Drinkin' Songs

That old quote about not trusting a man who doesn't drink is attributed (according to my own personal lazy & minimal internet research) to W.C. Fields, but I first heard it from either my Gramps, Dad, or Captain Ron, who all cited John Wayne as the source...

regardless, it's a great quote, and I don't think it's actually about drinking, rather, about being able to participate in a group.

I like to be responsible for myself alone sometimes, but I've found that sports, music, religion, and alcohol alike share the common thread of being intensified by the power of the Group... it's undebatable.

this mini-poem became a song from our first record. it's not about friendly, social drinking. it's about isolation, excess, and recklessness, and the word "wasting" is used deliberately.

on a lighter note, She tweaked the second line of the second verse to go "these throttles go to eleven", which stole my heart.

BOTTLED

pass me that bottle again
turn the throttle up to ten
always room for one more
stop when my face hits the floor

wasting away
wasting away on this lovely day

One Year Anniversary

My first post here was on May 20th, 2010.

Which means this blog is 1 year old today. What do you get a blog for it's birthday?

The most important significance of this anniversary is that I made The Leap around the same time as starting this blog.

No more 9 to 5 jobs. Building my business instead.

I dare not imply now whether the expriment has "worked" because we're far too early in the endeavor... however:

The fact that the experiment was initiated is a raging Success in itself.

Also worth nothing:

In the beginning, I hypothesized that forcing myself to consistently blog would help my songwriting.

Joe ages 0-25: composed 4 songs
Joe in past year: composed 15 songs

The quality of the songs doesn't even matter. I'm not hung up anymore. I can finish them now. I couldn't before.

I want to keep this up. I want to be prolific. I want to leave so many words and songs and pictures scattered around the Earth that I will live forever.

Backwards

I was working at Crosby's Marketplace at the time... we all were.

Don't be confused that the guitarist in this story is also named Joe.

Justin played drums. Justin & I played in a pop punk trio called Eager Beaver.

Justin & Joe worked in the deli together.

Eventually, the common interests of this social venn diagram were discovered, and gelled. We set up a jam at my parent's house.

I remember Joe having the first legit pedalboard setup that I'd ever seen. As he was plugging in wires, I asked what songs he wanted to play. I'll never forget his response. I had it backwards apparently. He replied,

"Don't worry about songs. Let the music play you."

We jammed for a couple hours. It was a lot of Fun.
Music is supposed to be Fun.

We didn't jam again after that. It's been close to ten years.

Joe came back around recently and I'm glad he emailed me, because I remembered Justin has Tuesdays off these days. We're jamming again today. Soon. So soon that I should stop typing and shower. Prioritize.

I'm looking forward to jamming this afternoon. I know better than to ask what song.

Don't Stop Believing

"I have no interest in explaining, defending, reinterpreting, or adding to what is there. No one was trying to be audacious, honest to God. We did what we thought we had to do. No one was trying to blow people's minds, or thinking, 'Wow, this'll piss them off.' People get the impression that you're trying to fuck with them and it's not true. You're trying to entertain them. [...] Anybody who wants to watch it, it's all there."

David Chase, September 2007

I watched The Sopranos as it originally aired on HBO. Not diligently, mostly due to college life, which could not afford premium cable.

Years later, my sweet lady bought the entire series on DVD and we watched it in order, as it was meant to be seen.

We're approaching the four year anniversary of the final Sopranos episode "Made In America" and the final scene is still debated today. I watched it live with my parents and brother. Everyone went apeshit when it ended. Debating and arguing.

I tried to do some research for this post, but I've always hated critical analysis. Who are you to tell me what any author, director, or songwriter was "really" thinking?

Good opinions do exist on this topic if you search, as well as some detailed shot-by-shot breakdowns of the final scene.

All I know is what I think I know:

Watching the entire series, for a second time, paints a pretty clear picture. Tony tells many different people, on many different occassions, that his line of work ends one of two ways, in jail, or dead.

I can dig Chase's open-ended approach, but only in hindsight. The quick cut to black angered me at first, because it seemed like an outdated Kaufmanesque gag.

But not this time. I saw it again this morning. The whole episode. I've gone back to the final scene many times in the past four years, but rarely the whole episode.

David Chase created a masterpiece in The Sopranos, an 86 hour journey into what makes us Human. The series ended the way we all know life ends - by reinforcing that we know nothing about what is Next. It's probably just a quick cut to black.

Ren

Cleaning out the cyber dust from my Gmail account I discovered this poem, which I estimate to have written in October of 2009, after witnessing the American Madmen, while working for Vampfangs.com, at King Richard's Faire.

That's a lot to process. Watching cats toss knives at each other. At a renessaince festival. While working for company that sells vampire fangs.

I'm glad this poem didn't fall through the cracks, even though it was simply a half-hearted attempt at poetry, long forgotten but eventually pulled with care from the musty corners of the interweb. And given a mild tweaking.

"Sideshow"

i don't know many things

but one thing I do know

i'm glad i'm not one

of the guys of the sideshow

bruised and beaten

always mistreated

lazy and drunk

and easily cheated

the sideshow men stand

in the hot sun on stages

as crowds point and stare

like animals in cages

throwing knives at each other

while the crowd hoots and hollers

the closer they land

the larger the dollars

at they end of the day

its all bloody & funny

do it again tomorrow

tonight drink up the money

Headshot

I can't celebrate Vengeance. I won't celebrate Death.

"You can celebrate anything you want..." - John Lennon

I won't believe that 4,000+ solidiers have died, over ten years, to see one man dead. That doesn't sit well with me.

I'd rather believe they died Protecting Our Nation, in the long run, in spite of the motives of powerful suits.

This particular Hit doesn't stir patriotism inside of the cockles of my heart. It stirs skepticism and disappointment in the bloodlust of the american public. It makes me think about gnarly terms like "mission creep"

But there is hope in the Maybes the situation has created:

If the troops come home,

if the gas prices come down,

if Donald Trump finally goes Away (at least from the Presidential race)

if Obama can use the second term he just secured to do Good

than I will be able to look at this Ten Year Assassination with a twinkle, when the time for reflection and hindsight is upon us.

Until then we continue to hope for the best.