December 25, 2005 + "Christmas."
    Robert Frost was/is a standardbearer for American Poetry, and rightfully so.  So when I saw him this morning on "Meet The Press" reciting a poem of his from memory both on an old version of "MTP" and on tape from the Kennedy inauguration doing the same, it was a bit disheartening to me.
    You see, I have trouble remembering my poetry and, well, my lyrics as well.  Always have.  This is nothing new.  Have always had less trouble remember other folks' work, though.  Here's how I've chalked it up:  when I write, it is a cathartic experience.  Once the words are out on paper, they're out of my head.  Many (and I do mean many) ideas are always percolating in my noggin at any given time, sometimes finding it hard to coalesce and get out in a tangible form.  When they do, I seldom edit.  Robert Frost edited quite a bit.  And his path, his road less (or more) traveled (knew that would make an appearanced, didn't you, fair readers?), is good for him.
    They're gone.  They're cathartic for me.  Then reliving them, reciting or singing them, is difficult for me as it is reliving that emotion or period in time.
    But poets and artists and musicians do that all the time, right?  With little to no problem?
    But what of classical, or proper, musicians and they're charts & notes and music?  Or some choirs?
    *sigh*
    Who knows.  In Secret 9, both Tim and I had our books on stands with us on stage.  Didn't bother me then and, truthfully, wouldn't bother me now.  I've never cared much for the status quo but, and trust me that this isn't an "appeal to the masses," as in a logical fallacy, when I know that Adrian Belew and Michael Stipe have both done it, well, that's okay with me.  And in S9, truth be told, I only looked down at my book twice, that's a good sign.
    Maybe it is all about memorization and familiarity but when it comes to connecting with an audience, I would rather have the tools at my disposal to do that rather than grabbing a gun and wondering if it is loaded or not.
    Oh, and a Christmas thing.  I never liked the song "Silent Night."  Here's why.  When I was young, I thought that the one line, instead of being "sleep in heavenly peace" was actually "sleep in heavenly peas."  Yes, folks, the bathroom is indeed on the right.
    Current Reading:  Spook by Mary Roach (yes, a Christmas gift...thanks Tracy!)
    Current Listening:  the best Christmas album ever...The Known Universe by Ass Ponys and the newest Bill Hicks CD from a gig in England in, I believe, 1992.
    Christmas was good.
    Now on with the show.

December 24, 2005 + "Idiots."
    So we're at a local eatery last night and, even beyond the typical Christmas idiocy, things got worse.  A waitress, young, probably late-teens or early 20's, is trying to vacuum her area with one of those industrial, but largely silent, vacuums because the dining room leader, who she obviously loathed, wanted her too.  So she's vacuuming and I'm watching over Tracy's right shoulder as she's attempting, for a full two or three minutes, to vacuum up some cracker and bread scraps.
    It is quite obvious that the vacuum, though on, is not performing the appointed duties.
    She turns the wand upside down and puts her hand to the opening once...puzzled look...twice...frowns...thrice...and declares to the entire restaurant that, "I have no suction power!"
    No lie...I damn near choked on my burger.
    But it got better.  The dining room leader and other staff ignored her, and her response was thus:  she continued to "vacuum" for a full two more minutes, making no headway.  Then, she put the chairs back and put the vacuum away.
    Idiot.  Oops.  I shouldn't say that, should I?  I'll get suspended from the human race for statements like that, or something equally nefarious.
    So Merry Christmas to all.  I hope your holidays are grand.  Here's a quick list of the year for Scot, some good, some bad and some just there.  I guess heading into the new year, I felt like recapping a bit.
  Good:  started new band after quitting band I'd started three years ago where things went terribly awry, finished typesetting on new book (out in 2006), had great year with Tracy and the cats, family is all reasonably healthy and somewhat happy (I hate speaking for others' happiness), learning new bass things and expanding my musical universe, etc.  lost some friends who it turned out weren't really friends...I guess this should actually go up in the "Good" section...let me cut & paste
  Bad:  still diabetic, still wear glasses, we're outgrowing our house, lost some friends who it turned out weren't really friends...I guess this should actually go up in the "Good" section...let me cut & paste, had a bad year at work for a multitude of reasons and not just including recent issues but going all the way back.
    The good far, far outweighs the bad, which is good.  Yes.  Right.
    Current reading:  nothing.  Again.  Hoping for some new books or book store G/C for Christmas.
    Current listening:  Manic Street Preachers - Lifeblood, Joy Division - Permanent, Iron Maiden - The Number Of The Beast, The Dresden Dolls - The Dresden Dolls, Motorhead - Rock & Roll, Heather Nova - Siren and Warren Zevon - Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School
    I sort of feel like Bill Lee, especially at work.  I'm not quite the Spaceman that he was/is, but the way Zevon expressed his life is prototypical for me.
    But, stemming from that, I do indeed bear a great dislike toward Christmas and the holiday season.  Far too many obligations to uphold.  Now, I don't mind obligations as long as they make sense to me.  But, as with most of the world, these do not.
    C'est la vie.  Look for Journal IX coming in January, long, long overdue (this one here is WAY too long.)
    Oh, and a quick note:  I started journaling at the behest of my best friend, Bunny, back in '99, long before there was such as thing as "blogging" and, though tempting in some ways, I don't intend on doing some other site for these manic ramblings.  While the idea of allowing my readers (I know there are at least three of you out there) to comment on my notes has some merit, I don't think it's going to happen.  Sorry.  You all get coal in your stockings and, if you want to comment, there's an e-mail link up top...Merry Christmas!!!

December 18, 2005 + "Winners & Losers."
    So the NFL playoff races are underway and this means two things to me:
    1)  I'm utterly disappointed in my Buccaneers, who laid a goose egg on Saturday to the Patriots, 28 - 0, their first shutout since 1999 when they took a trip to Oakland and got dessimated, 45 - 0.  That was okay, though, because they whooped the Raiders in Super Bowl 37.  (Isn't it weird to see it not in Roman numerals?)  But now the Bucs are a game back in the NFC South race and are likely hoping for a wild card entry into the playoffs.  Maybe it is just me, but when I watch the Bucs these days I see the offensive line and wonder how much Bill Muir is getting paid to coach those guys...they let the Patriots have mile-wide lanes to burst through to disrupt the running game and gave Chris Simms a taste of what it's like to be David Carr in Houston...ugliness.
    2)  But the Bengals beat the Lions 41 - 17 to clinch the AFC North and their first playoff entry since 1990.  I feel as happy for them as I felt for the Bucs in, what was it, '98?  The Bengals have officially been de-bungle-ized.  I'm most happy for players like Rich Braham, Willie Anderson, Brian Simmons and guys like that who've been there for a good number of years and worked the most to turn the franchise around.  Hats off to ya, Bengals.
    In other news, I pose a question to all of you:  which restaurant is more prone to give you a heart attack, Cracker Barrel or Waffle House?  I would say Cracker Barrel for the following reasons:  more food for the money, just as much grease content and those darned rocking chairs on the front porch, which allow you to not walk it off, but collapse upon exiting the place thus giving the cholesterol time to find previously unclaimed arterial territory in which to settle.  Yes, we had breakfast at Cracker Barrel today.  Yes, I even ate my grits.  Why?  To feel more, I guess, authentic where I live?  Truth be told, they only taste good with lots of butter.  Grits are part of the government's plan to fatten the land.
    Work this week is four and a half days.  A half day on Christmas Eve (or, in our case, Friday).  I may have touched on this in previous years, as I've worked at my present job for nigh on a decade now...or, as they say in the south, a coon's age.  But in that half day in previous years, there has been so little to do that it is silly.  However, that's what the company says, and that's what the company gets.
    Just so everyone knows, George Bush is spying on you right now.  Really.  Don't believe me?  Ha.  Reasons to believe that George Bush is spying on you as you read my journal:
    1)  I have a degree in Philosophy.  Two of my friends in the program believed, and I truthfully don't really doubt them, that the CIA keeps files on anyone who attains degrees in, or studies, Philosophy or Political Science.
    2)  I am wearing a Team Canada (hockey) hat.  With relations between our neighboring lands a bit tense at present, I'm especially unpatriotic right now.
    3)  My favorite bands aren't American.  Seriously.  Manic Street Preachers, U2, King Crimson (most of 'em...well, used to be most of 'em), Iron Maiden, Motorhead.  I have a lack of affinity for a lot of American rock music, except for, like, CCR, Zevon and people like that.
    4)  I have a button on my backpack denouncing George Bush.
    5)  I am a registered Independent and, thus, completely dangerous...y'see, I think for myself.
    6)  I've signed various petitions for various issues/ideals completely 180 degress from the Republican POV.
    7)  I have a computer and know how to use it.
    8)  I have links to Amnesty International & The Carter Foundation on my website.
    9)  I'm an artist, writer, musician and am therefore dangerous.
    10)  If you're here reading this, you probably share a lot of my views...click here.
    *sigh*  But back to reality.  Gonna take a shower, read for a bit, ponder my existence and fall asleep next to my lovely wife amid dreams of utopian grandeur....
  LATE ADDITION
    The Silent Screen has a drummer/percussionist!  So we shall be venturing forward into our "rock" music.  It is rock, that much is sure, but so much more.  Quite a few odd time signatures (odd only in that they're not 4/4, not so much that they're odd by any other standard), very textural, use of sound as opposed to just instruments, if that makes sense.  Looping and working with different musical ideas.  And I just feel the creativity ready to burst forth, strange as it is to type that out.  How about this?  I feel that there are very few, if any, boundaries to what we're doing.  Regardless of the "success" of the band, the mere creation that we're working on is it's own reward, but with the quality of that creation, "success" will be attained in some form.
    Can you tell it's late and I'm tired?
    The other thing is that our new drummer is someone that played in an early, early version of the band I left a few months ago and that I stayed in touch with as a friend.  That situation notwithstanding, some things I thought at that time have proven to be quite true.  Hindsight is 20/20, as the cliche goes, but it is true.  For me?  The lesson learned is this:  trust your gut instinct as opposed to the clammering words and ad hominem attacks of others...democracy is no reason to avail yourself of hasty generalizations and weak arguments.  I'd have been better off for it then, but I am doing very well now regardless.
    Okay...bed...must go to bed...must go to *yawn*...uh...*zzzzzzzzzzzz*...ajvyugi6 v678tfgo7to *head hits keyboard*

December 8, 2005 + "Bone Chillin'!"
    Shew, doggies, it's cold!  Sorry...trying to be in central KY character, just a bit.  Oh, before I get too carried away....
    Current listening:  Pearl Jam - Binaural, Adrian Belew - Side Two and (againA) Iannis Xenakis - Electronic Works I
  Current reading:  back to nothing, really...I finished The Enchiridion while in Frankfort on Monday, waiting to take a test.  And then I reread it in between tests.  It's not long on words, but it's long on depth.  Stoicism...yes.
    I want to watch Schindler's List again.  Yes, I know, it is one of those movies that most folks are more than happy to have only seen once, but it, like Gladiator, Star Wars - Episode IV and Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead is just one of those great, great films that I can't get enough of.  It is, at once, sickening/appalling and heroic/uplifting.  As most great art is.  There must be enough of the suffering of humanity, that tribulation of spirit, to connect it to all of us, and also enough of the hope, that great hope, for the betterment of the situation that extends into each of us and begs us to rise the next day.
    I rise each day with hope.  It weakens throughout, but it remains, ever so slight.
    Boo to the Cincinnati Reds for trading Sean Casey, by the way.
    I had an interesting week at work.  Nothing I can, or would, speak about in this forum, or really any other, but let us just say that, occasionally, regardless of how you try to do the right thing, some folks have their own ideas and will follow them to the end(s).  I work to earn money to pay my bills and cover my insurance, to aid my wife and I in our other life goals.  I give 100%, which is often not enough, but I will give no more in the future.  As I've said so many times, c'est la vie.
    The Silent Screen is coming along quite well.  Staggering the differences between this musical venture and my past couple, spanning about five years.  And we haven't even found a drummer yet.  New ways of playing, new ways of hearing things, getting more confident and accustomed to my singing voice, which was only previously really used in Secret 9, many moons ago, when my friend Tim McNally and I shared lead vocal duties.  I'd link to it, but The Silent Screen's website is still more of a Scot-ad-for-musicians right now...that'll change soon.  Flux and growth...ah, the beauty of it.
    And, by god, it is cold.  Let me reiterate that.  Sleet, rain, ice and snow...ah, I love it.  The nastier the better.  I remember getting snowed in at Record Alley one night...spent the night with albums and CD's and guitars...what a great night.  Except for falling asleep in the office chair in the back room...my neck wasn't the same for weeks.  I remember seeing the then-current version of Duran Duran play acoustically on some late night talk show.  Believe it was the version with Warren Cuccurullo on guitar and Sterling Campbell on drums?  Can't remember exactly...all I do remember is Simon LeBon's voice sounding pretty darned ragged.
    Songs running through my head:  Australia by Manic Street Preachers and Gravity by The Dresden Dolls

November 26, 2005 + "Playing."
    Current listening:  U2 - HTDAAB, Manic Street Preachers - Lifeblood & Iannis Xenakis - Electronic Works 1
  Current reading:  (whoo-hoo!  something to read!)  Epictetus - The Enchiridion
    Yowza.  Just got done practicing a little bit (FYI, it is 8:23 PM as I write this) and working on some things.  Worked mostly on a tune called "Feed My Tragedy" that The Silent Screen has been working on, wrote a little counterpoint bass lead for transitional purposes, sort of a bridge.  A moody, textural piece.  Lots of room for everything to spread out.  And room for some bass distortion...got's to love that.
    Realized too, as working through a few of our other new songs, that I really need to put my thinking cap on in some of them.  The lines I've been doing have been fairly root-worthy, but the songs are working their ways up very organically.  The parts will come as we play them, but they're difficult to "compose" to on my own.  For example, the little counterpoint thing mentioned above I heard in my head at our last practice and picked it from the branch here at home.  Will it stay, or work in the grand scheme of things?  Who knows?  That's the great part of writing...there are very few rules and, often, accidents are the most soulful things you do, especially when you realize that what you just did wasn't an accident at all, but a moment when you let go and, voila, found the path you needed to take anyway.
    Of course, sometimes you just suck.  But life ain't all milk & honey, is it?
    Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, you turkey murderers, you!  I can't help but wonder what we'd have eaten on Thanksgiving if Ben Franklin had gotten the turkey as our national bird?  Eagles, perhaps?  Mmmm, love's me some fresh roasted eagle....mmmm, mmmm.  With some wild rice and grits on the side.  That's good eatin', baby.
    I think I need some sleep...obviously, I'm getting nowhere writing, eh?

November 20, 2005 + "Sniffles."
    Current listening:  The Dandy Warhols - 13 Tales From Urban Bohemia and U2 - Achtung Baby
  Current reading:  still nothing....
    So I'm typing this, sniffling, alternating between being quite chilled and being overly warm.  I cannot, and will not, be ill.  Though I am now.  Meaning, I shan't be attending a music session today, much to my, and I'm sure my partner's, chagrin.  A speed bump, only, though.
    We saw the new Harry Potter movie yesterday.  Thoroughly disappointing.  Love the books, liked the first two films, haven't liked the last two.  Partly due to casting, partly due to directing.  C'est la vie.  Like in music, where the studio and the live stage are two utterly different things, between novels and films-based-on-novels, the same dischord exists.  I'll say this:  the effects are grand.  I just wish they'd spent as much time on the script/story as they did the effects.
    And I'm losing consciousness even now.  Back off to bed.  Perhaps up in time to watch some football.  My picks are the Bucs over the Falcons (of course) and the Bengals over the Colts.

November 18, 2005 + "Last Chance, Music & Notes."
    Current listening:  The Dresden Dolls - The Dresden Dolls, Peter Gabriel - 3, Motorhead - Inferno
    Current reading:  nothing...for once, nothing at all...zip, zilch, nada
    So, tonight the remnants (for lack of better terminology) of my former band, Season One, are playing a show in Lexington.  Of course, I told them I would be leaving after this show about a month and a half ago and I was asked to not return and that I would not be needed for the two shows we'd booked in October & November because, as it was put to me, everyone would be "uncomfortable" with it.  C'est la vie.  Yet again, I was the pariah.  I would have liked to go, at least tonight, but out of respect I've decided not to.  It's their show and I wouldn't want to pressure them or cause discomfort.  I hope they play well and have a good show, regardless.  It would be a shame if they broke up because they're quite good, their vision and mine just didn't dovetail into cohesion.
    On the other side of that, having hooked up with an insane (in the best possible fashions of the word) guitarist, I'm in the process with him of starting a new band.  In the month we've been playing, we've got the nucleus of a sound and are building a foundation that's extremely exciting, vibrant and fresh.  Very textural with a pop sensibility, but musical and lyrical depth...if you just want surface, it's there, but if you want to dig in, there's plenty to find.  Already ten songs in the sharpening stages...amazing, really.  It's nice to be excited about music again.
    I got suckered into watching bits of one of those "nanny" shows on television a bit ago...happened to pass by while Tracy had it on (she's feeling a bit ill and was zoning in front of the tube).  I swear, it amazes me.  To see these little kids taking swings at their parents and throwing crap around is absurd.  Perhaps it's not the fruit of the day, but had I done that, my father would have quickly knocked some sense into me, in every literal sense of the phrase.  Until I was around ten or eleven, I sort of lived in mortal fear of my father.  Granted, his temper was quite bad then (I've been accused of having gotten his temper and I must say I disagree...mine's worse...or it was;  it's better now) and we, ironically enough, during my teens, became a terrific father/son tandem, but when I was young there was just no way around it.  I behaved because, if I didn't, Dad would get mad and there was nothing...nothing...not the first day of school, not girl cooties, not hearing "We Are The World" on the radio, not going to the library at our school, was quite as bad as that.
    However, I must say that, given the 20/20 vision of time passage, I'm quite glad of it.  My Dad's discipline has made me much of who I am.  I do not accept.  I question.  I work hard.  I listen...intently.  I'm strong.  Of course, that's 50% from my Mom too...they worked very well together, and still do.  But the discipline came from Dad, moreso.
    And the corporal punishment?  Not a problem.  When you're five, six, seven years old, reason and the art of syllogisms and pondering the morality of obeying orders...they're not part of your lexicon.  Sort of like the pot on the stove...you touch it, you get burned, you learn not to touch it again.  You learn about heat and what causes it and the intrinsic danger later on, once you're able to cognate about it.
    But, then, I'm sort of talking out of my ass.  We're not having children, so who am I to ramble on about such things?  No one.  Like someone who complains about the president, but didn't vote, my thoughts on this topic are essentially worthless.  And thoughts & opinions are like mothers.  Everyone's got one, it's just a matter of quality of one's mother that is in question.

November 9, 2005 + "Under The Sun & Over The Moon."
    Where does god come in?  Where does country come in?  Why do some people get blinded to reality by both?
    All questions to ponder, but not right now.
    First, another list.  This time, my most undervalued/unknown songs that everyone should know.  Nice title, huh?
    10)  11th Street Kids - Hanoi Rocks
    9)    Goldilox - King's X
    8)    Australia - Manic Street Preachers
    7)    Tie Me At The Crossroads - Bruce Cockburn
    6)    Time Waits - Adrian Belew
    5)    Rime Of The Ancient Mariner - Iron Maiden
    4)    Illumination - Rollins Band
    3)    Gravity - The Dresden Dolls
    2)    La Tristesse Durera - Manic Street Preachers
    1)    Black Coffee - Black Flag
    This list is just songs that I know probably 9 out of every 10 people on the street won't have heard a single one of and that, my friends, is a shame.  A pure, crying shame.  As a matter of fact, I may go burn myself a CD of these tunes just to listen to on my way into work tomorrow.
    I'm having a writing block too.  As in, I know what I wanna say, and I'm saying it, but not in the way(s) I want to.  Does that make sense?  Of course not.  Creativity seldom does.  So I wad up the paper and throw it away...as Picasso said, every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction, after all.  Write, wad, throw...repeat as needed.  Open up a vein and let it pour onto the page, smear the blood to make a picture that fits your mood.
    And so the lion sleeps, chin resting upon a paw as the flies and sun go down.
 

November 6, 2005 + "Smoothing On."
    Just imagine, if everything went smoothly, worked as it should (or was advertised to) and hassle was a word that had been created for fictional stories.  Pretty boring, huh?
    That's just what I woke up today thinking about.  No particular reason.  Just a seed in my mind.
    Also finished lyrics and partial music for a song that had been percolating for a while, called Feed My Tragedy.  It's a little more on the light/hopeful side than the title may suggest, but still a bit down.  I think the music will pick it up, though.  Yet another in the Zevon-esque series with happier music & downer lyrics.  Got's to loves me a little bit contrast, baby.  Have some other ideas zooming around, not the least bit stirred up by learning piano.  Actually, I'm doing quite poorly in my piano attempts, but it has proven a catalyst for bass & guitar, strangely enough.
    Also, the new band on the horizon has stirred a bit of creative juice.  And punched up the fire that had been sitting idle beneath the cauldron.  Some things are more clear than ever in my mind.  They include:
    1.  Leaving Season One was absolutely the right thing to do.
    2.  I write for myself.
    3.  After iten # 2, I write for everyone else, but the dividing line is there.
    4.  This (items # 2 & 3) is why I have trouble remembering my lyrics, verses, poetry, etc.  Much of it is written to deal with, describe, remember, compartmentalize, handle, soften, explicate, wear down, ease, transmogrify things that I see, hear or do in everyday life.  Not just mine, but everybodies.  Once it's done, I think my mind see it as done and moves on.  Remaining rooted and reliving some of these things is at times painful or seemingly unnecessary.  Or happy, yet still unnecessary.  Strange.
    5.  Apples are good.
    Tracy and I went to the Farmers' Market in Lexington yesterday when we got stuck in traffic due to the UK/Auburn football game.  Got some apples.  I had totally forgotten how good fresh, real apples are.  Not the ones you get at a store, but ones grown out in the weather and sunshine, picked by a real human just days ago.  Teeming with juice and perfection.  The orchard we bought them from is Reed Valley Orchard and I highly recommend their stuff.
    In all, strange days.  Heading into the "holidays" I have nothing to say but...well.

October 29, 2005 + "Moving/Frenzy/Deliberate/Time."
    A quick series of thoughts, this time...
    The new band is coming together slowly, but surely.  It's a good feeling to have found a solid guitarist that is so into textures and in-depth composition, but that also recognizes the implicit greatness and necessity of spontaneity within music.  I feel good things coming.  The quest is on for a drummer, now.  This band, methinks, is destined for trio-dom.
    Work is nearing new depths of sewage.  Same old thing(s), complaints have been lodged, along with suggestions for rectifying the issue(s), but they seem to be falling on deaf or indifferent ears.  The old days came and went.  I was lucky enough to have been with the company for a good while when common sense and business sense dovetailed into a cohesive management structure.  Those days, alas, appear long gone.  Even sent out a resume to a job lead elsewhere this week, but have yet to hear back from it.
    The new book will be released in early 2006 as a sort of commemoration of DKP's 10 years of existence.  I think about this in a couple ways.  I'm sorry it will have taken a little over five years to put this book out, what with the previous ones having a year or two in between them, tops.  It is great work, though, so it will be worth the wait.  But, then, how to find that niche poetry market, especially in Central KY which, oddly and strikingly, has nearly no literary scene compared to my former stamping ground of NKY/Cincinnati.  Whodathunkthat?
    Writing more lately, mainly little bits here and there.  No excuses, because they're worthless, but the job has become a monkey on my back that is giving way to a black dog on my shoulder (druggies or Churchill fans will understand that statement...sorry to everyone else.)  But I'm breaking through.  It's a great thing to have  family and friends that make every day wake in a blaze of sunshine, otherwise my world would be dormant and dark.
 

October 17, 2005 + "Tripping."
    This past weekend was spent tripping toward Chicago and back again.  Here's a snapshot of events....
    Friday 10/14 - travelled to Chicago by day, arriving in the late afternoon.  Traffic was not bad, found our hotel in the North side of the city and then went in search of good food and good times...found both.  I can't remember the restaurant's name, but it is a smallish Japanese place around the corner from the Chopin Theater and it was, in a word, exquisite.  Divine, actually.  Best spring roll I've ever had and incredible sesame chicken.  Well worth the money.  Then we went to the Chopin and saw the Uma Productions presentation of Craig Wright's (Six Feet Under) Recent Tragic Events.  Unbelievable, really.  A great play with great players in a small theater full of people expecting, and receiving, intensity and emotion.  Well done.
    Saturday 10/15 - a trip downtown (and I must say, I love the trains in Chicago...who needs a car?) to The Art Institute and walking amongst the natives.  Odd, but tremendously friendly, folks.  Then, in the evening, The Dresden Dolls at The Metro, which I found out is just around the corner from Wrigley Field.  I think, in a city like Chicago, a lot of great things are just around the corner from other great things.  We got there a bit late because, unbeknownst to us, the Dolls were the early show and the Dirty Three were later in the evening.  We got there in time to see Devotchka, who were magnificent, and the Dresden Dolls were everything we'd hoped they'd be.  Intense, creative, exemplary musicians and performers.  Quite easily one of the best shows I've seen in years, though it was cut short.  And Brian Viglione is officially in my top five drummers ever...utterly fantastic.  From their opening spoof of The White Stripes through their originals, just fantastic and inspiring.
    Sunday 10/16 - breakfast at Walker Brothers which, as I found out, is a nationally known pancake house.  Ate too much, but it was so darned good that I went for it all.  Then we went off to a many-storied mall, I think it was called Woodfield?  I had a wicked insulin reaction (overbolusing for breakfast plus much walking equalled horror) and spaced on some of what happened.  Then, I found Chicago stays awake past six o'clock on Sundays because we went out for hot dogs of the Chicago variety and caught a movie, all after nine o'clock.  Cool, huh?
    Monday 10/17 - drove home, stopping by my folks' on the way to give them their Anniversay present.  And now, we are home.  Long trip, but exciting and good.  Good to see the cats, though, and good to hop in front of the computer.  *sigh*...and back to work tomorrow, what fun!

October 9, 2005 + "Observations."
    Just some observations from recent life.
    1.  Karma is real, whether you dig that p.o.v. or not.
    2.  Doing the right thing is often misunderstood by others, but staying true to yourself will work out.
    3.  Government barters today and thinks not for tomorrow, nor for the constituents it represents.
    4.  The United States has creditors.  They include nations our government calls enemies.  Would you bank with your enemy?
    5.  The world economy needs an overhaul.  I could do with a few less McDonald's and such if we could even things up a little bit.  Granted, parity, in some sense, has hurt the NFL, but overall it has made the game much more competitive and that is to the benefit of the fans who are, in fact, consumers.
    6.  You can try to be as nice a guy as you can, do things the right way and try to help out, but you'll still get your gear left out on the porch for you to pick up as thanks for your professionalism.
    7.  And then, you can still do the right thing and not go back on your word and continue to let others use your PA, and in the end you'll still get looked at as an enemy.
    8.  Love is a wonderful thing.
    9.  Cats are wonderful things.
    10. Fall is a wonderful and beautiful thing.  It is time to cut the grass one last time, plant bulbs for winter & spring and tuck in for the new seasons.

October 2, 2005 + "Winning Is/Isn't Everything."
    Oh, to be a football fan in my shoes.  And, hey, look at that...I'm in my shoes.  With both of my favorite teams standing at a supremely healthy 4 and 0 start (Tampa Bay - because years & years ago I saw and fell in love with their old creamsicle uniforms before I even knew what football was, at age 6, and Cincinnati - growing up in Cincy or NKY sort of makes you a de facto Bengals & Reds fan, regardless of anything else).  And today, with two nail biters for wins, I'm a very happy Scot.  Whoo-hoo.  Haven't checked scores on the baseball playoff situations, but the Yankees are in, so things are bad.  Go Houston!
    I'm looking for new bandmates again, but this time by my choice.  Sometimes, making the right decision is the very most difficult thing you can do.  Sometimes, even when you're blinded by other things and the right decision is staring you in the face.  So I'm leaving after our second show in November, unless I get an e-mail saying they've found a replacement, which I think they'd have an easy time doing.  I wasn't going to leave them hanging as that's not my style, but we've been out of communication since my decision, so who knows?  See here for info on what I was (three years ago) and am trying to do.  There are clues in there as to why I'm leaving Season One too.  Nothing at all to do with my bandmates.  All stylistical, which on some level is even more difficult, and yet better as well.
    My anniversary is coming up.  Three years in mid-October.  To celebrate, we've planned a trip to Chicago to see The Dresden Dolls at The Metro.  It should be a raucous time, and a lengthy drive to and from, made tolerable by the company of my lady and our Sirius Satellite Radio - best Christmas gift ever, for those of you seeking something for your better halves.  Matter of fact, I first heard the Dolls on Sirius channel Left Of Center.  Cool, huh?
    Lemonhead, the stray kitten that Tracy and I had tamed (mainly her, though), has found a new home with my Uncle's wife's mother.  Is that right? ...yes, it is 8^).  Lemonhead, a beautiful orange & white tabby, started coming around our place in early August and wouldn't let us within ten feet of him, but would come around when we put food out, very tentatively.  Gradually, we (again, mainly Tracy, who has the patience of god sometimes) got him to let us touch him, then scratch him, then hold him briefly, then hold him in our laps, etc.  With three kitties already in our domain, and with very little space at present, we just couldn't take him in, though he was and is a sweetheart.  My Mom was helping us to try to find him a home as we'd already decided to get him neutered & either find him a good home or bite the bullet and "make space," as it were.  Many thanks to Art, Lisa and Lori (did I spell that right?) for helping out with Lemonhead, rechristened Lemon.  He's a great cat and, from what we've heard, he's taken to his new domicile quite well.  As a wrap-up, here's Lemon from around September 20th, on a chair on our patio, lovin' life...ah, to be a cat:

 

September 10, 2005 + "Cowboys And Indians."
    So, first off, I was on my way to the grocery a bit ago and saw a large pickup truck driving down the road with a very, very large Confederate flag on a pole stuck in the bed of it, waving in the breeze as it traveled.  Now, I don't know about you, but things like that interest me.  For one thing, by the strictest definition, it might be treasonous.  Not that I particularly care, but someone might.  The other thing is that I wanted to interview the young guys (a cabful of 'em) about why, exactly, they were flying the stars & bars in the middle of 2005.
    However, I recognized a couple of things:  1) I'm one guy and there were at least four of them.  2) They may very well have had intense socio-political viewpoints as to the south rising again and/or secession from the Union.  3) They may also very well have had no idea why they were flying that flag.  4) They could have been prejudiced, bigoted rednecks.
    It was the fourth reason that threw me off my idea.  Partly because I was wearing my Cleveland Indians hat and, well, if they're not into blacks, they're probably not into Indians either.  Still, I wonder what would make someone fly that flag on a big pole in the back of their truck.  I mean, I have a Manic Street Preachers sticker on my car, and a Northern Kentucky University license plate, because I support those entities.  I just want to suss out what these guys were supporting.
    And that led into something else that Tracy and I had talked about a few nights ago.  Indians.  Specifically as far as team names go.  You know the old argument, that the Washington Redskins, Cleveland Indians and other such-named teams, pro or college, are apparently insulting to Indian and Native American groups.  I understand the point of view, but check this out....
    Teams are named for strong creatures, people and things.  The mascots, as it were, are points of pride and points of respect to the teams and their supporters.  When Paul Brown founded the Cincinnati Bengals, it was based on the ferocity and strength of the cat and, I believe, tied in with the Cincinnati Zoo's history with Bengal and White Bengal tigers themselves, so it was a point of pride for the area as well as the team.
    You wouldn't hear of a team called, say, the Akron Hot Dogs, right?  Or, better yet, the Wichita Caucasions?  Or the Vancouver Invalids?  To me, I believe that the teams with Indian/Native American names are sources of respect for these peoples that, yes, white America of past centuries and, unfortunately, to some respect, today, disenfranchised and committed genocide against.  If not for these teams constantly conjuring images of strength and pride based on those peoples, some aspect of them would be further lost to history.  I cannot step into the shoes of today's Indians, but if I could, I think I would be glad that someone respected my heritage enough today to find strength in it.
   But, that might just be me.

August 24, 2005 + "Hypocritical."
    So, much has happened since the last of July, but little of any true note.
    I recently finished reading On The Beach by Nevil Shute and, I must say, it was one of the most depressing, uplifting, glorious, harrowing reads of my life.  I found tears in my eyes at several points.  A wonderful comment, from John Osborne, the scientist in the book:  "It's not the end of the world at all.  It's only the end of us.  The world will go on just the same, only we shan't be in it.  I dare say it will get along all right without us."
    Indeed.
    In our age of terrorism (or Tara-ism if you speak like our president), evangelicals calling for death upon heads of state (Pat Robertson has truly lost it this time) and nuclear posturing (North Korea, Pakistan, Iran, U.S., etc.), I think everyone should go back and reread On The Beach.
    Not with a bang, but a whimper....
    And I'm sick of hypocrits.  At work, at play, at all.  We want to do this...well, not that, exactly, but this.  We're willing to do whatever to get this going...well, except that...and that.  Um, and, no, not that either.  But we're desperate!
    I don't know what I mean by that.  I just see & hear some things and I almost wish I'd have been more deliberate several years ago in charting a course.  Democracy can certainly work with, say, 100+ people in a group.  If you've got 100 or less, you're more than likely going to need a benevolent dictatorship for any success.  And it can be, say, a triumverate, if necessary.  But it has to have actual leaders.  Otherwise, it seems, the treading of water will overtake the successful strokes taken in the water of creativity.
    I am going to start updating more frequently soon.  I need catharsis some way, somehow.
    I've drained my tank, it seems.  Typical days leave nothing for imagination.  The lubrication in my engine is sapped and I'm going to throw a rod soon.  Any suckling at the teats of routine only provides a dust of frustration on which to choke.
    I'm ready for new things, I guess, creatively.  But, ah, where to find them.  And how.  The why of it is quite simple, but the execution will take planning, something I realize has to be done this time.  No loose forms or weak coils of ideology, but an actual plan, goals and projects to get somewhere.
    C'est la vie...off we go to band practice.  But first, dinner, which my lovely is cooking right now.  In some ways, life is indeed so good.

July 31, 2005 + "Pointed."
    Current Listening:  The Posies - Every Kind Of Light, The Newbees - Songs From A Dilapidated Apartment, The Decemberists - Her Majesty..., Henry Rollins/Mother Superior (Rollins Band Mk. II) - Get Some Go Again Sessions, and Vic Chesnutt - Is The Actor Happy?
    You'll note several The *** bands in there.  For some reason, every band I've been in, going back to high school, has been terribly, utterly and brazenly against being The *** anything.  I don't know why...I've always been the single member that liked the idea.  Except for "The Fugue," which lasted all of about six months, there have been none.  C'est la vie.
    And, amazingly, this is my first update in nearly a month.  Apologies to those of you that check back often and, at this point, may never be checking back again.  Honestly, not much to say.  I have been writing.  But not much there either.  It has been the summertime deadtime blahtime.  Heat sucks the desire to do much of anything right out of me.  Once it gets down to a normalized temperature of about 60 degrees, which lasts for about three days in my part of the world, I'll be all for going out, sitting down on a bench and writing all the time.  When it gets down to a daily temperature of about 30 degrees, I'll be all for sitting in a window seat and writing a lot and reading a lot and praying for snow a lot *smile*.
    My wife'll kill me for typing that out, as if an omen or prophecy....
    Speaking of prophecy, much to my chagrin I've become a full-blown Harry Potter fan.  Weird, eh?  The Half-Blood Prince was done rather quickly.  I suck, really, being sucked in like this, but I am utterly confounded by the stylings of the books.  It really is excellent literature on so many sides and in so many ways.
    And I'm so disappointed in so much music nowadays.  So much of what is "hot" and the "next best thing" is nothing more than a few more turns around the same old track.  I'm really glad I took a chance on nabbing a Vic Chesnutt disc, though (see above.)  Cool stuff.  Along the lines of Phil Cody, just pretty darned cool music, folk-based but rockin'.
    Revolution.  Revolution.  Revolution.
    Till next time...listen, learn and prepare.

July 3, 2005 + "Turn Me On, Turn Me Off."
    And now, a list of other stuff I'm currently listening to....
    Rachel Z - Grace (she was keyboardist/backing vocalist on Peter Gabriel's Growing Up Tour)
  British Sea Power - Open Season
  ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead - Madonna (note: Madonna is the album title, folks)
    Rilo Kiley - More Adventurous
    The Dresden Dolls - A Is For Accident
  Manic Street Preachers - The Holy Bible 10th Anniversary Edition
    Things in commone with most of these bands:
    - you will hear very few, if any, of them on standard, commercial radio in the U.S.
    - they are all more soulful and artistic than most, if not all, music you'll hear on standard, commercial radio in the U.S.
    - a few of them, even though I'm a musical adventurer, I would never have picked up were it not for Sirius Satellite Radio (specifically, The Dresden Dolls, Rilo Kiley and Trail Of Dead.)
    So where does this leave us?  Scot hates standard, commercial radio in the U.S.?  Well, hate is a strong word.  Dislike?  Disgust?  Alan Freed would be a rich, rich man these days.  More payola scandals going down.  More tax write-offs in the form of generic bands signed to labels with sham PR departments.  Mmmm...corporate greed run amok in the name of art and commerce and their evil child:  platinum.
    And, yes, I know that even Da Vinci had a patron.  The artistic life is always bordered by walls made of who you sell your art to.  Renaissance painters didn't starve, well, not always anyway.  Gotta have a Medici in your life, baby.
    I'm rambling.  The bands noted above turn me on right now, and will likely continue to do so.  Heck, I've loved the Manics ever since I heard their first US release, a five-song promo ep that I just happened to pop into the tape deck (yes, folks, that long ago) at Record Alley one Saturday night.  Awesome stuff, from You Love Us through Empty Souls.
    I suppose that I'll sign off with this:  adventure.  Get a Sirius (best Christmas present I've gotten in years, man).  Get out and see bands that you've never heard of, especially local ones in your area.  There is more art out there than what Clear Channel says there is.
    Oh, and Happy Fourth Of July.  Pray for peace, honour and understanding and that this country can one day stand up and become what we all dreamt it could be.

June 24, 2005 + "Werk...Werk...Play."
    Current Reading: (just finished) Auschwitz by Dr. Miklos Nyiszli...(next up) Anger by Thich Nhat Hanh.
    Current Listening:  Demon Days by Gorillaz, Everything Must Go by Manic Street Preachers and X & Y by Coldplay.
    Needless to say, nothing remotely American or Americana is gracing my eyes or ears lately.  I'm so terribly down on my homeland and the experience of Western Society.  Depressing.  Very depressing.
    Art, as well, has become a shambles.  Feeling somewhat nosed-in and stifled all around.
    However, a new song has reared a head and I'll be demoing it, probably on Sunday.  Or attempting to.  It'll not only be to demo, but to practice my computer recording savvy, what there is of it.  In other words, my cool new song may be wrecked before it even comes to a form palatable (did I spell that correctly?  Better question:  do I care?) to take to the bandmates.  C'est la vie, baby.
    I have a new button hanging by my desk at work, announcing the "Level of service will be determined by my mood and your attitude."  I'd like to underline the your attitude part for certain folks.  Check that, certain folk, singular.  In truth, my job's pretty fun except for certain, minor things.  Well, check that too.  My job's pretty boring, but it is not offensive except for certain, minor things.
    Well, to move on.
    Things I really dislike:  Golf.  Nascar.  Right wing vs. Left wing arguments.  Neo-nazis.  Egocentrism.  Cutting grass.
    Things I really like:  Bass.  Football.  Baseball.  Truth.  Tao.  Expressions in foreign languages.  Sleep.  Hard work with something to show for it at the end.
    People I really dislike:  Politicians.  Willfully ignorant people.  Soapbox chasers.  Cheap pornographers.  Journalists.
    People I really like:  My wife.  My friends.  My family.  Most of my co-workers.  Truth-seekers.
    Gotta go tune my Spector again...changed the strings last night, the intonation's out and I'm trying to doctor her up.  Actually, doctoring her down would be more accurate as my skills in luthiery as akin to my skills in, well, doctoring.

June 3, 2005 + "Lay Off, Already!"
    First, if you haven't yet, hit the link from the May 13 entry and give it a read.  Well worth the time & effort (it is rather lengthy.)
    Okay, on to other stuff.
    I turned 32 a few days ago and...well...things aren't a whole lot different.  They seldom are, though, are they?  After you're 21, birthdays just sort of lose a bit of magical appeal.  I did get some awesome gifts, though, so it's all good.
    I'm on a serious diet now.  Not that I'm huge, because I'm not, but I need to stop.  Considering how I live my life, fast food and other assorted junk is just far too easy to consume and it is taking a toll.  I've never liked the way I look, but to wake up, look in a mirror and truly hate oneself, aesthetically anyway, is tough to take.
    Also, my sleep study came back.
    Yes, thank you folks, I have sleep apnea.  However, I took some distrust away from my doctor visit.  He showed me a couple numbers on the study report and wrote me a prescription for a BiPAP machine to maintain air pressure in my windpipe during sleep.  I asked him about my weight and he sort of wrote that off and dismissed it like, well, maybe it could help and all, but you need this machine to try out and then come back and see me.
    I took a pass for several reasons:  need to check to see what my insurance covers, need to do research on the machine itself and I didn't feel comfortable doing it yet.
    I got the paperwork for it though, which included the report.  And, lo and behold, what is the first thing the report suggests to make this all better?  You guessed it, and give yourself a prize if you murmured this like an REM lyric under your breath while you're reading:  weight loss.
    So, a diet it is.  Like last fall except that I cannot, will not, allow myself to go off of it.  Perhaps I'm just now confronting demons of a decade ago, like with my (luckily) minor eye issues, but face them I must.  Do or do not.  There is no try.
    (Last two statements in the previous paragraph are (c) Lucasfilm Limited...god knows I don't need to get sued by a hero of mine...that would just be the icing on the damned cake.)
    Like echoes of a past, but in a photo negative.  Strange way to start the weekend.  For those interested in such things, here's my full current listening menu:
  Freekbass - The Air Is Fresher Underground, Sideways Eight - Lost In Time, Angie Arnold - Letting Go, Life After Liftoff - S/T, The National - Alligator, Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, Black Lipstick - Sincerely, Bruce Dickinson - Tyranny Of Souls and Palomar - Palomar III The Revenge Of Palomar.
    Till next time...forward, march!

May 13, 2005 + "Dominion?"
Check out this link for some interesting reading.  Credit to muppet for passing it along to me.

May 10, 2005 + "Teaching Bill How To Drive."
    Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea, the "Bill" referenced in the title of this entry is not any "Bill" that I actually know.  It is a reference to a movie from the late '70's, I think, starring Mickey Rooney as a mentally handicapped adult that is befriended by some guy and he ends up owning a coffee shop.  It was one of my favorite movies as a youngster, one that they showed seemingly every weekend on channel 19 in Cincinnati when it was an independent station (pre-Fox.)  I think there were sequels as well...awesome stuff.  Now, if you've ever seen the film, or if you have a copy (and will dub one for me!), you know that the process of Bill learning anything is strenuous at best.  Teaching him how to drive would be a task unparalleled.
    And that brings us to the two women at the Chinese buffet in Lexington on Monday evening.
    Tracy and I were there munching on MSG cakes flavored as chicken and other things.  Two women, obviously a mother (approximately 65 to 70 years old)  and daughter (40's?) team, came in and sat behind us.  I had a clear view of both while Tracy could only hear the goings on.  Points to ponder:
    - at any given time, they had at least two full crabs on their table while still making return trips to get more
    - the mother was eating with a crab fork (small, 3-tined type) rather than a regular fork and was having much trouble hitting her mouth even though she was cutting food into tiny, tiny pieces.
    - daughter seemed oddly perturbed the entire time and was acting as a mother, a full role reversal
    - daughter: "Mom...Mom...you got it?"  mom:  "I've got a knife...I've got it...I've got it!"  daughter:  "Do you want me to cut it for you?"  mom:  "I've got the knife...got a knife...I've got it...yeah!...I've got it!"  And she did have it but, alas, missed her wide open, gaping maw of a mouth while trying to insert the bit of General Tso chicken.
    It was a hoot.  I chuckled through the meal.  Not mean chuckling, mind you, but I just couldn't help it.
    Then the masterpiece.  The final straw.  The triumph.  The most awesome thing.
    I love watching my wife's face, especially during some of the things we see when we're out.  We (or I) seem to be a magnet for utter and extreme weirdness.
    Tracy was watching over my shoulder, toward the buffet, and I was watching the daughter, who was dressed in a vibrant, sun-defying orange mumu, cram more crab into her mouth.  Tracy's face went absolutely ashen, like a vampire had nipped her neck and drained her in a second flat, and she said, "Oh my god, I can't eat any more...she just...I can't believe she did that...OH!  she didn't!" and this dissolved into dumbfounded laughter.
    I couldn't look.
    I knew what happened.
    I'd seen mom take her crab fork up to the bar with her.
    Mom was taste-testing at the bar and, unfortunately for those following her, putting back pieces that didn't meet her fancy after she'd tasted them.
    Tracy was near hysterics when mom waddled back to her seat, mere inches from Tracy, with a plateful of food (yet another...their table was darn near covered by this point in the maelstrom of mastication.)  I paid the bill and we ran (literally) for cover.
    Apparently mom had, in Tracy's plain sight but no one else's, forked a shrimp, taken a bite, recoiled and put it back into the pile on the buffet.  She did this with a few other items as well.
    So be careful folks.  The sneeze guards on buffets keep nasty snot outta the food...but who can protect us from the senile old ladies of the world?  Hmmm?

April 20, 2005 + "Up Your Nose With...A Fiber Optic Camera!!!"
    "You were snoring, then you stopped and I counted...I counted to about ten before you took another breath."
    That's what my wife told me a few weeks ago after we'd awoken to a Sunday morning.  For quite a long time, I've slept soundly, or so I thought.  I never, ever felt rested.  I don't remember what it feels like to not be exhausted.  It is my normal operating mode.  I don't remember dreaming either, though I assume I do.  My sleep is a blank that accomplishes nothing.  That's partially why I don't like to go to sleep.  What's the point?
    However, along with a myriad of other health issues, my doctor and I talked about the potential of sleep apnea after working through other courses of treatment for a variety of either a) sociopathic disorders or, b) just plain being f*cked up.
    I'm not sociopathic.  My conscience, to be truthful, is huge.  Too huge, to me.  I'm far too empathetic (emphasis on the "pathetic" part of that.)  I wish I could just close my eyes sometimes.
    Anyway, so I went to a sleep doctor this afternoon.  I went in and the fellow seemed very nice and very concerned.  I liked him right off the bat.  But if you age him about 25 years and let his hair grow long, he's the butler (can't remember his name right now)  Riff Raff ed. from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I began singing Time Warp in my head immediately.  Just a step to the right.
    I digress....
    We talked and then he told me he's going to mist my nose.  Interesting.  He hooks up the mechanical stuff and puts the end in my right nostril and, voila, a mist into my nose, not unlike Neo-Senepherin (I used to love that stuff.)  He said I could wipe my nose, but not blow, and he'd be back in a few moments.
    OK.  I hadn't planned on any weirdness.  My main thought was, okay, he's going to take a culture of some kind, right?  A minute passes and I'm engrossed with a diagram on the wall.  Then I turned to a cart in the room...with a television screen...and a machine below it with a handle on a cord and a long tube at the end...hmmm...interesting...and my nostril has become numb, I notice...long tube...numb...holy shit.
    I had my epiphany as the good doctor reappeared.
    I'll spare you the minute details...let's just say that when I awoke this morning, the last thing I thought I'd see 12 hours later was the inside of my sinus cavity, my throat and my vocal cords.  And, yes, the feeling of having a fiber optic camera shoved up your nose is, well, shall we say, something not to be missed.
    And the verdict?  "...based on what you've told me, your history, the diabetes and blood pressure issues, plus what I showed you in your throat, I would be highly surprised if you didn't have sleep apnea."
    Great.
    For those keeping score, here's the rundown:  Diabetic since age 11 (currently 31...happy 2 decade anniversary!!!), high choesterol (under control with drugs), high blood pressure (under control with drugs), mild diabetic retinopathy (a couple laser surgeries, but doing just dandy), migraines (yeah, well, if you worked where I do, your head would hurt too) and now a sleep disorder.  The sleep thing, while highly likely, is just weird.
    You mean, I'm not supposed to be exhausted all the time?  I can say this:  I will not wear a pressure mask while I sleep...I just couldn't.  But, then again, I do sleep like the dead (pun intended.)  Or, god forbid, surgery?  Who knows.
    All I can say is this:  I do believe in reincarnation.  So I would therefore, at this point in time, like to call dibs on a halfway decent, functioning body on my next turn around this amusement park.  There...you all heard me.
    Now go back to sleep....

April 8, 2005 + "Mistakes."
    John F. Kennedy said, "This administration intends to be candid about its errors.  For as a wise man once said, 'An error does not become a mistake until you refuse to correct it'...Without debate, without criticism, no administration and no country can succeed - and no republic can survive."  This was sometime shortly after the Bay of Pigs.  I wish that our current administrators had the same valorous aims.
    Our country, my friends, is being run by thieves, spoiled brats and warmongers with no pretense about their lies and deceit and willingness to do whatever it takes to 1) avenge the "mistakes" they feel were made in 1991 after the first Gulf effort, 2) garner as much profit as they can from "rebuilding projects" in the Arab world and the oil reserves there, 3) make nice-nice with the Saudi family (I can't tell anymore if the Bush family tree has a Saudi vine of lineage around it, or if the Saudi tree has a Bush growing at its base), and 4) to make the U.S. into the one and only, sole megapower now and for all eternity.
    A few notes:
    - Empires don't last.  Ask Great Britan, Japan, Spain, Rome, etc.  They eventually eat themselves due to a variety of things including laziness, greed and stupidity...three things the U.S. unfortunately has in great abundance, especially in the formerly hallowed halls of government.
    - There weren't many mistakes made in the first Gulf effort...the same issues happening now were forecast then.  Amazing, huh?  I'm surprised Bush Sr. hasn't called W. with a simple, one sentence message:  "Son, I told ya so.  Bye."
    - Forget oil.  Forget fossil fuels.  Hydrogen.  Water.  Air.  The Sun.  All there for the taking...ah, but there's the rub, Hamlet.  Just as a diabetes cure would knock out the market for syringes and sustaining drugs & supplies, thus negating a huge market for healthcare providers, knocking out oil would kill a huge profit-generating part of the economy of many countries, especially Arab countries.
    - And for the "rebuilding projects"...one word:  Halliburton.  Okay, one more:  Cheney.  Um, another?  Money.  Yeah.  Not a bit of complicity there, huh?  Not a single shred of insider interest there, huh?  I'd like to take both Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld back to their days in the Ford administration, or the Reagan administration, or the Bush I administration, and have them actually learn a little bit about what it means to be an American...oops...I guess we'd have to go back beyond those guys too...and to a Democrat.  Hell, or even a Whig, maybe?
    I'm truly skeptical of everything I see and hear anymore.  Most of us in this country don't even listen, otherwise we'd all be just as pissed off as I am right now.
    Oh, and one other thing:  the whole cause for the current war?  Sorry.  Saddam and Iraq didn't have any WMD that we hadn't given them (germ/chem types) or they hadn't already used up on the Kurds.  They may have had a program in place but, sorry folks, nothing there.  Of course he said he did...good Lord, if you lived between Saudi Arabia and Iran, wouldn't you want them to think you could hang them out to dry if they attacked you?  It was a ruse he had to maintain.
    And our ruse is that we're not into building an empire.  But we have been.  The U.S. has pursued it in covert and noncommittal ways, never saying the word but in hushed tones over DOD breakfasts and State dinners.  But it's there.  If you listen closely, you can hear the Romans whispering back to us..."it is not worth the price you will pay...."

March 25, 2005 + "Variety Of Things."
    So I know I'm quite behind in updates, but it couldn't be helped.  Much going on.
    We'll begin with a couple lists:
  Things I really like right now:  Ass Ponys (band from Cincinnati), Over The Rhine (band from Cincinnati), writing, the challenge of learning to record on my computer, H.R. Giger's "Birth Machine," Warren Zevon, Manic Street Preachers, Hunter S. Thompson, baseball, Tony Dungy, Ben Chandler
  Things I really don't like right now:  steroids, the challenge of learning to record on my computer, people that think they know it all based upon 10% of the knowledge necessary to accurately assess a given situation, Bruce Allen & Jon Gruden (who decided to waive Joe Jurevicius, who has now signed with the Seahawks), Jon Gruden in general, basketball, Sports Illustrated, any given network news program, the entire Schiavo family (both sides), the U.S. Congress for their meddling in one family's affairs when our country has a whole lot of larger issues to be dealing with
    Cat Saint Jane has changed our name to Season One, partially in an attempt to get a name everyone can enunciate fluently and partially to distance ourselves from our past (members and sound.)  CD is recorded, manufacturing is upcoming and, god help us, gigs should be imminent.  I'll get up a new website...er, change the name on the current website, shortly.  I shan't be the webmaster for the band, though...I'm voting for Scott or Jon for that honor.
    Meet Cleaver Theatre will be filming again in a couple weeks.  Butch & Joan will be doing some appearances and we'll be getting back to filming once those are done.
  A note from the salt mines:  don't you hate it when someone you respect has to play politics and blow smoke up your ass?  Especially when you see through the smoke quite clearly, know the real truth and could smack the person between the eyes with it?  Utterly frustrating.
   More notes:
    -  You can't outlive your first impressions or change peoples' minds unless they're willing to look & listen.
    -  It is a pointless venture to continue banging one's head against a wall that will not be moved.
    -  If no one else has a problem, the problem must be your own...or else no one's listening to the complaints...or else it all comes down to the fact that no one cares.
    Till next time...boogie, baby.
 

March 4, 2005 + "The Fine Art of Trust."
    I've found over the course of my life that you can often tell more about someone indirectly than directly.  People will, unfortunately, lie.  Their friends, family and those they trust will not.  They may lie to your face, but their auras are usually much more visible to you.
    Especially the last one, who people trust.  I have a particular situation in mind as I type this and it is quite troubling to me right now.  Much of our life is determined not so much by our direct actions, but by who we take into our confidence and who we choose to trust and set up shop with.  Who we love, who we work with, who we play in bands with, things of that nature.  Sheer proximity is sometimes enough to throw someone off-track, much less buying into what a potential moron may be selling you for his/her own progress and good.
    So I offer those words of wisdom:  look not at your subject, but the context of the subject, for the truth of the situation.  And always be prepared to cut yourself out of the picture if the foul words and deeds of the fool sour the splendor of the grapes on the vine, waiting to ripen.

February 26, 2005 + "Bounding."
    It is early morning as I type this.
    I am a creative ball of confusion lately.  It seems to happen every so often.  Like a shoelace knot that just gets pulled tighter and tighter in the vain hope that, maybe, by asserting more force it will come undone.
    Which it, of course, doesn't.
    The softer approach, to look from several angles, find the lynchpin, as it were, and gracefully coax that string from the hiding place, the key to untying the knot, is very difficult.  It is what I am doing right now.  Both writing-wise (poetry, etc.) and musically.
    Sometimes there is very little to say.  Sometimes there is so much that the vents (hands, voice, etc.) get strapped and cannot even move to give forth anything of worth.  I have so much built up right now, from political confusion to social commentary that it seems I have a maelstrom just sitting over my head, not moving, just thundering and pouring the rain.
    Such is life.
    On the homefront, we're redoing our living room, making bookcases and rearranging, so everything's in a state of flux and the cats are having a field day with new piles of things to climb on and knock over, then climb on again.  Our Christmas tree is still up due to our inability to get our garage door open.  You see, the previous owners of our house, along with being electrical wizards (they tried to see how many wires, some live and some not, that they could fit into every outlet and light switch hole in our walls, among other things), hooked up an electric garage door opener, but without any other means of access if it failed or the electricity failed.  Unless you're inside the garage at the time, and then you can pull the little release cable.  Great.
    But it's all good.  Fun.  Sometimes it takes rearranging, like I've done in my office, to help urge you toward a different point of view, like I mentioned above.  Bang your head against the wall and be negative or make attempts to sway the situation, to fit the environment to your life?
    I'm trying to reassess my environment, creatively and at the day job as well, to make it more suitable.  The knots are tight, but I'm seeing stray flairs of fiber that may just provide the keys.

February 18, 2005 + "Collective Bargaining."
    So the NHL season is toast, thanks to the greed of both the players and the owners in the league.  Both are to blame, to me.  Sometimes you have to give for the greater good.  To have ended up so close after so long is a shame.  I feel worse for our neighbors to the north, to whom the professional hockey season is akin to the NFL season here in the US.  It is a terrible shame as well that so many NHL teams make their homes in the US.
    My plan, such as it would be, for the NHL would be to fold four teams (from the US) and move four more to Canada.  Let's face it...the US doesn't care a lot and until you can truly market the game, which Gary Bettman and his NHL hierarchy have not been able to do, you need to stay with your fanbase.  Of course, you keep US teams like the reigning champion Lightning in Tampa, Detroit, who has a rich, rich NHL history and a huge fanbase, the LA Kings just because they're in LA, and the two NY teams.  However, teams like the Nashville Predators, Phoenix Coyotes and Columbus BlueJackets...they need to go.
    Anyway, enough hockey.  There is still minor league hockey going on, thank god.  ECHL and AHL hockey is just as exciting and fun to watch, so check them out if there are teams in your area.  If you're lucky and live in Cincinnati, for example, you have the Mighty Ducks and the Cyclones, so enjoy it while you can.  At least I think they both still exist...I need to go home sometime, I guess, and find out.  Have a hockey weekend or something.
    The band is getting set to record again, with our renewed and revitalized lineup.  Revitalized so much so that we're going to change our name, it looks like.  Seems that many folks, when we tell them our name is Cat Saint Jane somehow hear Cats In Chains.  Now, I love cats, so the thought of cats being in chains bothers me.  It also bothers me that, perhaps, we aren't enunciating well enough to get our point across, but c'est la vie, eh?
    And that is life right now.  Been feeling very tired lately.  Guess its the winter blahs, though I love winter.  I guess I'm just due for a change.  We shall see...change, when progressive, is good.  Regressive change is a death knell.

January 28, 2005 + "Puppies."
    Remember Yuppies?  Young, urban professionals?  They eventually gave way to dot commers?  There's apparently a new phase of evil upon us and Tracy and I have dubbed them puppies.  Punk-Yuppies.  Pierced and tattooed, yet still able to snazz up into a business suit and screw their fellow man or woman via internet or direct sales.  You'll find many of them working at law firms, financial institutions and car dealerships.  Be forewarned...they may seem cool and their noses may be wet, but their bark is generally much worse than their bite.
    And a "wintery mix" is approaching Kentucky tonight.  Fear, terror death and destruction are upon us, apparently, so the locals raided the local grocery to grab their milk & bread in preparation for the worst.
    Why milk & bread?  If you're going to get them, why not get some ground beef and flour too so you can at least make SOS?  What can you do with bread and milk?  Break up the bread, pour the milk over and pretend that you have soggy cereal?  Make dough balls from the bread and throw them into a bowl of milk for warm, meatless wonton soup?  It is just absurd, and yet it happens every time.
    Me?  Gimme some diet soda, popcorn and goetta.  If there is to be no electricity, I'll have my milk with raisin bran, thanks.
    Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow....
    I am proud of myself this week, though...I kept from killing someone.  Not that I'm generally homicidal, but sometimes people drive me closer to it than I'd like, being the non-violentist that I am.
    Also, I was able to sell a guitar on eBay, but the buyer is from Italy.  My luck in shipping overseas has been 50/50.  I should have, in retrospect, made it US only.  It's just such a hassle to do the paperwork and it costs so much...just a headache that I don't like going through.  But, the fellow's getting a very cool guitar and the money will go to finance some recording gear so I can jump back into doing some webradio work and further demo recording at home.  As the saying goes, its all good.
    Until next time...watch out for the puppies...you can site them by the lights glancing off their nose rings.

January 21, 2005 + "Several Fires."
    Customer service is dead.  We learned this a few nights ago at a local eatery.  A long time to get our order to us, two things missing from the order, one thing not correct, they tried to charge us for the incorrect item as opposed to what we got and argue with us over it.
    Astounding, really.
    Welcome to America.  It's not about you, Mr. Customer, its about the money you're paying for our service.  And you'll get the very least we can get by with so that our profit margin maintains a very high level.
    I'm somewhat dissatisfied with capitalism, yet it can be a great thing.  As long as you maintain that all-encompassing golden rule of treating others as you would like to, or expect to, be treated yourself.  The problem comes with those that take advantage of the system, or any system for that matter.
    Sort of like teamwork.  We all know the silly cliches about there being no "I" in "team" and that sort of thing.  Problem is, it is true.  Support and you will be supported.  Work with and you will be worked with.  Aid and you will be aided.  Stand alone and you stand alone...there is no other way.  In work and in play.  We humans are innately solo artists, but we still perform much better as teams, for the most part.  Especially in work and especially in customer service.
    I work in a service industry and, really, DKP is a service industry as well.  I maintain that service is different than "to serve."  I serve no one.  But I do provide needed services.  There is a difference.  It is indeed a fine line to tread, but a very important one regardless.
    I suppose, in short, we should all look a bit more closely at how we service not only our customers, if we have any, but ourselves as well.  After all, we are our most important customers.  We ourselves and we, our teams, families, coworkers, etc.  It is about relationships and attempting, striving for something better as opposed to treading meaningless water in a vast ocean of never-spoken hopes.
    There is something better out there...but we must all be on the same page.

January 14, 2005 + "My, How Time Flies."
    Okay, so I'm a bit behind as far as updates go.  Apologies out to all.  And Happy Birthday to Bill, an avid reader of this meaningless drivel that I toss onto the net, like a chef with his pasta against the wall, hoping something sticks.
    I wonder what it must feel like to be utterly hated.  I occasionally tick people off, most of us do, but I wonder what it must feel like to be completely and utterly despised and yet live in a world sponsored by faux niceties such that people pretty much have to treat you in a civil manner as they wish you dead.  Or, perhaps not dead, but at least in some painful predicament.
    Well.
    Current listening includes:  Manic Street Preachers - Lifeblood, The Dresden Dolls - The Dresden Dolls and The Hives - Tyrannasaurus Hives.  Current reading includes: Vaccine A by Gary Matsumoto and Gatewood Galbraith's autobiography.
    I've sworn off flu shots.  In just the first several chapters of Vaccine A I've come to trust those that create vaccines much less than previously.  We're all guinnea pigs, folks.  And doctoring, except for a few shining stars (and I have two of them in my health care team), is guesswork in a lab coat.
    Geez...I just typed "health care team"...I need to be shot.  Get it?  Shot?  Chortle, chortle.
    My office is currently resembling something akin to the coast of India...an utter mess.  And as much as I want to clean up and organize, and often do, it comes back to this.  So, perhaps my surroundings simply echo my head.  As with the final poem in my new, but yet-to-be-released, collection, Like My Head, an homage to Iannis Xenakis, avant composer & architect/mathematician, it's all tumbling and stumbling and cycling around.
    I have trouble focusing anymore.  Well, I have for a while.  It's as if I can't keep track of my thoughts, they zip in and out of my head so quickly.  And when I do occasionally catch a tiger by the tail, it escapes just as quickly.
    I need to cut my hair too.  I have a mohawk that's grown in on the sides and that, much to my chagrin, resembles a mullet when I'm wearing a hat, which I do much of the time.  The horror, my friends, the horror.
    And I need to change the strings on four of my basses.  I have the sets of strings, but I'm avoiding the world like the plague.  I hate, hate, hate changing strings.  I don't know why.  Probably fear of damaging one of the basses, which I don't think I would ever do, but it's just that nasty fear.  Changing strings & setting intonation on a Fender P-Bass is no problem.  My Tobias, with its dual-truss rods?  Another story altogether, to me anyway.  I should go do it now...but it'll wait.  The strings on the Spector are shot...the Tobias will ride with me to practice tomorrow.  Or perhaps I'll treat everyone to a cameo by my Dad's Rickenbacker...add my overdrive pedal and, suddenly, Cat Saint Jane becomes Motorhead!!!  Awesome!
    So much for now...CSJ is going to be recording a new demo soon and hopefully be playing out soon.  Our new drummer, Jon, has picked up on things in a lightning quick manner.  And I almost forgot...many congratulations to our vocalist, Tessa, and her husband, Kelly, on the birth of their daughter!!!  The new addition is doing well, from what I understand.
    Until next time, check out an SK musical sale check out Elements and other DKP releases, and MCT...more soon....
 

December 30, 2004 + "Stranger Things Have Happened."
    Somehow, weirdness generally follows Tracy and I on our many adventures out amongst the folk.  Well, not weirdness, but just things that are certainly not run-of-the-mill.  Mostly good, as with tonight, or I guess it was good.  I guess I'll just tell the tale because that, my friends, is usually the best way.
    We'd gone to Jo-Beth, a local book emporium, after a rather outstanding Indian dinner.  I was wandering about the music section, pondering purchases, and decided to go look at books on zen gardening.  Yes, seriously.  You see, the previous owners of our home were older folks that planted all kinds of flowers, sort of hodge-podge all over the yard.  I think an actual planned garden would be pretty cool.  Never mind that fact that my green thumb is only attuned to cutting grass, not growing plants.  That led to the Japanese zen gardens, possibly something of a sand & rock sculpture type of thing.  So off I went on my quest for a book or two about them.
    I got to the section and was looking through when I happened to glance over and saw a girl sitting, reading Diabetes for Dummies.  As many of you longtime readers know, I've been diabetic since I was 11...lord, and I'm 31 now so that's two decades, for crying out loud, so my curiosity was piqued.  I kept looking at books, though, because I'm, contrary to what you might thing, not the kind to just start a conversation with someone out of the blue.  The books were a waste of time...nice pictures and some decent tips, but no real depth for what I want to do (as with most projects like this, I think I'll just wing it if I decide to go with it.)  I noticed that the girl seemed a tad upset so, against my normal ways, I introduced myself and asked why she might be reading that particular book.
    I won't give her name, just in case you, dear reader, know her, for fear of calling someone out, but she's 18 and thinks she may indeed be diabetic.  We talked for a bit, I answered questions and such.  It was interesting because, I guess, though I've always been one of those "there for you" kind of people to my friends, I've never had that kind of interaction with a) a person I've not met or, b) with someone regarding diabetes.  A gentleman that I assume to be her boyfriend came up and the three of us continued to talk.  I think she's going to go to her doctor and, though I do hope that she's not diabetic, she certainly had the right attitude to handle it and seemed to be strong enough based on our brief encounter.  I gave her my card and said to contact me if she had any questions or anything, and I meant it.  Having been there, I know how much having someone to talk to that had actual experience with the condition would have helped me.
    But it also, on our way home, gave me pause to think while talking with Tracy about what had happened and about how much being diabetic has affected me and my life.  Not in the bad way that you might think, either.  It instilled a sense of responsibility that, though it would have been there from my parents, was reinforced due to necessity.  I realize how closely we all live with our own mortality, whether we realize it or not...frightening, yet exhilarating at the same time.  I realize how much some other folks might take for granted.
    Then again, in the end, I live with it.  It does not define me, though it is a part of me, like your hair style may be a part of you, or your choice in music or food you like.  As the saying goes, control your environment - don't let your environment control you.
    So, to the girl from Jo-Beth, I wish you the best and I'm glad we met.  You got my brain thinking along some different lines and that's always a good thing.  And, like I said, if you need anything, give a yell.

December 23, 2004 + "Wisdom From The Dinner Table."
    Before I throw them away, I thought I'd share with you all some of the fortune cookie wisdom that I've collected in 2004.  It's something of a strange thing that I normally keep the papers from my fortune cookies in my wallet.  You never know when you'll need a quick pick-me-up after dinner, you know?  Anyway, here goes:
   "There's a secret romance blooming!  Go for it, in spite of your hesitation."
    "You are almost there."
    "You're transforming yourself into someone who is certain to succeed."
    "Your lover will never wish to leave."
    "All the effort you are making will ultimately pay off."
    "God of Fortune is beckoning you."
    Amazing how optimistic those cookies are about me, huh?  The only one I have a problem with is the "secret romance" because I have no need for any secret romance...my romance with my wife is wonderful, thanks.  The cryptic "you are almost there" is frightening in how open-ended it is...where am I almost?  Huh?  WHERE?
    How about a couple quotes from Alien Agenda by Jim Marrs?
    "Perhaps a master system of intergalactic ethics dictates that no planet may have contact with another until is has subdued its own self-destructive violence.  Maybe the Earth is under some sort of quarantine."  - Lance Morrow, Time Magazine
    "(War can be used to) encourage populations to think in ways they would not otherwise do, and to accept the formation of institutions that they would normally reject.  The longer a nation involves itself in wars, the more entrenched those institutions and ways of thinking will become."  - William Bramley, regarding the profits of war
    So not only is Bush keeping us down and trying to turn us all into Republicans, but he's keeping E.T. away too!  The bastard!
    Can't we all just turn on our heart lights???
    *chuckling*...Merry Christmas, folks!

December 19, 2004 + "Colder & Older."
    Something is very wrong.  I remember from '91 to '95, while I was in college, having to park at the back lot at NKU and, literally, having to walk about a mile to get to any of the buildings I had classes in.  Rain, sleet, snow, freezing cold to the heat of summer, it never bothered me.  I love the winter, I must add.  Love snow and the cold.
    Until now, apparently.  For some reason, perhaps I'm becoming a fossil, the cold turn our weather has taken this week is killing me.  Can't handle it.  And I'm the guy that, with snow a foot deep, would walk out to get the mail wearing a t-shirt and shorts.  No longer, my friends.  I'm quite sad about this.  Prepare my room in the home....
    Check out Elements, while you're nosing around the internet.  A new offering from DKP.  Nifty wallets at a mere snip of a price.
    This will likely be the last entry for a week or so, so I will wish everyone a happy <insert holiday of choice here> and a happy new year.  Let's hope that 2005 brings some peace, compassion and understanding to the world.
    I may be getting older, but I can still dream, right?

December 10, 2004 + "Random Acts Of Alienation."
    There is a school of thought amongst the UFO/Alien community that certain races & creeds of alien life have been using the Earth as a living petri dish for milennia.  That human beings, and other life forms here, are essentially containers for DNA and biological information, having gone through, depending upon whom you read, 50 to 65 different genetic mutations over time.  Along with this, they say that religion & government are merely tools to keep us from killing each other like the animals we are.
    I believe this could very well be true.  For example, if you look at the history of human mutations, it seems that certain developments seem to happen nearly overnight, as opposed to genetic scrolling through generations.  Not all, though.  Also, the mind control of religion.  And the fervor with which we tend to defend it.  Is there a god in the sky ready to rain down wrath if you don't believe?  But keep in mind that he loves you...as long as you believe.  Otherwise, he doesn't and you're off the Christmas card list.  Of course, if you don't believe, then what would you be doing with Christmas cards anyway?
    I've been reading up on UFO/Alien information more lately.  Sort of a departure from my Governmental Conspiracy stuff that I had been delving into during the fall.  Some interesting connections between the two, as you might imagine.
    Let's just say that my trust in the government has always had some holes in it.  Whether true or not, there are startlingly plausible ideas out there that make more sense than what the evening news delivers.  The idea that we may all simply be pawns in some game(s) is not out of the realm of reality.  And that the religions that we hold dear may be part of those games.  Which leaves you, yet again, at the ultimate questions of reality and knowledge (Ontology and Epistemology, respectively,  for you Philosophy buffs out there).  Where do you go from there?
    Truth.  Emotion.  Love.  Happiness.  The Bill of Rights.  Walden.  The Tao te Ching.  Music.  Art.  Soul.  Creativity.  Noble Knowledge.  Science.
    I don't know.
    I do know that the new book, Rendering the Impossible, has been shelved until 2005.  DKP is going to marketing some nifty wallets that my wife has designed & manufactured.  Those will be out very soon and are called Elements (website coming shortly).  Scriptus Live is to be resurrected in mid-spring of 2005 as a web-radio program.  I'm researching recording equipment and hope to start doing some testing for that venture soon.
    And now, I'm going to bed.  It's been a long day a