Friday, October 21, 2016

Satan IS Real...



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6QmRbvCSMY


Here is a version of the greatest music mix I ever found on the Internet. It was at a blog called The Big Rock Candy Mountain. He always had the very best songs.

I wanted to jus post a link but the file at the blog was dead.

here it is enjoy

Big Rock Candy Mountain Presents: Satan Is Real(A Devilish mix)
(Link to mix follows track listing)

1. Satanville (The Gibson Brothers)
2. Devil Is Watching You (Lightning Hopkins)
3. Sinner's Dream (Eugene Fox)
4. Satan Is Real (The Louvin Brothers)
5. Devil Do (Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs)
6. Idle Hands Are the Devil's Playtings (Palace Brothers)
7. Wrestling With Satan (Lightning Beat-Man)
8. Deacon Brown Vs. The Devil (The Holidays)
9. Chased Old Satan (The Woodie Brothers)
10. Race With The Devil (Gene Vincent)
11. Satan (The Dwarves)
12. Satan's River (Porter Wagoner)
13. Me and the Devil Blues (Robert Johnson)
14. Say No To the Devil (Rev. Gary Davis)
15. Go Away Devil (Little Axe)
16. I'll Never Let the Devil Win (Sleepy LaBeef)
17. She Belongs To the Devil (Wasboard Sam)
18. (censored)
19. Old Red Devil (Hollis Champion)
20. Devil's Gonna Get You (Bessie Smith)
21. Get Behind Me Satan and Push (Billie Jo Spears)
22. Devil Is Mad (Dorothea Fleming)
23. Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down (Uncle Tupelo)
24. We've Got the Devil On the Run (Elder Lightfoot)
25. Satan Sold Out (Them Ranch)
26. Workin' Like the Devil For the Lord (Del Reeves)
27. Send My Soul To the Devil (Frankie Lee Sims)
28. I've Got A Devil In Me (Big Foot Chester)
29. Satan Wears a Satin Gown (Frankie Laine)

30. Last Song About Satan (Slim Cessna's Auto Club)

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

"Still The World's Only Voice Throwing Kat"

Friday, October 3, 2014

59 is the new, "too damn close to 60"

October 3, 1955, a cold day on the high plains of South Dakota and an expatriate Texan, Sammy Couger, finds herself delivering a child earlier than expected. Much like the virgin mother, she knew this child was special, its paternal bloodline possibly in dispute. Yes, she had explained it to the man willing to stand as her husband, Jack. Although previously blessed with an adorable baby girl(who came out of the oven even less well done) both "parents" anticipated the upcoming lottery of progeny.

Boy girl, girl boy, both hoped for ten fingers, ten toes and a smile, even if some suggest Jack yearned non-silently for yet another appendage/digit to insure future bloodlines any healthy issue would be welcome. The years since a royal male child issued forth(3 decades and 3, the age of the great prophet Y'oshua at accession) had brought a drought upon the land. The signs  were aligned and with the tragic passing of the first and eternal teen the previous Friday, thrown from a silver spider at the setting of the sun, birth was emminent.

Blah, blah, blah, so I got born and luckily I was a male 'cause no way in heck would I willingly drag Alice around for a first name the rest of my life. Named for Alice's maiden name back in the day Riley was a unique first name shared with very few. Now, every time you turn around somebody uses it willy-nilly, male female, spelled correctly and is more often the case spelled creatively enough to confuse even the most open minded. Reighleigh is one of most otherly spelled I've seen in my years in public edumacation.

For most of my life I shared the joys of the day with my uncle Dan, whose 16th birthday I spoiled. My middle name is Dan and we had a bond that few uncles and nephews had. He was one of my best friends, a role model(not always a positive one, although the bootlegger's turn has served me well when driving near or above the posted speed limit)com padre, teacher, alchemist, master grocer, and reader extraordinaire. In the end I was there when he demonstrated the way of passing I hope to emulate when that time comes. This will be my second birthday w/o him although last night in my dreams he wanted me to tell all my relatives, they should just go ahead and give me the presents they would have given to him.

Other musings- today I am the age my grandfather was when I was born. I never thought of Pump as "old" he was just older than others but not as old "old" as my dad's father. Pump worked everyday, boiled coffee in the morning, listened to the farm report and his two story house with the rock fence and big pecan tree in the yard was the only place I ever felt safe. It was my hideout when things were rough and childhood  turned to crap. Growing up in Topeka I wished I had a basement that stretched all the way to Graford so I could ride my trike underground when life with a crazy mom got too crazy.

Thinking that I'm now 59 is such a hoot to me. On one hand I know the facts prove the reality of the situation, yet it seems so ludicrously irrational that I can't really wrap my head about it. Other than all the junk wrong with me health wise I don't feel 59. I remain the loud mouthed smart aleck I was at 12. The difference, I've done more of the cool stuff, been through the bad stuff, but still am just the kid that likes to read, thinks girls are pretty cool, loves movies and books and wishes I could listen to music all the day long.

My greatest motivation for making 60 is that being able to say I'm 60 just seems so damn funny.

Okay, presents are cool too.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Dr. Henson


Clip of Dr. Henson at Topeka West Hall of Fame
"Our business as rational human beings is to strive for what ought to be, rather than what is going to be, in ounsciousness that it will never be all we want it to be."
- Herbert Mueller, Uses of the Past

"Hes gone. 8:20 or so. Shirley, Chris, Scott and I with him. Jimmy had just left.
Heaven has a new Principal."



I got this text tonight letting me know that the father of a best friend had died. Owen Henson was my high school principal, a mentor, a role model, a friend and much more to not just me, but to a generation of Topeka West kids, teachers, peers, administrators, a wealth of friends. I think it can be said there were few more powerful advocates for students and the important function of a strong system of public education ever. It took me over 40 years to refer to him as Owen and not, Dr. Henson. Few adults other than relatives have had such an important impact on my life.

Owen stressed that the most important relationship at school, the only one that really mattered and that must be supported above all others was that of student & teacher. The jobs and functions  that directly supported the student & teacher had to be a top priority.

He was a good friend as well. Living in Topeka after HS with no family the Hensons treated me as just another kid hanging out. Along with the Strattons and Lafonds, Owen & Shirley made sure that no matter what,  I knew where I could find a basement in case the sirens blew. After the passing of my mom and dad my kids could always count on birthday cards and care packages at Winfield. 

There is much more I could say and after the reality settles in maybe I'll say more. For now I want to close with a poem by Ferlinghetti:

The World Is a Beautiful Place
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you

Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen

and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs
and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician

In closing, the world was made a better and more beautiful place with Dr. Henson in the front office down in A building.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

forty years on...

bundies-2014


This weekend is the 40th reunion of what should have been my high school graduating class. I went to school with the same kids from kindergarten until my junior year. That summer my family moved from Topeka to Austin, Texas. There I graduated early, in January, and left the next day to head out on my own. I moved back to Topeka and the rest as they say is.....

I planned to be at the reunion until last Friday when my doctor advised against 8 to 10 hours of traveling by car. As my tele-portation device, made for me by a 2nd grade GT student some ten years ago, has never really worked correctly, I won't get to make it. I still wanted to share several things with everybody.

TREAT NUMBER ONE:
Here's a link to Audio House Studio recordings of NE Kansas garage bands from 1960s


The Bundies Saga

In the spring of 1971 I was walking home from Landon Junior High when an idea for movie popped open in my mind. I was always getting ideas and it was that year when I started jotting them down. I still have lots of those notebooks.

On this day a fully formed story came to me. Maybe not all the names, but plot points, scenes, characters and music. The music selections dominated my thinking. I made super 8 movies with a group of friends. We used a primitive lip sync method called Bell & Howell Filmo-sound. There was always a carefully weighed tradeoff in our movies between sound/dialogue and cinematic vision. If only we’d had the HD recorders almost all kids have access to now there is no telling what we might have done.

That day walking through Hillsdale park at Huntoon & Fairlawn I thought of my idea as a modern opera using rock songs from my past(tunes from way back in 1967) to tell the story of young love and betrayal in 6th grade.

It seemed like heady stuff at the time. I carried the idea around for years. During high school and college when discussing great ideas for movie projects I always had it ready to pull out and pitch.

Fast forward to 1981, June, my brother, Crager and I find ourselves in Los Angeles so he can check out the graduate film program at USC. We’ve spent the day at Disneyland. Even at 25 it was all I’d ever dreamed it could be. For the drive back from Anaheim we stopped at a grocery store and dang if you couldn’t buy real booze in a grocery store. Back home in Texas, we couldn’t buy light bulbs on Sunday, but 18 year-olds could buy any manner of alcohol and drink and drive as long as you weren’t intoxicated. Scout’s honor! Talk about goofy, I worked for the state and got both Juneteenth and Confederate Veterans Day off. Like a whole other country.

35 bucks American(1981dollars) to borrow that costume to nab these snapshots...

Needless to say by the time we got back to Hollywood Blvd. where we were staying at a motel with perfect audio access to various business  transactions of prostitutes on the corner(this was before 1984 Summer Games) in Room 237. 



Once more I digress. As ardent fans of Kubrick’s take on The Shining we thought it was darn trippy. Your humble narrator was a tad less than a shade away from being able to drive in his newly adopted  home state of Texas. When we saw the bright lights of the Tower Records on Sunset I blabbered at Crager to stop, please can we stop.


I love record stores. Before I became an educator I worked in them for over a decade. Not that much different from a severe alcoholic tending bar where he gets free drinks. Remember, in ‘81 there were still “record” stores filled with actual records, cassettes, and 8-tracks. You could get lost in a store like Tower that had a 45 section that had, that had, that had….almost any 45 I was looking for. I stocked up with the songs I needed for my still oft discussed operatic tale of young prepubescent love. I walked out with almost 50 bucks worth of 45s.

Back in Austin I made a tape called, “Going Steady,” which had been my working title for years. I had a spiral notebook I’d been adding to for 5 or 6 years with ideas for this one project. I played the tape whenever I was in my truck. I especially liked putting the tape in after I got off work at the Children’s Unit of the State Hospital, cranking it up, sipping on a cool G&T, windows down, driving west from Austin into the dark & starry nights of the Hill Country, out around Enchanted Rock and back home maybe 3 hours later. Some nights I ended up pulling off the road and “resting” until the morning, falling asleep to Crystal Blue Persuasion.

the rock



In April of 1982, during a month period between jobs, I finally sat down with my index cards and notes and tape and typed out the first draft of what became, Bundies. The PDF posted here is very close to the original but was finished in 1986? as my submission in the Nichols Fellowship Screenwriting Competition.

Obviously, I didn’t win. Now, after a surprise career shift very late in my career, I’m a 2nd & 3rd grade math teacher. I’ve never sold a screenplay but it never stopped Crager and me from trying. The only one that ever really mattered to me was Bundies, well, and, Somewhere Cold in the Midwest, What Did You Expect a Bubble Bath?, 100 Pieces, Gone, The Story of the Christmas Potato,Thunderhead,...not to mention the ones I never completed, Adobe Walls, Battle Dance, House of Three  Brothers, This Version of You, The Orphan, My 3 El-vy, The Big Yard, Frito and Thud, The Music Supervisor, George Clooney IS "The Book Club Detective, Cart Monkeys, 8:38, Los Matavacas, and I've got demons that need a jesus.

If you read Bundies, which I hope you will, (that’s why I posted it) you won’t get very far before you go...wait a minute, this sure reminds me of, that show, you know the one from the 80’s, with Kevin and Winnie….

10 roger on that good buddy. There are many similarities, coincidences, all I can say is, just like inventions good ideas have a way of serendipitously emerging at the same time. Even though Bundies floated around over two years before "that TV show," there is nothing that would lead me to believe it is anything beyond coincidence. Do I wish I’d been in the right spot and the right time first? As cool as that would have been, no, not really. I’m where I am right now because of all that has happened before. Because of that, this, etc.

I’m happy and selfishly that’s all that matters to me.

I hope  you will take the time to read it. Obviously it isn’t perfect and I’m betting there’s typos and other flaws. I haven't even read since I digitized it 6 years ago. I wrote it over 30 years ago. Looking back it was a different life time. 

Bundies, a screenplay PDF 

I’ve also provided links to two playlists on YouTube. One has the songs I bought that night in LA and originally imagined telling the story.




The other is the soundtrack for what  I’d call Bundies II or When we were immortals. One of my best friends(actually my cousin) used that term to describe the point in time when an incredible joyride/horror show experience happened to him just south of the border which he related to me 25 years after the fact in his backyard on a summer’s eve. Dub has stories, true stories, that could fuel more than just a couple of movies about the folly of youth.

Spaceship Orion would be the alternate title to the movie which doesn’t actually have much to do with Bundies except the characters are the same age and mention is made peripherally about certain Bundies characters. The basic story revolves around friends remembering a botched trip to Texas to see the Grateful Dead, the misadventures, and the tragic consequences retold as they sit in a surgery waiting room while one of their circle is having open heart surgery. If I ever get it all typed up I’ll post it too.

Please stay in touch. Leave a message and an email. Because of my role as a teacher I no longer used Facebook or any other social media. It makes it much easier all around.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Derek


Just finished watching the pilot of , Derek, the latest show from the mind of Ricky Gervais. Brilliant...not sure how the next 6 will pan out, but if they come close to the pilot Gervais should be forgiven  for every single time he's offended someone or crossed an uncrossable line. He is a genius.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Shows all sold out, yet seats always miraculously available...

Heaven is sort of becoming the Branson or Las Vegas of, .. well, heaven. I even heard that BW Stevenson and Fromholz are gigging again.

Pete Seeger

1919-2014

here is great link to selection of Seeger Songs

http://theweek.com/article/index/255630/8-songs-to-remember-pete-seeger-by

Monday, January 20, 2014

Texas Trilogy




Rusty Wier Poster

Steven Fromholz

June 8, 1945 – January 19, 2014




Bears

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoOb4nnkID4

I'd have to be crazy sung by Willie Nelson

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-6bYOwr2Bg

Texas Trilogy from Frommox

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDVpz-qEnPs

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Gone With The Wind?

Can an argument be made that, "Saving Silverman" merits inclusion in the American Film Institute's next revised greatest films of all times list? I think the answer is ...

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saving_Silverman

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Holiday  Myo͞oziˈkal/

noun: musicale; plural noun: musicales
1. - a musical gathering or concert, typically small and informal.
For many years I've put together a Christmas "mix tape." If I stop and concentrate I'd guess the first one was an extremely lo-fi attempt in most likely 1969.  It amounted to several songs sequenced from LP's and recorded with the microphone of my Montgomery Ward Airline Cassette Recorder masking taped to one of my tripods in front of the stereo speakers. Quality wasn't the greatest and each tape probably took a half hour to make which limited production to a half dozen or so. Needless to say I was proud as could be of the song selection and sequencing.

As technology moved forward so did the quality of my tapes.  I grew up in a church that only celebrated Christmas as a secular holiday. My parents, however, stressed Christmas in all its many flavors and shadings at home so luckily I was exposed to a wide range of holiday traditions and music. Spending over a decade running record stores I luckily got first crack at new Christmas records and spent lots of times scouting and buying used holiday records.

Then in a move as dramatic as an atomic Christmas bomb the internet showed up. Suddenly I could find songs long out of print. Recordings available only from networks of pirate tapers and songs others had stumbled across and digitized from long inaccessible vinyl were suddenly there if you looked hard enough.

Come September I was excitedly looking forward to my annual pilgrimage to Winfield to see friends, listen to lots of acoustic music, and campfire discussions with fellow FreeState InterFaith Council members. Barely a week before, my favorite cardiologist calls me up and suggests that I amend my plans and instead get ready for my lucky 12th heart cath. Dude, makes an offer like that, well...you can hardly say no. I missed Winfield for the first time in ten years and then Monday 9/23,  I was fortunate enough to have stent #6 implanted in a widow-maker that was over 95% occluded. The procedure went smoother than smooth and I was back at school by the end of the week.

I mention that only as explanation for my "hankerin' " for acoustic Christmas music this year. I found lots of old favorites, non traditional pieces that ought to be holiday music, and performances by artists that touch me at the heart of my soul.  Listen and hopefully enjoy.

Please understand I have the highest respect and regard for copyright laws and statutes to defend the intellectual property of artists and composers. I would never in any shape or form try to profit or even make a dime from a mix tape, podcast, or whatever you want to call it. I strive to give as much credit and identification to performers and composers.  If anyone that holds the rights to any of these recordings were to request it, I would remove the podcast of songs as soon as possible. I provide this year's mix as merely a service and celebration of the season that means so much to so many of us. Listen and enjoy. Please buy the official recordings and support the artists. Here is my 2013

Holiday  Myo͞oziˈkal/

click link below

Holiday Myo͞oziˈkal 2013



1. In My Life / Per-Olov Kindren---2:48(available on YouTube)
A wonderful version of a Beatles song I always connect with December since the death of John Lennon in 1980. That December hanging out at the Zilker tree the day after the murder with thousands of other fans I heard innumerable versions of the song. It still brings tears to my eyes when I think of friends, places, and moments that have passed on to the rest of the adventure. 
2. The Fields of November / Norman Blake---4:07
As a young knucklehead I remember thinking that Norman Blake was one of the finest guitar players I'd ever get to see. I still hold him in a place of immense respect. For decades I've thought of this song as a near perfect prelude to the holiday season.

3. Tapestry / TOMMY EMMANUEL---4:57
Oh, that Tommy. If you've not seen him and enjoy guitar playing you need to make the effort to catch a performance. Strictly speaking this isn't a holiday song, yet when thinking of the tapestry of playing that touches me I had to include it. Sure there's a lot of flash to a set by Tommy, but once his fingers are warmed up or when he is playing with other musicians he respects(the late Doc Watson, Stephen Bennett to mention only two) the man takes it to another level of musical reality.

4. In the Bleak Midwinter / Stephen Bennett---3:24(available on YouTube)
Stephen Bennett...his harp guitar, or his refurbished found national steel guitar, or whatever he puts his hands on does more than amaze me. He is my favorite player to listen to. Words cannot describe the joy his playing brings to me. I'd retell my Bennett's playing equals heaven story but it only sounds corny.

5. Down In Yon Forest/New Year's Eve / John McCutcheon---3:33
Another Winfield favorite who seems to make it every year. He is a great songwriter, guitar player, autoharp talent and hammered dulcimer artist. He plays instruments I always wanted to play while knowing I never would.


6. I'll be home for Christmas / Pete Huttlinger---2:45(available on YouTube)
Huttlinger like Bennett , is still with us because of the miracles of modern medicine. Seeing how the Winfield community came together for both of them at their  bleakest time was amazing. What a perfect song to include in this collection.

7. Russian Christmas Overture / John Fahey---6:49
For my money John Fahey is the godfather of acoustic Christmas music. Over the years I've seen his records sell just as strongly from year to year as many new Christmas releases. He set the bar for many of the other players I respect.

8. Christmas Jig and Reels - Midnight Clearance Sale / The Three Dories
    performed by Ashley MacIsaac---3:43
I discovered  this music after reading the novel by and the short stories of Alastair MacLeod concerning the culture and people of Cape Bretton Island. The writing needs to be read more and if MacIsaac ever makes it out our way I hope I can finally see him perform.

9.'Christmas Time is Here' Vince Guaraldi/ performed Rob Bourassa---1:25(available on YouTube)
Nothing needs to be said about the song. I found the performance on YouTube. It is a major find.

10. I Saw Three Ships / Steve Wariner---2:30
I never knew what a guitar Steve Wariner was until a Sound Warehouse managers convention in the '90's. During the course of the week artist came in to play showcase sets. Wariner's was mostly him just playing. I was blown away.

11. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas/Joe Pass---4:39(available on YouTube)
I'd never listened to Joe Pass until the '70's when a customer that bought lots of jazz records suggested I check him out. A hollow bodied electric guitar sounds fabulous especially if someone that knows what they are doing is playing it.

12. HAPPY Xmas (war is over)/Jake Shimabukuro & Yo-Yo Ma---4:43(available on YouTube)
Never seen Yo-Yo Ma except on television. I was lucky enough to see Jake the night that he met Tommy Emmanuel and played a blistering set at the Cactus Cafe in Austin. Who knew a ukelele could do all that.? Their version of the Lennon Christmas classic(?) leaves me sox-less.

13. Jeff's Greensleeves / Jeff Beck---1:50(available on YouTube)
He's Jeff Beck. When I heard the album, "Truth," the first time Beck became  my first rock guitar hero. Now he's  almost 70 he still ain't no slouch.

14. Carol of the Beasts (Instrumental) / Pete Seeger---1:49
94 years young and still active, fighting the good fight and carrying his message and the message of the likes of Woody, Cisco, and others around the nation. I bought my first Seeger record in 5th grade. That's how I learned the words to a bunch of Guthrie songs I can still croak.


15. 'Perfect Day' Lou Reed/solo guitar version by Dave Seck---3:02(available on YouTube)
I love the song. I respected Lou Reed tremendously. I've never had a Christmas that wasn't a perfect day. Dave Seck does a wonderful version of the song and it seems fitting to include  a song written by one of  rock and roll's great stories of renewal, dedication, and new beginnings.

16. Cold Nights of Winter/Trettondagsmarschen/Jay Ungar & Molly Mason---3:00
Seems to me a fitting end to another perfect Christmas.



MERRY CHRISTMAS
&
THROW LOTS OF POTATOES

The Story of the Christmas Potato






Sunday, December 2, 2012

30 years and not counting...

link to the story of the Christmas Potato:

http://cartmonkey.blogspot.com/2010/11/spud.html

Here's the deal. 30 years ago we threw the very first version of the Christmas Potato. It wasn't even a potato. Actually, the first attempt to thanks folks for Christmas light displays involved driving around and jotting addresses down and mailing post cards. Maybe a couple dozen cards got mailed. Later that December I typed up a little note about the lights and used the first Christmas card I drew at age 6 to illustrate my thank you notes.

The big dilemma was how to deliver the notes. That year the method of delivery involved wrapping the notes around sticks of kindling purchased in bulk at a 24-hour Skaggs Alpha Beta. This is back when it was still chilly at Christmas even as far south as Austin. We bundled up, and motored about with the windows down, thanking folks in our own unique way.

Still, I thought there must be a better method of delivery.  Very honestly the notion of a potato hit me out of the clear blue the next year as I drove home from work at the ole Sound Warehouse and saw the first lights of the season.

Over the years we've tried different ways to attach notes to potatoes with varying degrees of success. Tossers around the country have contributed their own special touches to the tradition. Rumor has it that the Crescent City will receive holiday spuds for the first time in the Big Easy's nearly 3 centuries of existence during the coming weeks. How cool is that?


Looking back over the last 3 decades I can vouch for at least at a minimum of 300 lbs, but in reality I'm sure there have been many more.

It doesn't matter if you throw spuds or not. It is a load of fun and a nice way to take in the lights of the season. The tradition evolved out of the most important essential lessons ever taught to me by my mom. Always remember to say thank you. I won't go into the teaching of the lesson. I will say it involved a slap up the side of the head and the shame of knowing I embarrassed my mother in front of one of her dear friends. Late in her life my mom told me that the, "potato thing," actually finally made her proud of me. Great gal, tough room. ( an interesting aside, the location of the lesson learning was the site of a brutal murder several years later)

In closing, throw spuds if you want, but always remember to say, "Thank you."

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Labor Day

WHAT WOULDA WOODY WROTE IF WOODY WOULDA WROTE TODAY...

Even if I've always felt a special kinship to the boy from Oklahoma for reasons I've never figured out, today I got hit with a notion and when I stopped tapping the keys this was what showed up. I'll openly admit that what spewed forth was greatly influenced by reading, "Bound for Glory" and "Seeds of Man" over 30 some years ago. Here it is for what it's worth.


"Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country."

That's the skinny from the grub'ment of the U-S of A. Right, out there in the ether fur ever one of us to see. That's what them in the know call O-fishy-al, the straight truth, the real deal, just how it is. Not much in the way o' history or background, purt near  the bare basics, enough to pass on the general idea.

Whut, whut, whut? you might say. How can somethin' so dang important be reduced, boiled down, render in da  3 dozen and a dime of words and not much more impressive if ya do out the a-rith-mo-tic and figur up the letters.

I have heard jingles with more words and we know  how important they are. As the off spring of  sons and daughters of hard livin' and the grandson of a hardworkin' grocer and a man with barely 8 years a schoolin' who supported his family of 5 by walkin' the pipeline up toward Bowie one week and out near Ranger the next I have always thought I knew the value of hard work, nose to the grindstone and all such as that.

They may a not been Union folks but they sure as hell wurnt scabs neither. My own in-tie-lect-ual mother taught me early that folks what did the work deserved equal and fair  pay. She often wondered out loud if our society needs both doctors and garbagemen to survive maybe the notion of a little less difference in the do-ray-me they each take to home at the end o' the day might not otter be such a gi-huge-ic difference. Might just be something to it. I knowed in my life I seen the trash man go without a doctor lots longer than I ever seen a doctor go without someone to a haul off his garbage which he can barely stand to admit he is responsible for.

Sadly, when you look around they's lots more have-nots these days than haves and ain't no way in H-E double hockey sticks is you goint to convince me and most other hard workers that those haves done more or worked harder for what they got, that I just barely have.

My point ends up being that there is many of us that works more and takes home less than any kind a people around. Ain't splittin'  it up 99% to 1% I  am just sayin' don't take a rocket scientist to figger out just who is doing the real work. Those that work mostly make for those with the coin.

If we had no workers, tradesman, teachers, public workers, your fireman, your law, soldiers (LABORERS) wouldn't nuthin' much would git done and when the bankers and politicians had to dump there own trash cans and chamber pots they might just do some figgering and see IT  TAKES ALL OF US TO MAKE THIS THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS AND TO GET THE JOB DONE.

So, a tip a the hat to anybody does an honest daze work, no matter how, nor where, be they banker, boot maker, baker, bar keep or preacher, The worker makes the world go round and round.

Let's sing a song of celebration and here is one of them links to a place with some good songs for the workers of the world......

the list might just be a relic in the days of instant news( compiled last year ) but it is a better list a songs that my tired brain coulda come up with.

http://www.cliffviewpilot.com/good-life/55-in-tune/2756-top-20-labor-day-songs

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Yes, there are days...


I never knew this guy. Never met him. I don't idolize him. I wouldn't follow his lead and do heroin, but I'd follow around if he were still playing. The guy had some faults. From what I've read maybe some wicked ones. Then again...

I didn't know him. At the end of the movie, My Favorite Year, Benji says of Alan Swann, the larger than life actor he has come to despise and love all in the span of one week,  "With Swann, you learn to forgive a lot."

What I do know is that Jerry Garcia meant a great deal to many people. His music had a major impact on my life. The Dead are one of the bands that factor and loom large in the soundtrack of my life. In another post I called Skull & Roses, a comfort record. The Dead's music is like that for me. I don't even try to explain it. Some bands just work that way for me.
The Dead
Doug Sahm
The Clash
The Band
Stephen Bennett
Al
The Stones
to name just seven
and Justin, sweet, sweet, dear young sweet prince(I'm joking already, kinda like getting Rick-rolled, you've been Beebed)

 I only saw them play about 20 times, far fewer than many deadheads or most of my friends. But on those occasions I was lucky enough to listen I shared with huge crowds and my friends a magical time distilled into a memory of those days.

It was 17 years ago today that Garcia finally gave it up. He was only 53. The heart just played out. For my money that seems far too young for someone to die. Flesher used to say we only have so many heartbeats, don't waste them. Probably true. The other great piece of advice I got from Don that has served me well the last 35 years....never make decisions based out of fear.

It wasn't until last week that it even dawned on me that I'd outlived Garcia. For some 17 is a magical number. The most common random number they say. For me 17 has always held magical memories. I know it was rough on Janis Ian and I mean no respect when I say my thoughts of that time were much happier even if I wasn't "all that" either at that age.

17-girls, women, females, at 17 they all are beautiful. I think it is because at 17 a young man finally has(or had in my case) semi put 1 and 1 together and gotten 2.  It is a time when I started thinking about girls and the possibility of relationships that would be developmentally important to me. Even though it isn't likely, by 17 you are aware  that you just might fall pretty dang hard.

At 17, I was allowed freedom in my choice of movies. Finally an "R"  rated movie didn't mean I'd need to jump through hoops to get in the door. My first post 17 "R" was a Woody Allen movie which seems fitting in my life too. So many doors opened for me both positive and negative. At 17,  I had a circle of friends I still have today. Sure, I remember all of the pure-D-crud of being 17(like geez, how many ways and how many excuses and girls come up with to turn you down, still just laughing is the worst, but what I hold onto are thoughts of youthful freedom.

So 17 years ago Garcia died. I was getting computers ready for the next school year. I heard the news and went home and dug out a photo a friend took of Jerry dwarfed by the wall of sound in '74. I guess for me it just seems like a special number as well. Sort of like listening to someone explain the time a certain Dead song was sung at a certain instant because the listener and the band were sharing a connected moon beam and the song request was sent telepathically to Jerry who bounced it  off Phil and Bob as Micky and Bill concurred and somebody let whoever the keyboard player in on it too. Don't laugh, I think that stuff happened. Memorial Hall October of sometime it was as if every song I wished for came up next. Strange but quite pleasant.

So in memory of Jerry and all the memories here's a seldom heard treat, well, the lyrics anyway.

You can stream the audio and listen to a couple of versions at this link:

http://archive.org/details/gd93-02-10.rehearsal.Samaritano.17435.sbeok.shnf





Days Between :

There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
Summer flies and August dies
the world grows dark and mean
Comes the shimmer of the moon
on black infested trees
the singing man is at his song
the holy on their knees
The reckless are out wrecking
The timid plead their pleas
No one knows much more of this
than anyone can see anyone can see
There were days
and there were days
and there were days besides
when phantom ships with phantom sails
set to sea on phantom tides
Comes the lightning of the sun
on bright unfocused eyes
the blue of yet another day
a springtime wet with sighs
a hopeful candle lingers
in the land of lullabies
where headless horsemen vanish
with wild and lonely cries lonely cries
There were days
and there were days
and there were days I know
when all we ever wanted
was to learn and love and grow
Once we grew into our shoes
we told them where to go
Walked halfway around the world
on promise of the glow
Stood upon a mountain top
Walked barefoot in the snow
Gave the best we had to give
How much we'll never know we'll never know
There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
polished like a golden bowl
The finest ever seen
Hearts of Summer held in trust
still tender, young and green
left on shelves collecting dust
not knowing what they mean
Valentines of flesh and blood
as soft as velveteen
hoping love would not forsake
the days that lie between lie between






Sunday, August 5, 2012

Moved Brightly...

Excuse me while I ramble.

I've always believed in the healing power of music. Never being able to master any musical instrument, having the vocal skills of a manatee(which hasn't improved since the rasp developed due to all my COPD & emphysema meds) and the inability to keep time which hampers hopes of something as simple as bongos I focused my energy toward becoming a world class listener. In 57 years I've gotten pretty good. I hear some amazing stuff.

I remember listening to a Keith Secola CD that I basically knew by heart in Houston once when I heard more things than I 'd ever dreamed possible. Of course the doctors at the Houston Medical Center were worried I'd had a heart attack during a procedure to inflate a stent into place and by gosh they'd popped me with more morphine that I thought possible. I felt no pain and my ears worked good. I mention that in passing only to prove my extreme listening skills. If the XGames had a listening event I'd be the equivalent of those kids on BMX bikes that fly through the air to nail the perfect purple twisty ridge walk into a modified quad buckle duplex ending in a red dew bull mondo-sizzle.

In my life I've had the extreme fortune to listen to same amazing music.
I met Johnny Cash.
I saw Willie Nelson on a flat bed trailer in the garage of a Ford dealership with Jimmy Day on steel.
Sat on a hill in the rain at the Ozark Mountain Folk Faire watching folks like John Lee Hooker, Mance Lipscomb, Manson Proffit and others
The all night tribute to Earl Scruggs at K-State
I've met Doug Sahm and seen him in some of best long gone dives in Austin
Was revived by Boss at Memorial Hall on a hot June night with Markle less than a week after youthful indiscretion nearly cost us one of our own
Traveled miles and miles through ice, snow, heat, darkness to see the Dead about 20 times(which isn't a lot, but each time was a treat)
Been to Winfield once or twice

Starts to get pointless trying to list it all, but I've seen lots of great music, listened to more on records, and have found comfort in seeing friends become semi-big deals doing what they dream of doing with a living playing music...

Which brings me to this week.

The last week was just one big burnt donkey(insert profanity or scatological term of your choice here)sandwich with a massive side serving of Oh, f____ with extra WTF sauce. Not to go into all the details or rehash dookie that happened but won't change anything with the recounting, let's just say I was professionally embarrassed,  mistreated, and whizzed on which left me puzzled, depressed, bummed, confused, etc, and on and on and on. It is what it was and it left me struggling to find a path through it and move on. I'm no idiot and during all of it I never even considered bridge burning or stomping off or having a tantrum or cashing in.

However,  I was in a daze. It was one of those funk filled places that make it hard to breathe and your eyes sting. If you drink it is the place that makes you drink more then wake up needing to have been at work several hours ago. It is that hole you find yourself where you are happy for that little girl in the well in Midland or miners trapped a mile down 'cause their situation will only get better.

Get the picture?

In the last 15 years since the infamous "Smack Down Mania of '97" I've gone through a change or two. Not only was I allowed extra time that I wouldn't have gotten if I'd been born in an earlier time, but I had the time for reflection, study, and the gift of learning that has gotten me in touch with notions of peace I hadn't known before.

Like the laughing dude teaches all of everything is interconnected, your best teachers arrive when least expected, because of that this, and don't take yourself too seriously. In times of difficultly, death, and depression the lessons and truths you can see on a clear day are obscured by your fog of confusion. No matter how you try there are days when reality defeats all of your best intentions and the quicksand of your demons keep sucking you deeper into the quagmire.

...and now Friday.

Hotter than hell. Impossible to breathe. At work I fought with the webpage to update a volleyball schedule and when I left at the end of the day suddenly I found I'd lost several hours of work but I've got no idea how.

For the last few weeks our internet connection has been sporadic at best. Some days even checking email has been impossible. I was looking forward to a weekend without access to all my blogs and funny stuff I depend on to keep laughing. I was bummed and tried to take a nap knowing Carson would have a bunch of her friends over to spend the night for her birthday which always leads to a lots of screaming, screeching, laughter, and nerve racking running in the house and barking. (not the little girls, they're teenagers, but the dogs that yap non-stop when the Emilys, she-Riley, and Pamela visit. My theory is they get excited because the girls all make 5 or 6 "costume changes" which confuses the dogs' tiny brains making them think there are dozens of different girls here.)

Around 7 PM Haidee tells me that AT&T says we have line problems beyond us and they did some kind of maintenance and bottom line we have internet back. I log on to check mail and I have my daily email from Rolling Stone Magazine. I have a life-time subscription I paid 40 bucks for 10 years ago. On paper it is until October 2055 when I turn 100 but at that time I have the option to renew for free. I'm reading it and there is something about click here for information for Deadheads. I click.
The Dead...I first heard of them in late '67 and knew they were a San Francisco band. Danny Bryan's big brother had records by the Dead, Quicksilver, the Airplane, Steve Miller, and the Doors. I didn't really become a fan then because I was totally enamored with, "People are Strange" which I thought was the most incredible song I'd ever heard. At 12, obviously  I didn't get all of its message but I related to folks not understanding me. I probably didn't pay much to the Dead again until the fall of my junior year. It was great fall for music.

The year before I'd made the friendships that are still important today. I began hanging out with folks that I am still in touch with today. I was a year older than most of my classmates  in school due to starting kindergarten when I was almost six. When we lived in Graford most Texas  small schools didn't have kindergarten. It pissed me off. Before with left Aberdeen I was already scheduled to start school in the fall of '60. Not getting too was just one reason as much as I loved living in Graford I felt cheated at the same time.

My sophomore year I started hanging out with Lafond who was in my homeroom, who lived around the corner from Goodell who was in my theater class(and introduced me to National Lampoon)David was  friends with neighbor Jay Wilson and they were friends with Stratton and Henson(who I never connected with our principal, Dr. Owen Henson, until one fall evening hanging by the fence at the Hayden football field watching another friend, Larry Zarker play football) and to this day we all stay in touch. That core has supported me for 40 years. When we are together even if we haven't seen each others in ages we might as well have been together the week before. As many as possible gather for the annual FreeState InterFaith Council conclave in Winfield at Simplicity Base.

By the fall of '72 I knew how to take care of records. I'd started listening to  a late night show on the FM station out of Lawrence called TBA. It exposed me to much new music. One of the bands was the Dead. I was open to listening to almost anything. Tom had what I considered a great record collection. He very kindly allowed me to tape some of his records so I could listen to them. Once of those records was Skull & Roses.

Even today that is one of my comfort records. Bummed out, pull out some Dead. Other than Doug Sahm the Dead and all the guys in the band make up a massive share of the music I listen to. Because the music of the Dead is so easily obtained for no cost and is available everywhere due to the bands hippie attitude about not owning the music once they play it...well, what do you expect.

At the website I find out about a streaming tribute on Friday, August 3, starting at 8:30. I have an hour until it starts. Honestly I didn't expect the stream to work. After 3 weeks of junky internet I couldn't convince myself it was actually fixed. Couple that with my luck the rest of the week and my expectations weren't very high.

I got online, first with one computer, but the sound wasn't very good. I got hold of a different lap top and put my high dollar head phones in and cranked it. To begin I had some difficulty so I missed a little of the documentary and settled in and was ready for what I figured  would a two hour special. I figure in my haste I missed that it was previously recorded. Obviously the Lukas Nelson section was pre-taped.  Then it switched into the show from the studio.

Well....about all I can say is DAMNNNNNN!

The sound was awesome the mix was great. The cameras focused on the players and I had it loud.

Most of my life I've believed in the serendipity of life. Stuff works out. Everything is interconnected. Music heals. I know that. Music can be trans-formative and often is. Existence can be magical. When it happens all you can do is smile and let that joy flood over you. I think  enlightenment is possible. There are those moments when everything is aligned. When as, Thich Nhat Hanh says, manifestation occurs when all conditions exist. Musically I've known it listening to Bruce, Al, Willie, and possibly most notably once listening to Stephen Bennett.

Friday night and at what point I couldn't tell you, I got the cosmic smack up the side of my head. I found myself thinking about the many times music has touched me. I thought about everyone of my friends I've ever shared music with, I was overwhelmed by thoughts of family, Haidee & the kids, the joy of music, those that are gone, old girlfriends, lovers, and so much more. I reviewed times of incredible happiness and the worst of despair. I let the music carry me wherever it wanted. I thought of the late Dr. Lee Lispenthal who inspired me and shared his love of rock & roll with me and I recommitted myself to enjoying every sandwich. It was crazy wild.

As part of working through being passed over for a promotion I knew at some point I needed to let go and acknowledge how hurt and angry I was. I guess you could say I hadn't grieved. With all my health junk I try to keep my chin up. It isn't denial exactly but a way to cope, flawed as it might be.
I looked at Lesh and I thought, dang, he is 72. I remember once as a kid watching a Grand Ole Opry package show in the 60's seeing these old honky tonk  guys that were old men but still able to come out and sing a handful of hits and I thought what will happen when folks like the Beatles and Stones are senior citizens. Well....Lesh held up okay and so have lots of others.

Listening to the show was so much fun and I was having such a good time I barely noticed I was crying. Darned if I wasn't. I focused on how good it felt and I smiled thought, shit, the stuff I'd focused on that pissed me off so bad, didn't matter for squat jack dookie.

I settled in and grooved on the music, played air drums, sang along(I knew the words to every song) and because of the camera work it felt like you were right there. You felt like a witness to the joy the players were feeling. It was a thing of beauty.

Then next thing I know it is 5 hours later, 1:30 a.m. and I'm buzzed as I've ever been. Trust me in my life I've known buzzed. I had my focus back on what mattered. I was filled with the buzz that music is supposed to give you. I was wide awake and didn't go to sleep until after four. If it had been possible I would've hit Por'e Richard's when I got back in town and had about 4 cups of coffee and watched the sun come up, crashing only when I finally slowed down later in the afternoon and slept for 24 hours.

Thank god for music, friends, family, loved ones, transformation, the Dead, and Jerry. By golly I was moved as much and as brightly and I couldn't be more happy.

I warned you I'd ramble.

I can't wait for the audio to show up so I can download and listen over and over obsessively.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

What I wouldn't give for some of my mom's fried chicken...

I'm not quite sure what mask I ought to be wearing today as I type this. I've got lots on my mind. Much of it positive in nature. Some of it sadly negative. Other things just confuse and befuddle me as much as being ordered to play the good parts of "Helter Skelter" on bag pipes. I'll not go into any detail on that just know it is times like these that make me believe now more than ever that it is just like Ken Kesey said(I paraphrase) It's damn sure a wiggly world and damn it to hell because it won't stand still anyway.

Like the chubby kid from the neighborhood tells Edmund Gween in the locker room at Macy's, "Ain't it da truth, ain't it da truth."

I choose to view today and most of this week as a test that I know I will pass. It is what it is and am what it am. I could cogitate for hours on just why and how it all happened but that will not change the reality of the situation. I'm reminded of the old Buddhist lesson, just one of several I'm calling on today, about an injury caused by an arrow shot by another person. When this happens first we tend to the arrow lodged in our body rather than speculating on who made the arrow, why were those feathers used, how far was the arrow drawn back to give its flight enough energy to fly true, did the bowman eat a breakfast of grains or animal products? Not that these questions don't deserve to be meditated upon, but our first job should be to attend to the effect of the cause that was the arrow.

As I sit here on my lunch break I'm doing just that. I spied this today on FB(which I'm slowly giving up on) from Pema Chodron:

"A question that has intrigued me for years is this: how can we start exactly where we are, with all our entanglements, and still develop unconditional acceptance of ourselves instead of guilt and depression? One of the most helpful methods I’ve found is the practice of compassionate abiding. The next time you realize that you’re hooked, you could experiment with this approach.

Contacting the experience of being hooked, you breathe in, allowing the feeling completely and opening to it. The in-breath can be deep and relaxed—anything that helps you to let the feeling be there, anything that helps you not push it away. Then, still abiding with the urge and edginess of the feeling, as you breathe out you relax and give the feeling space. The out-breath is not a way of sending the discomfort away but of ventilating it, of loosening the tension around it, of becoming aware of the space in which the discomfort is

occurring."
(Taking The Leap)
It was just what I needed today and I'm thankful to a world that allows these realities to manifest themselves. Just one of the aspects of life that make it so special and to sound corny, just so darn neato.
Not wanting to bore others, just know, that by in the morning after seeing and being with Haidee, Carson & Isaac, listening to some music, reading a little, sitting and breathing a bunch, followed by the true pleasure of nocturnal freedom through dreaming, I will wake up having passed this test to a wonderful breakfast of soy milk, Wheaties, and fruit and I will be as happy as a clam.

Background info from the internet:
Why would clams be happy? It has been suggested that open clams give the appearance of smiling. The derivation is more likely to come from the fuller version of the phrase, now rarely heard - 'as happy as a clam at high water'. Hide tide is when clams are free from the attentions of predators; surely the happiest of times in the bivalve mollusc world.  http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/as-happy-as-a-clam.html


Okay, so now I want to gripe a  little. Lots of folks have been referencing the stand of Chik-fil-A in regards to same sex marriage etc. My FB is filled with folks pointing out that they are eating there and others just as forcibly saying they never will again.

To put in perspective in the USA we have a long history and tradition of expressing our opinions with our purse strings. Boycotts fueled by indignation are as common folks unwilling to look at both sides of an issue or same sex couples/families strolling through Disneyland or Wal-Mart. For my purposes I'm not going to argue the issue although anyone that knows me probably can guess where I stand. I won't eat at Chik-Fil-A but that's based on being a vegetarian and even when I wasn't, just not liking how the food tasted. I have an old friend, intelligent as can be who has been around the world but will only eat chicken prepared at that franchise and it isn't just so he can drink a peach malt with it.

Look back at the Family Decency folks not watching ABC or Tipper not buying rap music or youth groups not reading Harry Potter or Caesar not eating lettuce or grapes and all those heroes that  ate at the lunch counters and wouldn't head to the back of the bus. There are just as many liberal causes that boycott to show others where they stand.

So riddle me this, Batman. Scroll down and tell me if you would eat at this chain of diners if they were known to have the very best chicken in the land. How would you feel if some folks weren't welcome there, but dang that chickens good. Or what if the money behind the business supports armed insurrection against all the blue states or gave all hippies free pudding for dessert. What would you do? I'm just asking and really wish folks would leave some sane polite comments. Is it wrong to deny funding to an entity that provides medical testing, family planing and a small percentage of the services are legal yet some think think they are immoral? Would you support a political action group that advocated rounding up all citizens that "look like" followers of one of the several branches of Islam? What if all members of religions that believed in, I'm not sure of the term, "retro Baptism" or maybe all the folks that don't dunk or sprinkle or don't play instruments or sing with an organ or let women provide the lesson or don't let blacks in the pulpit or handle snakes and drink poison. I mention those last two, not out of criticism of anybody's faith, but only because to quote one of the great wandering theologists from the streets of Austin, the curbs of the Guadalupe, "I got me a word for nat, I call nat f^&#ing crazy, nat what I call nat. Scare me hecka me. You seen Rayger?" 

Please scroll down and let me know what you'd do for good chicken.








http://depts.washington.edu/civilr/coon_chicken.htm      Some background about the historic franchise