All of the talk over the years. One thing setting up the other. When push comes to shove, you have to pull the wires and disconnect the old pathways. But does the network change? Ahh, I hear the sleighbells. Sorry, shuffleplay distraction. Hmm, good song title. Why am I typing this instead of writing that? Good question. The resistance is strong in this one..
This little ditty was in regular rotation towards the end of the lost years. The ghost was indeed in the machine, and causing quite a ruckus. Seems that perhaps the ghost never left, but rather has just been ignored. Or more likely, kept busy by other things; buried by obsession, attenuated by activity, veiled by shrouds of progress. But you can never keep a good (bad?) ghost down for very long. They win by attrition. They are in no hurry, unlike us who have only a short turn in the seat.
Well, I'm not really sure why AJ set up a Rube Goldberg device to stain the journey blue. But there's got to be a song in there somewhere. While I sort that out, I think the Police are outside. Or inside.
Well, I wanted to sleep in, especially after the 2:30am "party" in front of a neighboring apartment. Seems that some frat boys (or probably ex-frat boys) had a bit too much to drink or drug, and were getting out of hand. I was almost ready to walk out and rack the Sig...that likely would have stopped it.
Anywho, I digress. The boy woke me up early to hit the waves. At least we beat the traffic and crowds...
Reminds me of Simpleflower...got email from Jeff, he's going on a national tour with his new gig.
Listening to some mashups today just by chance (actually started listening to "Life is a Highway" but then shuffle play got me sidetracked). Up came a mashup of "Let it Be" and some Beastie Boys. Pretty cool. But the power of the Beatles shone through...
When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Billy Preston died today at the age of 59. He was sometimes called the "5th Beatle", having played on a number of later tracks. Listen to one of the versions of "Let it Be" to hear his keyboard work. He also played with the Stones and others. Died of kidney failure, but that was brought on by a lifetime of drug addiction. One more chorus, one last ride...
Another day, another jacket, another dissapointment. Hey, maybe it's not the jacket...maybe it's me. I guess I'll have to "think about it."
You're nine. You need two root canals. You get up in the morning, aren't allowed to eat or drink, and head to the endodontist. You get nitrous gas but it doesn't really make a dent. The IV goes in, and that isn't very much fun. The anesthesiologist says he'll give you $10 if you can count to 20. You start counting...at 7 he rolls open the meds. You don't get to 8. Three hours later you're coming out of it. And not happy about being dizzy and feeling funny. You want to walk but your body really won't cooperate. Dad holds you in his arms and talks about when he had the same thing happen to him, about new computer games, and anything else to keep you calm and not thinking about how dizzy and weird you feel, or how much you just want to go home. Finally you can sort of walk with help, and the anesthesiologist says you can go home. Dad carries you to the car and eventually you finally get to the couch. Sure, the rest of the day is tv, computer games, ice cream and popcicles...but that really doesn't quite make up for it.
and we answer...
are obliterated by the feet of skateboarding boys...eventually.
Proposal done. Boss said it is "redundant." Redundant, redundant, redundant. Get it? Spent the morning meeting new people who matter, the afternoon driving, the evening messing with tools and cursing, and the night nodding off during knockout qualifying.
That's a full day, right?
stick it in, i'm done. sleep good. soon i hope.
Interesting. My and Tony S. were trying to escape from some guys in the streets of Paris. What's up with that? Well, Dr. W. knows. I felt threatened. I always feel threatened. Even if I'm not, I just to that conclusion. And something doesn't want its way of life disturbed. But it will be...sorry mom.
Sometimes you get a bunch of great shots, other times you shoot a bunch and get nada. Or at least not what I was "seeing." Here's a crop of one...but it never was quite what I saw...
Today (and part of last night) was spent sitting. And sitting. And then some more sitting. Interspersed were discussions about ego at Shambhala. Not that I have a problem with ego...well, truth be told we *all* have trouble with it. Do you suffer? Thank ego (along with a number of other causes, but I digress). I had two "takeaway" thoughts (even though you're not supposed to grasp things).
The first is that for any particular moment or issue, it only lasts for a moment...then if it is still around, it is our mind recreating it. And we can stop our mind from recreating it. Second, without space there can be no form. So stop trying to fill up all the empty space inside and out.
It's never a day off if you have the shrink. Sometimes you get kicked in the gut. Other times you get sad. On those rare occasions, you get a bit fortified (like MD 20/20?). One of those days today. It turns out that I actually can question people and push back...you don't automatically lose with everyone. Well, you do if you let them, so I have to think very clearly. Decisions made have long lasting repercussions. As much as I try to not worry about getting it right, I need to get it right.
Funny how when you hit a deadline for a work project, sometimes there is a letdown afterwards, and you feel like you're starting again from scratch. That really isn't the case as I've got a paper to finish (no, really), work on my grant project that is behind scedule (including hiring a research asst.), and a production project with DHS that has a June deadline (that's going to be a fun one...not). But following the conference of the last two days and the deadline for the multimedia projects (on time and under budget), along with a couple of bumps along the road (will my lower back and hip ever be right?), today is slow ennui. Funny how it follows periods of excitement, joy, and engagement. But such is life. No feeling is final, and without lows we wouldn't know the highs. And so on I march...
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow
I've got to get this rewrite done but I just can't get any momentum. Still feeling jetlagged and run down, and the cat mauling didn't help matters. Hopefully I can push it through tonight. But of course I signed on to do another project with a deadline next week. What is wrong with me?!?
Damn. You think you have something licked. Or at least a handle on it. And of course it spins hopelessly out of control. On the upside, it does explain a lot of the previous frenzied activity...anything to occupy the mind and body to avoid thinking about the upcoming travel. But at some point, there is no place or time left to hide. Then it all comes out. And at its core? Still not quite sure, but most likely intense fear of being left alone. My shrink said an interesting thing...we all have to be connected. If a baby doesn't have human contact it dies. There has to be some connection...ie we cannot be left alone. But alone we are left, in different ways, at different times. And sometimes when we're left alone bad things happen. Very bad things.
This time I won't be alone, but that is of little comfort to the other parts. Because even though I won't be alone, I have to trust that I won't be alone...that I won't be abandonded. And that's yet another hill to climb. But at least the big guy with with dump truck was able to slide it down the hill just into the right position. Sorry for the non-sequitor, but that was a really interesting dream from this am. But now, off to do some last minute errands before packing for Shanghai. And working on trusting those around me.
No, not that kind of hip. My left hip is complaining. Back in '92 or '93 (can't remember exactly) I was training for the upcoming road racing season (bicycle, I was a USCF Cat III racer). At the Rose Bowl in Pasadena there is a 3 miles loop around the exterior and every tuesday and thursday a peloton would show up to do a 10 lap training ride/race. I was just starting to come into form, and on lap 9 picking my way up towards the front to take a pull. On the downhill side through the corner some guy two bikes ahead went down. The guy right in front of me grabbed his brakes and his freme backed up into my front wheel. Over the bars at 35mph I go, landing mostly on my left hip and left elbow.
views from the outside of the old house
Without going into too much detail, I learned today that I've effectively been written out of my dad's will. And the trust for my son's college fund, which he swore up and down wouldn't be touched, now no longer has me as the executor. Remind me to never do this to my son...
Lost track of how many times i've played this one. I wanted to quote 19th nervous breakdown (in honor of the impending number 20) but for some reason got sidetracked. So sue me...
Thinkin' 'bout the times you drove in my car.
Thinkin' that I might have drove you too far.
And I'm thinkin' 'bout the love that you laid on my table.
I told you not to wander 'round in the dark.
I told you 'bout the swans, that they live in the park.
Then I told you 'bout our kid: now he's married to Mabel.
Yes, I told you that the light goes up and down.
Don't you notice how the wheel goes 'round?
And you better pick yourself up from the ground
Before they bring the curtain down.
Yes, before they bring the curtain down.
Talkin' 'bout a girl that looks quite like you.
She didn't have the time to wait in the queue.
She cried away her life since she fell off the cradle.
sometimes you get a good night's sleep. sometimes you don't
sometimes your dreams are ok. sometimes they're not (but always interesting)
sometimes you think you're doing ok. sometimes you don't
sometimes your body hurts. sometimes it doesn't
sometimes you say the right thing. sometimes you don't
sometimes your words make someone smile. sometimes they don't
sometimes you think it matters. sometimes it doesn't
sometimes you're able to be in the moment. sometimes you're not
sometimes you think it was you. sometimes it wasn't
sometime is always now. except when it isn't
After a two week hiatus from kung fu (and any exercise really), it was back into class today. And now I'm paying the price of the layoff. And making things worse is that the on-and-off tendonitis in my hip (old bicycle racing injury) has flared up, even before class. I think it is from my motorcycle...the tank is a bit side and it splays my legs out. That combined with some coldish weather may have aggravated it. Luckily I have a solution...a new Triumph Daytona 675. They are narrower by like 20%. 20%!!!. That'll fix it...
no...not quite. Getting there. Or at least getting close to some understanding of what/where/who/how it is. But I can feel it. Sometimes right at my finger tips. Other times, so far away. But it's there. And it's for me.
So on Tuesday I got a bit of a reprieve. In a recent conversation situation I became uncomfortable with the dynamic, and decided that maybe it was time for a change(s). In session we ended up doing a bit of psychoanalysis on the other party as opposed to myself. Whew...got off easy, with maybe a bit of clarity.
Flash forward to today, and another session. This time the spotlight turns back on me (where it belongs *sigh*), and what my apacolypse is. I don't know. But it is part of my "fabric" so I have to "think about it." Oh yeah, and the tweaked dynamic *is* about me. Of course it is...if I'm having the issue, it's about me.
The work is never done...
Riddle me this, Batman. How do you get the upstairs neighbors to quiet down? Turns out they have a dog (not allowed in the apartments) and hardwood floors. The dog likes to pace (click, click, click) and howl. So what's a poor boy to do? I suppose I can talk to them but not sure what their solutions are...they've been living here for many many years. I could complain to the landlord but then I'd be persona non grata in the building and that would suck (already enough issues with laundry room etiquette). So either I suck it up, talk to them and hope for the best, or look for another place. Hmm, more changes and confrontation. Oh joy, oh rapture...
Part two of the move, interrupted by a 2+ hour brainstorming meeting at work and the sudden cloudburst. Spoke to the landlord and my offer of swapping out cleaning (ie I cleaned the new apartment so she pays to clean my old one) flew, so I don't have to worry about slaving away to clean the old place. It's a tad after 6pm and the only thing left in the old place as I type this is a light, a chair, the cat scratching post (boy, Milo was not pleased by the move), and my vacuum. Oh, and the wireless dsl connection. So after I hit post, an era will end. Zoidberg, my trusty wireless base station will go dark. The new and improved zoidberg2 will return on March 14th (if Verizon in fact heats up my dsl line on schedule). But for now, down she goes. I'll post a couple of pictures later if I can get a signal from the neighbors.
Good bye all...see you on the other side...
moving day...and it blows. The new 2br apt isn't clean, has holes in the wall, and needs paint. I was originally going to move saturday, but the old tenant was going to be out today and the landlord said it would be good to go so I moved my schedule around to move today. Spent almost two hours this am cleaning the "new" place. Drawers in the kitchen are falling apart. And not as much closet space as my current (well, ex) 1br place. Plus the kitchen blows relative to my current one. Oh well...Calvin will have his own bedroom, we won't have quite the itinerant abode, and it is progress (I guess). I've walked a bunch of loads of stuff already (it is in the same building) but there doesn't seem to be a dent in the place. Frankly, I'd like to just sit down and cry but I gotta keep moving and haul more loads of crap. It'll be fine...it just sucks arse right now...
I have a poster on the wall of a Laguna Beach wave (see above). I've had this for many years, first in my office at work and now in my apartment. It's funny because all these years my eyes have been drawn to the shoulder of the wave...where I would take off to ride it. But last night amidst and potent mix of sadness, joy, compassionate touch and gentle courage, my eyes were drawn to the dark center of the wave...in the tube.
I've spent most of my surfing days in search of this elusive world. Drop it and get covered. Time stands still. It is loud and quiet at the same time. On the rare times you come out unscathed the rush is unlike anything else. But most of the time you don't make it out, and instead are thrown into the washing machine. Eventually you pop up...sometimes gasping for breath, sometimes in pain from smacking the bottom, but very much alive.
So in that shared raw moment my eyes were drawn to the dark center - like an eye into a collection of intertwined souls. Constantly moving but maintaining shape until it collapses, only to be replaced by the next wave which will be different. Never the same. Always in motion. Fluid (not static).
And after sharing that moment, when I looked again, I was now drawn to the mist drifting over the wave. The offshore winds push the feathering wave lip backwards, resulting in a brief rainstorm on the backside of the wave. Another great moment in nature is paddling out over a wave just as it peaks, dropping down the backside, have a brief silent pause, then gently drenched by the beautiful mist. The silver rain...nature's tears of joy...
I thank God for every wave I've ridden, every soul I've encountered, and every beautiful drop of mist and every tender tear that has touched me (including my own). The healing continues, because the love endures. Always.
Funny, because all this time I've been working under the impression that "nostatic" referred to a lack of static...ie no interference...no noise. You know, "FM, no static at all..." In other words, nostatic as a noun. But as usual, things in my life have multiple meanings and applications, including my own moniker. In this case, I am bumping up against the adjective form of the word. From the Apple dictionary:
static |ˈstatik| adjective:
1. lacking in movement, action, or change, esp. in a way viewed as undesirable or uninteresting : demand has grown in what was a fairly static market | the whole ballet appeared too static. • Computing (of a process or variable) not able to be changed during a set period, for example, while a program is running.
2. Physics concerned with bodies at rest or forces in equilibrium. Often contrasted with dynamic . • (of an electric charge) having gathered on or in an object that cannot conduct a current. • acting as weight but not moving. • of statics.
3 Computing (of a memory or store) not needing to be periodically refreshed by an applied voltage.
noun: crackling or hissing noises on a telephone, radio, or other telecommunications system. • short for static electricity . • informal angry or critical talk or behavior : the reception was going sour, breaking up into static
The Band rocks. You can go find the whole song, but I offer just a snippet (penned by Bob Dylan):
Out of nine lives, I spent seven
Now, how in the world do you get to Heaven
Oh, you don't know the shape I'm in
I loved this show when I was a kid. I even wrote a script and sent it to the network. As I recall it was about a guy who was going to jump from a building because he was distraught. Hmm...how does a 9 year old know about such things?
Snapped this at the LAPD training center on Manchester this AM. I was there for a multi-agency training scenario for a terrorist bombing at LAX. But that's for another post. For now, 1-Adam-12, handle code 3.
Funny how sometimes you're looking for a certain photo to make a point, then another one jumps up. I was going to briefly wax philosophic about something that comes up in kung fu class regularly - disconnecting the wires. We do an exercise where you do a technique on the count, but the count staggers...is irrergular. We get used to doing things in regular patterns, so the idea is to listen, be present in the moment, and not follow the old patterns. But this photo bridges that concept (wires...connections) with another. When you're getting on a flight, you know where you're going. Your destination is on your boarding pass. Well I don't know about you, but I can't for the life of me read what is on my boarding pass right now. And I'm trying mightily to be ok with that. So I just keep on moving and see where it leads. But I don't have a set destination, and my arrival time isn't on the monitor. More will be revealed...please put your trays in their upright and locked position.
I expend a lot of psychological/psychic energy, especially these days. Untold mindons (kinda like a photon, only neural energy...no really...trust me, I'm a scientist) spent trying to "figure things out", or as Watts tells me, "think about it." But the challenge is that this isn't thinking as I know it...not a problem to be logically solved. A different kind of "thinking." And it is hard. And it makes everything else in my life hard. Mundane tasks sometimes require herculean effort due to the power drain. But hey, I'm used to slogging through. Just not with this level of frustration.
In the past when things got to hard, I just walked away and did something different. Not this time though...I can't do that. But I keep tripping up, and slipping...the walking is difficult when you don't have a path to follow. But that's how you make the path, and faltering is to be expected. And that's ok too. One foot in front of the other, and see where it leads...
I love Peets...
I kinda like my apartment. Hardwood floors, convenient location, some elements of charm. Not perfect, but what place is? But I kinda have to move, as I've got a 1br apartment and my son stays with me 3 nights a week. For the past year he's been sleeping on the futon/couch in the living room. He is a trooper, but I know it isn't idea, his clothes in a halway cupboard, limited toys, etc. And as he gets older (9 now) it'll get worse. So I pondered getting some shoji screens to make a more "private" area for him and get him a storage unit/bed. But also pondered jumping to a 2br place. I got talked into searching online for one, and lo and behold, the front unit (of 6) in my building is coming available. So I see it Saturday. 2br. No truck required to move. Could be sweet...
The radio was my constant companion growing up. In those late nights when I couldn't sleep, I listened to the "heavy eleven-seventy KCBQ" and "boss radio, one-thirty-six KGB". When I got older and had a radio that did FM, it was 101.5 KGB, and my favorite, 106.5 KPRI. KPRI has come back, but isn't the same station. Nothing is the same as it was in the early-mid 70's. That was the heyday of FM radio. And the jocks had something so say...about what they played, about what was going on, about whatever floated through their transom.
So it turns out that I never had a chance...looks like there's a hole...in my life...
I'm not sure what the title means, so draw your own conclusion. God knows my mind spins out on the smallest things and projects them into wide screen epics. But probably what provides the most agony is attachment. I'm not sure how to balance the "reality" of living in a world with relationships and the "ideal" of no attachment. Since life is an experiment, I guess I have a new chance every day to explore that.
Well, I suppose the timing is a bit of synchronicity, and the symbolism anotomically correct, but the 4-Runner went to a new home today. My ex and I bought the truck (we always called it "the truck") when we found out she was pregnant. My son essentially grew up in the truck. Many nights spent driving around Claremont trying to get him quiet and asleep. He and I spent untold hours (136K miles worth) in the truck...its where he first sang the lyrics to "Do It Again" (at age 2 as I recall). As you might imagine the stereo was always on, so from birth the boy was immersed in Steely Dan and the rest of the usual suspects. And so on this day, not long after the papers reached their required 6 month mark, and as we finalize the settlement, the truck passes too.
So long.
OK, stick a fork in me. I'm done. First I had to figure out what the fire is...and it's big. Then I'm warned to not underestimate the power of the forces. And today I'm tasked with figuring out what I'm up to. Some plot or ploy. And why did I put her in Merced?
I don't think I can type any more right now. And I don't have a single Steely Dan cd in the apartment. I'm done.
Well, let's see. First there was Victoria B.C. at the end of November, then Austin the next week. Kauai was first week of January, and now I've go to do Half Moon Bay next week (via SJC, surgical strike - 6am flight up, 2pm flight back), then Park City (via SLC) the week after staying over one night. All work related. And I still don't have all of my salary nailed down yet...January will be a lean month. I'm tired...
When all else fails, you can always go back to bed. Well, sometimes...
There is a difference between the mind and the brain, but I'm not going to ponder that at this moment. Instead I'm just working (?) to calm the "devil mind." I've had the Nike slogan tossed at me : Just Do It. Damn, that was easy...not.
I would normally say, "here's a cookie," but I don't have one. So here's a photo.
I needed some comfort food. I needed some bun. Problem is Le Saigon, my local Vietnamese place, is closed until the 10th. Pho97 is too far away, and I'm not sure they're even open at night. So what to do? Well, search the web. Find a recommended Vietnamese place in Little Tokyo on Sawtelle. Gear up, head down on the bike, and of course it is now a Japanese noodle place. That's OK...I vaguely remember another place in a strip mall a little further down. A quick walk and I find Phoreign (get it?). Marginal bun. Oh well... guess I need to find my comfort elsewhere. I think the firing range is still open...
Well, all good things must come to an end, so I'm back on the mainland. But man, great weather here in LA...actually might be warmer than Kauai. Had a rough night or two over in the islands, but everything has a bit of yin/yang to it. The "workshop" was somewhat of a disaster (well, except for my part which was brilliant, or at least provocative). Next year I'm doing my own talk/workshop...and I'm going to stay for at least a week. I swear. No, really.
And now back to work...oh wait, I already did that. Wrote a four page proposal on the flight back to LAX. Hmm...hopefully at some point I'm *really* going to take a vacation...
For those playing along at home, I've got a lot of "closet cleaning" to do. Well, today I took the boy down south for a visit with Grandpa. Among other things, I learned that my great-grandfather was born in Russia and during "the war" (have to do some research), took the dog tags of a dead German soldier assuming his name to escape Russia and/or Germany.
But enough of the genealogy. I visited my old room, and while there was no 7 year old version of me sleeping there, the closet remains. The doors are different and the physical "stuff" isn't mine at all, but it is *the* closet. And so the work begins...or continues...
Well today kids, at least at 10:31am, it is Jackson Browne time.
Are you there? Say a prayer. For the pretender
Who started out so young and strong
Only to surrender
Running the old patterns. Falling into the old ways. The cycle turns again. When stuff happens, we invariably try to find comfort, and almost always, end up digging an even deeper hole for ourselves. We are hooked - "shenpa." Then momentum carries us away. And while we might find some comfort, we do not truly engage the feelings, and don't move through it. Pema Chödrön nails it (as usual)...
I had a dream the other night. No, not of world peace, whirled peas, or even al pastor sopes. But rather me at 44, me at 7, a cell phone with no camera, and a stuffed closet. First, I suppose some backstory is necessary. I believe (along with numerous others) that dreams are a window into the unconscious mind. And that our dreams are trying to tell us something. In some cases warn us of danger. In others, giving clues into where we need to dig. But in all cases, dreams are a view into the real world of ourselves, rather than the one we have manufactured for the conscious world.
I don't talk much about family here, in part because I don't have much of one. Not sure how well this applies, but I love the song (Bad Religion), so here goes...
Father, can you hear me?
How have I let you down?
I curse the day that I was born,
And all the sorrow in the world...
I'm not sure what the title means. It just came to me. Maybe it has something to do with getting outside of my head and instead following my heart. Or perhaps it has something to do with having to deal with a body that won't do what my brain tells it to do...at least not like it could 5 or 10 years ago.
Or maybe it doesn't mean a damn thing. It's after midnight, and I'm tired (hey, there's a recurring theme). It's almost the middle of December and my job situation still isn't finalized. I don't have full salary come January 1...and in fact as it stands today I don't have anything set. But it'll work out.
Getting out of your head is the hardest thing to do...at least for me. I have friends who have experienced the "wake at 4am and start spinning" pehnomenon. Luckily for them it is a pretty rare occurance. Unfortunately for me it has been fairly common over the past years. It is better now (meds help), but I've only learned to cope rather than cure. A lot more work to be done to get anywhere near being "unbroken." And so it goes, and the digging continues, now in earnest.
You spend most of you life showing what you know. And hiding what you don't know. Especially if you're in academia. As a student, you are tasked with filling in the gaps of what you don't know. As faculty it is even worse: you are expected to know everything.
My brains and my logical reasoning skills have served me well for the first 44 years. But they have also handicapped me, and now betray me. The past 4 years have merely taught me how to "manage". How to cope. But that just isn't enough. I've seen glimpses of what is possible. Flashes of what could be. But in order to really engage them, I have to own what I don't know. And they are some pretty profound things.
One of the hardest things you can do in life is stare into the eyes of another, and accept that there are core things in life - love, relationships, understanding, compassion - that you really don't know. And so now I dig...
Buddhism talks about leaning into sharp points. Finding the things that make you squirm and uncomfortable, and rather than avoiding them, embracing them. I've spent a lot of time running, and many years back, a lot of time/money anesthetizing. These days I'm not "perfect" (whatever the hell that means), but I have taken the "leaning into sharp points" to heart. It's great but it sucks. Those of you who are also "leaning" know exactly what I mean...
Had another of those "I'm getting old" moments last night at Kung Fu class. I knew I was pretty exhausted from the weekend at the track and very little sleep for 3 days. But I think I underestimated the physical fatigue. I was doing strikes and all the sudden my left arm just wouldn't work. A ton of pain if I tried to do any sort of force. The muscles down deep at the bone were aching, and if I tried to move it quickly I was in a world of hurt. I kept at it though, just striking with my right hand. Ended up just counting for blocks though. My back started getting upset because of only using one side (alternating hands/arms sort of balances the shock/load). So I sat, tried to meditate, and called out numbers. Managed to work on form 3 later though...but I was not a happy camper. Oh well...all I can do is try to rest and recuperate. But tomorrow I get to take my cardiac perfusion stress test. Woohoo!
Got a call at 2:30am this morning (thanks LAPD). The Subie is sitting in an impound lot somewhere in central LA. Evidently they stripped "some stuff" off of it. I'm going to do a drive by and see if its drivable. Either way I'll pay whatever the ridiculous fee is to get it out and either drive it home or have it towed to the dealership.
And then the fun continues...pics when I get them.
well, not lost. Stolen. From right in front of my apartment. I parked it Monday night after work, went out Tuesday morning to go to work...and no car. Fun.
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=10000103&sid=aX46hE_WaSRY&refer=us
Well, the other shoe dropped. I expected it, I was braced for it, I had hoped it wouldn''t, but it did. I will admit that the Gilbert O''Sullivan song is on my "guilty pleasures" list, but I''m not sure the lyrics really apply since that is about a guy who get''s jilted at the altar. Instead, the lines that keep running through my mind are from old friend Donald Fagan:
I've got plenty of java
and Chesterfield Kings
But I feel like crying
I wish I had a heart like ice
Heart like ice
The new year came and went, and I didn''t really have any resolutions to speak of...too much chaos. But as things became clear, a few things came to mind. Spending a few days in Hawaii (even though it was for work) helped make the fog go away. And the "real" new year (Feb. 9, its the year of the rooster ya know) provided a second chance for a second chance. So here goes: wear more Hawaiian shirts. Now that might seem silly, but it speaks to a deeper goal of facing the challenges of the world with a bit more aloha attitude. Or like my dad used to say, "don''t sweat the small stuff....and don''t sweat the big stuff either.
well, its been a hell of a year. It started out pretty good...Simpleflower was cranking along, we had tunes in the studio, gigs lined up. Things were somewhat quiet on the home front, although my anxiety disorder was up and down. Fast forward to the end of ''04. The only music stuff going on is me and a guitar working up a potential solo gig. And living in an apartment by myself on the westside (the guy downstairs plays his tv too loud).
So this is forward movement? Time will tell...
Sometimes in life you have regrets. For me they seem to crop up when things are going well or poorly. In other words, when at the extremes the "what ifs" come to the fore. The latest one to run through my head hit home after 2 days in the studio, then a few nights of mixing late at night after work (and everyone is off to bed), then rehearsal where we wrote a new song as a group. The last two times we ran the song before ending rehearsal, I got chills. Those "lost in the music" chills. The chills that I get listening to certain music, felt at at the Universal Steely Dan show when they played home at last, and what I get with a lot of Simpleflower music. I wake up in the middle of the night with Back Inside and House of Lords running through my head. Haunting me.
Well, Bob Keeshan died today (cnn story). He was Captain Kangaroo. I didn''t really watch the show, so I''m not sure why I care. I suppose it is becuase I consider myself a child of the TV generation, as evidenced by one of my recent long lyrics. So I guess it is important in some global psychological way...
I'm tired...
I'm still exhausted, but things could be worse. It was beautiful yesterday in LA, and my son and I spent almost the whole day at the beach. I had (have) a stiff neck, so I sat in my chair and wrote lyrics while he played in the sand and water. One of the new tunes I'm very happy with. You can read them (I've got 8 new lyrics in all) here .
I'm getting tired of the stiff necks and other aches/pains. Could this be what post-40 is all about?