Count The Bridges

Twice a week now I decide to quit this endeavor. At least twice a week. It feels like I go to the same corner in the same park, climb up on the same soapbox and wag my finger. It is the power that I have, though. I tried once for eleven years to save the environment, working for the government. I seem to have failed. It didn't discourage me as an environmentalist. It did turn me against government.

My job is to save the world. I've known that for some time now. My skills are weak, my talent, limited. Oh, I hope that doesn't sound pompous. I think you've got a similar job. Assuming you have better sense, you may not fill out forms listing yourself as "crusader"or "do-gooder."

Yeah, there was a time when most of us identified as something that we did for eight hours a day. Not many of us bolt fenders onto Buicks these days. 

"What do you do?"

"That's my Lexus out there."

"I bought the place on the corner. I'm gonna tear it down and build something like all these others- only bigger."

I surely don't feel superior to the folks that I seem to be making fun of here. We all do the best we can.

As long as the world is full of good folks, though, and it surely is, we shouldn't tolerate war in our name. We should tear down this political process and elect representatives who serve our real interests. While we're at it, let's feed our hungry, fix our tax codes fairly, and patch

 our healthcare system. You know those bad men that Jesus pitched out of the temples? They're b-a-a-a-ck. Scientists should determine science, not greedy cartoon turtles from Kentucky.

Alright. I'm not gonna quit yet but I'm gonna keep threatening.

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

Maybe My Race Is Run

The dreams, boys. It's the dreams. Last night Doug Sahm showed up. I think he was campaigning for Hilary Clinton. He was singing and twirling, speaking mostly in Spanish. No sign of Freddy Fender but he brought Sam The Sham along. Dead, live- it didn't seem to matter much. Sombreros, turbans and Stetsons everywhere. What a party!

Ramsay Midwood was there. So was Buddy Richardson.

Maybe politics is okay.

Post No Bills

It's easy to be blinded by the beauty. The hypnotic beat can be hard to ignore. Hey, I've got it- let's give in to it all. Call in well. Leave your phone at home. 

Seems I've boasted of loving hard. Maybe it's like talking loud. Maybe it's all about the purity. 

There are so many creatures out there who need your love. I would ask what you have to lose but that line is taken.

I heard a fellow on the radio yesterday reminding us that the people have never declared war or made peace. I think it was Bernie Sanders portraying Eugene V. Debs. Well, let those blowhards fight their damned wars. Me? I'd love to see Cheney and Rumsfeld climb into the ring in black tights and flowing robes. 

Call me when you've got the "good war."

Hey, congress- how high's the water?

Don't Turn Around

All of the elements are available for some pity here. I've always been adequate at feeling sorry for myself. Now I've been under the weather for over a week and here I am alone on a holiday weekend with nothing to do. Oh, I could go up and blow the leaves off the roof. I could do some yard work or finish some songs. The dog could use a bath.

Seismic shifts in the belfry have left me changed. Answers haven't appeared. No apples have hit me on the noggin. While I have been staring at a tiny screen that plays rock'n'roll, romance and drama, ad nauseam, real stuff has surrounded me.

Now the rock'n'roll is sweeter and it's all romance and drama. I'm just on the ride. There's real life and there's cable news. It all flows through me. Yeah, my blood is still too red. It's alright.

Live Streaming

Maybe there was a fever involved. No drugs or alcohol, though, I promise. The revelations in my dreams last night were epic. When I would get up to get the cat some food or let the dog out, it all stayed in perfect form. I would fall back asleep and pick right up where I had been. It was all so very simple and somehow so very profound. I saw the physical lines that separate "me" from "you" dissolve and disappear. Everybody was in the dream. Everybody. Kinda' like the Sergeant Pepper cover. Those hard lines that outline this guy and that house and this tree weren't there. 

Nothing will ever look the same. I'm not sure this is right but I'm sure it's closer.

I yam what he is!

It's All About Me

Sometimes I have trouble taking my own side. My expectations are too high. My male role models were from Father Knows Best, Ozzie & Harriet, Leave It To Beaver. Now Ward and Ozzie and Jim have gone on to their rewards. I've got DVD's and re-runs, though. 

I wanted to be a juvenile delinquent until I heard about switchblades and zip guns. I got sent to the dean's office regularly in my junior and senior years in high school. I was the only kid in school with"long hair." I suppose I was the only one in town for most of that time. That lasted until the Beatles went on Ed Sullivan.

It was rough for the dean. Worse for the principal. I was no social threat. None of us considered what was coming. Once or twice I dated the principal's daughter. She never had any interest in me. I was just a ride to the Surfers' Club. 

Sometimes I'm right. Sometimes I'm not.

                                         

Worms and Stars and Spiders

Worms, I presume, look around and feel pretty good about themselves. Yeah, I get that. I like worms. Mick Jagger wakes up and wonders when the help will bring his tea. His world is a "gated community" of the truly gifted.

Spiders, now. Man! All spiders are stars. 

It may be the fever.