Find What You Love, and Let it Kill You

Yeah, that's about what's happening with me right now...let's just have a little preface, which will lead you along in this business...

SMLXL

That should pretty much tell you everything. While I do not intend to sink into an alcohol and drug-fueled end (I did that in the past, not to mention the psychosis), I will tell you that there are things that lead us there, whether we want this or not.

Case in point: I am THIS FUCKING CLOSE to having everything in for my next book, Live from the Cafe, but it does seem something is holding us up. If not one thing, another...it only serves to fuel my own weirdness, and if there is not enough stress in my life at this point, I didn't need more of it.

The big issue is: Sunbury Press has a release date planned for July 11th. I want to hit that. In fact, I've done all that I can do from my end. The final edits were sent in early this morning...we hit that date, I'm alright.

My cover artist, Mitch Bentley, delivered another gobsmacking cover, which is now off into the hands of the publisher for the lettering, and I've sent the boilerplate, the legal stuff, the backflap, all that shit.

We hit that date. That's the killer. The date. We gotta hit it.

Now, I am not pointing any fingers here...no insinuations, or accusations, because who knows what hits us next, both the big things and little things.

...shit happens, I accept that shit happens, and that we can work through the shit that happens, and we make shit happen.

I don't fucking quit. Have you noticed that yet?

Mitch is now off at SoonerCon...so hopefully he runs into the Boys from Oklahoma who know how to roll their joints and he has a blast.

Such is the business, any business. These things happen, and I assume they happen for a reason.

Such as raising my blood pressure higher than fuck. 

Oh, here's a sneak peak at the clean cover...

SMLXL

Is that cool or what? Mitch paints vivid shots that open things up, and I hope once this also makes you want to drop in on the cafe In the Middle of Nowhere, Quebec.

Imagine a one-stop-light town, where everything seems old and out of time, but for a few things. There's one convenience store, a Chinese takeout joint, and all the life seems to revolve around this odd, rustic, massively uncorporate coffee place called Le Cafe.

Life in a small Northern Town, where the people are strong, the coffee stronger, and you never know who will show up to hang out, drink and play music.

You step back (I hope) into your own life. You remember change, resistance to change, what it was like to be young, and to stay young, and the people around you that you trusted, not just liked a little bit.

It's a weird place in our own lives but there it is. 

Not exactly a bucolic existence, and I have made it anything but. Some of this will make you uncomfortable because I am anything but comfy.

But I digress...

...I got into reading Bukowski's really gritty, nasty, down in the dirt poetry, his womanzing, drinking, horseplaying self, to the point you are on the bar crawls with this guy, the voyeur watching some of this stuff, and wondering how the fuck you got here.

It's life. We've all been there, or are there.

I am a bit more fortunate than others. I try not to judge, though I do admit to joking a lot. You have to have some kind of humor to get through this.

I am seeing things that are reflected in the book, but they come back in the alternative universe. Friends being torn to shit by stupid things like politics, the subtle difference between people is enough to unfriend them from Facebook, and then life itself.

Were any of us really friends?

Do we have friends?

I hate it when people bitch that so and so went off the rails because he/she didn't have "real" friends, and surrounded themselves with people who only did what they wanted 'em to do, enabled them, blah fucking blah.

To those to judge: LOOK IN THE FUCKING MIRROR, THE CRACKED, SMASHED, JERKED UPON MESS YOU MADE!

Go to the mirror, boy...you have no more right than I do.

Now, friends...

It's funny...how sometimes...a chance meeting or a discussion will open the door to that person, the one you have not even met face to face, and you are presented with a really, genuinely nice, person. A kind person...one that is that cool with who they are, and does not give a shit about what anyone else thinks.

They are rare.

I won't say who she is, but this is someone I knew over a year ago (still have not met), and we reconnected. Her actual recollection of this insignificant interviewer was heartening to me, and that she remembered what I was working on, above the amazing project she is now engaged in.

She asked, "How do you do it?"

My writing? I didn't answer right away, because I didn't know. I guess I rambled one off...but the time, energy and effort put into her project is the same as mine.

You give all of it, at that given moment.

Live from the Cafe is the current give. It's actually a pretty fair one, I think. I'll be shamelessly plugging away at that.

But this friend...yeah, she is one. I hope to meet her one day and say thank you for reminding me that you can open yourself up and be rewarded for it.

Not shredded for it.

There's too much shredding right now, internally and outwardly. 

We gotta stop shredding each other. Put aside the bullshit differences, and take each person as they are.

As much as some people will not believe it...despite my views on things, I don't give a fuck what yours are. 

You make it an issue. I try NOT to. Not always good at it, but I'm doing my best.

I hope you are.

So yeah...we have to dive into the morass every now and then, get covered in it, roll around in it, and be reminded where we are.

I get up and out of it and say, "Psych! I'm still here! Get used to it!"

And I hope you can put my madness aside enough to see what I've offered, and I hope it does some good.

There's a reason I don't blog much anymore...I want to put all my energy, the positive, good energy into the story, the words, the phrases, those fucked-up dysfunctional characters that travel 'round and 'round in my brain.

'Cause they're a little bit me...and a little bit you (sorry to Neil Diamond).

Anyway, to borrow from Bukowski...there, I feel better.

Pour me another.

Peace, Out.

We Are the New Heroes

Yes, we've finally done it.

We've managed to stagger our way to the end of 2016, and we're still alive. Most of us, anyway. For some of us we find ourselves trying to make sense of a universe we've created for ourselves, and are now slowly destroying it, one brain cell at a time.

Be prepared, I will probably go on a rant.

I can't even begin to completely state in proper words just what a clusterfuck 2016 has been. I don't even want to start with achievements or accomplishments, because they pale in comparison to what we have done to ourselves.

I am not a full-on Gloom and Doom person. No, believe me, I'm not. 

We have lost numerous luminaries in the arts, music, and other areas important to us. My friend Natasha, for example, wrote a heartfelt and emotional post on Facebook about the loss of David Bowie, and what he meant to her.

I think her words reflected a lot of what people felt when Bowie died quietly, and then from the beyond roared back with one final brilliant album, and all the stuff that went with it.

Bowie's life was art. All of these folks were think of were like that. Life is art. And there is an art in living one's life. There really is.

I was never a huge Bowie fan, but I respected him. Never a huge fan of Prince, same thing, respect.

Think of the one person, famous or not, that meant a lot to you, who left us too soon.

Think about it.

I'm lucky. I didn't lose anyone I was deeply close to, unlike friends of mine. 

Why do I say it like that?

I've killed more characters than those I've lost.

These people we loved, but may never have met...they inspired us, and that's great. But what did we do with that inspiration?

What, indeed? (To borrow a phrase)

Leonard Cohen was another. Never a big fan, but respect.

And yeah...what he did...words, music, poetry, spiritual searching. Out of them all, Leonard was The Man.

The Man.

On the other side of it, our obsession with celebrity, with power, with arrogance and madness continues. 

We rush to defend in the strongest of terms people we side with, ignoring the actual gravity of the situation.

I see parallels to King Lear in Donald Trump. Think About It. If you've ever seen the performance of Shakespeare's play, only the names are changed.

We have set loose a grand experiment, and I wonder what we'll be like at the end of it. Oh, we'll still be here; I just wonder what we'll be like.

Will we...?

--Remain obsessed with things that don't matter? The Kardashians, sports, Star Wars movies, "reality" television, dirty doings of people we secretly hate but remained fascinated by?

--Rush about like adolescents on a playground, screaming abuse and hatred on weaker individuals, then running to hide behind the big kid, or the teacher while still lobbing hateful insults and victim-blaming slurs from the protective sphere?

--Believe everything we are told by whomever confirms your ideas?

--Immediately castigate anyone who is attacked by someone you like as a liar, a fake, an agent provocateur, someone who deserved it, instead of decrying the violence done against someone, that no one deserves?

Well...I know what I'm gonna do.

I gotta job to do.

I have two books, "Parasite Girls" and "A Moment in the Sun" out now. "Live from the Cafe" will be my third, and comes out in 2017, hopefully. A fourth will follow.

I keep writing. I keep promoting myself, and plugging my work, because I have a lot to do before I leave this body.

I am going to do it. 

We all have lost heroes. Too many influential people have gone. I see no new heroes. No new groundbreakers, no new anything.

It's our time.

"We can be heroes..." not just for one day, but forever.

So...forgive me if I seem to be about me...no, these stories are about you, and for you. Yeah, I'm enjoying my writing, and my therapy. This is what I do.

I take pride in using my spare hours in creating. I came up with this a long time ago.

"I write about what I want to see, not what other people tell you you're supposed to see."

That's what I do. The world I want to see can be attained, and it's here, if we choose to do it that way.

We are the new heroes.

Think About It.

Now...GO FUCKING DO IT.

Peace, Out.

Arrogance, and the Obnoxious Fad that Passes for...

...wait for it...

...wait for it...

...you know where I'm going, right...

Religion.

Yep. I'm headed down a track that is sure to offend some of you, and start a whole new debate. I again have found myself in that position of having to defend my spirituality from someone who is not ready to admit that there's any "god" but their own.

I had a long, and interesting talk yesterday with not one, but two people. I will not use their names, because that's not necessary. But I received two points of view, and have reached my own conclusion about myself.

The first is a fellow who remembered me from several years ago. I'd come to write a piece about his workplace. A decent man, and I feel a good one, really I do. Hadn't seen him in a while, and he's back in town.

He wears his mask well.

The conversation turned to religion. I'll make no bones about what I think of Organized Religion. I defend to death your right to be what you will be, and are. But I draw the line when you use that "faith" to attack others.

I am sure he didn't mean it as such, but I was under attack.

When a person listens, but does not hear, and continually turns and twists words back through his own prism of belief, a tenuous one at best, and continues to attack you, what is that?

It is not the "faith" that a follower of Jesus should do, IMHO. Jesus (whom I now believe was not a real person, but a fabrication) did not walk about the world tub-thumping...but as Gandhi said in paraphrasing, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ."

I recall my Congregational upbringing, until I was 12. I remember sermons and a church led by two of the finest, kindest men I knew then, and find hard to match. Reverend Hazen, and the man who later replaced him, Reverend Fuqua. Two men who treated every single person with kindness, respect and decency. 

They did NOT attack with religion, they did NOT try to convert you, they did NOT make you feel inferior and try to make you one of them.

What the fuck happened?

Televangelism, electronic media, and a radical savagery of the faith, and it crosses all boundaries.

The discussion with this fellow reminded me of when I was 15. I was under attack by a teacher, and her fellow born-again haters. A hateful, thinly-veiled cynicism and disgust for all that were not like them.

You may be a Christian, but you are not Christian enough. Ever.

I recall feeling bullied, and attacked, and questioned. I wasn't already good enough as a human being for my own family, let alone this!

I am going to tell you what I am. I am Buddhist. I meditate to Kirtan, and I am a Pagan. Our people were here before Christ's creation as a character, and our people's ways were co-opted, borrowed and stolen.

And they have the nerve to try and wipe us off the map.

They have the nerve to massacre 18 million people in Central America, and wipe out the entire native population of Cuba, in the name of "God" of course.

I do not discount the massacre of a million Armenian Christians in the First World War. I do not discount the massacres during the wars in Bosnia. Nor the 13 million Hitler did to death...not just the Jews, but Cossacks, Krimchaks, Russians of all stripes, and those caught up in the occupied territories. Two million or more murdered during the regime of Pol Pot.

Not to say how many Stalin eliminated. Or Mao Tse-Tung wiped out.

And we see what the "Islamic State" is now doing in the Middle East.

What the fuck happened?

What happened to the Good Samaritan I learned of? What happened to the people who showed respect and kindness to others, regardless of what they looked like or where they came from?

When did faith get caught up in patriotism? 

This much I have learned: we cannot change other's minds. We cannot turn others who cling to views that they are fearful of losing. This fellow clearly had his prism, and all thing must pass through it.

I don't think, again, he meant harm. But he would not listen. To him, I am a terrible person, a lost soul, a creature destined for Hell (which does not exist).

And his own self-flagellation is bizarre. A sinner who will never be forgiven, no matter what. A life of existential suffering, and yet...oh yes, he'll be in the Good Land or whatever it's called.

But to suffer that whole way?

Suffering exists. But we do not have to die for it. We can make things better.

I am who I am. I am not perfect, as I'm human. I have tried, believe me I have tried not to hate. I don't believe in it. Hate is too strong, and hate kills.

I don't know of anyone who hates me. I don't know of anyone who despises me. I'm sure some don't like me, but that's fine. 

I do not profess to know great truths. "Jesus he knows me, and He knows I'm right...been talking to Jesus all my life." Genesis, the band...heehee.

No. 

I call bullshit.

I am Me.

I can trust myself to make the right choices.

I can trust myself to be as mindful as I can.

I take responsibility for this, and all things.

I do not agree with a lot of things, and I don't like a lot of things. I stand against a lot of things, especially the mad cults of Organized Religion. If you go there, it is your business and your decision. I do not say you're bad because of it. I hope it is right for you.

THIS is right for me.

There is One Race. The Human Race. We're it, folks.

Let's stop the hating. Let's stop killing. Let's stop feeling so fucking threatened by every little thing.

I'm gonna do my best. Here's hoping you can too.

We don't need to obsess or talk about IT all the time. To do that leads to the tunnel that you will never escape from.

This is a good world, but we each have to make it good. Stop looking for shit to stir. We can make this thing work, folks.

In my writing, I write what I want to see, not what others tell you you are supposed to see. Does that make sense? I hope so.

NOW...that all said, let me tell you about the second person.

Without going to deeply into it, this individual talked to me in an interview about her life, her career, her family, and what she loves doing. We are artists in our own way, and our own right.

This person, younger than me, showed incredible poise, maturity and sense of place. It has nothing to do with religion, and posing, and hiding behind something.

She was There.

Doing what she loved, and knowing the fulfillment to herself, and to others. Not about money. Not about fame. Not about anything but doing what is right for HER.

In her, I see how the madness can end.

I was reminded of why I write, and why I do the things I do. It is right for me.

Be right for you, and don't let others browbeat you, attack you, piss on you. You cannot change them, and you do not need to change for anyone.

Be YOU.

YOU is what is right for you. Change when you need to, and accept the inevitability that it does happen.

I change when I will, not when others dictate it to me.

I go where I will, not when others tell me to.

"An' it harm none, do what ye will."

My sense of place has been restored. I don't know if any of this makes sense, and I'm sure some of you will be stunned by this. 

I hate no one. I have malice toward none. I don't blindly love everyone, but I really hope that as we go on, we can be what we will be, but try and respect the differences.

And the similarities. 

We are all one...we're all we've got, folks.

Peace, Out.

The Weekend from Hell

Isn't that what it seems like in the world?  My old girlfriend/radio compadre Kelly K. first used the term Day from Hell, and we've all had plenty of those.

This one...whoa...

I have not blogged of late because I've been busy.  I mean it.  TrafficTalk is now ready to launch hopefully this Wednesday; my equipment appears to be ready to roll, and we are set to bring traffic reporting into a new dimension.

http://www.traffictalk.info/

Go there.  That'll explain everything.

Now...a double shift on Saturday.  The WITF/KYW shift went well, lot of sports to watch/monitor and cover, but it was good.  Then it was off to 1460 the Ticket to produce the Hershey Bears-Manitoba Moose (AHL for you non-hockey fans).  John Walton was up in Winnipeg, and my colleague Matt helped me get the procedures up and running.

It actually went pretty well, and it was an exciting game.  I am now ready to fly solo, which still unnerves me, but I have come this far, I can make it happen.

I didn't get outta there til midnight, so a 14 hour day, kind of.  Then a run to Kaitryth's house to make sure things were looking okay, and they were.

Up early this morning for WITF/KYW yet again, then zoom back home, dump 80 pounds of ice melter on that hellacious driveway of mine so people could get here for Ahltyrra.

Now...on our Myspace page, and elsewhere you will learn essentially what I tell you now:  Ahltyrra has ended, and we are now known as the Dharma Fools.

The lineup is changed, and the musical direction we hope to follow has also done.  We will still play a number of those songs, and there will be more. 

The DF's was a side project, that played some of the A. songs, plus a few different pieces, and a few more covers.  It's time to go this way; Ahltyrra will always be for me an amazing experience, which tested my skills as a musician beyond anything I've ever done.

Four of us are back, and we've a new female singer, who blew us the fuck away on a Sara Bareilles (is that how you spell it?) song.  My God, Katie's good.

We are energized once again, to get back at it.  We are up for consideration by the May Day Faerie Festival, and we hope to get a slot.  We're gonna be working it, believe me.

I feel better than I have in so long; I was feeling pretty good that I was back in radio, doing my first real love, and had time to write, and keep on writing, and now this.  It's feeling good; 2011 is our year, for all of us.

Yet in all this, we have the terrible tragedy in Arizona.  I have tried hard to think how do I react to this?  I am shocked, saddened, but not totally surprised.

I knew this would happen.

Now, the trolls and apologists are out in force, decrying that this fellow Loughner or whatever his name is, is everything from a deranged loon acting alone, to a flaming liberal who went mad, or a Tea Party freak, a Republican wingnut, this, that and the other.

What is he?  Who is he?  Do any of us know, except for him and perhaps those in his circle?

We have no right to decide, based on second and third-hand information.  I can only surmise.

Based on what little I've read, and listened on, I've heard different things.

We know that this individual had some definite mental health issues.  Those who knew him say he was a person who was outspoken and had some pretty crazy views on things.

His Youtube videos state that he was disillusioned, and paranoid.  He believed the government was after him, he had become disillusioned by religion in general, and spouted views that our money was something he could not trust, beyond silver and gold.

There apparently is at least one other person of interest the authorities are looking for, an older man that has not been identified, who was in the vicinity when Congresswoman Giffords and several others were gunned down.

The saddest victim was a nine year old girl, who was interested in government and wanted to meet the Congresswoman at an open event at a supermarket.

Who could have imagined this would happen?  I don't think anyone could predict it, yet we have plenty of proof that the rhetoric that has been spouted by people who are extremist in their views, and also possibly not the brightest bulbs in the case, either.

Individuals like Loughner, who despite a drug arrest in 2007 (he completed some kind of program and the arrest was I think expunged), and who had serious issues was still able to buy a Glock with an expanded magazine, turn up a public event and kill.

It is clear from evidence found he targeted Giffords.  The Congresswoman apparently was a conservative, Blue Dog Democrat, but that doesn't mean much.

Democrat means the enemy to a lot of these freaks.  Giffords' local office was targeted by people who didn't like her votes on immigration and health care.  She was also one of the people whose face was targeted in a rifle crosshairs on Sarah Palin's website, and probably elsewhere too.

Now...I am NOT blaming the former Gov. of Alaska for Giffords' death.  I do also appreciate that the crosshairs were taken down, a day late and a dollar short.  She didn't, as rightwingers like to postulate, put that gun in Loughner's hands.  Certainly not.

She is however one example of conservative, rightwing lightning rods who have made it clear that resistance to anything Barack Obama, the Democrats, the liberals, the progressives, the whomevers is a must.

I don't want to say by any means necessary; that interpretation is a broad one, and Loughner decided to put it into action.

There has been a terribly vicious, hateful segment of the media (Fox News at the top), including a number of talk show hosts, so-called "religious leaders," and attention-whoring politicians who have pushed the weak-minded, the vulnerable, and those on the edge to actually believe all the crap that has been spewed.

I am sure that people who read this are going to either agree with me or disagree, and will do everything they can to apologize for, dissemble, and divert attention from where it belongs.

These people pushed buttons...lots of buttons, and they need to reap the whirlwind.

True, the instrument of action was Loughner.  He must, if he's proven mentally able to stand trial, do so.  Nothing he can do will bring back that child, nor make so many people feel any better.  He needs to be tried properly and face his due.  Anyone who helped him, they too must be brought to justice.

Do we agree so far?

I hope so.

I want to know what Loughner's contacts were; his book reading list has been picked apart.

He liked "The Communist Manifesto."  Rightwingers have seized upon this to prove he's a liberal.

But he also liked "Mein Kampf."  Hitler, a liberal?  Hardly.  A lot of righties seem to have a sick fascination and admiration for that man, and I don't know why.

One thing a friend of his did say:  apparently, Loughner suffered a case of alcoholic poisoning some years ago.  I wonder:  did that experience unhinge a mind already close to it?  I'm no doctor, but I wonder if it did.

I've heard (but I'm sorry to say I don't know how true this is) that Loughner had some kind of tie or was known to an organization in Arizona that was known to be anti-Semitic.  I'd like to know if this is so.

Arizona has been a hotbed of drugstore cowboys who are focused on illegal immigration to the point they took up arms and started patrolling the US/Mexico border.  We know about some of those folks; Lou Dobbs was masturbating with glee at the stuff they were doing.

We have turned into a banana republic, where one's idea of political discourse is to kill your opposition.  This is not Colombia, nor is it India or any other nation where this kind of violence is stock in trade.

Everyone needs to think about this.  My old college friend Jay pointed out recently that the hate speech, the hate-filled rhetoric, the emotional madness that has afflicted us is what needs to stop.

We again, everyone one of us, need to be mindful.  What we say, what we do, all of it.  I know I'm twisting in the wind on this, because most people will just toss this off and forget it. 

We have to grow up.

We have to stop finding boogeymen under every bed, around every corner, and stop believing that others are responsible for the problems we THINK we have.

I don't want to know what all those arrogant pundits are gonna say.  Some will be angry, some will circumspect (not many), and others will sniff their noses and blame anyone they don't like for it.

I don't give a fuck what you think.  You need to think for yourself.  All I know is, I feel horrid; I feel dirty, and I feel sad.

We can't do this anymore, folks.  If we want our nation to survive, the violence, and that also includes speech and rhetoric must end.  We must stop.

It starts with you and me.  Each one of us.

Despite what I think of the rightwing nuts, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh and political loons like Sarah Palin, I HAVE NEVER WANTED THEM DEAD.  I do NOT wish violence to come to them or to their people.

They have a right to how they feel, as do their followers.  But with that comes responsibility.

I'd like to see that taken up by everyone.

Now...one ray of hope in the human spirit is the Congresswoman's incredible will to live.  Despite a terrible wound, she was able to hear one of her interns speaking to her.  It's unlikely she'll ever have a normal life again, but who knows?  Amazing things have happened before.

I honestly hope the best for her, and all those hurt by this.

Another thought:  Loughner's family.  They must be thinking, "My God, we'll never live this down."  I don't blame them for what he did.

What a mess.  This world is seriously fucked up, and we have let it happen.  It's time to stop, step back, and realize that what we have in this nation is precious.  I'm not afraid of saying that, pithy though it may seem.

All I know is, if you agree or disagree, I don't really mind.  But think for yourself.  Let's see where it goes.

I've had enough.  Enough of all of this. 

Blessed Be.