Sunday, October 14, 2018

Jet Age

The word, revolution, terrified me as a kid. I worried constantly about tooth decay, nuclear war, the economy collapsing, polio, I suppose I grew up anxious. Of course, some of my fears were real. I agonized over rust, I lost sleep fretting over calypso replacing rock'n'roll. Damn you, Harry Belafonte!

Not to be confused with wisdom, resignation eventually sets in. Teeth do decay. The economy collapses on a regular basis. We pretty much wiped out polio, at least for white children in first world nations, only to be confounded and cursed with acute flaccid myelitis. War isn't nuclear, it's perpetual- our major industry. We never win. We just never admit defeat.

Now days, I like rust. Yeah, idiots will pay more for jeans with holes in them and guitars with the paint worn off. You would think I would be fashionable with this gray hair and this old man shuffle!

Rock'n'roll died of old age and Elvis kicked the bucket at forty two- just like he knew he would. Harry Belafonte is still standing, one of our last heroes from his era. 

Were any of you ever picked for kickball? Any of you girls ever asked to the prom? Did anybody out there ever figure out how to make the love stay?

Asking for a friend.


Saturday, October 13, 2018

Running After Crazy

Fall is here. First day in the 60's here after a record-breaking, brutal summer. I brace myself. Autumn fills me with melancholy. I've read that my situation is common enough to have a name. I just don't remember what it is.

This will be the first one without Jamaica. I don't really understand if I'm no good at grieving or if I'm just too good at it.

Don't ever let anybody tell you that there's no such thing as too sensitive.

Friday, October 12, 2018

Influences On Fragrance

With these miles, this old heart could use an overhaul. I probably should have taken better care of it. In other news, my knees are good and my liver seems to have weathered the worst of it. I've never been a real drinker. I picture myself alone, draped over a Kir Royale, with a classy barkeep, feigning indifference to preserve my solitude.

My drinking is sorta' like my piano playing. I understand the piano. Like a guitar without schizophrenia. In my mind I can really play the thing. There it is, in black and white, offering itself up for rhapsody.

My excuses for low achievement in life seem to center on an aversion to practice, a distaste for re-write, a disinclination for supervision. I should probably apologize for my indolence. Oh, well.


Thursday, October 11, 2018

Stormy Weather

Take your joy when and where you find it. Love without expectations. Celebrate impermanence. Start by drinking that "good" bottle of wine that you've been saving. There is no reason to impress anyone. On the other hand, everyone deserves your respect. Paint your walls the color that you like.

If nobody took you to Sunday school as a kid, read the bumper stickers.

Nobody is more important than you are and you are no more important than anyone else.

Some things are right and some things are wrong. War is wrong. Don't waste your time arguing the obvious. Hate is the worst form of cancer.

Hold hands. Life is better that way.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

How Nice

People tend to be leery of a person who comes across as "too nice."

"What's he up to?" 

"What does she really want?"

There's no such thing as "too nice." We start teaching little boys to "take care of themselves" before they reach puberty. All of these phrases are in quotation marks because they don't really mean what they say.

Bullies think their victims are chumps. Politicians think we would all do the things that they do if given the opportunity. Oh, I could go on. I could trash my banker friends. 

If laziness were not an issue, I could write a book on the subject. Changing the name of the War Department to the Department of Defense would surely rate its own chapter.

Well, sir, as I was about to type, "Don't get me started," I realize that I've started. 

Kindness brings happiness. That's a fact. I work hard to get back to where I was at four years old.

Monday, October 8, 2018

My Peace

You probably know that nothing that I write here, nothing that I sing about, in fact, nothing that I holler from my front porch is meant as advice for anyone. Oh, sometimes I title these things "advice" in some form or another. That's my idea of a joke. That's my sense of humor. I'm no comic.

In fact, I am a frail human being trying my best to get through.

No political party will ever reflect my views. No church will ever address my faith. Not to my satisfaction. Somehow I seem to make me sound sanctimonious, self-righteous. I surely hope that's not the case.

In fact, I'm a simple man. I believe in the golden rule. The power of love. I don't believe in war. Hate. Greed. I like to think of myself as honest but if you ask me a question today, you're likely to get a different answer than I gave you yesterday. I change my mind.

Like most of the people around me, I have been drawn into this terrible division in our culture. I quit.

Oh, I will vote. I will participate in the system in place. Sometimes I will compromise. In fact, most times I will compromise. As always, I will offer my services and my time for the best side that I can find.

I will not, however, be convinced to hate.

In real 'rasslin' when two villains meet in the ring, the loser has to leave town. My worst nightmare is to have two parties of hate battling for political power.

All you need is love.

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Gasoline Rainbows

Maybe I should have studied to be a semanticist. A linguist. As it is, I know just enough to know how little I know. I have periods where I'm pretty sure that "it" can all be explained with physics. Sometimes the secrets all seem to be hiding in biology. Or chemistry. Geometry. Maybe poetry.

Without language, written and verbal communication, we're all mad men. Your concept of love and life and death would be as valid as the next cave man. Imagine Einstein's theory of special relativity or Beethoven's fifth symphony in such a world. How on earth would we ever know what spark plugs to put into that gol darned internal combustion engine?

As it is, we bumble through with five senses. Arrogant. Haughty.

What we don't know could fill a universe.

Ponder your existence without words.

I may have just taught you to meditate... and dance.