the bathroom. Otherwise, I'm at a desk with a phone headset surgically attached to one ear. Why to I have to dress up? So, I'm stressed (underpaid/overworked/unhappy) and uncomfortable. I don't want to live the rest of my life like this!

My house is getting completely out of control. I'm rapidly getting behind in repairs and I'm afraid that there will be so much damage in the near future that the cost of just getting it into saleable shape will be astronomical. It may already be there. I've decided to sell the monster, but that puts me in a position of having to do more prep work, both financial, which is bad enough, and physical, getting the place presentable and unloading the mass of stuff I have collected.

Once free of that load I would have gained a certain amount of freedom again, though any hope of a nestegg would be gone. I have no savings to speak of and don't make enough money to put some away and pay necessary bills. Of course, the biggest chunk aside from mortgage payments is medication. Starting in January, my med bill will be increasing by about 5% - may not seem like a lot, but considering the size of the bill NOW, it actually IS a lot of money. Mortgage (or Rent) + Meds + Basic Needs > Income.

Ideally, I would find a high paying job that allows me to dress casually and has a great medical insurance package - and it would be local. That isn't going to happen. And that's trying to be realistic. Yet, and this is a central point, I have long been a believer in the concept that we make our own reality and following one's dreams is a realistic thing to do - "follow your bliss...." But letting go of so much security (such as medical insurance) is overwhelmingly frightening and actually quite dangerous. So, what do I do?

My "bliss" is writing and painting. Am I good enough to make it in that highly competitive and sparsely populated world? Is it possible? That would be for the public to decide.

I do understand that it would require me to get out and "push the product." How do I do that? Should I relocate? Should I try to do this? Do I know what this really means?

I feel inadequate and insecure.

Paintings

2005-10-13T14:05:00.000-05:00

I was able to get the paintings done for installation at Boone County Hospital. The pictures are good. I'm not sure how much farther I can go with the landscape idea that has been filling canvases lately, but I know that there are still plenty of paintings of one type or another inside me.

The work involved with the transport of the paintings and their hanging is kind of a drag for me. It would be easier if I had a truck or at least a larger vehicle than a Toyota sedan to move them in, but once the pictures were on the wall, people started commenting on them. I was being asked the standard questions: "Are you the artist?" "How long have you been painting?" "What's your inspiration?" "Do you sell any of your paintings?"

Oddly enough, I love talking to the people about my pictures. I suppose because it is talking about myself. Like a good self centered artist, I love talking about myself.

Regarding the AIDS benefit that I was to participate in, well, that was a bust. I think it is indicative of the administrative skills of the people in charge of the distribution of Federal and State funds for HIV infected persons in Central Missouri that were at the center of the problem. I requested information on donating a painting for the auction and how I would be able to help. About a week before the date I had been told was the auction and exhibition, I finally receive an email asking for a Bio and a picture of the painting I was going to donate. I emailed back for more information and then got an emailed invitation to the event - the day that the exhibition began. So, no painting donated, no paintings exhibited. And I thought they would JUMP at the chance to have "one of their own" on display!

The Visitor

2005-10-13T13:46:00.000-05:00

I met someone online who, after just a few days tentative chatting disclosed that he was preparing to move across the country back to where his family lived. It took very little to convince him to make a stop here. The conversations were lucid, endearing and we both wondered out loud if it meant anything in particular.

After an eventful roadtrip, he arrived near penniless (because of repair costs) and tired. More handsome than I had anticipated and I, for my part, felt a connection. I knew quickly, though, that the feeling was not mutual. I didn't seem to click for him.

I did my best to be the best host I knew how, he was the perfect guest, and our short visit was accepted for what it was like two mature beings. No magic, no fireworks, just two guys that had experienced enough of the workings of the heat, the head and the heart to appreciate the ways of the universe.

After he left, I did feel a bit sad, and Max had taken a special liking to him. I received word from him just the other day that his health has taken a bad turn. My caretaker instinct wanted to kick in, but I knew that he was in the warm and caring hands of his family.

Apologies

2005-10-13T13:40:00.000-05:00

There are plenty of reasons for my laps in posting, but I'll spare you the list. Instead, let me present you with some quick posts that will fill you in on the events that kept me from my keyboard.

Of course, these will show up in reverse order...good god...how confusing. The chronicle will read like Merlin's backward life ala The Once and Future King.

And the World Keeps On Spinning

2005-09-26T10:40:00.000-05:00

It has now been a week since the break in and I'm still reluctant to leave my house. Of course, I have to - I have to go to work, I have to walk Max, I have to go to the store, I have to go to the gym. (That last one might seem odd to those who don't understand my total commitment to my workout regime, but, yes, it is necessary!)

I've heard nothing from the police about the case and, I suspect that even though I was able to present them with a traceable piece of evidence in the form of a dropped pager, I doubt if the lead was followed up on. It makes too much sense.

So, in the meantime, I make sure all of my doors are always locked and I've taken to hiding certain objects in unlikely places...just in case.

Of course, I had to spend quite a bit of time away from the house this weekend because it was the Columbia Festival of the Arts and the Boone County Art Show - the Big Event of Columbia cultural life. The festival itself is your basic tents and pavilions with mass produced "art by the yard" and pottery stands and open mike poetry readings and funnel cakes and sidewalk drawing, etc. and etc and etc. The Boone County Art Show, on the other hand is a two day exhibition of up to two works by local artists, both professional and amateur. There is usually quite a variety of work on display in the bank where the exhibition is held. And that was certainly the case this time around.

I entered an acrylic painting (photo to be added to my website soon) and an ink drawing. Neither work garnered any remarks to my knowledge. The top prize was taken by a worthy piece (a woman's corset made completely of glass) yet, many works that received prizes and the nebulous "Honorable Mention" seemed poorly executed and conceptually trite. Sour grapes? Maybe. But there were many, many works that I would have chosen over mine to have received recognition that got none. To me it seems a case of the politics of aesthetics.

But, there's no rest for the wicked. I have three paintings to finish by this coming Thursday and I must take down the show at the Columbia Realtors Association offices and install eight works at the Boone County Hospital. And then I have to have three more works done by the next weekend for an AIDS benefit.

So, by virtue of the fact that my life continues in spite of last week's violation, I leave my house regularly. I leave my home basically defenseless to the ravages of people that care only for themselves and do not see the emotional damage that they do by raping someone else's property. The world continues to spin and my mind and its perceptions continue to develop. Soon, perhaps, I will look back at a recent event in my life and wonder "who was that man, that boy, that experienced that? Why did he react that way? Is there hope for him?"

A Violation

2005-09-20T09:00:00.000-05:00

I discovered it last evening when I was looking for my gym bag so I could go work out. My daily ritual at Gold's has turned into a great stress reliever and I look forward to either lifting those weights or tackling the treadmill with my favorite workout music being pumped into my ears with my handy-dandy portable CD player. (The current favorite is "Relayer" by YES.) And I suppose I should have been tipped off when I noticed an old book bag laying on the floor in the living room that had previously been upstairs, or by the fact that the back door was slightly ajar. I passed it off thinking that Max had gotten into the closed room upstairs and pulled out the bag and the back door has never been super secure. But, when I realized that my gym bag was nowhere to be found I checked the trunk of the car and then ran back into the house, knowing that it HAD to be somewhere in plain sight. I mean, I use it every day!

Then it struck me. I glanced around the room. All of my DVDs were gone. I ran upstairs. My change bucket was gone as were a few pairs of pants (nice ones - they still don't fit, but I had just laundered them in anticipation of being able to fit into them again in a few weeks if I worked real hard.) Someone had rifled through my stuff. My house had been broken into and I had been robbed. I had been burgled.

For those of you to whom this has happened, you know the sequence of feelings: the hot flash of realization, the momentary fear of something un-nameable, the oddly placed anger and frustration, then a flood of paranoia: what else did they get? What personal things did they find, did they take - what personal information did they get? Are there any credit card receipts laying around?

At first, I couldn't find my camera but then realized that it was still on the tripod in the corner. The laptop computer was still there. A favorite pair of boots were still in the middle of the room and a few choice electronic gizmos were still laying around, seemingly untouched.

I went out and announced the situation to my neighbors, all of whom were outside doing chores. No one had seen or heard anything and they all claimed to have been around all day. Together we looked around the house for evidence of the intruder's entry. They had to have gotten in the back door, but to get to it they would have had to climbed the back deck fence. Difficult, but not impossible. And then, there, on the ground, my neighbor found a pager. Right near where it would have fallen had it been dropped by the burglar.

I called the police and within 30 minutes an officer was there. He was courteous and efficient. He took notes, photographed the crime scene and made a list of what had been taken. All told it was about $1000 worth of stuff. The officer then told me that he would fill out a report and it would go on a stack of other cases.

Do I feel any safer? No.

Then it began to rain. And it poured. And the skies roared with thunder, wind and an onslaught of sheets of late summer warmed water. The clouds were deep bluish - greenish grey and it seemed almost night time. I sat on my couch, the empty DVD rack in plain sight, feeling the sticky air around me and listening to the atmospheric battle outside. I was feeling exposed and violated.

At the apex of the storm I found the courage to walk calmly outside, lock the door, walk to the car and drive to the gym. I could barely concentrate on the workout. I was wondering how safe the house was during my absence. No one would try to break in during such a gully-washing of a storm. But, then, I realized that my own sense of reason did not apply to whomever had robbed me. So, I finished quickly and went home.

By then the clouds had finished crying and the sky was becoming lighter and the air, still thick with moisture, was blowing impotently across the debris that had been washed down and deposited in the streets by the deluge. Everything was different. My house was a mess and I felt vulnerable and unhappy and the desire to escape was edging up toward the forefront of my mind.

Excuses

2005-09-07T10:20:00.000-05:00

Okay. I have tried to start this entry five times now, each time with a different sentence and none of them have been satisfactory. The problem has been what it is that I want to say in that opening sentence. Do I want to grab the reader with a bold revelation? Do I want to slide into an interesting little anecdote without the reader realizing it? Do I want to apologize for not having made a post in so many days?

Yes.

I'm sorry that I haven't been writing much lately. There are a ton of excuses: Working too hard, out of town, complex events requiring my attention, laziness.

Amid all of the excitement that is my life I have found that, as soon as I stopped worrying about the painting that I'm trying to birth the process became much easier. It isn't finished yet, but I can see a direction. It hasn't stopped fighting back but it at least it is allowing me to get a punch in from time to time. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, it was about the time that the paint started allowing me to push it around effectively that I was informed that I had to have two extra paintings ready for an exhibition starting at the end of this month. With the painting I have to replace because it was sold and the one that I have to have ready for the Boone County Art Show, that brings me up to 4 paintings that need to be completed in the next few weeks. And then there is a drawing that I have to finish as well.

Swooooosh!

And, as they say, "When it rains, it pours." Now, I'm not one to kiss and tell...hell - there hasn't been any kissing involved! But, in the last few weeks I've gotten more responses to my online dating attempts than ever before! And what's more, some of the respondents have even been local - and they're (for the most part) nice, normal people! Wooo hooo!

In other news:

I haven't been able to work out since last Saturday. I'm feeling flabby again. Today - right after work I'm there.

I've finally started the process of getting the house refinanced. With luck I'll have it all wrapped up by the end of the month and maybe even have some extra cash to, well, buy some new clothes that fit!

I got my hair cut.

Growling at the Painting

2005-08-30T15:15:00.000-05:00

I've been painting.

It hasn't been easy. In fact, it's been hard. Hard to concentrate, hard to see, hard to get the paint to move where I want it.

Thinking back on the moment that I first put the brush to canvas I knew that this would be a struggle. It's like the picture is fighting back, like it doesn't want to be born. And with each show of resistance I push all the harder.

Poor Max is confused by the whole affair. I've taken to "talking" to the paint and the canvas while I'm working and Max thinks I'm talking to him. But, because I'm not using words that he's familiar with like "walk," "treat" or "attack" he's not sure how to respond. So, he ends up sitting to my right in his side-saddle manner, his ever watchful nose pointed in the air and his tail ready to wag if I should say his name, look in his direction or use one of those key words mentioned above. I'm sure that the gnashing of my teeth, my growling at the paint and my fencing-like jabs at the canvas with brush and palette knife wreak havoc with the perceptions of his beagle brain.

I'm not sure what the problem actually is and, if Max knows (he's been the only one that has witnessed me working on this particular project, the only one besides me who's seen how it's working out) he's keeping it a secret.

I wonder whether or not the end product will contain any telling information about the struggle it's been to give birth to this thing. Will it seem forced or strained? Will there be scars from our slashing at one another? Bruises from our mutual pummeling?

Only time will tell.

Making Life a Better Place To Be

2005-08-26T10:00:00.000-05:00

Maintaining a positive outlook on life can be a difficult chore for some. I even find that people with cheery dispositions often irritate me to no end. The person with a constant smile on their face, the person for whom the glass is always not only "half full" but also "half full of wholesome goodness," the person for whom a Shirley Temple pout is the ultimate expression of unhappiness or disdain - these are the ones that exacerbate my own feelings of gloom and doom. How very "yin-yang."

My own outlook on life would be much better if I didn't constantly reinforce my pessimistic view by repeating negative affirmations and dark-side mantras. If we indeed create our own reality, perhaps this practice is at the root of the situation.

One of the oldest of these sayings is "Life sucks and then you die." There are, of course, many permutations of this one but, my favorite is quite extended: "Life sucks and when you try to die they put you on life support, then charge you for it. And then, when you can't pay the bill you're made to feel like more of a worthless shit than you did when you tried to check out in the first place."

One of my other oft used litanies is based on what an old college buddy of mine used to say. "The world is filled with stupid people and there are more of them than there are of us." Over the years this has proved to be a quite flexible invective, one that can be endlessly customized to the situation.

"The world is filled with stupid people and there are more of them than there are of us and they impact our lives daily."

"The world is filled with stupid people and there are are more of them than there are of us and someone gave them all driver's licenses."

"...there are more of them than there are of us and somehow they all became a) doctors b) lawyers c) political commentators d) *fill in the blank*.

So, if I stop repeating these affirmations and replace them with positive, happy, cute and fuzzy sayings, will my life transform into a better place to be? Well, maybe it would, that is, until someone punched me out for being so glib.

In the words of one of my favorite bumper stickers: "If you're not outraged you're not paying attention."

It's Working!

2005-08-22T09:40:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow will be the three week anniversary of my having begun my physical transformation by going to the gym and working out. Every day except Friday I dutifully go to the gym and perform my ritual. I do a cardio workout every day by spending either 20 or 30 minutes on a treadmill. On the 20 minute days I precede the time in the "cardio theater" with a series of exercises in the weight room. At the end of most of my workouts I spend about 10 to 15 minutes in the sauna. The copious amounts of sweat that I squeeze out of my pores is the topic of another posting. I take Friday off and like to spend the extra time with Max. God I love that dog. And, in the three weeks that I have been doing this I have only missed one regularly scheduled day: it was a Sunday that I had gone to visit my folks and by the time Max and I got back I was way too tired to work out. Missing one work out is not going to be catastrophic.

I feel good after my workouts. I even feel "high." I stand a little taller, it is easier to keep my gut "sucked in" when I'm not blobbing out on the couch, I hold my shoulders back a bit more and I am far more aware of my muscles than ever before in my life. I still can't fit into my favorite pair of jeans, but I have faith that I will soon enough.

Now, I've said in these posts that I'm looking at this process as a type of art project. I tend to think of art as an exercise in awareness. The making of art is not only the practice of awareness but also the documentation of that awareness. As I proceed with this art project of mine I find that I am becoming more aware of myself as a physical being. By exercising I am practicing and the documentation of this practice is manifest in the visible and ultimately in the measurable changes in my own body. So, does this make my corporeal self the artwork?

The fact that I feel better makes the sacrifice of time and effort worthwhile, but what is really desired are those visible changes. And the first two unsolicited observations of the changes in my body have come my way. Saturday, while walking Max out along one of the local nature trails I ran into a woman that Max and I often meet out there as she walks her two dogs. Max and Haley, a small, somewhat homely looking female beagle, are pals and the human often makes comments on how good Max looks. She commented this time on the fact that he looks to be losing some weight. She then looked up and said to me, "You look like you've lost some weight, too!"

Sweet.

Then, the same day and, ironically, no more than an hour after my workout (which included work in the weight room) I ran into a friend of mine while, again, walking Max. As a taunt he inquired with his usual gusto, "Where you hiding the muscle?" So I flexed an arm for him. His eyes popped, "How long you been working out?"

"Not quite three weeks."

"And you did that in less than three weeks?"

Sweet enough to cause tooth decay.

Déjà Vu

2005-08-19T14:30:00.000-05:00

I was on my way from the locker room to the weight room the other day when I passed a guy on the stairs who, by the look of him, muscles pumped, sweat beaded on his forehead and a far away glassiness in his eyes, had just finished an intense workout. There was a singular attention to his presence; he seemed intent but not necessarily focused, hyper aware of his environment but on auto-pilot nonetheless. Not an uncommon appearance among those who have just finished a session of hard physical activity.

Continuing up to the weight room, I found myself ridding my mind of everything except the processes of the tasks at hand - the order of my exercises, the settings on the machines, the loads, the reps, the sets. And then there was the focus on the muscle groups being worked: the isolation of the sensation of the muscles engaging as the load resists the movement, the exertion of energy at what seems to be the top or peak of the repetition, the tempo of the set and the rhythm of my breathing.

As I neared the end of the routine I found my mind leaving the room before my body did. I was wiping the sweat off of the seat and back of the "hammer," the apparatus on which I do the "lat lift" exercise, when I realized that my mind was already gathering my back pack, water bottle and towel and was headed out the door and up the stairs to the cardio workout room. I tried to call myself back to myself but I found that, in my head, the only words that seemed to mean anything were the numbers of a set count, "one - two - three - four, two - two - three - four, three - two - three - four...," as though I were counting off rests in a piece of music.

I physically rushed to gather my belongings and headed out, following what seemed to be a part of my consciousness, toward the next floor up where the bikes and treadmills were housed. I seemed to catch up with myself as I stood on the scale and registered the weight: 196.2 lbs.

There was a lightness to my sensations. My breathing was deep but slow and controlled. My mind was cleared of so many bits of brick-a-brack and the muscles that I had just worked were feeling firm and alive that the setting of the treadmill machine for a 30 minute brisk walk on a gentle incline was completed with little thought and with a smoothness that my mind wordlessly admired. I was oblivious to the bank of television screens set to different channels with the sound turned down and closed captioning turned on that stretched along the wall in front of me. It was just me, my legs and my breathing.

There was an effort to complete the 30 minute distance-less trek but when it came to an end and I dismounted the machine I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and I could feel the blood surging through my body.

I wiped the sweat from my face and neck, stretched out my muscles and, as before, I followed a bit of my consciousness that was several paces ahead of me. My movements were deliberate and they felt, well, oddly graceful. Keenly aware of everything around me, I felt like I was on autopilot. I could tell that my body was propelled forward by a silent momentum and when I passed a young man who had just exited the locker room, headed for his own workout, it occurred to me that I might well be venturing into a similar space as the gentleman that I had passed just an hour earlier.

The Romantic Life

2005-08-18T10:12:00.000-05:00

Alright then. I've sold another painting and I've gotten my website up, though not completely functional, and I've gotten some folks to come by and read my rants and raves. I do the work and I can honestly say that "I am an artist."

Still, as I try to distance myself from my own voice and look and listen objectively on the object that is me, I can't help but notice that there is something missing from my life. Something that, I believe, I became aware of when I started reading about art and artists in my mid-teens. It is a romantic quality, a nearly swashbuckling attitude, brave, defiant, revolutionary and even dangerous.

Instead, my life is filled with medication costs, roofing problems and tree removals. Where are the intense café conversations, the whirlwind love affairs that end in heart break, stacks of inspired paintings and notebooks filled with enigmatic drawings? Where are the absinthe visions and opium dreams? Where is the romantic life that an artist is supposed to live?

~News Shorts from Long Weekend~

2005-08-17T13:49:00.000-05:00

My long weekend is over and, I have to say, it was far more productive than I expected, but not as productive as it needed to be.

I got to my folks' house and spent a day putting together my dad's birthday present to my mom - a full length mirror on a wooden stand - working on Dad's computer and investigating why they can't make long distance phone calls from their land line home phone. I also got two loads of my laundry done and Max got to spend time with his Grandma and Grandpa. A fine time was had by all.

The sale of the painting was finalized and that is certainly a good thing! I was also able to spend some time staring at the new paintings that I've started. I'm not sure where these new ones are headed. Perhaps I really should try to crank out a few more in the style of the one that I just sold...in case there are some other buyers lurking around out there that want one of those beauties!

My workouts at the gym are progressing nicely. I think I have decided to forego the "before" photograph that I mentioned in an earlier post. I see no reason to subject myself or anyone else to such an un-pretty sight. I'm quite sure that within the next few months I'll be able to tell a difference and that's good enough for me. My most recent weight was 196.2 lbs. -- almost 4 lbs. down from my top weight of 200!!!

I had an appointment with my doctors on Tuesday. The most recent bloodwork came back a mixed bag - not an uncommon thing for me. My CD4 count, which reflects the number of healthy white blood cells in my system, was in the mid 700s, that's pretty darned good. Even close to normal. My viral load, an indicator of the amount of viral RNA in my system, was not as good, and this is a factor that I've had trouble with for quite a while. All other indicators seem to be a-okay, so I've got little to complain about.

Having gotten the word last week that health insurance rates are going up at the beginning of the year, I talked to the docs about the cost of my meds. When the copay goes up to 20% I'll have reached a point where I can't afford the damned pills. Of course, the irony is that I work for the hospital. I work in the health care industry but I cannot afford healthcare. Just a rough estimate puts my monetary output at around $800 every three months come January 1, 2006. That's almost $267 a month. Folks, I don't make that kind o' money! So, I got the name of a local agency that might be able to help with the copay. I have yet to call them, but you can be sure that I will!

Other things on the to-do list that haven't been done: get estimates on getting the front porch roof fixed, arrange to have the locust tree in the front yard removed (it's branches are tangled in the powerlines,) get estimate on the rest of the roof, get an estimate on getting the two Chinese Elm trees in the back yard removed, which will have to be done before the main roof is fixed and, (whew) talk to the bank about refinancing the house so that I can afford all of the repairs that are needed.

And I was asked the other day if I had a social life....

Sold!

2005-08-12T13:41:00.000-05:00

Great way to begin a weekend - by selling a painting, that is!

Got a call while I was at work from a patron who had seen my paintings at the Board of Realtors offices. They were very matter of fact, direct and to the point. They just wanted to buy the painting.

wow.

The painting is titled "Verse in Black and Grey" and is a 16" x 20" acrylic on canvas. This is actually one of my own favorites from this last batch of pictures.

The question now is whether, in the name of possible future sales, I should make more of these types of paintings. If I do and they sell, I could finance further adventures in paint pushing.

Something to think about...

News Shorts ~

2005-08-11T08:46:00.000-05:00

Good morning y'all!

Feeling a bit better about the world today. No real reason to, though. Found out yesterday that the hospital that I work for is changing its health insurance policy for next year which might well make it impossible for me to afford my medication. Kind of a necessary thing when one depends on those chemicals to stay alive.

Better start making money in other ways!!!!

I've been able to paint a little bit in the last few days. I haven't really gotten over the creative hump from a few posts ago, but at least I seem to be working through the block. Perhaps it's just a bit of whiplash from my last period of painting which was fast and furious and, for the most part, easy. Now I've got new artistic "issues" that I need to resolve before the paint flows easily again...hmmm...might be some truth there....

Speaking of art, the gym thing is working out very well. I've been going every day (except last Friday) and alternating cardio/weight loss with weight training. One of the gym employees called me and asked if I would like to take advantage of their free consultation with a personal trainer. Of course I said, "yes!" He then wanted to know what my personal goals were. I told him point blank that I wanted to look as good with my clothes off as I do with them on (and to myself I said, "actually, I want to look better!") Then I told him that I'm actually looking at this whole exercise as an art project - and he understood completely!

I adore your comments!

2005-08-09T11:00:00.000-05:00

At 3:59 a.m. this morning someone was reading my weblog and they felt compelled to write a comment. Woo-hooo! Love those late night blog readers and their comments!

And what did this anonymous reader have to say? They told me that if I am alone all I have to do is call this particular number to find "Real Singles" in my area with only a $4.99 connection fee and $0.99 per minute! WoW!

Now, this is the only comment I've gotten so far on my blog. Only one comment and it's from some sort of advertising 'bot that wants me to spend money on finding a date. Well, let me tell you something: if I had a friggin' social life I wouldn't be spending all of this time keeping this weblog. And another thing - If my entries are so un-interesting that I've only gotten one comment and it is...well...a non-comment, then I really have a problem, eh?

a question to myself...

2005-08-08T10:11:00.000-05:00

I tried to paint this weekend.

I would like to say that I paint every day but there isn't time for it. If I were more dedicated, I suppose I would make the time. There are too many other things happening these days. In other words, I'm lazy.

There didn't seem to be a spark when I was mixing the paint on the palette. There wasn't a feeling of connection when I was pushing the paint around on the canvas. There was a feeling of apathy as I regarded the outcome.

sigh

Perhaps it is time to reevaluate my subject, my themes...time to update them with newer interests, more pressing issues in my head. Maybe I experience this artistic ennui because the reason is gone.

Why do I really make pictures? Why is it important to me? What function, what purpose does it serve?

...a slight waiver...

2005-08-05T15:10:00.000-05:00

Well, my body is sore. I don't think I'm to the place where would I say something trite like "I'm sore in muscles that I didn't even know I had," but I'm certainly feeling the effects of several days worth of working out.

I've been reading and reading and reading, when I have the chance, about techniques, programs and supplements and boy oh boy oh boy has it gotten confusing! Expert A says this will work then Expert B says that this other thing will work then Expert C runs around shaking his fists in the air screaming "where do these myths come from?!?!?!" And spying some bloke in the gym who's got the look you're going for and then asking him "what did you do to get that way?" isn't necessarily going to get the needed information, especially when his response is as likely to be "I follow exclusively the Expert Q program" as it is to be "Visualization. See in your mind's eye what you want and the rest will follow."

I suppose I should just be happy that I've made the decision to go to the gym and get some exercise. I should just take it day by day and sooner or later I'll become more comfortable with myself and the gym environment and I'll be able to weed through the crap that some people preach and concentrate on the things that make sense and the things that, with some intelligent trial and error, work for me.

Let's remember: I'm a 47 year old guy that has never done anything like this in his life! As a kid in school I avoided the gym like the plague. I hated that place, and with good reason. I didn't fit well into the athletic culture. I was tall and skinny and wasn't interested in competitive sports and I never got any encouragement from anyone in the athletic department at school nor any constructive criticism regarding what little physical activity I engaged in.

Enter low self esteem.

Well, none of that really matters now. I've started anew. I am determined and I know I have a long hard road up ahead. I can read until the words are burned on the back walls of my eyeballs but I just need to get out there and do some work. Exact diet? Screw it. Just start with being more aware of what I'm eating and when. Start paying attention to calories, fat, carb and protein content. The pacing and portioning will come with time.

As for training programs - hell! Try Expert A's routine. If it feels good, then fine. That doesn't mean that I can't check out Expert B or C's or even Expert Q's method. And visualization never hurt nobody. I realize that there will always be more opinions about right and wrong, good and bad, effective and ineffective than there will be time to prove or refute any of them. And, perhaps, this is where being an artist can help.

Being an artist means being adept at seeing - seeing without translating. Artists must be able to view the world with a clarity that allows them to tear it apart and reassemble it in a crucial, meaningful and effective way. This ability can be directed toward objects, emotions and even situations. Artists are masters of perseverance. They must be willing to repeat a technique until it becomes transparent to the message. Above all, an artist must be resilient, thick skinned and at the same time, sensitive and hyper-aware. These are skills and talents that can be effectively turned toward the process of physical self transformation.

"Pygmalion! Noble Artist-King! Sculpt thyself!"

In The Beginning...

2005-08-04T08:38:00.000-05:00

I've been going to the gym for two days now. Two whole days! I'm not too sore, but I imagine that is not very far down the road.

So far, I'm really just learning about the equipment and how to use it. First stop was the cardio room. Lots of bikes and treadmills and banks of TV monitors with the sound turned down and closed captioning turned on, and really bad pop music thumping out of the stereo. Note to self: here is a case for owning an MP3 player....

I'm very comfortable on the bikes - hell, I wasn't a "serious" biker in the past, but I knew my way around one and used mine constantly. It was my primary means of transportation for years and my primary form of exercise for years beyond that. And then the old green monster (my bicycle, that is) was snatched from my back porch and subsequently dumped, wheels bent and broken, in my back yard only a week later - but that's a different story. Nevertheless, I can do a bike with little instruction. Not really used to an electronic control panel on a bike - I did need someone to tell me what buttons to push for a "personalized" riding experience. Also necessary for recording my workout....

Okay. There's something worth mentioning - the recording of the workout. I guess I should have known that one records statistics about the events of the workout, that is, the type of equipment used, the weight and even its distribution, the number of sets and the number of reps within a set. DAMN! I'm beginning to use real gym words! Huuuuaaaah! Right now, I just have an 8.5 x 11 inch piece of red paper on file at the gym with the information on it. I'm thinking that a little notebook might be a good idea - a real journal of my training....hmmmm....

My "Quick Start" trainer, one provided by the gym, had me working in the weight room rather than in the "circuit training" room. I think that's where I really want to be. Now, I have this fat that I will be getting rid of, but my primary goal is to gain muscle mass in some key areas. Learning the different machines will be interesting. I couldn't name any of them right now, but I know they all have names like Ted, and Bruce and Kyle and Dexter. Knowing their names and being able to demonstrate their proper use: there is a subgoal.

If I have a problem with any of this right now it's the diet. Okay - I love food. I can cook and I like to eat what I cook. I like exotic things. I like fat, and carbs. I like cheese and nuts and pizza. I like candy! Plus, I like eating whenever I'm hungry, and sometimes that means constantly nibbling, sometimes that means going for long periods without a meal. Now I've got this, this...diet that I'm supposed to follow. I'm supposed to count calories and protein, carb and fat breakdowns. I'm supposed to eat 6 meals a day. I'm supposed to eat low fat cottage cheese and drink skim milk. Lite wheat bread. LITE! not Light....! 1 oz. of pretzels is now considered a course! I look at this list of things to eat and I am bored silly! So there is another thing to tackle: coming up with a menu that is similar in calories, carbs, proteins and fats but is actually tasty.

Okay. So, that's been the goal of diet gurus down through the ages. Maybe it just takes a fresh and motivated set of eyes to look at this problem.

I could be embarrassed to state this, but here it is: the heaviest weight on any of the machines that I used was 50 lbs. I'm a beginner - okay? It doesn't seem like much - hell - it isn't much. But I have to work up to this. I need to condition my muscles. Get them used to the idea that I'm going to be asking them to do more and more in the months to come.

This just demonstrates that this new world that I'm entering requires some real study. There is a new language, there is a new physical landscape with a different topography. A different set of facts and figures are important, there is a different criterion for establishing value....

REVIEW: Bubblegum Society

2005-08-02T14:10:00.000-05:00

As promised I went to the opening reception for Ben Harben's exhibition of Reality TV celebrity portraits called Bubblegum Society. And, yes, it's true, the collection of 8" x 10" pictures are constructed from chewed bubblegum. No paint, no extra pigment, just a layer of a two part epoxy which protects the surface of the image while giving it a rather wet-looking "just chewed" appearance.

Despite the sweet medium the colors initially seem somewhat sour: teal, pink, pale yellow and low intensity blue and purple. The application and texture reminded me of encaustic with an eerie translucent quality. The subjects of the portraits run the gamut from vapid to grotesque. Paris Hilton with her rat-dog in tow and William Hung, gazing with glazed eyes toward his 13.7 minutes of fame.

The technique is novel and, for the most part executed very well. The subjects are, as stated, fleeting and insipid - they're portraits of Reality TV "stars" after all. The theme, which I would label as "discardable celebrity" is downright disturbing. The synergy is nothing short of amazing. It's been a long time since I've seen an exhibition of new work that so deftly combines theory and practice.

As objects to look at, this collection is quite satisfying. Pictures constructed of chewed gum do, however, run the risk of being labeled as gimmicky and contrived. It is the combination of medium, execution and idea that allows these works to take off and, hopefully avoid marginalization. Where does the artist go from here and how can the artist's works avoid suffering the same fate as that of his subjects? The medium and technique certainly offer many possibilities, the theme can surely be explored further, and the combination of elements work very well together. So, what about subject? More celebrity portraits?

While inspecting Harben's current offering I kept thinking about the idea of a still-life in bubblegum, perhaps "Arrangement with Cell Phone, Walkman and Pager." The possibility of using the genre's allegorical angle with this medium is definitely intriguing. There is already a sense of story in the way the images relate to the materials used, and the social and cultural context from which they've been snatched. And it is there that I see the passing of one of my essential tests for the quality of "good art": it makes me think and it makes me want to create.

Bubblegum Society - works by Ben Harben is on display at Teller's Gallery and Bar in Columbia, Missouri through the month of August.

Pumping Iron

2005-08-01T14:22:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is the day that I officially start my health-club workouts. Though I've decided that TV is the main culprit in stealing my time away and by canceling cable I should be able to make it to the gym for at least 60 - 90 minutes a day, I have realized that the hours open to me are all going to be in the evening and I really think I am a morning workout kind of guy.

So, does this mean that I should get my butt out of bed at 5 a.m. and get myself into the gym before I go to work? Hmmm...that does not sound particularly appealing.

I've also realized that part of my hesitance comes from my being guarded about the time I spend with Max. He doesn't adapt well to changes in my schedule and me taking off for any amount of time after I've gotten home from work does not sit well with him.

Sacrifice. That's a new word to ponder.

I suppose that if I'm to use this forum to chronicle my progress I should provide a "before" picture. I don't want to gross anyone out, so I'll take a pic and just link to it so regular readers can avoid the horror of it all if they wish.

Now, once I am successful in reshaping and sculpting my bod into a "work of art" I will definitely post a picture for all to marvel at. But that will be many months down the line.

Stay tuned...!

Ups and Downs

2005-08-01T13:51:00.000-05:00

A frustrating few days with the computer. I was having registry problems (for you non-computer folk, that translates as fingernails on the blackboard) and, not having the proper software tools to fix the problem I decided to go to a local tech store and give them my money rather than download something online.

I didn't choose the most famous name in software tools, nor the cheapest. Something right in the middle. I got home, did some tinkering here and there, walked Max and, early in the evening I sat down to get the problem fixed.

I installed the software. It didn't go smoothly. I hacked my way through the process though and got it installed.

Bad things instantly began to happen. Programs wouldn't run, error messages popped up over and over again and, when I tried to reboot the system got stuck in an endless loop of trying to re-partition the hard drive.

I curse, I swear, I beat my head against the desk...then I apologize to Max for my histrionics and take him for a walk. That makes things seem a little bit better.

Next morning I log on and write a few emails, make a few journal entries and then start work on the registry problem again. I know that I need to leave for my folks' house soon so I decide to batten down the hatches and run the "powertool" to identify the problems and get them fixed. I think I was suffering from the head injury from the night before because I didn't anticipate problems - I just did it.

Then all hell broke loose. Nothing worked. I tried to do a search and the program window came up blank. My task bar started to disappear over and over again. Error messages plastered my screen like internet pop-up advertisements.

I am left with one option. I must start from scratch and restore the system to its original state and then spend the next few weeks customizing it again.

I am sad.

And then, to make matters worse, I got an email from friend Dan today informing me that the More Drama Tour has been canceled.

Very sad.

It Sparkles!

2005-07-31T09:00:00.000-05:00

Atlanta based duo PerkinsWood have released a new CD that, despite the fact that I have a vested interest in the success of the product (I took the album cover photo,) is really worth more than a passing listen. In fact, it's worthy of grabbing your shades, putting the top down on the old convertible, heading out to Route 66 and cranking the stereo. Definite cruising music, suitable for gulping bottles of Orange Crush and feeling the wind in your hair - if you've got any hair, that is.

Son of Sparkle, the second release by this wife and husband team, is not easy to categorize. Just they way they like it I'm sure. Purely instrumental, the guitars and occasional keyboards weave in and out, sometimes presenting a humable melody, sometimes challenging your concept of harmony; sometimes causing prescient flashes of a future that features colors not yet visible to the human eye and sometimes triggering episodes of nostalgic deja vu. In fact, upon the first several listens I was sure that someone in the band was channeling Steven Stills or Jorma Kaukonen circa 1967.

Quite notable is the mixing and engineering. There is a quality to the sound in general that is solid and full of flavor - something that is missing in most commercial musical releases these days.

Stand out tracks include Ride, Move, Float Trip, Triangle Boy and the challenging yet quite listenable epic The Wedding Murders.

Real Pop Art

2005-07-31T07:11:00.000-05:00

While Max and I were visiting our friends at a local bookstore yesterday, a couple came in asking to post a notice on the store's message board. With them they carried a collection of glossy post card sized announcements for Bubblegum Society, an exhibition of portraits of reality T.V. stars done in chewed bubblegum by artist Ben Harben.

Brilliant!

The show is at a local Gallery/Restaurant/Bar called Teller's running through the month of August. There is an opening reception on Monday, August 1 from 6 to 8 p.m.

You can be sure that I'll check it out and write a review. If you can't make it, be sure to check out the website!

The Deed is Done

2005-07-30T17:00:00.000-05:00

What a day this is turning out to be! I'm sitting in a café, a little shop owned by a Jordanian living in mid-Missouri, connected to a wireless network with my laptop computer, writing a post for my blog. So very early 21st century, n'est pas?

The café is decorated with an old coffee grinder, an old roaster, several old silver and brass coffee services, two giant hookas and a series of sepia toned photographs of Old Jerusalem circa 1895. Aretha Franklin is playing on the stereo. Somehow it feels right.

The coffee is strong. The air smells of spices. I can watch people walking by on the sidewalk through the big picture windows, and there is a row of patrons sitting in plastic chairs lined up in front of the café. A couple of women, one, middle aged with a colorful tattoo on her arm that is partially hidden by the sleeve of her Grateful Dead t-shirt and the other with grey hair tied back into a loose bun, with a young but wise face, sit nose to nose right outside the door playing chess on a small wooden board with plastic pieces.

In contrast, right before I came here I was at the gym. I was committing to a year of membership. I realized that I was making excuses for not joining. Money being the biggest excuse. Time being the other excuse. Not enough of either. So, in the name of a healthier me, I joined the gym and I canceling my cable TV subscription. That will save me money and buy me time.

The place smells of chlorine and sweat and iron. The perky girls working the front desk are tanned and slim and oddly sincere. I think they truly enjoy their environment. The muscular guys walk in looking cocky, handsome and even arrogant, and they leave looking dazed, sweaty and spent. They sacrifice much for the look they've achieved. I have yet to talk with any of them. I know I'm operating from a stereotype that was formed by years of being the skinny un-athletic wimp in school and dreading gym class. I mean to change that. I mean to change a lot of things.

Just as a note, Aretha is gone from the sound system. Disraeli Gears is now playing. Sometimes it is good to have a little cream with your coffee. (Sorry. I couldn't help myself!)

So, it's a Saturday afternoon. I've spent money today, I've heard some fine music. I've committed myself to at least a year of workouts, sweat and, with some hard work and attention to diet, I'll get a healthier, better looking me in return. And I've been baptized into a level of the wired world that was cliché before it was invented: I've blogged in a café.

Naked or Nude?

2005-07-28T13:19:00.000-05:00

Got my first little bit of heaven from my newly registered account with ArtInfo.com - this article makes life in the United States seem a bit, how you say, conservative. One of the bigger questions in my mind about this event is "what will be the bigger show? The art or the audience?"

"Daddy...Where do artists come from?"

2005-07-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

It was a slightly skewed bit of synchronicity that, on my last birthday several friends came to my house to view a series of new paintings that I was preparing for an exhibition. One of these friends, Matthew Traeger, shares the same birthdate. Matthew now lives about 100 miles away and we do not see one another very often, but our relationship is one of those cherished bonds where, despite the amount of time between seeing one another, when we eventually meet it is as though little or no time has passed.

Artist and Social Worker, Matt Traeger. Photo by Stuart Dummit.

I gifted Matthew on that particular date with a print of a manipulated photo (seen above) that I had taken of him at our last meeting. He, in turn, gave me a wonderful multi-function portable light show and a poster of Klaus Nomi.

I had no idea who Klaus Nomi was.

Matthew, of course, came prepared to enlighten us all about the alien invader disguised as a New Wave performance artist. He gave us all an abbreviated bio and offered up a sample of a CD of one of Klaus Nomi's performances.

Now, Matthew is a social worker. He studied Criminal Justice when he was in college here in Columbia, oh, so many years ago. Matthew is also one of the best artists that I know. Although he produces very few traditional "artifacts," his true canvas is, indeed, himself. Case in point: he arrived that particular day wearing black trousers adorned with randomly placed patches of hot pink fun-fur. Back in the 80s he used to arrive at music performances that I and my musical cohorts were giving completely wrapped in transparent yellow plastic that was sewn together with copper wire. Matthew also has a way of transforming his immediate surroundings and living environment into an open ended art event. For a while, again, back in the 1980s, when one visited him in his apartment, one would find oneself in a black light illuminated cave; a room transformed by the use of black plastic, Styrofoam and various found objects.

Yes, Matthew Traeger is an extraordinary artist and, the most fabulous thing about him and his art is that he goes about it as though there were no other way to exist. The work itself exists, despite it's blatant artifice, as though it were meant to be. And now he was exposing me to another obscure yet seemingly important figure in the recent past's artistic landscape.

And so it was that weeks later as I thumbed through a newly purchased copy of Art in America, what should I see but a picture of, yes, Klaus Nomi -!

So, now I'm mulling over a question in my head: Where do artists come from?

Sometimes Things Work

2005-07-27T08:33:00.000-05:00

In the June-July issue of Art in America there was a short article on page 51 about a new foundation that had been established by Louise T. Blouin MacBain for the purpose of "supporting creativity." Now, that seems right up my alley!

The website for the Louise T. Blouin Foundation, Artinfo.com, was reached easily enough, but when I tried to register, to "sign up" for updates, etc., I found that the internet form would not accept my information. I got an error message stating that there had been an error and that I should try again later.

So, I tried later in the day. I got the same message. I tried that evening from home. Same message. And I tried again the next day, using several different flavors of web browsers, and still, the same message.

For some reason, I was determined to get put on their mailing list. I was adamant. I scanned the site for contact information for anyone that might be able to help. I found the email address for the Vice President of Technology for the foundation. Ah! Now she should be able to do something! So I whipped out an email to her outlining the specifics of the problem. I was polite and thorough. Then, I waited.

I guess I was expecting an email back from her but, no. There was only the silence only the internet can produce.

Early yesterday I decided to visit the site again. I got to the main page and everything seemed the way it had been on my last visit. Then, I followed the link to the "sign up" form.

"Error 404. The page cannot be displayed"

Yipppeee! Something was happening! I disconnected myself from my phone (a required workplace fashion accessory) and leapt into the air and danced a little dance!

I quickly regained my composure, realizing that my co-worker's perception of me was dangerously warped to begin with. No sense pushing it. I continued with my work-place chores.

It was nearing the end of my workday when I ventured to try the Artinfo website again. I found the address in my browser's address history and clicked.

"The requested site www.artinfo.com could not be found."

Huuuuaaahhh! Never before had I been so happy at the dysfunction of a product. The thing is, I had realized that something was broken that I could not fix, and by a simple act of communication it seemed as though someone, somehow, was doing something about it!

I tried again last night from home and got the same message.

tick tock tick tock tick tock

This morning I get into work. I boot the computers, I log into the phone system, I check emails, I take a call.... Then there is a pause. I check the personal email account from which I had contacted the Vice President of Technology. Nothing from her.

I take a deep breath. I enter the address into the web browser. I press ENTER and wait.

BOOM! The site comes up! I dare not cross my fingers because that makes it painfully difficult to type, so I just visualize the online form working....there it is....the form is back!

I put in my first name and press TAB....I put in my last name and press TAB....I put in my email address and click OK.

Thank you for registering with Artinfo.com....

Hallelujah! Sometimes things do work!

Andrew's Apology

2005-07-26T10:34:00.000-05:00

I take great pleasure in reading Andrew Sullivan's weblog, The Daily Dish. Though I don't always agree with Mr. Sullivan, being rather politically left of center myself, his insights are often dead on target or at least illuminating of the other side of the fence. Sometimes, as in his statement in the July 5th issue of The Advocate, he strikes a chord familiar to all too many of us who live with HIV infection. I urge you to read this short and enlightening example of his work.

2005-07-23T19:38:00.000-05:00

Shifting Into High Gear~~

Okay. The weblogs are on line and looking more and more like they belong to the DEStudios family. The gallery has been modified so that the background color matches the rest of the site and the brand new air conditioner has been installed and the house has stayed cool during the 105 degree (in the shade) heat that I measured on my back porch earlier today. And guess what? The unit was installed yesterday and the bill came today! Now there's a company that knows how to stay on top of things!

This coming Thursday is the "wine and cheese" reception that the Columbia Board of Realtors are giving for the artists exhibiting as a part of the Community Art Program. I, interestingly enough, am one of them. This is the first time I've exhibited outside of the Art League since I joined 3 years ago. This is the first time I've exhibited in a commercial location - ever!

I'm showing six paintings, all of which are in the gallery. The "Window" series and "Canal" and "Ocean Interface" represent my most recent work. A very different approach to painting even if I do say so myself. You can find some of my most recent musings on my philosophy of painting in this blog entry.

So, with this great opportunity I have several little things to get out of the way: I have to write, print and deliver to the exhibition site a "bio" and I have to redesign and print up a stack of business cards.

I'm not too fond of the whole process of marketing my work, even though this web site, this blog, this whole internet effort of mine is a part of that marketing behavior. And when it comes to writing a "bio" for myself, something that I've tried to do in the past, I tend to get caught up in the minor things and seem to lose sight of the "big picture."

I will, no doubt, post the bio once I have written it.

As for the business cards, well, I've got an idea of how to make them stand out and still be dignified. I want to seem dignified. Is that wrong?

Otherwise, it will be a chance to be on stage and hobnob with people that have the money to buy art. And I really need to sell some art! Especially since the bill for the air conditioner has already arrived!

2005-07-22T08:01:00.000-05:00

The page is back to its old self again and I hope it stays that way for a while. I have a sometimes bad habit of messing with the scripts and code of my web pages and usually end up destroying them in one way or another. I really do need to learn to a) back up successful pages more often and b) leave well enough alone!

The new air conditioner is to be installed this morning - I hope. Max and I had to sleep on the floor in the living room last night. Not particularly comfortable but at least it was a bit cooler. I look forward to being able to move about the house without breaking a sweat!

I realized last night, while sitting very still in hopes of cooling down a bit, that I had been avoiding thinking about and even more, doing something about one of my favorite topics and activities: ART. I hadn't written anything, I hadn't drawn anything, painted anything -nothing! Now, I did buy two art magazines the other day with the intention of gobbling them up and then reviewing them here and in the newsletter (which I have let slide as well!) But, did I do that? No. I've only flipped through them and then set them aside.

Then, this morning, I found myself checking out some of the posts on DE's brother blog, Scented Shadows and I read a particular bit about transformation. I realized that I am still quite actively in the process of reconstructing myself.

I believe that the last time I spent considerable energy painting I was working on taking myself apart. I was responding to images and paintings that I had seen, I knew that I was imitating both the raw images and the ones that had been transformed by others and I tried as I worked to separate those containers of awareness. As I did this, I noticed certain sensations that were familiar but distant. I don't know what those sensations really were but I suspect they are closer to products of a real me than I have experienced in a while.

Loving the act of pushing paints as I do, I am surprised that I don't do it more often. Part of it, I am sure, is the cost. Part of it is the large hunks of time involved in doing it to my own personal satisfaction. The primary reason, though, and this may be a conceit, is that the process of painting itself is, for me, a wondrous, transformative, magical and spiritual act, and having accomplished something concrete in it I find, like a body builder, I need time to recover. My body and my spirit and my mind need time to rest and rebuild.

Knowing about paints, brushes, supports and knowing about elements of drawing, color, illusion and perception and knowing about history, context and cultural positioning of my own work are all incidental to the transformative power of the act of making art, especially, for me at least, painting. Those other aspects of art can be approached separately and, if you ask me, must be addressed if one is to be successful as an artist. The essential and central point of art is transformative in nature and purpose. Transformative for the artist and, if the byproduct of the actions of the artist is successful, the artifact if you will, then it is transformative for the viewer as well.

2005-07-21T09:54:00.000-05:00

New Look! Old Look Back Soon!~~

Hi Ho loyal readers! As you can tell, things are changing around here - again. I hope to have the old look back fairly soon. I've been "tinkering" with things and, as usual, messed them up a bit, so I'm doing my best to get back to square one and start again.

Please excuse the mess!

Upcoming blog entries:
Testosterone and the lack thereof
O Canada! (A good reason to move to the Great, Free North!)
Art Magazines and the usefulness of advertising!

2005-07-21T07:44:00.000-05:00

My Issues With Air ~

A year ago last winter, during a particularly cold snap, one of the worst possible things that could happen to a financially challenged bloke like myself occurred. My furnace broke. It didn't just break, it died. It died a cold and heartless death.

I called around to find someone that could come out and make things better for me and Max (the Beagle.) I opted for a locally owned outfit that, despite their slick presentation, seemed like a bunch of good-ol-boys. Alas, they were money hungry and clueless to the concept of customer service. They charged $1.50 each for those little plastic caps that electricians use to insulate spliced wires. They charged me $400 for a new furnace motor and then, when it became apparent that the motor was not the problem they only gave me $100 credit.

Thieves.

Sooo, I found another outfit, some real down-home folks, and for a mere $1935.00 I got myself a new furnace installed and some great conversation and information on furnace care, not to mention about 5 portable heating units to keep the Beagle and me warm until Bessie (the christened name of the new furnace) could take over.

Ah. Warmth.

And so it was that the summer came and went and winter came again. The day before I was to leave for my folks' house for the Holidays I discovered a frightening lack of water pressure and an odd sound coming from the basement, a sound that reminded me of, well, water, rushing out of a broken pipe.

I went into the basement, waded through the lake that was growing there and turned off the water main. I changed my clothes and loaded Max into the car and we headed toward Grandma and Grandpa's house, leaving the crisis until after Christmas.

And so it was that I learned that the frigid air outside had seeped through a basement window and frozen a water pipe that ran near it. The copper cap at the end of the pipe had blown off like a missile and shot across the basement. As it turns out, though, I was able to learn what I needed to fix the problem on my own. It made me feel accomplished and, quite frankly, a little on the macho side. I got to use a blowtorch!

Alright. Now it's late July in Missouri. The outside temperature is in the mid-90s by 10 a.m. and the heat index is inching toward 100. Actual temperature by 3 p.m. is supposed to be 101, and warm air is coming out of my central air unit.

I call the pals o' mine that fixed me up with Bessie and they come out and, lo and behold! the fan is busted in the outside compressor unit. $280 later I'm up and running again. Two hours later, it's blowing hot air again.

Another call to my buds. Is it freon, or the lack thereof? No. The compressor itself has overheated and shut down. The vent is clogged with dirt and can't cool off. With a piece of high-tech equipment (a garden hose,) the compressor is cooled off and the vents are cleaned out. Yippee! Cool air! My house is a better place to be!

That evening, as I finish doing some calisthenics with the idea of improving my cardio-vascular health, I discovered that - alas - the air coming from the air vents is not cold. I turn the unit off and sit, sweating, in the middle of my livingroom floor and bury my face, dripping with oozing water from my newly shaved head in my helpless hands.

Then, as only the best of friends will do, Max came up to me, licked my ear and sat down, front and center, tail wagging in anticipation of an early evening walk.

This morning I called my pals at the Ma and Pa HVAC place and, yes, it seems I'll need a new unit. But, hey! It will only cost me about $1300!!! And they might be able to have it installed by the weekend!

So much for joining the gym. So much for buying my buddy's truck. So much for that new wardrobe and home entertainment system. So much for the new roof!

Alright. Time to buck up! There is life after debt! I just need to be warm in the winter and cool in the summer and be able to think straight in between. Think - think - think....

2005-07-15T08:17:00.000-05:00

Of Structured Lives and New Beginnings

After a recent visit to my doctor, I was shocked to hear the nurse say as she was weighing me that I tipped the scales at 197 pounds. 197 pounds! I have NEVER been that heavy! Now, it should have come as no surprise to me inasmuch as I had recently purchased several pairs of pants that were snug at a 35 inch waist, but to hear it put in terms of pounds... I had gained nearly 16 pounds in the last four months!

Later that day, upon returning home, I did what I think many people do when they come to such realizations. I shed my clothing and faced the mirror.

Good GOD! I looked like a friggin' TOAD! Slumped shoulders, sagging pectorals, bloated belly and skinny-assed legs with knobby knees. I seemed hideous to myself!

Now, I have to admit that for most of my life I have accepted the fact that I am one of those many people that look much better with their clothes on than with their clothes off. No big deal. It wasn't as though I felt repulsive in my birthday suit or anything, I just was not Greek godlike in my body structure. I was far beyond that now. The clothes couldn't even hide the tire around my belly. I would never want to look at myself in the raw. (I thought about using the phrase "in the buff," but there ain't anything buff about me!)

So. I have just turned 47 years old and I'm out of shape and I'm feeling unattractive. Gee. I wonder what's going on?

Whatever the real problem is I know the solution. Join a gym.

I called around town, I looked in the phone book, I got on the internet and did search after search after search. Finally, I narrowed the list down to four possibilities. One was close to home and had a branch near where I work. It is also open 24 hours a day. Two have pools and specialize in "family" health but far from where I live. One is in the fashionable part of town and has all new equipment and is a tad more expensive - I bet the people there are equally as expensive. I guess the first one is the best choice, though I wish it had a pool. I decide to go in to talk with them.

I fill out a form, answered questions about my goals and then got shuffled off to speak with a membership representative. Nice enough fellow. Not freaky muscular but fit. Dreadlocks and a polo shirt. Hmmm.

I got a tour of the facility. Pretty nice I suppose. I met a few of the staff members. One guy was huge. Big ol' muscles. Very friendly.

Took a look at the prices. Not bad I suppose. I can afford it. I told them I would think about it.

I went home and started surfing the web again, this time looking at "body building" and "muscles." Wow. Now, there are some really freaky looking people out there! I don't want to look like that.... or do I?

...hmmmm.....maybe....hmmmm.....

Hey! I'm forty freakin' seven years old! Then again, I've made it this far in my life, I've accomplished all sorts of things that others might have thought were impossible, why not putting on some good lookin' muscle? Why not be able to use the word buff when describing myself? I mean, what would it take? Start reading the info on the web sites. Go out and buy a few "muscle mags."

Ouch.

I never would have thought that the culture of health and body building would be so complex! Percentages of lean muscle mass, body fat; ratios of carbs to proteins... testosterone levels! Then there are all the different exercises and the terminology involved: sets, reps, extensions, to failure!

I realized fairly quickly that there is a complex and somewhat exclusive culture that has developed around health, fitness and getting huge, freaky and ripped! It is a highly structured lifestyle where knowing exactly how many calories one is consuming, available from what types of foods, their nutritional components and their synergetic effects on one another is just one facet of the elusive jewel of the exercised elite.

So, do I really want to try this? It would mean actually living on a schedule, eating on a schedule, keeping records of calorie counts and number of weighted squat thrusts and how many times I've gone to the can. Hmmmm......

I began to make out a list of my daily activities. I opened up a spreadsheet on my computer and started to make a chart...day by day in 30 minute intervals. Up at 5 a.m. to bed by 11 p.m. (does that allow for enough sleep? Sleep is essential in the effective building of muscle mass!)

Now, I have to factor in everything....walking Max, going to work, 6 measured meals a day at proper intervals, house work, shopping, laundry, visiting the folks...and, oh, work out time -- at least 90 minutes 5 days a week. And there is yard work, studio time (for the art work) and home computer time (for the web site and self promotion...like writing this blog, for instance) and a whole host of other seemingly necessary things.

The result? Still not enough hours in the day. So I shaved my head.

2005-07-08T10:05:00.000-05:00

Things Are a-Changing

Slowly but surely things are changing around here. I have recently linked my two Blogger blogs to my website and I will be changing their appearance to conform more closely to the design of that site. Also, I will be rearranging some of the posts so that the Dangerous Enlightenment blog will contain more commentary and the non-fiction writings and Scented Shadows will contain only fiction: both poetry and prose. This should help keep things in order and allow those interested in one type of reading material to find what they want without having to wade through the other type of reading material. I also have to do some editing. After re-reading some early posts I have realized that my spelling is horrible! I mean, I know how to use a spell-checker and a dictionary. SHEESH!

Unfortunately, I have not gotten the other pages up and running on the website. Lazy me. Of course, I could come up with all sorts of reasons for this laps in action but it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, now would it?

...in other news...

My friend and fellow YES-Head, Dan emailed me yesterday announcing that he was getting tickets to see the More Drama Tour that had just booked a date in St. Louis. He wanted to know if I was interested in one of the passes.

"Jeeze! Are you kidding?!?!? Of course I want to go!"

Uh, "More Drama Tour"????

Ah, for those of you waiting for Britney's next opus I should explain. YES is a band, first formed in the late 1960s from members of various forward thinking bands in England. Through the 70s and '80s they were quite popular, especially in the early '70s when their stage shows were filled with lasers, psychedelic sets and virtuoso, bombastic musical epics. Welllll, the drummer of the band, Alan White, has put together a side project called White that includes the keyboardist Geoff Downes, who played on a late '70s YES album (called DRAMA.) They are touring with The Syn, a band that existed originally in the mid '60s that includes bassist Chris Squire, who went on to be a founding member (and the only member of YES to appear on EVERY RECORDING.)
To round things out, Steve Howe, the guitarist for YES is travelling with them performing his accoustic guitar magic. And, as an added bonus, after the three aforementioned acts perform, a reunion of the gents that performed on the YES album Drama will treat the crowd to renditions of songs from that record that have not been played live since, oh, 1979!

So, for those of us with an interest in such things, this is a real opportunity! Stuart is very happy!

Okay. I'm at work and I need to get back to that part of my life. More later from this end of the continuum.........

2005-06-23T14:21:00.000-05:00

If this isn't a sign of the impending final days I don't know what is. According to CNN the Supreme Court has decided that it is okay for local governments to appropriate private property for the purpose of private development. In other words, a city can take away your house, tear it down and allow a private business to build a strip mall and office buildings so that the city can increase tax revenue and the business can make more money. I'm sorry folks, but this doesn't seem right to me. It seems like there has been an inadvertent jump into another reality. Or maybe the powermongers have just won another battle for the control of existence.

I've been reading the blogs of Andrew Sullivan lately and, though I do not agree with him on many issues, I admire his integrity and intelligence. I wonder if he will address this particular issue.

2004-08-04T11:02:00.000-05:00

In a World of Idiots

I cannot accurately express my feelings of embarrassment and humiliation at the decision of the voters of the state of Missouri to amend the constitution to ban marriage between members of the same sex. It is already against the law, so why add it to the constitution? To codify discrimination? To demonstrate to the world that Missouri is in fact populated by inbred congenital idiots that use an ancient collection of religious books that they cannot hope to understand as some sort of guide to morality when, in fact, the gist of the teachings of those books is love, tolerance and NOT JUDGING YOUR FELLOW HUMANS....

I used to defend this state against the uppity East and West Coasters that wouldn't even spend a moment looking down on the backwater bergs and watering-holes of "the Show Me State." I would point out the presence of a world class symphony orchestra in St. Louis, two world class art museums, active, dynamic artistic and multi cultural communities all across the map, venerated universities and a history of spawning and nurturing brilliant minds from past to present. But, now, the state is reduced to this: Legislated discrimination and bigotry.

I am sad. I want to leave............

2004-07-15T08:52:00.000-05:00

cDc/AR/Trey Gunn

I've just discovered the cDc - and that ain't the center for DISEASE control - it's the cult of the DEAD cow. Pretty interesting stuff. You can get there by aiming your Firefox, Mozilla, Netscape, Opera or, if you must, IE browser at http://www.cultdeadcow.com/

It's a pretty interesting place where free thought is said to reign but most of what I've found is self referential definition and attempts at postmodern verbal gymnastics. But, as I said, pretty interesting if not pretty.

Now that it's been a near geologic age since I posted on this site, I imagine that anyone that might be AR enough to have found it, or fated to stumble across it might read it and promptly forget it. That's fine. I don't really care. But....

It does make me wonder - of all of the BLOGs out there in the virtual land of bits, bytes and simulated spaces, what percent is ever read by anyone other than the original author? Are there actually persons unnamed who, for want of something better to do with their time search out and devour the self indulgent musings of other folk with nothing better to do than create highly personalized web logs? Hmmm....and is it worth wondering about?

Other things that I've discovered recently - Trey Gunn, a master musician, artist and all around cool guy. He came to my attention several years ago when he began playing with the progressive music icon Robert Fripp in an incarnation of King Crimson. When Mr. Gunn joined Mr. Tony Levin in playing on a hammered guitar like instrument (Mr. Gunn playing the Warr Guitar and Mr. Levin on the Chapman Stick) I was amazed at the exotic near gamlan like rhythmic structures and sculptures that burst out of my sound system speakers. Just a few days ago I came across a CD/DVD combo package from Mr. Gunn entitled Untune the Sky which, if you can find it, should become a fixture in everyone's disc collection.

Okay. I've rambled enough. For Now.

2002-06-25T15:21:00.000-05:00

The Grind

It has been many moons since I last wrote something here...too long I suppose. My last post was about my dog, Max, whom I am finding is more demanding than a human room mate, yet much more adorable. My job is spiraling into an abyss darker and more loathsome than I ever imagined. Summer has oozed over us here in the middle of the States making persons such as myself wilt and perform our daily tasks with a listlessness reserved for the motivationally challenged.
Oddly enough, I've found some solace in listening to music - something that I haven't done in earnest in quite a while. Of course there is the mode of having the radio on in the car while zooming around and the like, but this is different. I mean, acutally sitting down and listening to the music - giving it your complete and undivided attention. Strangely enough, when I do this, my mind often wanders away to some far off imaginary land populated by beings who invade my fantasies and daydreams, but that is alright. The music I've been listening to is not unusual for me, yet I find that when people ask me what kind of music I like and I answer YES, they kind of look at me as though I didn't understand the question. This often steers the conversation to a place that I enjoy but confuses others. YES is, for want of another way of saying it, "my favorite band." I have broad tastes in music, from classical, romantic and baroque to swing, big band, jazz to blue grass and the so called "world" or "ethnic" musics. Among my other favorites are Bela Fleck, Dave Brubeck, the Adair Brothers, Shostakovich, Philip Glass and Bill Munroe. But YES holds a special place in my heart. Lately, I've been "listening" to three albums in particular. The first is one of their classics, Close to the Edge which has a special meaning for me which may be the subject of future entry. The second album is the much berated Open Your Eyes which I have found to be rich, daring and great cruising music. The third album of theirs which I've been tuning into is their most recent opus, Magnification, which, based on the sound engineering alone should be nominated for a Grammy. I'm sure it won't happen, but it should if there is any fairness in the universe.
The music of YES sometimes takes work but is always rewarding. Some have slammed it for being bombastic and pretentious. Hmmm....and the Backstreet Boys make serious music. Right. Others have said that the lyric is innane. Hmmmm again....take a listen to the lyrical content of 90% of what makes it onto the airwaves, then try out a song with lyric like this:
"...On the hill we viewed the silence of the valley,
Called to witness cycles only of the past
And we reach all this with movements in between the said remark...."
from Close to the Edge
All of this aside, I have to say that their music makes me feel good, in fact, it makes me feel better about myself and helps me survive the daily grind.
So, here I sit at work, lots to do but I really don't want to. I have in the back of my mind a list of projects that need to be started and completed. I have another list of things that I should do but really don't want to. I realize that sooner or later I'll have to rise above all of this. Thank goodness I've got some good music to keep me afloat.....
............."I get up, I get down,
....................I get up, I get down,
.........................I get up
..............................I get down......."