A Summer with a hole in it

For the first time in a long time, this summer seems boring, hot and sort of empty.
Maybe I need a new crop of musician pals, a lot of the old ones are moving on. But it seems like a lot of work and I think it might be time to take a break from it. We ended the MF7 on a high note at least, although I suspect we'd have had a good long run if Michael wasn't being pulled west.

Fry and I might work something up, but for the first time in a long time I don't feel like there's any heartbeat left in my musical mojo. And I miss Bess's fiddle playing, a lot. She's taken up gutiar playing and pretty much stopped playing fiddle. I miss the energy she pumped out of that violin when we were on. I'm happy she's found a new interest, but wish it hadn't pushed out so much of what we were doing I grooved on.

Everything else is marching onward, my two gardens are going great, the motorhome is about half done, and even though it's been hellish hot for a while, I still have AC in the bedroom and the workshop, and Kori's still got a regular paycheck, and we might even get a month this fall to hit the road if it works out for her work schedule. We're both healthy and got no major issues.

But I sure am missing our usual crew and the music we did, and Sunday dinners and my art /music mob. They're all much busier or loaded down with kids who take an insane amount of energy and time. Or they've drifted away as friends do. One thing you learn after fifty years or so is that nobody stays where you found them or is where you left them.

Burn Notice, TV that doesn't suck

I want to be Fiona when I grow up. Really.

I tend to find most TV pretty stupefying. I never loved Raymond, no matter how much they said everybody did, and never found much to connect with with Sienfield, and missed whole decades of pop culture references after I ditched my cable and started wasting huge chunks of my time on the internet or playing sloppy music on my noisy guitar.
But I tried out an episode of Burn Notice a few months ago from Netflix, and it's a fun ride. Good writing, a lot of sexy as hell adult actors over thirty, and clever writing make it worth checking out. They're doing good things with the story arcs the actors are gliding through, and I am a sucker for anything with Bruce Campbell in it.
I just hovered down most of season two in a week, and it's worth watching. I even love the minor characters like Barry the money launderer, Seymore the arms dealer and the regulars playing the long suffering FBI agents. And I want to be Fiona, the trigger happy ex girlfriend when I grow up, even if I'm feeling like I'm old enough to be the Sharon Gless, the former Cagney and Lacey actress who plays Michael Weston's mom.
It's worth checking out if just for the McGyver style action and the whip smart voice overs.
Think Travis McGee meets James Bond meets Jason Bourne with some B movie chins and you've got the picture.
I've been sort of lost since Deadwood, Battlestar Glactica and Carnivale when off the air when it comes to having my brain riveted down and sucked out by the boob tube. This one's fun.

What to do while waiting for the collapse, Via Club Orlov

Things are getting weird. Anybody paying attention sees it. There are a lot of people out there in the media blowing smoke up our collective asses, saying the green shoots of a new growth in the old economy are on the way.
But record numbers of people are losing their jobs each month, the auto manufacturer's wave of shit has yet to really hit, and California's about to go bankrupt, yet still we bail out the IMF and Europe's banks and all the crooks in our own banking system.

So here's a bit of wisdom to consider from kollapsnik at Club Orlov, go read the rest if you want a new perspective.

http://cluborlov.blogspot.com/



So what are we to do in the meantime, while we wait for collapse, followed by good things? It's no use wasting your energy, running yourself ragged and ageing prematurely, so get plenty of rest, and try to live a slow and measured life.
One of the ways industrial society dominates us is through the use of the factory whistle: few of us work in factories, but we are still expected to work a shift. If you can avoid doing that, you will be ahead.
Maintain your freedom to decide what to do at each moment, so that you can do each thing at the most opportune time. Specifically try to give yourself as many options as you can, so that if any one thing doesn't seem to be working out, you can switch to another. The future is unpredictable, so try to plan so as to be able to change your plans at any time. Learn to ignore all the people who earn their money by telling you lies.
Thanks to them, the world is full of very bad ideas that are accepted as conventional wisdom, so watch out for them and come to your own conclusions.

Lastly, people who lack a sense of humour are going to be in for a very hard time, and can drag down those around them. Plus, they are just not that funny. So avoid people who aren't funny, and look for those who can laugh at the world no matter what happens

The Last MF7 Gig

We really did tear the roof off and burn it down to the waterline.

The club is sort of lame, a former Mexican Restaurant made into a generic lounge, bad acoustics and an indifferent crowd of regulars, but I got 22 of my pals to show up for our last blowout.

Mikey hit it hard right out of the first song, his amp and his head cranked up. We didn't slow down until the third set, and even that set, played to a rapidly emptying bar was pretty wild.

There were lots of vocals shouted through megaphones, plenty of his stylish manic preacher rants and half the time the songs didn't end where they usually do, instead oozing into another song or rap pulled from his monkeybrain.

Fry and Jonathan were pretty damn solid and more than a little on fire, too. It was sad thinking this might be the last time we all played together, and I don't think anybody held back anything all night.

I love Jonathan's drumming, he's got a great ability to morph one song into another seamlessly, and Fry's right there on his throb, solid as hell and fun as hell to watch, the pole we all do our dance on.

I blew myself out, wrecked for two days afterward. Michael hurt his knee, and I still haven't heard from Fry since we kicked him out of the house at four am on Sunday morning.

At one point in the evening I found myself jumping around and tripping over my guitar cord, disconnecting Michael's amp and nearly falling head first into the wall.

Thanks to everybody who bought me beers, shots and came out to The lazy oaf. It meant a lot to me to see you guys, and that bar is in one ugly ass stretch of nothing, across eight lanes of busy road, both East Washington and Hwy 151. Not an easy place to bike to, but a lot of you guys did. You all rock, my pretties.

Fourteen Years Ago Today I Fell In Love

Me n' Sweetie riding the Ferry to Bremerton a few months after we met. Some days I miss Seattle. In that photo I look like a cross between Janis Joplin, Ozzy Osborne and a demented elf. Kori looks like a red haired goddess with a dash of Joni Mitchell thrown in.

She walked into a room full of people, sat down behind me and that was all she wrote. Quiet, long red hair, strong and with a low voice, she really struck me as a wild creature and sucked me right in.

After the meeting was over, I asked her if she wanted to go get a burger, she said yes. We walked over to a Kidd Valley burger joint, and I talked at her for three hours in that plastic seated, brightly lit fast food joint.

I walked her back to her car, got her number, gave her a hug and headed home. About five miles in the wrong direction later I realized I'd hit the edge of the Puget Sound and headed back east towards my shithole basement room north of Green Lake.

We went on two more dates, on the second of those I jumped her bones, and we've never spent another night apart since unless we were in different towns.

And we've never gotten in a fight in 14 years.

How damn lucky can one get?

Sick, a short film by my Michael my bandmate

Mikey showed me this the other day. He's a sick fucker, in the best sort of way one can be twisted. Watch it, my pretties.

And come to our gig this Saturday, or I'll never make you another sandwich again, or fix your piece of crap guitar for free again, as I will tear out my Mr.Nice Girl roots and pour salt and cesium on them and become a full time curmudgeon capitalist money grubbing every body's gotta pay and the world owes me sort of creep instead of the gruff yet nurturing asshole I am.

Note: Living in Canada, being off in California, being pregnant or having some other lame ass party plan is not an acceptable excuse. Show up, or nice girl gets two in the chest and one in the head, old school Soprano gangster style.

Self Portrait, because it's my blog and I can

Not bad for a fifty one year old.

Yesterday whilst buying parts for the RV project at Menards, a cute little girl of about eight with her dad looked at me and said, "Daddy, she's strong".

I found this amusing, and almost accurate.

Speaking of the motorhome, I need to stop muckin' about here and get back to it.

'nuff said for now.

Tips on how to be an asshole

Some fine tips here on how to be a creep and a jerk.

While I don't pretend to be a first rate asshole, I do enjoy someone who is good at it. Until they're better at it than me, anyway.

http://www.corrupt.org/blogs/martin_regnen

Be prepared to face the consequences. Someone might punch you or you might have to go looking for another job. Always be ready. The life of an asshole is always interesting with higher highs and lower lows than the life of the wuss.
Practice your laugh. You need to be able to both smirk and cackle obnoxiously without coming off like a B-movie villain or the fat kid from the Simpsons. This is very important. You don't want to be a gloomy miserable asshole who never smiles, but a happy asshole who loves being better than everyone else.
Pick your targets. Don't be an asshole to your grandmother or to small children. Don't be too much of an asshole to people you have actual power over. The best people to use your full range of asshole skills on are your bosses and attractive young women.
Have standard go-to lines. Here an example of a great line with a good story behind it: If you're going to be a dog, be a Rottweiler. If you're going to be a bitch, wear a skirt. Don't necessarily steal that one, but have a few like that which can be called upon in a variety of situations.
Be proactive. If someone denies you a favor, reacting with insults just makes you look like resentful loser. Be an asshole before you ask them for the favor, and if they deny it continue acting the same way you did before.
Be confident. You want people to know that you're an asshole because you're so great that you can get away with it. Confidence is key. Without confidence you look like an angry basement-dwelling loser who might as well be an asshole because no one ever liked you in the first place anyway.
Confuse and confound. Directly and openly state extreme things to get people off-balance. If asked who you voted for in an election, say you did not vote because you oppose democracy. People are used to supporters of other parties and know how to react to them; they are not used to those who despise all political parties.
Escalate. Many people are comfortable trading barbs, especially indirect and subtle ones, but will be cowed by anything direct and blunt.
Practice, practice, practice. Take every opportunity to say inappropriate things for little reason - tell dirty jokes around women, mock short people etc. That will make it far easier when you need to tell your boss something he really doesn't want to hear.

Our Last MF7 Gig This Weekend

Too soon our musical freakshow is ending, with our combo's gristly beating musical heart motoring off to San Diego next month. But we have one more gig this Saturday at The Lazy Oaf up on Stoughton Road near East Washington.
Michael, Fry, Jonathan and I have had a short but insane and throbbing time, making a four backed musical beast that has left me amazed at what can happen when four people who listen to each other get into a monster creative groove.
There will be blood, sweat and tears as we bash out our last set with all four of us. That's our body fluids I'm talking about, not the moldy oldies band, by the way.

I'd love it if a lot of you showed up to give our band a good send off, since I suspect we'll be pulling out all the stops (and the megaphone and all the oddly stylish hats)for the last show.
And I doubt I'll ever have such an amazingly good bunch of folks with this much energy to play with again any time soon. I hope we can be what Michael tells me every time I ask him what he wants me to play on any of his songs we do:
"be brilliant"
We're playing three full sets, starting around nine thirty as far as I know right now, and there's no cover.
Here's a link with a map.

http://upcoming.yahoo.com/venue/480779

Pregnant Women Are Smug

Pregnant Women are Smug from Erika Lindhome on Vimeo.

Somebody else thinks almost the same thing as I do.

But babies are wonderful!

So is composted manure, though.

Peaches - F*ck the Pain Away, sung by Miss Piggy

Somehow I don't think this is what Jim Henson thought his muppets would be doing.

I like Peaches. She's rude.

My favorite nephew's lovely baby girl

Isn't she a lovely little baby?

Finley is her name. I actually like her, she's a hoot.

And with eyes that stunning, she's going to go far as an actress. I bet she gets a lot of roles in Science Fiction and space operas like the Star Wars movies or the next Star Trek Movie.

By the way, GO SEE THE NEW STAR TREK MOVIE IN THE THEATER.

That is all, now needs must I drift into the arms of Morpheous, or the sandman or whatever creepy deity/horror our brains makes up.

I want to dream about a snake wearing a vest rolling a donut around the inside of a bowling ball. It's all part of the grand trolling motor of life and the thrill of being both truculent and effusive.

My Nearly Indestructable Mother is Home

My mom's fine, and pretty amazingly tough. She called 911 on Monday morning, pretty much collapsed from passing blood due to a tiny ulcer, went into the hospital in Rhinelander and by Wednesday was home and looking pretty good.

They did an endoscopy and found the ulcer, then put her on prilosec and pumped her full of fluids with an IV for a few days.

By yesterday morning she was working with me in her yard, telling me what to do and helping me plant vegetables and flowers in her raised beds.

If the second doctor says it's OK, she's going on a trip to Ireland next week.

She's got some pretty amazing healing abilities, even more so considering she's 82. In the last ten years I've seen her bounce back from rotator cuff surgery, the first set of bleeding ulcers and a whole bunch of setbacks like my sister having a series of strokes.

She must have good genes, I hope I got some of them.

She chased me out yesterday, told me I could go home about a half dozen times, I think after three days of having an IV and blood drawn every four hours and being in a beeping, nurse filled sleep deprivation inducing hospital she wanted some alone time. I can understand that. I hate hospitals. But folks in Catholic hospitals like little old ladies better than big scary queers like me.

TED Talk: Ten things you didn't know about Orgasams

Via Boing Boing:

Mary Roach's TED Talk, "10 things you didn't know about orgasm," will have you scratching your, um, head, in amazement as you learn the particulars of pig-wanking, the delicate matter of explaining foreplay to royalty, and the business of measuring the human penis's muzzle-velocity.

My Mother's Ulcer

Has made a repeat performance, landing her in the hospital after a long spell of being not a problem. So I'm off to the Rhinelander hospital to check in on her, hopefully to take her home and take care of her for a few days.

For being 82 years old, she's in damn good shape, so I hope this one is quick and simple to fix. But she's going to be really bummed out if she doesn't get to go on her tour of Ireland next week. I think she bought trip insurance. I hope so.

Up Mt. Everest 19 Times

A Nepalese Sherpa guide has once again broken his own record, scaling Mount Everest for the 19th time, mountaineering officials said Thursday.
Apa, who like most Sherpas goes by one name, reached the 29,035-foot (8,850-meter) peak early Thursday, guiding foreign clients and accompanied by several other fellow guides, said Ang Tshering of the Nepal Mountaineering Association.
Tshering said Apa and members of the team are safe and returning to lower camps after spending a few minutes on top of the world.
Apa, 48, first climbed Everest in 1989 and has done so almost every year since. His closest rival is fellow Sherpa guide Chhewang Nima, who has made 15 trips.

Wow, 19 times. That's pretty amazing. I'd love to breathe sea level air with lungs like that. You'd feel like you could kick Superman's ass.

One thing about Mt. Everest that I find funny is that almost never do you hear about a party of white guys doing it without a Sherpa crew.

White folks climb it with a shitload of help from locals, who carry huge loads up the mountain for them. Then, after they reach the summit and get back down, they brag about it, write about it and act like they're some kind of super powered human. But this guy's been there 19 times now, and he's finally getting noticed?Of course, Sherpas more than likely don't fuck up and lose fingers or walk of cliffs or die on the mountain like the rich weirdos who hire them.

No Surprise

http://www.mcclatchydc.com/226/v-print/story/68456.html

Via Digby at Hullabaloo.

Speaks volumes about rich folks, doesn't it?

Money is a lubricant, a way to keep or get things moving. A paper promise that sooner or later reverts to the value of what it's printed on once enough rich people start pulling the levers of government.

Somewhere in the last thirty years the money cult become it's own mega religion, and the current banking crisis is the best example.
Trillions for bankers, but little for the folks who could use a bit of a hand climbing up and out of the bottom.

Quote of the Day:Talking Snakes, Cosmic Jewish Zombies

“(Christianity) …the belief that a cosmic Jewish Zombie who was his own father can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree…”

Middle Eastern Supreme Court Judge?

Bess's Cat Does Research, Their Dog Is Nervous

The lovely and Talented Bess sent me this.

Her roommates are going to Vet school.

Her roommate's dog seems nervous these days.

Wrong Tool for the Job!

Via RiotClitShave's fine photo page. Her page is in my links. I have no idea who took the photo.

Folks, never, ever use a microwave to cook something this large.

I prefer a large grill for something this big and tender.

Slow roast it, and be sure to remove any flammable objects first, because you don't want to be eating fireproof clothing residue. That would be wrong.

Quote of the Day:
"Whole nations depends on technology. Stop the wheels for two days and you'd have riots. No place is more than two meals from a revolution. Think of Los Angeles or New York with no electricity. Or a longer view, fertilizer plants stop. Or a longer view yet, no new technology for ten years. What happens to our standard of living?... Yet the damned fools won't pay ten minutes' attention a day to science and technology. How many people know what they're doing? Where do these carpets come from? The clothes you're wearing? What do carburetors do? Where do sesame seeds come from? Do you know? Does one voter out of thirty? They won't spend ten minutes a day thinking about the technology that keeps them alive." - Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, Lucifer's Hammer

The new garden space at Lisa's house

I'm gonna be busy as hell.

Lisa offered up her backyard, which was trashed by trucks this spring, so we decided to till it into a garden plot.

Then a pal of hers on a mission showed up and tilled the whole damn thing.

I'm gonna plant a ton of flowers, a ton of veggies and share the booty with Lisa.

And I'm doubling the number of tomatoes. I'm puttin' in fifty five!

Gonna make so much salsa and tomato sauce I'll be giving it away.

Oh, wait. I already do that. Never mind.

Quote of the day: Lincoln, Abraham

Photo by the amazing Dorthea Lange from the WPA projects of the great depression.

"I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and cause me to tremble for safety of my country; corporations have been enthroned, an era of corruption in High Places will follow, and the Money Power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the People, until the wealth is aggregated in a few hands, and the Republic destroyed."
ABRAHAM LINCOLN, letter to Col. William F. Elkins, Nov. 21, 1864

Gutted and Smelly

The rebuilding effort just goes deeper and deeper into a complete gutting.

We ripped out the seats and carpet, then the cabover sleeping area, now I'm finding myself rebuilding the walls and part of the cieling.

One thing I have noticed, it doesn't smell as baaaaad as it was, all smoke and musty 1987 vintage carpet.

I'm regluing the panels, some in situ, some like this side piece out in the shop.

I think if we don't road trip in this thing when it's done I'm just going to move into it in the driveway.

I can't decide if I should paint it all stripey like Eddie Van Halen's guitar, or paint it up like a stucco looking tropical color scheme, or do it in leopard skin. Then again, I may skip the "search me at the border" paint job and just go with bland light colors.

False Advertising!

This is not made from baby humans. Imagine my disappointment.

My Band's Rock Video

So, I'm 51 years old, and finally, I get to be in a rock video.

They say the camera adds five to ten pounds, but I swear I look a lot more glam and skinny here.

Must be the lovely Mr. MikeF-7'd camera work.

He really busted buttocks to finish and film this one.

Rotten Teeth, Rotting Motorhome

One of the drawbacks of being nearsighted is that when you take your glasses off, things that are very close to your eyes become very, very sharply focused.
Like that dentist in the mask with the needle leaning over you. You know, the one who's giving you your fifth or sixth crown.
Today I realized how skinny my dentist is, and how many wrinkles are in his neck.
He's a handsome dude, though, for a sixty something guy. I just hate that feeling you get when he jabs you with a needle full of a mix of Novocaine and epinephrine.
You do know that a shot from your dentist gives you a jolt of speedy drugs, right? The epinephrine makes the area around the shot squeeze up and stop bleeding, but it's for me, it's like taking a hit off a crack pipe.
My heart races and I want go into fight or flight mode.
I'm just glad he's got nitrous oxide pumping into my nose, although he could crank that stuff up higher. The gas and the LOUD headphones (if you want them that way) it takes a lot of the fear factor out of dentistry.
Of course, it also helps to do a shot of everclear tincture of herb before you go in for pain, too.
I still got all my crappy Northern European teeth. Barely. Better than my dad's. He lost all of his before he was forty.
I been busy. My garden and my rotting motor home have absorbed my brain.
And my handsome pal Lisa just rototilled her back yard, and I have to plant the whole damn thing. That seems daunting and really fuckin' fun.
nuff' said. Garden pictures to come, and more ugly RV fun all week. One of these days I'm actually going to build a guitar again.

Why Open Mics Turn Me Into A Creep

We just got back from the open mic at Brocach downtown. It was packed. Mikey broke two strings, Fry played with his usual subtle weird grace, and I gnarled and twanged the crap out of that hacked cheap Les Paul copy my old band mate Doug left here when he split for the west coast of England.

Open mics are weird. They turn me into more of an asshole than I usually am. I get bored and restless and a little bit fascist watching the performers.

It's hard to be patient and forgiving when you know what dynamics and tone could be. More often than not it's people playing too many chords and not leaving any air in the music. I got spoiled playing with Bess and with Michael, both of them understand music and that the spaces you don't fill are as important as the ones you fill up with your playing.

It's not a cheap bar to drink in. Tap beers go for five bucks or more, but they do give you one free beer if you play. It could be worse.

And sometime in the last year downtown Madison filled up with homeless people, a lot of them with brain parts missing or damaged. Tonight I saw people sleeping in front of office buildings on cardboard

All those empty buildings and houses foreclosed and we still can't find a place for the botched, bungled or just plain down and out.

So much for the myth that we're the greatest and best country in the world.

Reiki Evil! Dead Guy On A Stick God Good!

"A declaration by the U.S. bishops’ Committee on Doctrine that Reiki is based on superstition and incompatible with Christian faith could force scores of U.S. congregations of women religious who run Catholic retreat centers to reevaluate programs that teach or use Reiki therapy.
[snip]
It says that “a Catholic who puts his or her trust in Reiki would be operating in the realm of superstition, the no-man’s-land that is neither faith nor science.”
The statement says that on the medical level, Reiki is “a technique that has no scientific support — or even plausibility.”
[snip]
Many women in Catholic religious orders have become Reiki masters or practitioners and regularly teach or practice Reiki therapy at their orders’ retreat facilities or spiritual centers around the country. A Web search showed scores of such U.S. centers as well as several retreat centers run by women religious in Canada offering similar programs. (National Catholic Reporter)

Ha!

Shorter Version:

Your spiritual practice- evil and suspect!

Our woman hating, young -boy loving -closeted -control freak -dead guy on a stick worshiping mumbo-jumbo- is the same as science!

Black Swan Proofing The World

Nassim Taleb suggests ways to make economic life closer to our biological environment: smaller companies, richer ecology, no leverage. The risk takers of the economy should be entrepreneurs, not bankers; Companies shouls be born and die every day, without making the news.

Ten principles for a Black Swan-proof world
1. What is fragile should break early while it is still small. Nothing should ever become too big to fail.
2. No socialisation of losses and privatisation of gains. Whatever may need to be bailed out should be nationalised; whatever does not need a bail-out should be free, small and risk-bearing. We have managed to combine the worst of capitalism and socialism.
3. People who were driving a school bus blindfolded (and crashed it) should never be given a new bus. The economics establishment (universities, regulators, central bankers, government officials, various organisations staffed with economists) lost its legitimacy with the failure of the system.
4. Do not let someone making an “incentive” bonus manage a nuclear plant – or your financial risks. Odds are he would cut every corner on safety to show “profits” while claiming to be “conservative”.
5. Counter-balance complexity with simplicity. The complex economy is already a form of leverage: the leverage of efficiency.
6. Do not give children sticks of dynamite, even if they come with a warning.
7. Only Ponzi schemes should depend on confidence. Governments should never need to “restore confidence”. Be robust in the face of them.
8. Do not give an addict more drugs if he has withdrawal pains. Using leverage to cure the problems of too much leverage is denial.
9. Economic life should be definancialised. Citizens should not depend on financial assets or fallible “expert” advice for their retirement.
10. Make an omelette with the broken eggs. We need to rebuild the hull with new (stronger) materials; we will have to remake the system before it does so itself.

Stolen from The Big Picture blog. Go there. Read him if you want a more realistic view of our meltdown.

Blast from the Past: Old Band Poster

My old bandmate, transformed a few years back.

We had dinner the other night at Dexter's, a place on the corner of North and Johnson streets you should check out. Their beer selection rocks.

He even picked up the tab for Kori and I. And we didn't even get in fight like we used to.

Not so different from us. Me, anyway

http://www.flickr.com/photos/richu/3196188065/

Shot in india by RedEyeRex , via BoingBoing

Slouched over, contemplative, naked, funny how much I feel like this folicle free primate sometimes.

Today I made another downpayment on the future. I planted lettuce, spinach, chard, marigolds, four kinds of sunflowers, cosmos, nastursuims and mesclun lettuce, whatever the hell that is. One row of the garden done, a whole hell of a lot more to do.

And I played music with Michael and had the first gin and tonic of the season on the deck with Ellyn.

A fine day, all in all.

Teh Gaypocalypse is upon us! (via SadlyNo!)

In the wind

There's some big set of changes in the wind, I can feel it coming. Not huge changes like TEOTWAWKI, otherwise known as The End Of The World As We Know It, but this really feels like one of those years where the cosmos decides to rearrange my life.
I've had a few like that. 1975, when I went off to college, leaving that tiny little township where I grew up a mile off the road, when I gave up smoking dope and went to school to learn upholstery.
In 1983 the same thing happened, my dad died and I moved to Oshkosh with an old sweetheart and got a few photography jobs.
Things stayed pretty stable for another ten years, then in one year I found myself getting the boot from my whole damn life, losing my job, partner, house, band and a bunch of friends and even my sense of who I was, and I wound up a few thousand miles away in Seattle, where I found myself cleaning houses.
I met Kori there, we had a fine first five years, but in 1999 everything changed again and we wound up moving here to Madison after another big change year.
I'm not sure what is in the wind this time, although the oncoming economic and ecological storm does color it.
I know that Micheal leaving is part of it, and last night the other trio I'm in shifted around with Tim bowing out leaves me wondering where to go.
But I also feel like there's other stuff coming, although only my monkey brain seems to have a clue what or where things are going, and it's not being too verbal.
I do know I feel like going for a long trip into the woods or out east to visit folks I haven't seen in a long time. I feel adrift and unsure for the first time in a long time about what to do or chase after. I'm never sure what to do with that feeling. Doubt and indecision are not usually something I have to deal with. I've been lucky that way in my life.

Quote of the Day: Confucius

“Tell me and I will forget. Show me and I will remember.

Involve me and I will understand.”-Confucius