As the pot boils on the stove, and my back hurts to remind me I turned 54 this past Wednesday, I am reminded that having the Blues is really a great way to contrast the candy coated crap that most people see as the good times. Things look really great when you have really suck-ass blue moments to compare them to.
I have learned many things in my 54 years, and Ms. Moon reminded me of an important one in her Valentines day rant. Valentines Day? Speaking of candy coated...The thing she reminded me was that all of the drudge and smack that we experience can be just as enlightening and meaningful when you consider those you love, and how each of these little specs of life give you the perspective and framework to enjoy it all.
The Moonblog of course was framed against a long and successful marriage, which unfortunately escaped me after thirteen years, but the concept works for family and friends as well, and even the dog, when he behaves.
I find that a good bottle of Sweet Basil store shelf spaghetti sacue can be made to sing when you cook up a little ground chuck or hot sausage, and plenty of garlic, stewed tomatoes, mushrooms, thinly sliced carrots, onion and celery, salt & pepper, a touch of hot sauce and plenty of extra virgin olive oil. Usually I had a touch of sugar also. I can make a sauce like this and never miss an Italian restaurant, though i do have to clean the kitchen afterward. That would be the suck-ass part.
So if I have the blues because there's nobody to share this with, that's okay because I don't live in Afghanistan, I am not a Republican, and I can whip out my guitar and paly myself something by the Subdudes, or learn one of my new faves by Paolo Nutini, and the pasta was hot shit, and I have lunch all made to take to work tomorrow. So don't sweat the small stuff, and of course everything is the small stuff!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
The Vagaries of the Time/Space Continuum and Rent
Well, I started this blogging thing on a whim, and at first, all was well with the world. Then, my job status changed, and poof! I went back to 55 hour work weeks, played some gigs with my bands, and suddenly my kitchen looked like there had been interstellar war fought along the counter tops, and the evil Spacula Nebulae creatures had spewed alien detritus in their mewling death throes on the floors, walls and appliances. Or,...I might just have neglected the place from working, gigging and sleeping too much.
Anyway, my job status went back to a commission status, and the pressure of imminent homelessness weighed heavily on my reality. So I bucked up and fought the good fight, sold some stuff to make some money, and you guessed it—I slipped into the NONBLOGGER PARALLEL UNIVERSE!
Then, I gots chastised by the Blog Queen, who had incented me to become fraught with blog in the first place, oh miserable and unworthy me. So, hark! Let the heavens ring with the sound of my return to the wormhole of blogdom. The space/time continuum can now return to an existential stasis that keeps all in balance, including democratic candidates, my landlord, clocks everywhere, good and evil, yin and yang, blah, blah, blahg, blag, blog, blog.
On a more Terrestrial note, I am exceedingly happy to report that "Joe Willy, Neckbone & the Fishheads" were welcomed to the stage at the Lake Wales Mardi Gras several weeks ago, after a long and dangerous journey through the digital wasteland known as..."why are we making this fucking CD ourselves without an engineer and a studio?" After almost 12 long months of recording, we have added our new guitar player, and proceeded to kick some Mardi Gras ass at the local festival to a rousing, albeit drunken throng on the streets of Lake Wales, FL. We played a long and intense set of faves, including three of our original cuts from the still evolving CD called "Hook, Line & Sinker." A good time was had by all.
And, as fate would have it, I celebrated my Aquarian fest birthday on the 13th with the acquisition of yet another (now totalling two) 1993 Volvo. So now I can lay claim to being a two Volvo family. This latest is a really sweet old 850 GLT sedan with 125K miles, which makes it 145K miles newer than my 1993 960 wagon. I should write the Swedes and tell them to come do a commercial about this, with pictures of me and my drums happily loaded into one of their creations with 270K miles on it sailing down the road on another mission de blueage, to spread the word of musical redemption, underage drinking and public displays of overt sexuality. You know, party, dude, er, Swen! There was no planning here, the deal was just too good to pass up.
So to all/both of you who may read this, I am working too hard to make money I don't want, but that somebody I have never met does want, in a galaxy far, far away. And so I retain my small but important grip on reality by beating the drums, picking a little Taj Mahal on my guitar, keeping the dog out of the garbage, and thanking the Norse Gods for their great wisdom in imbuing the Swedes with such fine automobile design and manufacturing skills.
In closing tonight my children, we should all pay homage to the Goddess of Blog. Ring her name true to all who can read. Revere her substantial gifts, and feed the universe on the depth of her blogisity. And bow to the superior nature of her enlightened spirit. Merluna, Merluna, Merluna, we chant as her mighty pen takes to the page. And listen for the sure sound of the beating of our blessed little hearts!
Anyway, my job status went back to a commission status, and the pressure of imminent homelessness weighed heavily on my reality. So I bucked up and fought the good fight, sold some stuff to make some money, and you guessed it—I slipped into the NONBLOGGER PARALLEL UNIVERSE!
Then, I gots chastised by the Blog Queen, who had incented me to become fraught with blog in the first place, oh miserable and unworthy me. So, hark! Let the heavens ring with the sound of my return to the wormhole of blogdom. The space/time continuum can now return to an existential stasis that keeps all in balance, including democratic candidates, my landlord, clocks everywhere, good and evil, yin and yang, blah, blah, blahg, blag, blog, blog.
On a more Terrestrial note, I am exceedingly happy to report that "Joe Willy, Neckbone & the Fishheads" were welcomed to the stage at the Lake Wales Mardi Gras several weeks ago, after a long and dangerous journey through the digital wasteland known as..."why are we making this fucking CD ourselves without an engineer and a studio?" After almost 12 long months of recording, we have added our new guitar player, and proceeded to kick some Mardi Gras ass at the local festival to a rousing, albeit drunken throng on the streets of Lake Wales, FL. We played a long and intense set of faves, including three of our original cuts from the still evolving CD called "Hook, Line & Sinker." A good time was had by all.
And, as fate would have it, I celebrated my Aquarian fest birthday on the 13th with the acquisition of yet another (now totalling two) 1993 Volvo. So now I can lay claim to being a two Volvo family. This latest is a really sweet old 850 GLT sedan with 125K miles, which makes it 145K miles newer than my 1993 960 wagon. I should write the Swedes and tell them to come do a commercial about this, with pictures of me and my drums happily loaded into one of their creations with 270K miles on it sailing down the road on another mission de blueage, to spread the word of musical redemption, underage drinking and public displays of overt sexuality. You know, party, dude, er, Swen! There was no planning here, the deal was just too good to pass up.
So to all/both of you who may read this, I am working too hard to make money I don't want, but that somebody I have never met does want, in a galaxy far, far away. And so I retain my small but important grip on reality by beating the drums, picking a little Taj Mahal on my guitar, keeping the dog out of the garbage, and thanking the Norse Gods for their great wisdom in imbuing the Swedes with such fine automobile design and manufacturing skills.
In closing tonight my children, we should all pay homage to the Goddess of Blog. Ring her name true to all who can read. Revere her substantial gifts, and feed the universe on the depth of her blogisity. And bow to the superior nature of her enlightened spirit. Merluna, Merluna, Merluna, we chant as her mighty pen takes to the page. And listen for the sure sound of the beating of our blessed little hearts!
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