Monday, February 18, 2019


If I had all the tea in China, I guess I'd drink that, too. If I've learned anything at all in my time here, it is that I'm just along for the ride. As I mull life decisions of the ones that I love, I realize that their judgements impact my life. 

So many of my songs predicted my course throughout my life. I have written so many lines that failed to make sense to me at the time that I put them into song, only to live out the reality later. Sometimes right away. Sometimes years later.

The Buddhist concept of harming the beloved by loving improperly is the centerpiece of life's puzzle for me. I suppose I'm gonna have to go back and listen to some more of my old songs.


Sunday, February 17, 2019

Knew It All Along

Dogs like me. Kids like me. I don't have a dog and I don't have a kid. Do you suppose that the universe conspires to grant me the solitude to write my masterpiece. First off, what the heck is a masterpiece?

In my head, it's all jazz and it's all mirrored hallways. Valentine's Day came and went. They all do eventually. If there are no voices in your head, maybe you're just not paying attention. I hope to wake up one day believing in heaven. That one day I don't wake up, I suppose I'll find out. Or not.

What kind of world would it be with no Tina Turner?


Friday, February 15, 2019

Around The Block

There's no pride in naivety. That's alright. I deal in illusion. Reality has never held much interest for me. As I watch those geezers mist up over their glory days, I thank my lucky stars for failure. Hey- if life gives you sour grapes, make bad wine.

Heaven? Well, I've had heaven. Most of my souvenirs are in the form of memories.

Don't hoard love. It has a shelf life.

Thursday, February 14, 2019

Bleach and Vodka

Just don't ever take any of it too seriously, especially yourself. Me? I chased after it all until I couldn't get it. Then I didn't want it. Now it seems to chase me. Turns out Sunday school has served me well.

As an unsophisticated bumpkin who frets over rhymes, I feel uniquely qualified to espouse a lifestyle that centers on peace and love. 

What frustrated teachers as a distinct lack of ambition, I always wrote off as an aversion to competition. My heroes were ambitious, if I am to believe what I read. I'm not. Never was.

Oh, I'm not bragging. If you call it lazy, I'm not about to defend myself. Without a muse, I'm a goner. I've always cried over goodbye. 

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

Old Stars

Can you explain to me again how a star burns itself out and a hundred years later I still watch it twinkle and shine. If I can't communicate with poetry, maybe I just don't have anything important to say.

My plan to make plans is a reminder of just how little control I have over the random events that make up my life. Remind yourself regularly that it all has an end. Love hard.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Long Ago and Far Away

Dancing with liars will keep you on your best behavior. Dreams left me for a while. Oh, I kept dreaming, but everything was mundane. Now, am I the Benjamin Braddock in my own life movie? Ernest T. Bass? Have I kicked drama? 

Maybe it's time to accept things as they are.

Then again, it was probably that time a long time ago. My watch seems to have stopped.

Monday, February 11, 2019

Dreams and Stories

Who inherits the memories? There was a time, not so long ago, when I worried about what might become of my stuff once I'm outta' here. It dawns on me that it doesn't really matter. There's too much stuff in the world as it is.

The memories, now- that's another story. I feel like I tell stories that keep a part of my mom right here. My vocabulary is weighed down with archaic terms from my grandmother. I ramble on about Jamaica and Angel when nobody's around to listen.

Well, sir, I've seen Loch Ness and I've talked to Minnie Pearl. I've found myself in the middle of the mandala from Piedmont Park with the help of synthetic psilocybin. Clayton Moore gave me a Lone Ranger mask. Electric Lady still smelled new when I recorded there and my mother held me up to the bus window to shake Roy Rogers' hand. I saw the most wonderful hoochie koochie dancers that you can imagine and the experience brought me religion. I held Jimi's Marshall cabinets from the back in case he whacked them. He didn't.

To the great love of my life I revealed that I had once worked for the Russian mafia.

Ghosts have teased me and angels have sustained me. I was around for the joy of the birth of rock'n'roll and I mourned the end.

Maybe the memories are just more stuff, I don't know.