Wednesday, March 17, 2010

namesake, bob dylan

With spring in the air here at the home base in Vegas, all seems well and good. Today when I was finishing out my downloads (I got 101 downloads/songs for 11.99 and they have a lot more well known artists now) I decided to go deep into the album treasure trove of Bob Dylan’s.
For the past 6-7 years I’ve had a steady growing relationship with Bob Dylan’s music and though at times it can be strained; I always come back. It comes from a strange place for me, seeing as how I was named after him, so through my formative years it seemed like a good thing to shy away from and rebel against. Kind of like, hey old man, I’m my own person! I only listen to Smashing Pumpkins. But like I said, a few years ago I sort of just feel in love with his songs.
You can say what you want about Bob Dylan. There are various camps and schools of opinion and thought, and they are all different and divided. Love him, hate him, make fun of his voice; fine. But the guy has the song in his bones. He’s got the thought and the thrill of the word written inside his soul. He has so many beautifully written songs, in a way, they seem almost too good. He’s kind of like the Chicago Bulls of the 1990’s. It’s almost not fair. I agree that he doesn’t have the greatest voice and is the punchline of a lot of jokes, especially as he gets older and his voice gets worse, but his songs keep getting better and better.
As I said, my relationship with his music is strained sometimes due to the hit or miss quality of certain eras of his albums. In fact, recently my relationship with music has been strained. There aren’t many songs or bands that make me jump for joy and if you turn on the radio (I hardly ever do) now, you’ll find nothing but what sounds like sandwich commercials and video game music. That’s fine, if that’s your thing. I guess.
As I get older I find myself yearning for more organic sounding music. Music that has a history. That comes from somewhere. That has a story. That has a heart and a soul. (You can’t tell me Lady Gaga has these things.) I go for subtlety and emotion and movement. I listen to old blues, jazz, folk, country music. I seem to work in reverse or in no real logical gear at all. I’m all over the map of time. (For instance, I love the Gaslight Anthem a relatively new band.)
As Dylan gets older, each successive new album comes with the feeling of a cool night next to an open window or out on a porch. A glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar burning in the other. Perhaps that’s just me, but I feel that way. Tonight I stumbled across his critically acclaimed album Oh, Mercy. I’ve always heard about this album because it’s one of the few that Daniel Lanois produced and I believe won some grammies. (He also did Time Out of Mind, another grammy winner.) If you don’t know Daniel Lanois, you should. He is basically the 5th member of U2, and mostly the talent behind that band. He is always created as co-writer and co-producer of nearly all their records and when they win grammys he gets one too as well as a share of the money. He is a wonderful producer. So sonic and lush. If you’ve heard one of his records, you could probably pick out what he does with other people’s records. He’s produced U2, Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, and who knows how many more. I’m not saying he’s single-handedly responsible for the Edge’s guitars and effects, but he might be 75% responsible. If you don’t believe me about his contributions in U2 and want to be thoroughly disappointed like I was about U2’s real talent (or lack thereof) watch the classic albums Dvd they show on Vh1 about the making of the Joshua Tree and you’ll see how much he and Brian Eno contribute.
I saw Daniel Lanois play about 4 years ago at the Spaceland in Silverlake for 5 bucks and his guitar sound and live band are amazing. So, I got the Dylan record he produced that I hadn’t heard before and the record is great. You know it’s a Lanois production because it will be lush, atmospheric, percussive and very drum and bass oriented. The song I keep listening to is called Most of the time which you can download here for one week: .
It’s what I would call a drive at night kind of song. We all have those. That feeling of rolling down the windows and looking at the stars, lost in thought but also in the music. I love the arrangement of this song because it’s almost non-descript. It definitely relies on feeling and ambiance more than it does the traditional way a song is played. The guitars float instead of sound strummed. The bassline propels the song along with the drums. And the lyrics. Well they’re pretty swell. They’re not as heavy as his newer stuff is (see: Modern Times, Time out of mind, love and theft) but still effective. We’ve all been there.

Most of the time
I’m clear focused all around,
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground,
I can follow the path, I can read the signs,
Stay right with it when the road unwinds,
I can handle whatever I stumble upon,
I don’t even notice she’s gone,
Most of the time.
Most of the time
It’s well understood,
Most of the time
I wouldn’t change it if I could,
I can make it all match up, I can hold my own,
I can deal with the situation right down to the bone,
I can survive, I can endure
And I don’t even think about her
Most of the time.
Most of the time
My head is on straight,
Most of the time
I’m strong enough not to hate.
I don’t build up illusion ’til it makes me sick,
I ain’t afraid of confusion no matter how thick
I can smile in the face of mankind.
Don’t even remember what her lips felt like on mine
Most of the time.
Most of the time
She ain’t even in my mind,
I wouldn’t know her if I saw her
She’s that far behind.
Most of the time
I can’t even be sure
If she was ever with me
Or if I was with her.
Most of the time
I’m halfway content,
Most of the time
I know exactly where it went,
I don’t cheat on myself, I don’t run and hide,
Hide from the feelings that are buried inside,
I don’t compromise and I don’t pretend,
I don’t even care if I ever see her again
Most of the time.

I guess the message I get myself from this song is that though we falter, most of the time we’re gonna be all right. It’s about living and the absence of fear. Most of the time, of course. Meaning we do have those days or moments where we despair and wonder what if, or what is that one up to these days, or we play guiltless and throw up our hands and plead ignorance.

The second song of his I got tonight and am sharing here I had previously heard many times. It’s from one of his official bootleg collections and it came on my ipod one day while I was driving just before my daughter was born. I remember thinking, damn, Angelina is a good name, and I asked why we hadn’t thought of it. (Of course the answer is everyone would assume we are huge Angelina Jolie fans, which I personally don’t care for.)
But the song Farewell, Angelina is so simple and beautiful and lyrical that I will just let the lyrics tell the story for me. (It’s more of a traditional folk song.) You can download it here:
Farewell Angelina

The bells of the crown
Are being stolen by bandits
I must follow the sound
The triangle tingles
And the trumpets play slow
Farewell Angelina
The sky is on fire
And I must go.
There’s no need for anger
There’s no need for blame
There’s nothing to prove
Ev’rything’s still the same
Just a table standing empty
By the edge of the sea
Farewell Angelina
The sky is trembling
And I must leave.
The jacks and the queens
Have forsaked the courtyard
Fifty-two gypsies
Now file past the guards
In the space where the deuce
And the ace once ran wild
Farewell Angelina
The sky is folding
I’ll see you in a while.
See the cross-eyed pirates sitting
Perched in the sun
Shooting tin cans
With a sawed-off shotgun
And the neighbors they clap
And they cheer with each blast
Farewell Angelina
The sky’s changing color
And I must leave fast.
King Kong, little elves
On the rooftops they dance
Valentino-type tangos
While the makeup man’s hands
Shut the eyes of the dead
Not to embarrass anyone
Farewell Angelina
The sky is embarrassed
And I must be gone.
The machine guns are roaring
The puppets heave rocks
The fiends nail time bombs
To the hands of the clocks
Call me any name you like
I will never deny it
Farewell Angelina
The sky is erupting
I must go where it’s quiet.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

hope and change

Hope & Change
Owls in winter trees
No hunger in your children’s eyes.
This ain’t my city
But I’m doing fine.
Let’s break this bread
& recite these prayers read

Trains running ahead full steam
To the end of my bad dreams

When Hope and change comes our way
At the end of each day
Will you know my name?

You & your mother’s eyes.
Truth of destiny revealed
So much surprise.
Broken bottle tops on Joshua Trees
This is my desert, don’t you see.

Hope, you’re swimming pools & ice cream cakes.
Quiet strolls & afternoon milkshakes.
This old road that means so much to me.
Takes us all where we long to be.

Monday, March 8, 2010


Today is a Monday. I am almost done with my thirtieth year alive on this planet. The weather has been strange and wet, almost like the winter and pre-spring weather in the place where I grew up. It’s dreary but it’s not cold. It’s the desert, but it’s rained like there is no tomorrow these past few months. Especially in these last few days. Which is all right with me. As this is Las Vegas and drainage of rainwater seems like it wasn’t even a thought when they built and ‘designed’ this city; there are standing pools of water all over the place. Since this is, like I said, Las Vegas; at random intervals, the city gives way to open desert.
In these strange places, too, are these standing puddles. It’s windy and cool. Pretty much what you’d expect from the month of March. Right now on the couch next to me sits my almost month old daughter Hope. She is to the left. The chocolate lab named Allie is to my right. Right now on the itunes is Sparklehorse.
(For those of you not in the know;here is the news link:)
Mark Linkous, who more or less was Sparklehorse, took his own life on Saturday by what I’ve read is shooting himself through the heart. He is the second brilliant songwriter/artist to take such a harsh way out. (Elliott Smith stabbed himself in the heart in 2003.) I myself having dealt with crippling depression at times in my life often found solace in their music. I’ve read how symbolic, final, awful etc. taking your life this way is. (Literally shooting or stabbing yourself through the heart, the symbolic area where love and comfort comes from.) It’s horrifically sad and it’s easy to be bitter and try to wash your hands of the situation by saying how incredibly selfish and fucked up to do something like this.
Which it is no doubt, but that’s not how I want to always remember Sparklehorse, Elliott Smith, Kurt Cobain, and the tons of other great artists and people that have fallen to this…this what? Is it despair? Is it addiction? Something more fierce and dark than anyone can ever really fathom? (especially those that are fortunate enough never to feel that low.) whatever the reality is, I want to remember the beauty. Of life. Of their music. Of the feelings and experiences they’ve given me. The endless discussions of his recording techniques and how did he get those sounds? How did he write such minimalist lyrics?
The cold fact of the matter that cuts to the bone like surgical steel is that he’s gone, but his music is not. Whatever stuff we got and we carry around, (for me things like Sparklehorse vinyl lps, cds, the fact I was fortunate enough to see them live once, knew someone personally who toured with them) whatever stuff we have filed away in the file cabinets of our souls, will never perish. That’s one thing to take away from this anyway.
I first heard of Sparklehorse in 1999 when I was reading Rolling Stone. (Up until very recently, I subscribed to Rolling Stone and read it semi-religiously.) It was an album review of the 2nd record, Good Morning Spider. The review had me captivated. It said the music was a something like it was sad cowboy music from the moon. These being the days before the internet did very much, you had to actually buy the album, (at a premium price by the way) from the cdnow website. I’m not even sure this site still exists and you couldn’t really go to the website and preview the whole thing. You maybe only got a 20 second quicktime clip, but if you had dialup, it wasn’t worth the effort. (Even worse was Real Audio.) So you had pay this premium price, plus shipping, which brings in my means of first buying the album.
At the time my best friend Jordan also had an avid thirst for new music and reading Rolling Stone on the crapper. (There used to be a great feeling opening up the mailbox and getting your latest issue. My favorite was always the random notes section, and the film and album reviews. Still are to some extent.)
So I was 20 years old. I didn’t have much money, nor a job. Jordan however did and he was as enthused about this record review as I was. He had a job (yikes and a bank card too) and ordered the record on my instant urging that this could be the sound we were looking for.
It was.
I made a copy of the cd onto a tape and carried it with me and played it on my walkman (geez, this sounds like the stone age, I’m sure, to most people) while I made the futile attempt at junior college. I had it on tape until our one friend (one!) that had a cdr burner could make me a copy. Now for those not older than 20 I guess, let me briefly describe to you what one had to do to make a copy of a cd, especially if you only had 1 cdr drive. Mind you, these things burned at a rate of 2x. So whatever the length of the album was, say 45 minutes, cut it in half, and you had your cd. However, if you only had 1 drive, you had to rip the disc first and that took about 45 minutes too. Needless to say, it’s baffling how far along technology has come in 10 years, and also how we used to have to wait for things. Which worked at, great and was completely worth it if you liked it. If you didn’t however; then you were out money and time.
I loved it.
I bought everything that came out before and after that record. I wanted to be in that band. Wanted to write and record those songs of beauty. Songs like ‘most beautiful widow, Maria’s little elbows, hundreds of sparrows, piano fire, applebed, gold day, morning hollow,’ filled the soundtrack of the film that is my life for years to come. I spent absurd amounts of money of imports and eps. Scoured the internet for live mp3s. Purchased bootlegs foolishly on Ebay. All in all, I found myself transfixed in the beauty with my headphones on. I found a world of imagery and sound.
One thing I never got to see and can’t find anywhere to download is for the record It’s a Wonderful Life, there was an IFC special where I think they filmed short films for all of the songs.
It’s a Wonderful life came out at a strange time in my life. It came out in August of 2001. I was going through the motions of being drug around by girls I liked that didn’t like me all that much. Of course we all know what happened in the September of that year. I had hoped and truly believed this would be the record that broke them into mainstream popularity instead of indie and critical fandom. It didn’t. As with nearly all albums released that fall, it didn’t do well.
The single for Piano Fire was scrapped post 9/11 for containing the lyric “I got sunburned waiting for the jets to land.” Pretty lame but so was the climate in America at the time. (Damn near 8 years were to follow of the same shit.) I bought tickets for the tour that was in November. The LA show sold out as soon as it was listed so I got tickets to the Belly Up (near San Diego) and I had the hookup to get into the sold out show the day after in Santa Monica. (The hook up was emailing the owner of the club via the website of the club and she said I could just come and pay because my name plus one was on the list. It’s funny how innocent and easy some things used to be.) The show was great in San Diego. The crowd was great but you could tell there was something a little defensive or sad coming from Mark. He was a southern gentleman through and through but onstage he didn’t much of a persona, banter, or even appear to like being onstage. It was a great show but I didn’t make the one the next night because I had nowhere to stay. I did but my friend lived 3 blocks from the beach and there was not 1 parking spot in all of Long Beach that night. But I kept the memory with me of that show for years.
It’s a Wonderful Life is still one of my favorite records. I literally wore out one cd back in the day and had to buy another. I sing Sparklehorse to my daughter Hope now almost daily. I know I’m not the only one to hold this band/this man in such a high regard. We are blessed to have the music and memory. I had a friend that knew and toured with Mark and said what we pretty much already know. He wasn’t a happy guy. He could be what seemed to be abrasive. He couldn’t sleep on the tour bus because of what happened to him when he tried to kill himself before. It’s sad. It’s an interesting side note that he worked with and admired 2 other fellow souls that are/were sick. (Vic Chestnutt and Daniel Johnston.) and they still created such beauty.
One thing to be learned from this is that depression can be just as deadly as any addiction. I urge everyone to talk to someone, anyone if you feel you’re in that hopeless void that even the coolest motherfucker like Mark Linkous fell into. We don’t need to lose more beauty. We don’t need to shift the balance all the way from the light. We need these things, music, art, film, photos, to keep up the good fight and to never let it go. His music made me constantly slow down and see the beauty even in the mundane. Some will say they see the depression and sadness in his music, and I do too. But I also see happiness and the search for it. See: shade and honey. Hundreds of sparrows. Don’t take my sunshine away.
I read the news yesterday on the LA Times website. I had to reread it 2 or 3 times before it seemed real. It rained all day. I hope he would have liked that.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

i can't stay away

It’s a little after 11 pm on a Tuesday night. Everyone in this quiet house is resting sweetly. I am listening to the noises of the night. The hum of the fridge. The traffic slowing outside. It is Feb 23rd 2010. In a few hours my little girl Hope Lennon Alexandria will be a full 2 weeks old. I must say, and I know that everyone says it, but she is the sweetest most beautiful girl ever. She is sleeping now and in a couple of hours she will be up again. So let’s get to the point.
Looking back, it says that my last blog update was back in July of 09. A lot of things have gone on since then and I feel that, in time, I will get back to then and maybe shed light on some of those things. It seems odd that say that after 4 years on myspace and running a blog/music site, I felt it best to just step back for a while. I say this in earnest and with a small smudge of disappointment, but I haven’t really written much of anything since then, nor have I played any music either.
I am not sure really what has happened so long ago now, in a different light, in a different life, but after 4 years I felt like it was just the natural time to give up for a while. I had been playing shows around Vegas pretty regularly but my heart just wasn’t in it anymore. I felt like I had said so many things in songs, in poetry, in blogs, that there just wasn’t much else to continue on about. Another contributor of course, is/was the fact that maybe for the first time in my life, I am geniunely content and happy most days. That right there sometimes is the death of art.
It’s funny, I’m the guy that would stay up until daybreak draining the bottles, pounding the keys, listening to music, and now I’m sitting here downstairs in the dark typing by the muted light of a flashlight that I hope doesn’t burn out before I’m done. I’m as quiet as can be. Can’t wake the family. I like saying that.
So for various reasons I will get into later, I just stopped writing. Music was gone too, though I never fully put down the guitar. In fact, on christmas I home recorded 2 songs as a present for my sweetie and my daughter Hope who was in my sweetie’s belly at the time. It’s weird because it feels like 2009 came and went in a fury and blurry whir. And I don’t know about where you are; but here spring is almost on the rise. I’d like to say I’ve changed in some ways, I think we all like to think that, but maybe I have. I certainly don’t feel as wild as I used to and I have found a few grays spread out across my head.
For 4 years or more I used myspace and myspace was the place to be and the place where I housed my writing and music. Some day soon I am definitely going to need to go through it all and archive it because if it goes, a lot of that stuff is gone. I no longer have all the original files. Hopefully soon I will get back into music. I’m not sure what I want to do in that regard. I definitely feel like playing drums in a group again since I play almost every day or I did before Hope was born. In my gut there has been this longing urge to play some political punk/folk.
The funny thing is, in the 8 months or whatever it has been that I’ve been gone from this world; myspace has been deserted like a pool with shit in it and facebook has taken over the reins of everyone’s time. (There’s also twitter, but who cares about any of them really?) They all are boring to me and do not consume much of my time these days. I usually just check to see if anyone has sent me anything. (They don’t usually, just the lame ass*ville request.)
It’s strange to see how when you step back for a while from everything how much everything changes. I don’t even understand the new music that’s on the rock* (see shit) music radio stations. I haven’t listened to those kinds of stations in years, but at least it used to be recognizable. I’m more of an ipod, npr kind of person anyway, but still. Movies have also become more stagnant, lacking. Politics. Same shit as always. A lot more people out of work. A lot. And no jobs coming either. But what can you do, some will always say.
As for me, now, I feel like I am doing okay. Periods of sobriety and nothing like I was before. I will try and be as faithful as I can to writing again. I miss it. At the end oitf the day I feel a bit empty without it. Just a little part. There was a time once when everything hinged on coming home and sitting at the typer for a while. I feel like doing it again. I just can’t stay away!
You can expect the usual and also new things and ideas. I’m basically just going to do the same thing I have in the past and talk about shit. Movies, music, people, politics, whatever. If not for anyone or anything but the fact I am writing again.

So now it’s time to kiss the girl and the daughter. Climb into bed.
do it all over again……d

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

in a dream that was no dream at all

I dread the thought to think of who I was or who I will be without you. I surrender my heart and all my armies and even the moon and sun, just to be in your arms again. Our sacred garden. Our little family. I loved you in Texas and I loved you when I was throwing up the mornings after. I love you now and I’ll love you straight through. Let the bridges wash out. Let the tidal waves come. Burn down the cities, you and me, we can always go on the run. And I come to you now and beg to bathe your feet. I come to you now as the man you love. As the shade from the tree. As the tears of hope. As this long filled desire. You are each and every dream. You are each hunger and kiss and each dream I do not want to wake from. I want to lie with you in the shade of the pines and dream up our new world together. I want for you to take me in your arms just so and place your hand in my and place your cheek to mine and tell me we will always have this, be this, feel this love. And I will tell you of the sorrows I no longer have. The sorrows you helped to slay. I will kiss you for each day you’ve been alive, for each day yet to be. I will hold you in my arms while the soldiers overtake the cities and burn books in the courtyards. Come what may, I am the man who loves and my back is strong, my will stronger, my love stronger yet. With you I have the heart of a tugboat. You are every song I’ve ever sung. You are each tear I cried from happiness that was, that is yet to be. And I see you in my dreams, in the royal gardens with all the colors and flowers alight. Holding a child in your arms, wearing all white. The birds singing their song, our song, god’s song. And I’ve found peace and I’ve found peace in you and I’ve found peace I will not let go of. You are every moment and every dream and every prayer I’ve uttered softly to the midnights. And you are no ghost and you are no phantom you are beauty alive and to me you are the world entire so set astride with me down this road and love me until we are gone gone gone from this world.

This was a journey I had long wanted but was unprepared for.
You are absolutely, the love of my life and my life and heart is yours.


the beginning of my 30th year

Maybe in a sense, we’re all a little bit crazy. I know, I myself, have a few screws loose, but most of you wouldn’t have me any other way. At any other time. To start your life over at 37 must be something so difficult I cannot even imagine the rate and depth. Just really to start your life over at any age is hard and a lot of the time scary. For me, it’s like I am just finally starting my life at the ripe old age of 30. So many things have changed, so many things changing, so many good things happening.

It really feels like for the first time in my life I am happy genuinely and without condition or restraint. Don’t know if you know this or not, but things are a lot better happy than when you’re unhappy. Simple things, like eating a meal are actually enjoyable. In a sense it’s funny that I just turned 30 and am sort of growing up a little. Remember, I’m the boy who always said he’d stay young and dumb inside. It’s funny because I am a 30 year old man who still loves Batman and watching the occasional vintage wrestling match. I still have a hard time sleeping away from home or, for that matter, sleeping at all. But I’ve always been that way. Even when I was a child. Just always a beast who always had problems falling and staying asleep.

Have you ever gone to the library and taken a look at the newspapers from the day you were born? You know the ones on microfilm that you have to spin the thing for each new page. I did that once. Long ago. When I was younger, like from the ages of 18-21 I was very poor. I never really had a job. I just loafed about toiling away my days at the junior college. I literally lived off of 2 dollars a day. That and the trade my friends would get from the radio station they worked at for the awful John’s Burgers. But 2 dollars a day meant I could get 2 whopper juniors at Burger King or any variant of the 99 cent menu. I walked everywhere because I didn’t have a car. I hardly slept. I spent most of my time hanging out with people that I thought I’d be friends with forever. It turns out that wasn’t the case, but still. In those times, they were the most important people in my life. Shit, they were my laugh. In a way, I look back on those days fondly, as the salad days of my life. True, I was excruciatingly poor and hungry all the time, but I was free. I did whatever I wanted. Wrote countless songs and stories and poems. Slept little or too much. Read all the time and watched movies like there was no tomorrow. A simple life. A poor life. But I believed in my Buddhist way that that was how you found peace or god or happiness or artistry.

But I also spent a lot of time at the library. This was in the days before DSL or high speed internet was affordable, so I’d go to the library to do my webbing. So one day I decided to see what was going on in the world when I was born. I just remember being surprised how many drive in movie theaters there was in Bakersfield at that time. Also the Gas Shortage thing was going on. Something to do with Iran and gas rationing. Nothing much of note that happened. Much like my birthdays to be.

Of course around your birthday you start to think about aging and maybe even a little about death and what that’s like. But also, I thought about my kids. I wonder how they’ll be. What kind of personalities will they have? Will they even like me? Do I have enough love to give them? Will I be a total fuckup or will he like Batman also? Will he/she like music and film as much as me? Will they be jocks? You do little things too. Like you wonder what color their eyes will be. Color of hair. Will you be blessed and they take after you looks wise or will you be screwed and they take after their grandparents. I’m getting older and it’s natural to wonder about these things. And it’s a wondrous thought indeed, but thought provoking nonetheless.

Like you wonder if they’d get along with their siblings. I didn’t get along with mine in the least bit. Mostly you just wonder if you’ll be enough. That’s a thought that comes around often enough.

Have you ever met that person that sets your heart ablaze? I have.
Have you ever kissed someone just so, and the world seemed righted at last? I have.
The beginning and ending of each day for me are the same. I think of her. Wonder where she is, how she is. And why she isn’t with you. Inside I feel so alive, so grateful I am given this chance, this person. Someone who’s eyes sends shivers down my spine. I once was the tale of the big nothing filled with emptiness. Now I’m like someone who was in the water flailing about and someone has thrown me a preserver and pulled me out of the current. The big nothing now filled with love and tenderness and days upon days of smiles and laughter. Sometimes I feel like the words just don’t come through or come out right and there is no real way to say how thankful I am to know this person. To love this person. To have this person love me. But I am. I am and I am. Forever indebted to her. The woman of my dreams. The answer to my prayers. No more throw away mornings. No more regrettable nights. Sometimes when she is in my arms, I think of how lucky I am how lucky I am, how lucky I am. 9-10 years ago, I’d thought none of this possible.

This happiness. This twist in the tale. This love.

And now the moon is out. I am longing for her again. Every time she leaves…

I guess I began to think about kids when I read The Road for the first time back in 2006. The relationship the father and son have in that book is something of pure unadulterated love. A love I only imagined, didn’t know was possible.

Bruce Springsteen Book of Dreams
I'm standing in the backyardListening to the party InsideTonight I'm drinkin' in the forgivenessThis life providesThe scars we carry remain but the pain slips away it seemsOh won't you baby be in my book of dreamsI'm watchin' you through the windowWith your girlfriends from back homeYou're showin' off your dressThere's laughter and a toastFrom your daddy to the prettiest bride he's ever seenOh won't you baby be in my book of dreamsIn the darkness my fingers slip across your skinI feel your sweet replyThe room fades away and suddenly I'm way up highJust holdin' you to meAs through the window the moonlight streamsOh won't you baby be in my book of dreamsNow the ritual begins'Neath the wedding garland we meet as strangersThe dance floor is alive with beautyMystery and dangerWe dance out 'neath the stars' ancient light into the darkening trees

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

god bless our love

Unfortunately, a lot of my time recently has been utilized doing things like converting dvd’s to the new ipod I bought myself for reaching the age 30. As I’ve stated before, I never thought I’d get to this age, or if I did, I never thought in about 1,000 19999 years, I’d be happy and spend most of everyday feeling pretty good. Pretty normal. I had an ipod in the past, like the 2nd generation ones, and they weren’t great, even though it was an 80gb one, it constantly didn’t work right. It was a green screen without color. No video. Well the new one I bought myself is amazing. 160 gigs and I still haven’t filled but 40 gigs maybe.

I’ve been spending my time ripping cds, ripping movies, podcasts, loading loading loading up. In a couple of days I turn 30. have I mentioned that yet? And we’re headed to Los Angeles, to catch the Getty, the Museum of Tolerance, and the Griffith Observatory. Also, for whatever reason and god bless her, Rochelle wants to see the town of my birth. So that’s on the agenda for the first couple of hours. I mean, there isn’t much to see. And anyway, I am going to be back there in Mid-August. Well actually early August, for Jordan’s wedding and then in late August where I will be permanent until the New Year.

I should also note that my days have been spent so happily and blessed; most of you would not recognize me anymore. That boy I was, the suicide kid, he’s gone. I am filled with a love I am filled with love I am filled with a love that transcends any day or night, nor falter of the heart. This woman I love, I’d swear she carved the Grand Canyon. She painted the sky with stars. She laid down the grid work. She is the equator. And here I am these days. Wondering at the luck.

Earlier tonight I drew a picture with a heart that said: Share. Believe. This life is ours. My heart is open. Inside the drawing of the heart is a single eyeball. Peering out.

I used to write that I once I was young and now I am old. But the truth is once I was young and I now am getting older with love in my life that makes me feel young as I am probably am. And Lennon makes all the more sense to me. This man has been a part of my life since birth. When I was less than 6 months old he was killed. My whole life my mother and father talked about John Lennon. All you need is love. Imagine no religion. I don’t believe in anything but Yoko and me. And suddenly, something I’d long studied makes sense. There is a reason, for all these years, I wanted to name one of my children Lennon. His sense of his family. His little family. This love. That love. We can change the world. It’s in all of our hearts. It’s in mine. It’s in hers.

In a way, I am sorry it’s so anti-climactic. All I want is this peace I’ve found to last and last. Maybe the man you watched all along wondering what’s next won’t like what’s next in the context of my life. Because all I ever wanted was to feel all right.

And now I am.

What was it you all wanted? My blood? You already knew my heart. I hope you know it still.

God is a concept, By which we can measure, Our pain, I'll say it again, God is a concept, By which we can measure, Our pain, I don't believe in magic, I don't believe in I-ching, I don't believe in bible, I don't believe in tarot, I don't believe in Hitler, I don't believe in Jesus, I don't believe in Kennedy, I don't believe in Buddha, I don't believe in mantra, I don't believe in Gita, I don't believe in yoga, I don't believe in kings, I don't believe in Elvis, I don't believe in Zimmerman, I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me, Yoko and me, And that's reality. The dream is over, What can I say? The dream is over, Yesterday, I was dreamweaver, But now I'm reborn, I was the walrus, But now I'm John, And so dear friends, You just have to carry on, The dream is over.