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!)
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Changes
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.
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.
Monday, October 16, 2006
More Than This
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!
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!
Monday, May 22, 2006
Sounds - Images - Words
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
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
Friday, May 12, 2006
Sound
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 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.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
I Know I Shouldn't, But...
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?
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?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Falling In Like - a reprint
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
What is this?
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
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
Monday, March 27, 2006
Snapshot
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?
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?
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Of Sounds and Sorrows
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Green Grass
[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.
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.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
New Life
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....
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....
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Happy New Year
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
