Tuesday, September 13, 2011


opeth - the devil's orchard

oh baller.

you're welcome america.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

keep forgetting.
keep forgetting everything.
keep forgetting the order of everything.
when did they happen? who was there? in what order?
am i mixing some of my own stories with dreams?

am i dreaming now?

it's all happening in 7/4. everyone knows the dance steps but me.
it's all flying by me in slow-motion, wrapped up in the delirium of up-tempo jazz.


The metal press comes down to my left, pressurizing, locking and then releasing steam.
I grab my face in my hand and let it slide down. I sigh and pull the red lever to my right.

I haven't been sleeping too well lately. Too much on my plate. The divorce. The kids. The promotion. The nightmares.

What day was it? Wednesday? Christ, I could use a beer.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011


it always comes back to music. well, "music" and "time".

in life, i find myself boiling my politics, my love-life, my herbs, my spices, my views on international-trade, sex & drugs all in one big pot--and no matter the ingredients, no matter the stirring, no matter how i mix it all together.... i taste only the dulcet tones of one particular song. and it's the same song every time. i don't know what this song is. i don't understand any of the words in this song. it has been growing for 26 years. it has shifted and faded, changed and swelled. it never stands still and i don't know where it will go next. and it is oh so devilishly delicious.

so, yes, also, i can taste music.

i haven't played bass in over a week. i tried to play drums today but gave up after 10 minutes because i was having a "not-feeling-it-sesh,-man". i wish i had more time to rock out, i really do. lately i've been doing gads of things (i didn't really use 'gads' there) and just haven't had the time. it's like will ferrel in old school

FRANK: "Maybe bed, bath & beyond. i don't know. i don't know if we'll have enough Time!"

but it's true. that's what life is. figuring out what to do with your time.
and looking at it now, im starting to think i haven't lost as much music as i think i have. as im sitting here writing this i realize i've lived a shit-ton of lady gaga songs over the past couple months. i've gonna my swag on to more than one ke$ha song. i think i saw britney spears live a few weeks ago (fuzzy memory, lost cell phone, far from stage). Yea, none of these songs are ever going to make my top 500. i will never let my friends know i've ever enjoyed any of them. ever.

but who says you can't enjoy crappy music if you're with good friends? and making (more) great fuzzy memories? and who says you can't enJOy the music you don't enjoy? you have to live in the moment. you have to taste the sounds around you. you have to swirl around in whatever rhythm your song is creating.

you can't decide which songs make you smile when you remember a city, or a place, or a friend's awful hat. you can't tell what song might drive you to take up golfing. you can't know what songs will bring you back from the edge of depression. you don't get to pick what songs make you fall in love. you don't know which songs will ultimately drive your life. and you don't get to know what song will be your last.

so i sit here shirtless by the computer and i can't 1000% remember why i started writing this post. no clue. but that's ok. the tattoos emblazoned on my back are itching right now. itching for bass and for drum and for the sweet respite of time one finds just after midnight. it's time to do something i havent done in weeks. it's time to make sweet, sweet music to my bass. to add to my song. to give a little and to listen a little.

we've all got to listen. the music is all around us. those delicious songs drop in from time to time. here and there. whenever we least expect it.
it's our job to take them.
grab them.
and just hold on.

and for god's sake--- dance.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

The Gears Above

the fates lie in wait
the time to move is now

shift from 2nd to 3rd
the low-growl on asphalt

where are we going?
look up, see the ribbon unwind

"i dont know-- forward.
just hold on."

metallic teeth, alloys unhinged
the time to move is now

3rd to 4th now
the starshine drips down

the fates lie in wait
we're searching for 5th gear

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Holy Shit

Holy Shit my desktop got fixed and i remembered the password to my blog.

am i a 'blogger' once again?

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

k. william scott

K. William Scott.
Scottsdale, Arizona.

billy scott.
the scoff (his coworkers)
william (his mother)

this is the man i must kill.

the K. doesn't stand for anything. it's one of those names. and it's never just a "K" either. it's got to be connected at the foot to that period.


like that.

Germaine Street Pre-K.
Kelpville Elementary.
Kelpville High. (basketball team)
University of Illinois. (accountant/business classes)
Hilton Research Co. (consultant)
6', 173 lbs. 33. glasses.
mole over right cheek.
wife, daughter, dog named Sam.

every day that goes by is a day closer to when i will kill K. William Scott.

i've never met him.
i've never talked to him.
i don't even know why i need to kill him.

but i do.

and i'm so very afraid.
i laugh because you think it's your laws, your morality, your sense of stability and reason that frighten me.

i'm sorry to tell you but they don't so much as pose a nuisance, let alone keep me at bay. i could drive onto Red Valley Rd, park beyond the culdesac, walk onto 2119 Faulton Way, jimmy the side door lock, walk in, press 5119 (his and janet's birthdays), turn left, up the stairs and glide into the bedroom on the right -- careful not to step on the creak at the foot of the door -- and slit K. William Scott ear-to-ear before janet even had a chance to wake up and scream. keep on screaming.

i could.

but then what?

no, not the law. not justice. not reality. not guilt.

the voice.

what would happen to the voice?

the voice i've had since i was 7. the voice that kept repeating the name "K. William Scott" like some magic elixer into my ear....

at first i was terrified by the voice.

doctors. therapists. psychiatrists. pills. crying. fighting. mother. no father. couldn't concentrate in school.

no one could explain it.

no one could hear the voice but i.

and who in the world is K. William Scott?!
why in the world is his name whispered into my ear every. single. day?

and what did it mean?

was it me?
was i K. William Scott?

and then it happened.


i was 21 years old and for a research project at school we were allowed to use internet search engines.

and there they were, my fingers tracing the letters, almost as if someone else were controlling them.


i found him.

but it wasn't enough.

the more i obsessed, the more the voice took shape, whispered into my brain.

hurt him.
stop him.
kill him.

and there it was.

i told no one.

i researched more and more. frantically, moving to Arizona. searching him out. following the trail of breadcrumbs left behind. always searching, always gathering information, always hungry for K. William Scott. i needed more. i needed to end this.

but then what?
why kill him?
who am i?

so many questions, so much doubt, so un....sure.....

what happens when i do?
would the voice go away?
would i be alone forever?
what was this? where am i?

the years were peeling away around me, i didn't know who was up and what was down. i only knew K. William Scott. if i lost him....if i finished my one mission.... what would....

is this true madness?

what am i?

i ordered another gin and tonic, using two fingers to massage my aching forehead, willing it all to swill away with the next drink. Jillson's was packed full tonight and when i got my drink i tipped her well. i wanted her to remember me and keep bringing them as i needed them. i sipped on the cool, soothing elixer, a touch of the honey-drunk buzz beginning to spiral in my mind while K. William Scott ordered his 4th Bud Light across the bar, clinking bottles with his friend Dave. all the while i watched.

like always, i watched.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

sometimes there's a rhyme in my head

.... it's weird, i've wanted to write for days and days now. and days.

it builds up. words and thoughts overflow, get jumbled. soon, work intertwines, the days become nights, running and running, and before you know it:

it's payday
it's christmas
it's your second wife's third honeymoon anniversary
it's the holocaust chapter II
it's the last wednesday before you die (you do realize that day is coming, right?)
it's national pi day
it's that fucking ovaltine commercial again.

it's always.... something.

and it really is. human memory chains us to tradition, to friendships, to dates, to anniversaries, to ideas, to relationships in general.

the longer we live and the more people we engage in, the more we're 'integrated'. the more we're 'connected'. the more we're 'stuck in place' on a social level. the more 'amalgamated' into families and dramas.

i'm not rallying against it or anything. but it happens.

down with society!
down with relationships!
burn the calendar!
kill everyone over 30!!

it's just a fact of life. and it all just seems so fast.

sometimes it's the 'in between' moments i love the best. sometimes it's when i'm alone, unattached to anything or anyone, that i'm free to just 'be'.

in fact, right now, when i'm finished writing this, i'll go for a walk and just smoke a cigar. just chill. jam out some tunes, maybe think a few up. get away from people, and twitter, and the internet, and my family, and my cell phone, and my dog, and my computer chair....

no one. no thing.

and i couldn't do it always. i do love people (sexually, if you catch my drift). and i'm not about to forsake all my human relationships and social statuses (sexual ones, if you catch my drift).

just sometimes..... there's a rhyme in your head. there's a beat under your feet. there's swagger in the air. you can taste the electricity, roll it on your tongue. starlight catches your eye. it's something......

well, you know what i mean.