Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Just say No to Socialism

I found this online and had to post it. It's been said before in differnt ways, but I liked how it was put here. Also, I'm not big on the healthcare bill that was passed, but it's like anything (some good / some bad). I really hate lobbing up mandatory INSURANCE for the bastards who are source of this problem. Note: if we all had health COVERAGE (a la Universal Healthcare) we wouldnt need INSURANCE; that for-profit bureaucracy always getting in the way. Okay, enough from me, here's the excerpt:

This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the United States Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the Federal Communications Commission regulated channels to see what the National Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of United States Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined as safe by the Food and Drug Administration.

At the appropriate time as regulated by the United States congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the United States Naval Observatory, I get into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal Departments of Transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the United States Postal Service and drop the kids off at the public school.

After work, I drive my NHTSA car back home on DOT roads, to my house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.

I then log onto the internet which was developed by the defense advanced research projects administration and post on and fox news forums about how socialsism in medicine is bad because the government can't do anything right.

Furthermore, if the Politicians would just discuss what the real issue is here (hint: Human Rights), there'd be no debate.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are supposed to be among our inalienable rights, instead they're just another example of our hypocrisy.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Collateral Murder

I say this as someone who was more than angry after September 11th, as someone who voted for George W. Bush (now, regrettably) in 2004, as someone who thoroughly excused The War in Iraq and virtually anything America did to "defend" herself; but this is bullshit - period - and the same mentality a lot cops have.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Fight Dog Fighting Dot Com is a medium to raise awareness and stop unnecessary Dog Violence.

The Goal: to take the "fight" in "dogfighting" to Dog; WHERE IT BELONGS! The days of Dog bullying Dog, without fear of repercussion, are a thing of the past...

Our Motto: ZERO Tolerance and LESS Compassion

We'll beat the shit out of Aggressor Dog AND Inferior Dog, LETTING EVERY DOG KNOW, that if they dont change their dog-ways, they'll be "dogged" next.

Think tough love, but minus the love.

Ahh...Nice try Deceiving Dog! But I know "Dogfighting" isnt the innocent sparring down at the health-club like you'd have us believe. You're ruthless, you know that Dog? What'd you say? Oh, just another retarded bark, that's what I thought.

Here's some other things to think about:

Awe, cute! If you ignore the dick germs and cat-shit on his breath, that is. Really, Dog? To a baby? That's messed up.

  *sigh* No Comment

Nice Kangaroo impression Arrogant Dog, but I'm not impressed. And by that unflinching whiff (of your own ass, sicko), I surmise your shit doesnt stink either. Great. All this while enjoying a snow-day, b/c guess what? Dog doesn't fucking work when it's snows, or doesnt snow, making everyday just another "dog day" in his vacation of a life.

Oh perfect, her nose and eye in one full swoop. Talk about a prick. Oh and let me guess, the centuries of Puppy Propaganda have her "enjoying" this! And why shouldn't she? I dunno,b/c Dog loves to eat cat-shit and lick his own dick. But hey, to each their own I suppose...

Oh sweet, somebody's ready for us huh? Well, you might look pretty fearsome Medieval Feudalistic Dog, but we will fight you Sir!! And newsflash dumbshit, your fancy armored suit was rendered useless, I dunno, like 400 hundred years ago. (Hint: Gunpowder.) You might trick some people Sir Dog, but not me...

And am I the only one sick of Dog masquerading behind euphemisms like, "Man's Best-friend"? Puhhleasse! Nobody wants some shit-hole sniffing, self-righteous prick, whose best trait is their ability to lick their own genitalia; as their BFF. (Go ahead Dog, pleasure yourself while you think no one sees you, real fucking cool Dog.)

Okay that's enough for now, from me at least. But I'd love for you to share your own stories (err..nightmares) about Dog exploiting his (what should be nonexistent) role in society.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

I wouldnt put that in there if I were you....

I'm all but 100% positive this is only funny b/c I'm still drunk from last night's St. Patty's day celebration....or maybe I'm just a sick sonuvabitch, who cares. But I love that I found multiple articles about this poor Bloke (not the guy in the image) who got his willy stuck in a steel pipe while I was prospecting this morning.

Who knew a "steel pipe" search would yield such ridiculous results?? I'd ask with the same sincerity, what in the world this Limey was doing, but we all know they're a bunch of sick, sex deprived, perverts stuck on an island, at this point, don't we? So thank you Universe for the much needed comic relief, and google for linking the article. You've made my day, now back to struggling through this formidable hangover, arggh.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


I wrote this Sunday evening after one of my guitar strings broke. I was already slightly frustrated with some other things, amidst reading some pretty heavy material, and I just wasnt feeling the "bright" sound of new guitar strings. Furthermore, I havent had a cigarette since 2002, but the idea of a disgusting cig embodied my mood.


I want my strings old and worn out. I want them to ring dull and deep and dark; like the blunt touch to a weeks old bruise.

I want the harsh critique of an old has-been who was more than slightly used; with bitter sentiments about the way the world works.

I want rustic stained callused fingers to feed my crooked teeth. I want to play pick-less arpeggios with a cigarette between my lips and a piece of scrap paper nearby. I want yesterdays coffee, room temperature, and bitter to compliment the stale smoke that dances on my tongue.

I want a reason to scream in an octave you cant hear and play it off like a whisper, with a smirk reminiscent of every devious thing I've ever done.

I want to let my mind race like a maniac while occupying the like with straight talk about the forecast. I want to intentionally go the wrong way before being admittedly unsure and unaware; then play dumb and offer an apology so contrived it's insulting. I want total, 100%, complete, thorough destruction. Chaos. I want every single thing systematically destroyed, poof, completely to the ground, but done silently and with zero plans of reconstructing.

I want to waive my fist and march around like a freak and not give two shits.

I want you to win; to be beaten fairly and be genuinely indifferent about it.

I want to get in a philosophical debate about how 2+2 can equal 5; before we both agree we've been fed so much bullshit it's beyond our breath but ingrained in the very syllables we emphasize.

I want you to see it my way before I retreat from my ideologies. I want to disregard what I cant have once I get it and then complain about losing it.


Monday, February 22, 2010

Thoughts become things....

I often take you with me in my day dreams
With a slight shift in resonance we're a world away
Living off pristine vistas and the new
We're sharing cups of warm laughs in a quaint cafe

Passport stamps are played out
Visas fatigued
And it just so happens we've topped the Seven Summits in under seven minutes
And sailed the 7 seas all Seven days of the week

Yes, just a dream, my inner critic chimes
But my reality transcends manifestation a la grapes to wine

So I dream a dreamer's dream
I hang my coat on ideals
My thoughts on your smile
in this fantasy with wheels
It's errant and without aim
a swift rush between a pause
But yet just a dream....well...just because....

Sometimes I wonder what you think
Where you place your yesterday
Do you blink in the moment; in your dream of today?

Oh my, my musing mind
always losing it's place
But you the constant in my dream to escape....

Thursday, February 18, 2010

See you in Hell Frashour...

Please work the equation from the other direction, I beg you.

Please see a life cease's to exist. A man is dead, shot in the back, and it did not have to be so. This fact needs to supersede any tolerance for procedural mishaps.
Look no further than your own hypocrisy for the root of this tragedy. You cant dismiss the "absurdity" of racist notions while you employ them in the same breath. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes; talk about absurdity, please...
That you expect me to tolerate such things is in its own right sickening, maybe you should reexamine who's the bad apple.
For one instance pretend it was me? And if in that instance you can look me in the face and say your blood would not boil with the rage of murder then I'll walk away. I will walk and I will never say another thing.
I will too, however, be sick to my stomach. I'll most likely have my hands full of respect that used to beam for you; a lifetime's worth...
No one ever said their job was easy, but that's what they signed up for. That's why they're in the line of fire... 
...And like the men who have sworn to protect us from fire, they too have a duty. Would we shrug indifferent if they employed the same seemingly "reasonable" fears? Last time I checked burning buildings kill people. What if they refused to rescue people because "they feared for their life"? This might seem ridiculous and provocative but it equates the same...doesnt it?
Love or hate the Reverend, it's not about him or his ego; it's about an unarmed man following police orders getting shot in the back with an assault rifle.
To even be complacent is wretched (remember the poem; "First they came"?) but to defend these actions is insane. So yes, dismiss me and I'll go off and wave my pitchfork, thank you...and NO, I'm not angry: I'm FUCKING FURIOUS!!

Sunday, January 17, 2010


While you exercise your routine trepidation, I wonder aloud if it's in an attempt to show the universe, yourself, or your friends that you're trying?

While the mirror stares back and you groom yourself in agreeance, I wonder what pageant this is for.

While life chases, and you run, I wonder if you will ever trip and refrain from grasping at conveniences.

While angst consumes, and you clench, I wonder if you realize you just lost a passing moment.

While you turn up the volume to deafening levels, and recite the lyrics of inaudible distractions, I wonder if you ever truly listen to the beauty of existence; to silence.

While I watch you hide yourself from yourself, I wonder with concern if you'll hide it too well, as so it will never be found. I hope you will be revealed; and if so, when, and by whom?

While I sit back, knowing it's now your time, I pray the fiery intensity of your being will marry an equally vibrant curiosity; one that seeps from your pores.

When I see all the fortunes this life has found you in I wonder if you will ever truly realize your own fortune; if life, without tragedy, will humble you to the point of apologies. I hope you get to see the softer side of grace dance beside you like the Aurora.

I see you have so much strength, followers feed from it, but yet a crutch is still firmly placed under your arm while you ceremoniously skip to avoid limping.

I wonder if the centrifugal force generated by you affords you the feeling of being grounded, or you too are uncertain.

I wonder if the ramifications of this life will ever resonate with you in an alarming fashion. If you will ever wake up, see the sun rise before deciding to take over the world.

I dream that you will learn to build smiles from your deepest moments; that one morning your eyes open a little wider and you learn something from yourself before teaching it to all of us.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Tomorrow Becomes Today (version 2)

After a late night talk with a friend on Friday and my s

I wrote this song last Saturday after staying up way too late talking about Life, to put it shortly, the night before.

I could rap over an acoustic guitar
play the background of a backtown bar
But ya know that aint get us very far
Lets make real changes, not wishes on a star

Lets talk about clean drinking water
for the impoverished children starving
And certain things might be harder
making less go farther / we could all get smarter
After all / the planets getting hotter / we're deploying soldiers,
that's just for starters,
Lets take a hard look at all the hard things
Violence, hand guns, your blood diamond ring
What with all the exploitation
Raping other nations with no explanation
Just like a slave on the plantation
soveriengty is now a corporation
And I know I'm just one Mason
writing silly poems 'bout the problems we facing
But I see us all as one creation
I fell in love with love and it's since been amazing

Change Happens in the Funniest Ways
We all speak up tomorrow becomes today

Have we, all but forgotten
The homeless, Jobless, Hopeless downtrodden

Lets form a whole new committee
Each practice what we preach, its not enough just to pity
It dont matter if you farm or you're city
We're all earthlings and it aint all pretty
Lets take a little gander at hunger
bombs over foods and elected war mongers
I keep saying it's fear we need to conquer
knowledge is power lets get a little smarter
All of us could use a little less
conserve a little more and make a bigger difference
Juxtapose useless expense
With starved and deprived, it makes no sense
Loads of us, living lost in excess,
w/ Visa Mastercard American Express
might seem daunting, but no need to stress
own the moment, it's not hopeless

Change happens in the funniest ways
When we all speak up tomorrow becomes today

Undecided alternate verse
Have we, all but forgotten
The homeless, Jobless, Hopeless downtrodden
At times, you might think it's rotten
But someone's best day'd be your rock bottom
I know, it happens all too often
The best of ideals, get stomped & softened
Stay strong, you belong in your convictions
The world keeps spinning, we're all here to witness
But make you're not in your own way
As for making change, no day like today

Monday, January 11, 2010

He aint no Joe, He's Mike The Plumber!!!

And to clarify, I'm talking 'bout my big brother Michael aka Mike, Big Mike, The Bigger Mike, Grace's Dad or my all time favorite moniker; Wabado.  We could also refer to him as "Big Red" if we wanted to go by the spray paint graffiti that adorned our garage way back in '95.

Continuing on, this blog is of the promotional variety, specifically in the way of plumbing. It's a Plumbing Promo Blog, if you will.

My aforementioned brother is starting a plumbing business, so you should call him if you have any plumbing needs (503) 936-5618, or email him or use the facebook account he just started. Now, you might be thinking, "wait, doesn't his Dad have a plumbing business?" If so, you're correct, my Dad does indeed, so Wabado's initiative will  make me the only male in my family without one. Yeah, talk about being left out. In television terms my character would be cast somewhere in-between George Costanza and Paul Pfeifer from Wonder Years, inadequate and picked last for the basketball game, but I digress.  You might also be saying, "Good for him, but, I already know a plumber...and he's done great work for us," and I respect that. Honestly, I do. The only problem is, does your local plumber or handy-man-guy have a daughter this cute?

 That loves (and NEEDS) accessories this much?

And laughing this much?

While still being this pleasant?

Dont answer yet, take on more look below. See, she's an Angel!

If for no other reason, give Wabado your plumbing business so Grace can sleep this soundly for the many happy years to come. 

(Also, if you're thinking it's unethical for me to promote my brother's business prospects on the cuteness of his daughter, then I apologize.  I am always going to be pushing the likes of Grace, aka the World's Cutest Niece, and helping out my brother who, over the years, has done his best to keep me outta trouble (dont make a joke out of that), goes without saying.  Ah ha, so now you see it's actually quite symbiotic, huh?  Glad we're on the same page.)

So even if you have some less than urgent plumbing issue, you should take care of it now (before it gets worse) and help stimulate the economy in the process; or at the very least my niece's college fund.  Further, this isnt just about YOU and YOUR plumbing needs, (quit being so vain!)  My brother will gladly do GREAT work for your friends, family members, neighbors or colleagues. So again, call him [503-936-5618], email him, facebook him, or even go through me and I'll play a cross between formal secretary and ghetto-adolescent-drug-runner-in-da-hood, if you catch my drift.  Anything to ensure the world is a better place!  Lets face it, when we talk about 3rd world countries in need, "running water" is one of the first things mentioned.  So do your part and support plumbers here, specifically my Brother!!!

All of my lame jokes aside, I'm very proud of my big brother and love him very much.  He's setting out to pave his own path, in tough economic times no less, and I wish him all the best.  I speak on behalf of him, Maureen (his beautiful loving wife), Grace (no further intro necessary), and their dog Bruce when I say all of your support is appreciated!

Happy New Year!!!

Monday, January 4, 2010

It was good times oh nine...

I'm still exhausted from this last weekend, wow, what a riot.  It's not typical of me to get too worn out.  I think my exhaustion is justified though and anyone in my position - except a "tweeker" on a meth bender - would feel similar.  Let's suffice to say I'm feeling it after 2000 miles in a car, an Epic NYE's bash, The Rose Bowl, "Is this Love" a capella style through downtown LA (and on the subway), general shenanigans, enough one-liners to make an English major blush and day drinking on "the prom" in Santa Monica, then driving home on a few hrs of sleep.  I love pushing it to the edge though, it can serve as a reminder to what we're capable of.

Here's a rough attempt at a recap of our adventure.

Brian pulled into my driveway at 5:15am, and I did what anyone with the foresight of the magic to come would do, I lit sparklers and danced like a pansy in the driveway.  I think Brian was laughing too hard to work the camera on his blackberry or we'd have a pic. If you're reading this though, you probably know me well enough to create a decent visual upstairs, so that and the crappy stock photo to your right'll have to do.  I was fired up and ready to go after getting the car all packed.

It's 5:30am, Wednesday, December 29th, 2009, when Brian and I set out for sunshine, leaving behind one overly soggy, nasty, depressing Portland, Oregon.  I love Portland but my fine city was hit with a surprise snow disaster Tuesday afternoon.  Luckily it wasnt a burden on our travel ambitions, but at this moment Portland was the equivalent of the semi-decent girl you convinced yourself to go to bed with, only to wake up next to after her breath went sour and her make-up rubbed off throughout the night.  Not only is she hideous, but she made a mess out of your freshly laundered pillow case. It just aint pretty.

We loaded up the car with two guitars, couple sleeping bags, one ukulele (aka the car guitar), an adequate amount of coffee, red bull, Gatorade, cold cuts, chips, tangerines, apples and of course, the necessary enthusiasm to entertain yourself on a straight stretch of interstate for the equivalent of two days at work.  Getting out of my neighborhood Brian turned to me and said "you're really prepared", I nodded, it was evident I knew this was a cant miss weekend.

So I man the wheel and we spend the first 6 hours listening to tunes.  We cover most of my favorites before the loud music grew irritable. At this point BK picks up the Ukulele and we start having some fun.  Brian put together a few chords and I belted out "We going to Flip Flop country, We going to Bikini's and Palm Trees" in some undesirable tone, but when BK repeated the words with his beautiful voice they fit like puzzle pieces. We took turns rapping over the uke coming up with versus for said song and another.  It might sound ridiculous and silly, but that's the beauty of it.  We're a couple of weirdos just trying to have fun.  And in-between Brian's absent minded ability to sink into his blackberry to "tweet" some memorable quote for 20 minute intervals (that seemed longer), making up songs, and enough laughter to make watching Eddie Murhpy's "Delirious" seem like peanuts, fun we had. 

I basically drove the whole way there, minus the last 30 minutes where I slipped into a cocktail and gave Brian shitty directions, via my iphone, through Los Angeles' labyrinth-like freeway system. We still had enough energy to laugh at ourselves when I pronounced our place in the universe with this gem of a quote - "We're the two biggest fucking retards on the planet.  You're first and I'm second, and we wont get into the marginal disparity between ranks." Ha! We made it to Dave's in one piece though.  When we got there, Mike and David were out renting music equipment for the big bash to come, once again David out-did himself dropping too much on a more than adequate set-up.  We passed the time prior to their return playing guitars in the "rec room" adjacent to the lobby. Once the equipment was seized, unloaded, and the bar was scoped we scurried up to their 20th floor pad overlooking the Staples Center and the rest of downtown Los Angeles.  I know I had a couple drinks, a religious experience in the best shower of my life, and some "La Confidential", before falling into the most comfortable couch in the world like an 8 year old boy into a ball bin at Chuck E Cheese.  This sleep was earned.

I instinctively woke up at 7:00am, which is about an hour later than my internal alarm usually goes off.  I let myself go back to bed despite excitement, and the fact that it was already warmer out than any day Portland would see in the next 3 months (if not longer), not to mention the last day of the best year of my life aka 2009.

A  few hours later we finally pulled our heads from our drool soaked pillows and dunked them in giant bowls of cold cereal.  We fueled up while Mike ran late to work.  David showed up after having already digested a morning meeting in his dapper pin striped suit. You could see his mind racing with the angst that only someone who's thrown a huge bash knows, while going through the check list of things to be done.  Brian and I rubbed the sleep from our wide eyes and played the guitars overlooking the sun drenched city for a while before setting out on foot.  I'm pretty sure we were practicing a "Juicy" cover we conceived the night before. Then wandered aimlessly around this metropolis before bumping into Matt, Dave's brother.  We exchange Hey-how-are-you's before catching the bus down to USC's campus.  While Brian naively ganders at the diversity on this bus I tell him there's "no better way to get the feel of a city than to ride it's public transportation" - which I believe. He give's a hollow eyed nod in response. Then we went to rapping Juicy on the bus like we were alone, stopping only to confirm with a young man decorated in USC gear which stop was campus.  A lot of people were wearing USC gear around the city, which was apparently their showing of solidarity to the out of town football fans from Ohio and Oregon, respectively.  Campus was dead due to the holiday, but we dicked around till Mike picked us up sometime after 4:00pm to run a few last minute errands.

The rest of the night went rather quickly, or turned into a blur rather quickly? Who knows.  All I know is Mike led the charge on delicious bacon wrapped appetizers while we started in on cocktails. From here I wouldnt sober up until somewhere around Modesto on Sunday.  I arrived down at the par-tay fashionably late (I need to get into guitar addicts anonymous, seriously) and Brian killed it, obviously, and at the end of the night we did our last minute cover of Juicy. It was fun but I'm sure I sounded like a cross between carrot top and Leah Remini, which isnt good.  Plenty of room to improve though.  Ha!  I think my last memory of that night was David and Marriot jousting with gigantic stuffed animals from Africa, literally.  I know the Giraffe was involved, but the other animal escapes me, as does who came out on top.

(Note: Dave recently went to Africa and has 3/4 of the Lion King's cast in giant stuffed animals.  Over to your right you'll find one unkempt character singing "In the Jungle" like a clown with an Elephant on his back.)

Then, after we went to bed for less than enough sleep, some bastard got past security at the front door and broke into David's apartment and stole my right converse all star.  He was good too, didnt leave any sign of forced entry, almost like a ghost.  After waking up and realizing what happened, I told all my homies to look for some one legged crook running around Los Angeles with my shoe.  Fucking Bastard's lucky we didnt find him too, woulda got nasty. Okay, that last part is unconfirmed, but my right shoe definitely went missing and it's the only thing I could come up with that fits, (pun intended).

The first day of 2010 felt a lot like the start of 2009, sub Los Angeles for San Francisco and me waking up on David's couch instead of Jay's.  But hungover all the same with my head in a thick fog and half a bong rip away from retardation.  But it's on with the show as we set out for Pasadena after everyone had adorned themselves in their Ducks gear, and me in my neutral brown.  (No way I'd get caught in that shit.)  The sun's out and with to-go cups in hand the metaphorical play button to our Acapella version of Is this Love by Bob Marley is hit.  All join in singing and keeping a relatively decent rhythm with a mix of random sound effects and clapping.
It was like being in a music video as we took over the streets and engulfed everyone in song.  Honestly, it was really really awesome.  People didnt know what was going on, but smiles of approval met our harmonic haphazardness.  The nonsense continued on the subway with more Bob and the ducks fight song, minus the words.  Then the two mile walk from the subway stop in Pasadena to The Grand Daddy of 'em all.  Well most of us walked, some of us skipped, none of us stumbled, and one of us rolled in a shopping cart.  We've got plenty of company on streets of pasadena, they're either like us and headed to the game, out enjoying the sun, or there for the parade.  Who cares, it's a good day to be alive though.

This was easily the biggest game I'd been to, but without my dog in the fight, the tailgating was relatively standard fare for me.  We did have a keg though, thanks again to Dave's proper planning.  After tailgating for who knows how long, I decided I was close to out of steam and took a nap under a car a few spots from us.  Yeah, I know, and despite concerns about how "messed up" Mason was, it was a conscious decision of mine to lay down, where my only move in the next four hours would be to the front seat of Dave's Range Rover.  I woke up feeling good and when I heard some passerby mention the ducks loss I felt even better.  I was indifferent about the outcome of the game, but smiled knowing I wouldn't have to hear about how the Ducks should have been at the very least co-national champs if only they hadnt [insert ridiculous excuse for Boise loss here] and [random-unintelligent-regurgitated-Monday-morning-QB-anecdote here]. 

We tailgate post game before catching a shuttle back to the subway, and then back to Dave's.  But before that Marriot is doing his very best to antagonize any and all Ohio State fans.  He's way beyond drunk.  He's basically a mess while shaking his fists and chanting various chants like...."You wear Jean Shorts!!" (clap clap / clap-clap-clap) and "Go back to sheboygan!!" Which isnt even in Ohio, but rather Wisconsin, thus making it even funnier, and my personal favorite, "Buckeyes suck guys!!!" This nonsense continues most all of the way home. At one point I told Ben to more or less shut up, he pulled the relative trump card with, "Really?  You of all people?" Which is to say I've been far beyond obnoxious a couple of times, maaaybe.

That night we collectively agree to stay in and party amongst ourselves.  A decision I was happy with, even though I was well rested from my game-time napping.  So we kick-back on a couple drinks while Brian serenades the group.  The Cali boys had not yet heard all of his home-cooked brilliance -- NYE was hectic, and Brian played a lot of covers -- but they are more than impressed.  It was good times indeed, and exactly what I was looking for.  I didnt go down to LA for the Rosebowl, I went down to see my favorite people in the whole world.  And while watching everyone bob their heads in unison to Brian's music, I find the moment that embodied what I was looking for.  To me it was better than any ridiculous highlight, joke or one liner.  It was that Friendship thang.

Saturday morning finds us and David's condo in a disheveled disaster.  We (mostly Mike) clean the place up a little bit while they start making plans to kick it in Santa Monica.  I'm fighting my angst to start getting miles behind us while Brian grows restless, still wanting to "see" more of what LA has to offer.  I concede to go and hang in Santa Monica, but not for too long, while we settle arrangements to crash in San Fran for the night.  "Not too long" turns from a couple Corona's to Patron shots and like that we're staying another night. I concede and decidedly practice living in the moment, but it's hard to escape the picture of spending the following day hungover in that car.

Drinks chase away my angst and the good times are again rolling.  We've got an All Star line-up and we're definitely enjoying ourselves. We go from one bar to the next before taking over some Karaoke bar where everyone takes their turn being a rock star.  We're all dancing and the bar fills up with an eclectic crowd composed of cute girls, aspiring entertainers and those people that live for Karaoke (you know who I'm talking about, you cant decide if they put on an "outfit" or a costume).  After too many $7 beers we go back to Kirsten and Courtney's apartment (new friends) and keep at it till way too late - not sure the exact time.  Brian has his eye on Court, but he blows it in standard BK style.  Let me explain, after this nice young girl cooks bagel bites for all, someone compliments her "Rachael Ray" like cooking skills.  Brian takes the lame joke and turns it on it's head, exclaiming that not only is she like "Rachael Ray" but she's like the "Rachael Ray that he'd like to fuck." It went over like you'd imagine and Brian goes from possibly sharing a cozy bed, to being with everyone else scattered across the available couches. I somehow find my way onto an aero-mattress for literally a couple winks.

(Shots Shots Shots sha-sha-sha Shots Shots Shots - well in this case Jager Bombs)

January 3rd, 5:45am, 2010 my alarm goes off and I hate life.  The nightmare of a 15+ hour drives sets in as I argue with Brian about the fact that we cant afford to loiter any longer.  We're outta time.  He bitches before reluctantly rising from his upright perch on the couch and stumbles out the room.  We wander around Santa Monica looking for our parking garage and find it on our second attempt.  We set sail while the sun rises over the hills to our East.   In fact, it pains me to even think about the reality of that moment.  The ride home is far from the ride down, we're spent and lack enthusiasm.  I would equate the drive to one insanely long irritable buzzing noise.  The highlight was probably the worst McDonald's breakfast you've ever heard of.  It was terrible, but all things considered rather fitting. 

                              (I mean, is that even food?)

Laboring through that drive makes you understand the ambitions of Orville and Wilbur Wright. 

I'll add more later, I'm still exhausted.

Memorable Quotes:

"I'm not talking to them, they're talking to me!" Ben Marriot dead serious, deliriously drunk, (to the point of hallucination), after talking to the stuffed Giraffe the night of the Rosebowl.  (Note: this may be a condition of delusion all Duck fans experience following a loss.  Perhaps a collapse of the psyche after The Worlds Greatest Team fails to deliver, much like in Hitler's finals days when fantasy replaced cognition.  Perhaps even a shade of schizophrenia, I dunno?  I'm not a Doctor, just a Beaver fan so I sound smart.)

"We're the two biggest fucking retards on the planet.  You're first and I'm second, and we wont get into the marginal disparity between ranks." - Me being dead serious

Brian - "Did you fart?"
Me - "No.  That's just what Southern Oregon smells like, that's why no one lives down here."

"Make sure to tag me in that photo, there's this girl I'm really into and hopefully she'll be checking out my profile, and ya know, I want her to see how cool I am" - Brian facetiously serious

"I hate it when a girls breast are too big, ya know when you take off her bra and they go all over the place and you're thinking....does her nipple have a lazy eye?" - 5th please

"Hey Guy, whatcha think you're my Dad or sumfin?  What'd you do go back in time and fuck my Mom, huh?" - Bk in his "guy" voice

Monday, December 28, 2009

Coming back to feed the blues...

I think the blues is straight up bad-ass. I love it, and since I first started making any semblance of music I've wanted to tear off some sweet blues riffs. It's tough though, really tough.  I can feel it on the inside though, but I cant let it out.  (Catch up left hand! And right hand for that matter.) The good news it that I can definitely *feel* it, like you're supposed to with all music. The blues is easy to feel though, isnt it?  That's what makes it the blues. You can almost anticipate where the sound is going to go, aka call & answer, the best though is when it does something unexpected. Someday, who knows when, hopefully i'll be able to really embellish and throw my own surprises. Until then, I'll just keep doing finger exercise and that pentatonic scale. Both of which I've been doing in between typing these fragmented sentences. The finger exercises are not fun, scales arent that fun either. I just keep telling myself to push through it, to get a little closer to that elusive mastery. Which is to summarize my determination to learn the guitar.

Last spring after I'd decidedly quit the guitar and before I picked it back up. I was talking with some friends about instruments, music, and the like, when "man hours" were referenced. I cant remember the specific context but I think I was gushing about how I marveled at talented musicians. Anyway, that's when a friend referenced another conversation he'd previously had regarding learning an instrument. He said anyone could learn an instrument with 500 hours into it.  Some would obviously learn quicker but if you were willing to spend 500 hours you'd most likely get your head wrapped around it okay. I learned the guitar reciting that convo over and over in my head. I'd hear a faint "500 hours!" "500 hours!" While simultaneously thinking "I wonder how many I've put in so far?" And then wondering "well, I'm progressing, but i wonder if i'm learning as efficiently as possible?" That latter thought is probably why I'm taking a few lessons. Also, Abe at Portland Music insisted I should, citing his lack of doing so as his only regret as someone 100% self-taught.  And since Abe is the main reason I own a Ukulele, we have a bond, (blog to come on that later.)  After all, "500" is doable, but it'd be nice to get better mileage if possible.

I havent read any study on whether 500 hours is accurate in terms of "learning" an instrument. It sounds fair to me though, particularly since we're not really defining the requisites of the measured accomplishment - we're simply saying to "play" the instrument.  Along those same lines, Malcolm Gladwell wrote a book last year called, "Outliers: The story of Success" that came out in November.  I havent read the book, but as I understand it, the underlying theme is that it takes 10,000 hours to reach what most would consider a world class expert in any particular field. Now 10,000 hrs is a long long time, and it will be a lifetime before I'm there. My only consolation is that I'm not expecting to "master" the guitar, but forever accept my role as a student.

We have 8,760 hours each year and almost two thirds of those are spent sleeping or at a job we may hardly enjoy. Then we have that remaing 1/3, or somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 hours, to do whatever it is we feel like.  And out of that 3000 we all probably spend a lot it looking forward to something or glorifying our rear-view. Facebook status updates are a great indicator of who thinks like that.  How many people have you seen, or maybe you yourself have, put out "cant wait til Friday" or "is it Friday yet?" or "uggghhh... Monday". Not trying to sound overly poetic, but I honestly enjoy everyday.  I mean, sure everyone loves Friday, but there's an opportunity to better ourselves everyday, right?  I think of how many hours I've wasted doing nothing?  Countless.  And while learning the guitar is not something that's going to make me amass traditional wealth, I'm certain the treasures will be worth the voyage.

I'm 27 years old and god willing will be 37 someday.  I have over 87,000 hours until then and so many things to do.  It can be overwhelming.  I wonder if I'll have 10,000 hrs to spare on the guitar.... What is that, 3 hours a night?

Practice Practice Practice


I stayed up late last night rapping over the guitar with BK.  Reconnecting with Brian on a creative level was both long overdue, and sooooo much fun.  We've gotten together in the last few months but havent necessarily put our egos aside and gotten weird.  And weird is good.

I think Brian left at a 12:45am and I woke up for work a brief five hours later, after a restless attempt at a good nights sleep.  The funny thing is I dont even feel tired today, if anything, I feel like I have more energy.  I feel like I'm rejuvenated.  I am rejuvenated, which is to say I have that "alive" feeling - love that. I also have a lot to be thankful for, which brings me to the song we worked on.  Without having a copy of the lyrics in front of me I'll try to loosely recreate them, but moreover just try to write a rap that works in the cadence.

Ya know I've got a lot to be thankful for...

In my health
I've got my wealth
A life with love, no need for stuff, cuz I know that love is enough for me
I've got my fun, my friends, my foes, my lows, my people make one big family
I've got my space, I've got a pace, no time to waste, for life's a race
And I've got my freedom to breathe...Yes...
My freedom to breathe...

I'll put the actual lyrics up here later.... The song's a hit though - for sure!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

On the back of our eyelids

with time an after thought
their still-shot series is shown
muted critics sit amongst fans
and w/ rapidity, view the stills in this still-shot slide show

it's the past, present AND future
Every high voiced through lows
its decored in an omnipresent technicolor with perfect clarity
all seen with eyes closed

every second composed through a million moments
every snapshot suspended in it's own context
we're alive like you were then, screaming "look, No hands!"
with lessons still learned, we're younger again, but we make demands

now with foresight afforded, is our path not the same....?
Can we decipher which components made us stronger, weaker?
does it even matter?
We matter. Yes. and we dont "accept" the inevitable
We are the inevitable and we've already found comfort in ourselves

So now light creeps through the cracks
between eyelashes it replaces the impression
calmness remains and we remain standing with our luggage in hand

every choice we've made is there stacked neatly along the curbs
Picket fences and weedless flower-beds fill out the shadow box neighborhood
every decision yet-to-be loiters up ahead

between the curbs and manicured yards we are
and not intimidated either
We stand and lean in, and smile between hiccuping laughter
The first noble truth was already accepted
and it's accuracy is comical...

Friday, December 11, 2009

Eric's song

This is for my friend Eric Anderson , who is currently off in India fulfilling his karmic duties.  I started it awhile ago, but lost track of it like the other 20-something unpublished blogs I have. In short, I'll say Eric is an inspiration, an artist, a friend and someone I admire.

Take a walk....out by the Ganges
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks
Talk a walk.....out by the Ganges
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks


From now 'til your final savasana
An example for all, letting nothing stop ya
Carry on with all your good intentions
As lessons of a past life, roll into retention

No need to cogitate fate
Living breathing meditation
Inspiring me with your revolution revelation

Share your heart, your love, your smile
Your Karma will change the life of a child

Take a walk....out by the Ganges
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks
Take a walk....out by the Ganges
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks

Two oceans away - but always at home
Walk tall my friend, for you're never alone
I and I within, divine and proper
(You know) all righteous paths lead back to our father

You, the way, the path
These moments in time quickly become our past

Take a walk....out by the Ganges
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks
Take a walk....out by the Ganges
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


I got rhythm!

Last night I took my 2nd paid guitar lesson. I've had friends, youtube, books, and the internet show me plenty of things, but last night, and the week before, I popped for my first paid lessons. I found a super cheap guy off of craigslist, $10/hr first lesson and $15/hr thereafter. My instructor Dan's a nice guy, but you get what you pay for, and I didnt pay for Stevie Ray Vaughn. Which is to say he hasnt shown me anything earth shattering, but he's given me a few great technical tips, and has been able to answer my questions regarding song structure, progressions and theory in general. Plus, the steel determination I practiced with in-between lesson 1 and 2, in an attempt to impress him, was definitely worth a few bucks.

So like I said, I practiced with "steel determination" this last week, and it definitely felt like I took a swift step forward. I didnt practice more than I was before, I just practiced more effectively. I did more finger exercises, scales, and worked at changing my index finger position in my bar chords. All categories improved and remain a work in progress. Dan did mention my rhythm, noting I had "excellent rhythm". BK said something to that effect a while ago too. Even before that I would have probably said I have good rhythm, if you asked me. I've always been able to dance, and pickup on a beat in a freestyle, but it was really good to hear it from him. He told me I've got really great natural skills too, (again, very gratifying), and that he'll prolly only be able to give me lessons for a few months b/c I'll surpass him. HA! Needless to say, that last part had me beaming. I really hope I'm able to make progress like that on the guitar, but like I said, he's no Stevie Ray Vaughn.

It made me think though, about focus, something I'm definitely no poster child of. Being able to really focus is such a powerful tool. It is as much of your will, in the smallest place you can fit it.

Anyway, gonna go work on that rhythm a little more before zzzzzzz....

Tuesday, December 8, 2009


I'm not sure where I'll end up with this blurb, I'm just setting out to jot down my thoughts.

So I've been really antisocial as of late, and the weird part is, it doesnt bother me at all. But I guess it not bothering me, is actually what gives me some concern, since I know this sort of imbalance isnt healthy. Honestly though, all I want to do is play the guitar. I cant even find my desire to go out and party.

At this time last year I started working on my 2009 New Years Resolutions. I made a worthy list of goals for the year, two of which were; 'Spend 30 minutes, (at least, preferably an hour), by myself everyday,' and another; 'Learn to play the guitar'. Little did I know these two would compliment one another with perfect symmetry in 2009.

I already owned an acoustic guitar as a present from xmas-past, and I picked it up in January. My friend Charlie Dobson started me out with a few chords - G, C, and D, (I think), and so it began. It was a long time (7 mos.) before I even tried to strum the thing. I would reluctantly practice moving between the chords while watching blazer games or something. At this point the guitar was definitely a chore and I one done w/ sparing regularity. Then in late February or early March a friend broke one of my strings, doing what I aspired to, actually playing it. So there my guitar sat for the next 4 months. I even remember Charlie asking me if I was 'wasting his time' - since I'd given up on the guitar so easily. I had again let something small get in my way, much like I had at other times in my life. I could say it was the string, it broke, but in reality it was me getting in my own way. (Note: I took guitar lessons when was 10/11 years old, but quit for baseball, which I then quit a few years later - dammit!)

My reason for resolving to allot alone time for myself, was a good idea. I've spent too much of my time surrounding myself with the party, or being the party. In a sense, distracting myself so I didnt have to deal with myself. Not that I was unhappy, but no matter who you are, a long hard look in the mirror can be revealing, in a good way. When we're left alone, we're never really alone, we all have that inner voice dont we? I know I do, and it's rather vocal, and, if you let it, a great mentor. That voice will ask the hard questions, it's whether or not you listen to it or the radio silence. I liken it to things we're always going to do, or have always wanted to do, but never did. Maybe it's an obscure guilty pleasure, maybe not, maybe it was a sport you werent big enough to try out for, or a girl you were too scared to ask out, or anything else. Now granted there are people who have never experienced that and do exactly what it is they want to do. Those are the lucky ones, and I happen to believe we make our own luck. If everyday you conciously make an effort at something, it will eventualy give - however I digress.

So it wasnt until sometime in June that I picked the guitar back up. Before that I'd been spending my alone time mostly writing, which oddly enough was both one of my 2009 New Years Resolutions, and what led me back to the instrument. That resolution to 'keep writing' mainly pertained to poetry. I first wrote poetry in middle school and always enjoyed it from then on. Though I never read much or wrote much in the next 10 years (a little here and there). Also, I don't think I'm a great writer by any stretch, but I enjoy expressing myself with the literary art form, and that's what it's all about - right? Anyway, I started casually writing poetry again in summer 2008 (with a broken jaw). It started mostly in jest, or I at least disguised it that way, but I enjoyed it - which is why it became an '09 resolution. Fast forward to June 6th and I'm in Corvallis for my little sisters graduation, with my notepad in hand - of course. I wrote my sister a poem for her graduation, one that I liked enough to share (this was pre-blog, which has been an anything goes platform). That night was instrumental in leading me back to the guitar as Brian Krichevsky started putting some music to a few of my poems. We stayed up late drinking and dinking around with the guitar, poems and I think a little free-styling (maybe). Days before this Charlie had put music to one of my poems and this further solidified the resonance I felt. I've always felt comfortable in my own skin, and with that comfortable being a little odd - to put it kindly. This was different though, I was getting comfortable exploring myself. It's one thing to be comfortable in your own skin, but another to go outside of that with the same confidence. Later in the summer someone asked my Mom if I was a "songwriter or a poet" and she laughed - rightfully so. But like we've been told since we were little, you can be whatever or whoever you want, and in that same vein I say; fake it till you make it. So in June I got new strings and promised myself that the rest of my summer leisure time would be spent with the guitar in hand (or nearby).  I was certain that if I did this by summers end I'd be able to play. Well I'm still learning but I can play it, now I need an intervention to stop....seriously though!

My underlying theme for 2009 was to make it the best year yet. More than that, to approach every year like that from then on out. Well time will give perspective to whether or not this year was the best, but I'm fairly certain it will be second only to 2010.

Live in the moment.

I've started shaping my 2010 New Years Resolutions, I'm sure I'll share some on here....


Tuesday, October 20, 2009


Warning: very incomplete, just came up with this song about alcoholism and had to write these lyrics down before I'm off to yoga.

It's a lonely lonely road
It's one you're gonna travel down alone
And it starts down at the corner store
Where you pick up 6 of ya'friends and off you go (oh)
And it ends at the bottom of a bottle
But there's no end, and that is your problem
And when you're numb you know that it got ya

It's the start of another sad, sad-sad day
It's sad, cuz it's starts out the same
One pint, and then you feel okay
A few more and then you're ready to play
Keepin' on, till we cant make-out what you say
You get so mad, you're all filled up with decay
At one point I knew you, now just and extinguished flame...

Sunday, September 27, 2009


I know my ABC's
Look at me, Look at me
I can count to 3
Look at me, Look at me
Dont I look amazing?

Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me

Hands in the air, I am easily angry'd
I know, I know
I know everything
Off I go, Off I go to follow other sheep

Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me

I pound my chest, when I speak
I scream and I yell from a chin so weak.

I know my ABC's
Look at me, Look at me
I can count to 3
Look at me, Look at me
Dont I look amazing?

And you might know, but I can do anything
I'm an expert, the best that you seen
Go on and ask me anyting
I'm for real, that amazing

Guitar tab for this song - it's really simple
o x x x
x 2 x x
x x x x
x x 2 o
x o x x
o x o o

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Stack your Debt

Money Papers line your pockets, you rock-it
Buying up everybling, ya seen - latest fad, you got it.

Not trying to knock it, it's good
so long it's understood,
that it'll never be a dollar that makes you be what you could. (or should)


Every dollar's tied to__ Debt
Never Forget
Worth as much as their silhouette
In context
Wanting money's not a regret
But beset
your true happiness on your content

I want everything, but needing what I know
Always living rich, if you always live to grow
Take it slow, to control, the moment
Finding your purpose, each moment perfect
it is what you make, it is as you have it
so long's it not tragic, be passionate and fabulous
remember living's bliss, dont miss, your chance at a smile, for some it's been awhile
Dont live in denial, be wide eyed at this world, just act like a child, but no single file, play
give away, your debt, be happy, so long to regret's what what I say, but hey, it's just another day, for me...

Every dollar's tied to__ Debt
Never Forget
Worth as much as their silhouettes
In context
Wanting money's not a regret
But beset your happiness on your content

Monday, September 14, 2009

Look up

You got it,

But dont know it

I can see it,

Though it’s stoic

You’ll get there – don’t worry

You’ve gotten up and dressed

Your journey predestined w/ achievement and success

I’m obligated to encourage

Just so you’ll know it

Knowing it is my purpose

No need for heroics

Let go of the rear view

Bright days around the bend

Cruise in behind shades

Riding confidence from within

Tendency to transcend

Thorough your way

Outworking the world

With barely anytime to play

Perhaps best times a memory

On a distant continent

But your best days are ahead

Of that I am confident

Please make this year your year

To be your best one yet

Let go of needless worries

Give up senseless regrets

Reach out beyond grasp

Dream things need not mentioned

Enjoy every last second

Happiness knows no pension

Please try to see

Please just know one thing

Please know that in my world I think you're Amazing


I'll be the bull in your china shop
No Bull

Your optimistic Optimist
Bowl Half Full
Know I can run with the bulls,
Uh oh Torero...
Now where did you go?
Lets shoot the bull,
But leave no bullet whole

And I can pour your Wine,
fill it up past full
On my Clairvoyant Voyage, to be
Adventuresome trouble seeker
All untold
Not bought never sold
I'm in my control

I can be the bull in your china shop
No bull
I could be the light,
be bright in your lull

Who knows whats in store
living's not a chore
Spark in the dark
incandescent noir
It can fall apart
Still you reach for the stars
Too many things I adore, You
And our rapport

I can be the bull in your china shop
No bull
Know I can run with Bulls

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Who's Preferred?

preferred provider?
prefer to be a survivor?
Know it all backseat driver
Fiery cold faced liar
You presume to know the answers
No need to inquire

preferred provider
prefers situation's dier

Preface your preferance
For the have's and have nots
Preface your menace
to preventative vaccines and shots

I prefer a healthy society
Americans leading the way
Universal Health,
Single Pay you nay say

Why not us?
We're true revolutionaries?
We should aspire to be better
Be evolutionary!

I feel you prefer to detour
from what could occur
entrepreneurs you prefer
We need a care transfer

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

My Crazy Mind!

(For what it's worth I recite/rap/sing this with a total reggae vibe. I effing love Reggae.)

My thoughts run wild till I pick up a pen

Then They Freeze


Standing at Attention.

Retention suspension it seems

Like Art, both light & Dark

Critical and Complimentary

They love to be free
- not chained to paper
So you see, I be, my own dictator

I am them, and They make me
Not tapered, steady spread evenly

And in my mind

I climb thee divine...(reflection of divinity)

My mind refined...(byproduct; pure clarity)

For Now I can See, within me, life's line has symmetry

You push, You Pull, You tumble, You Roll

Just depends on what's in your soul

Look deep at what's in your soul

Monday, August 24, 2009

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Little Grace

Today is my niece's first Birthday. I wrote this song for her and plan on singing it to her Saturday for her bday party! (Fingers Crossed)

When I ponder what it is to love, I cant help but think about family
All of us together for Mike & Maureen.
And we were there when you were born; all of us up at St. V’s
When you came into this world, so heavenly

Little Grace, Little Grace, I see the Divine in your Face
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace

It seems you’ll be young forever, but you will grow up someday
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace
And we will be there for every step, Helping out along the way
Guiding and supporting little Grace

And when I look into your eyes, they can light up the darkest skies
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace
And when I gaze onto your face, it can turn any night to day
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace

And when your laughter grabs ahold of me, makes me feel as though I can do anything
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace
And when storm clouds fully cover me, your the light shining on my face
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace

Little Grace, Little Grace, I see the Divine in your Face
Please know how much I love you, Little Grace

Mister Baseball

I started rapping this in line for Coffee the other day. It's for my buddy Eric Scriven who just got called to go play minor league baseball. Scriv's the shit, and he's out chasing his dreams inspiring me daily! Enjoy the read.

Mister Baseball
Mister Bat and Ball
Mister, I'm glad to see that you got your call

Late summer hanging out
Hanging on a mic
Beneath the stars w/ guitars
It's poems we recite

Freestyle rappin
to the strummin of the strings
Fingers snapping
Playing the drum on my knee

It's passed, but man, some goodtimes we had

Mister Strum-along
Mister come singalong
Mister, it's sure a joy to write you a song

Late summer and you're off
Off to the Midwest
Playing a game you love
As for competitors you're the best.

A true warrior
Warring your Will
Out to Joliet
With dreams to fulfill

On the field, the game you wield

Mister good time
Mister rap and rhyme
Mister, put all out and you will do fine

Glad thatcha came
Not mad that you're gone
Just comeback soon so we can put music to this song...

My friend. My Pal.
You're the man.
Player or Person
You know I'm a fan...

But also a friend, a friend till the end

Mister Baseball
Mister Bat and Ball
Mister, I'm glad to see that you got your call

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Health of Humanity

Right here amongst thee, in the land of the free
Greed Supersedes all those in need
You might agree, concept flawed to me
we leave those in need, in needless bankruptcy

It may not be a civil right,
like it is to read & write,
dont mean it's not right,
what about Human rights?

And when you've lost your way
When misfortune's met your day
When things dont turnout okay
Then will you see it my way?

You dont tie the tie till the shirt is on
And you dont button your pants till after you put 'em on
And you dont play the hit till you write the song
And the night dont end till the sun says its dawn

And you just roll your eyes an yawn, and say...
Somebody's gotta be the pawn, well...
I dont wanna be your pawn, no no....

The sick on our soil, ignored, left foiled...

As our elite-elect pick-n-select how exactly t’shell-out the spoils

It may not be a civil right,
like it is to read & write,
dont mean it's not right,
what about Human rights?

You dont tie the tie till the shirt is on
And you dont button your pants till after you put 'em on
And you dont play the hit till you write the song
And the night dont end till the sun says its dawn

They say in chess, at times, ya gotta give up a pawn...

There's an order of Operations...
It dont take no fancy calculations
We just need to take of the sick..
In Our proud Nation, In this proud Nation...

Go and turn your back to strife,
you'll survive, but see, to me, it's more
Its another human's life

Your (socialist) paranoia,
t'change, thrown 'round like loose change,
ya know, It might just destroy ya.

But Please, for me, just try to see, Please just ponder the plight
Cuz Madam & Mister we're all brothers and sisters
Health care (to me) should be a HUMAN RIGHT!

How can we just sit there and watch, watch it like the clock,
calm, As one of our own, alone, sits there and rots
How could we just watch and stare, stare indifferent at care,
apathetic, As one of our own, sick alone, seeks treatment with prayer

And when you're in need of care, go and care away
Left dying, wondering if Heaven's got a co-pay

You dont tie the tie till the shirt is on
And you dont button your pants till after you put 'em on
And you dont play the hit till you write the song
And the night dont end till the sun says its dawn

But you just roll your eyes and yawn....

Sure call me a socialist, As we stand together on this socialist encroachment
Ya know, the road, our road, the same road, both leading us home
Pick up a phone and call someone in the know

How 'bout moral accountability, for us to live civilly
We're only as strong as our weakest link
You point to financial burdens, and how things will worsen
Get Worse? Is that tongue in cheek?

Funds are ample, says our budget for Bombs
bombs, come before health?
Sleep shade Blinders on, go on and singalong,
Killing, killing in stealth

How 'bout bombing the system...?
Ya know, "the system," the system that missed ya

It may not be a civil right, but what about Human rights?
Since when's a life not a life? For real, is a life now not a Life?

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


Here's my ode to MJ I wrote a few weeks back. It's okay, not great.

Michael Joseph Jackson
Your name to be echoed Forever
Dance moves Defying Gravity
Feet made of Feathers

Top of your Toes
Yelling a Squeal
Hat Tossed post spin
Site so Surreal

Flawed all the same
Lord knows he had demons
Childhood amiss
For this young singing phenom

Ya know I’ve sung all your songs
I've Moved to your groove
Done the Robot & Moonwalk
Mimicked every dance move

The King of Pop
The Entertainer so Divine
You Changed Music Overnight
Like Jesus w/ Water & Wine

At “Motown 25”
In Nineteen Eighty Three
You Shocked the whole World
Changed the Entertainment Industry

“Yesterday, Today, Forever”
Displayed Dance moves never seen
Debuting the Moonwalk
While performing Billy Jean

Inducted two times
Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame
13 number one hits
A career of acclaim

The Jackson 5
w/ Marlon, Tito, Jack & Jermaine
And You the Star
Center of the Stage

No time for a childhood
You’re a victim too
Abused by Joe
But your actions I won’t excuse

(off to)

Never Never Land
Starring Peter Pan
His life you lived
With one glove on your hand

Taking off from Gary
With Adolescent Demands
Waiving that sparkling glove
To adoring fans

Never growing up
Your Life a Fantasy
Face Plastique
Via Rhinoplasty

Skin Bleached White
PR Blunders
Thoughts behind your actions
We would wonder

But an MTV mainstay
“Bad” & “Smooth Criminal”
“Dirty Diana” & “Thriller”
All unbelievable

“Off the Wall”
Simply Fantastic
Dead at age 50
New so Tragic

You're Far From Perfect
I have to say
But I won’t overlook
the Philanthropy in your name

You’ve supported many causes
Made umpteen donations
All profits from the Dangerous tour
Went to the “Heal the world Foundation”

Neurotic No Doubt
Obscurely Eccentric
Dressed up in Costumes
And in Jewelry so expensive

Faux Cast
- Wind Machines
Excessive awesome
- Every theme

Egyptian to Gangster
Leather to Love
Zombie to a Mirror
Signature Sequined Glove

Though it’s all over now
The show’s finally come to a Stop
But to the World you will always be
"The King of Pop"

Thoughts Meet Paper

I wrote this one yesterday afternoon. I think b/c I've almost felt paralyzed by all of my unfinished writing, both on this blog and in my various notebooks. Anyway, this ones okay so I'll throw it up on the blog.

Too many thoughts on my mind
Cant keep Rhythm, I cant find my rhyme
Head be damned, Thoughts in a Jam,
Slammend on a overload,
Where my thoughts call home.....ya know they just might explode.....

But to alleviate my anxiety
I breathe deep & quietly
Long & steady not short & violently

I need to find my center
I need to find the ground
I need to find my purpose
I need something profound
I need too much
I need to be content
I need to need less
Needing is wreck-less
I need no blind fold
I need to see
Needing lends a faux halo
And I only need me

Moral attachment extend and imaginary Vail of attraction to which we desire!!!
(to which we desire!!!)

Inside I'm:
A burning FIRE
A tight rope Wire
A Towering Spire
With a heart made of briers!

Inside I'm:
A cold faced liar
A man you'd admire
A man you'd hire
And a man you'd fire

And I'm inspired
By a being who's higher
by a man who's retired
or the singing of a choir

You know I'm dire
Filled w/ muck and mire
too much attire
Feeling like I might expire

I need to find out why, why I'm still here
I need more in this life, then to just persevere
Maybe for a while I should just disappear!
My escape, will help me engineer?

My greatest obstacle is still my fear......

Okay that's all the rapping for now, I'm sure I'll change this a few times. I always do.

Monday, July 27, 2009


In the heart of the Rockies
In the continents Back Bone
Exists a magical Land
Impossible to Clone

Wild flower fields and Glacial Lakes
Carve by ice with natures Grace

Vistas so vast they find you humble
In awe of this earth, this glacial jungle

Glacial Deposits over Granite Cliffs of Waterfalls in this land of bliss

Magenta shades and Turquoise stones
fill up these streams with Pastel tones

Glacial Crown
Jeweling Peaks
each direction yields unique

Glaciers melt in the land they form
In their impression these lakes are born

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Wave of Life

Here’s my typical overstated preface:

Okay, so I'm a major musical novice. I like to write poems and come up with jingles though, so as shown on my blog, that is something I've "resolved to take more seriously." My writing has forced me to explore music in a way that I otherwise would not have. So there's another awesome, healthy, byproduct of trying to formulate my inner monologue on paper, or in this case, my blog. So with that said, I've got a looooooooong way to go, but, I'm beginning to make baby steps in my attempt to fully wrap my mind around the beautiful gift that music is. Last night I feel like I had a baby, minor, little breakthrough on some remote, insignificant level. Not earth shattering by any means, but it's those 'breakthroughs' that are currently serving as my reward in my literary/musical adventure. (Like a pristine Vista after a long hike.) I have a little sample recording of the chorus that I can barely play on my guitar, (I'm just pumped I'm getting to the point where I can write the notes too, whether I can play them perfectly or not.) I can almost get there with the right pace for this song, I'll be pretty happy when I can. If I keep my focus at the level its been at lately I should continue to make these so called "breakthroughs" more frequently. (Yay!!!) And finally, thanks to all who have emailed and left comments. Those are like food for my creative soul. Just recognizing that you read my poem and thought it was enjoyable, helps build my confidence, and with my confidence, I believe my abilities grow as well. All comments are Welcome!! (Side note: I think I’m so eager for feedback b/c I recognize this isn’t something all of my friends will share an interest in. Nor should they, I like that I have a diverse network whose interests vary vastly. But if you enjoy reading my stuff let me know, cuz I appreciate it.

I’ve been practing this rift for over a week and I figured I might as well come up with something solid to start singing with it.

And lastly, to move onto the theme, I wrote this last night. I was texting with an old friend when I mistyped a word, but instead of it looking like j#lrmEO or some other nonsense, I found the word “Kermit” capitalized and all, on my screen. Which is my Grandpa’s name, (Dad’s Dad), so I retyped the msg and took it as a sign that I should put down my fiddle and pick up my pen. I thought I’d try to transcribe my admiration I have for my Dad, and how his loss and other setbacks in his life helped forged him into and invincible human being, (seriously though, Mike D is straight up bad ass, don’t ever forget). So I picked up my pen but the only words I could hear were the words of my Dads rarely seen sensitive side. I could hear him telling me, with words beyond sincere, how incredible of a human being he thought I was, and how he believed I could do absolutely anything in this world. Believe it or not, the conversation I was playing in my revision took place in the Sportspage on my 26th birthday. We went there for lunch, and no, this was not a drunken emotional convo – we had no beer, it was just my Dad telling me he loved me in his own way. So with that said, I wrote this song to everyone who believes they are destined for true genuine, honest, earth shattering greatness!! (Or believed they were and are currently amidst it. If that’s you, you’re a straight up badass – congrats!!) Further, the simple metaphor is the ocean is life and you have to learn to ride it, in this case I’m thinking about surfing. Let me know what you think!!!!

I will definitely add more to this, particularly since it’s something I can sorta, almost, depending on the moment, play with some confidence.

The chords are G, D, Am, C

Rip Curl
Big Girl
I'm ready to go
To Catch my Wave
And Get on with Show
To Catch my Wave
And never Plateau

Rip Curl
Big Girl
I'm saying Hello
I've paid my dues
You reap what you sow

Rip Curl
Big Girl
I'm ready to Blow
Onto the scene
I said I'm ready to go!!

To Live this
Is to float the Ocean

Riding the commotion

Still looking
To catch my
To catch my big wave

So I share
my poems
and try to live life brave

See I strongly
In this big strong Sea
Cuz Life is
A battle
So I paddle strongly!!
Gonna ride my
Ride my
Life on this board
It's the ride
The ride
that is the reward
Rip Curl
Big Girl
I'm ready to go
Am C

To Catch
My Wave
And Get on with Show
Am C

I say this a lot, but more to come!!!!

P.S. I have a shitty recording of me playing just the chorus last night (all by myself). And if you're interested in listening to it, ask nicely, and promise to be open minded to it's potential; I might email it you!!!

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Cold Blood.

Let me first start by saying my parents are amazing people.

I know it's an obligation as someone's child to honor your parents with a blessing like this, but to me this is far far beyond that. I look up to them and feel lucky to do so. It is an absolute treasure to truly admire your parents. Again, they are amazing, resilient, and determined, driven, individuals who have found a beautiful symmetry in one in another.

Going deeper, let me add that they both were unfortunate enough to lose their Father's, early in their respective lives. When my Dad was eleven his Dad, Kermit, died of lung cancer. That poem will come another day. This is about my Mom's father Robert Roy Edwards being murdered in Cold Blood, by Larry Hutchinson, for a $400 car. Like all of my writing, my details are specific and accurate, outside of "muggy" everything here is based on what I've been told. For the record, the story just feels muggy to me, so I wrote it that way. Additionally, I have to add, this is a very VERY sensitive subject in my family, (still to this day). To the point where I'm not sure if it's okay if I write this blog. If my Mom is not okay with it I'll be taking it down. This topic has been so off limits my entire life to the point that I didnt even know all the *specifics* until I decided to write this. It was (and still is) impossible for my Mom to talk about - which is beyond understandable. She did oblige and give me some necessary details for this song. Which only further solidified my understanding of her experience. And I hope this doesn't sound arrogant, but writing this poem has helped me further understand my Mom's inner anguish. Wow she is a beautiful Woman - I love you Mom! I remember being about 9 years old and lying in my parents bed, it was just my mom and me. I think I slept in there b/c my Dad was out of town, maybe not though. Anyway, I remember asking her about this topic and her getting emotional about it (again, beyond understandable). I remember her fighting off tears and telling me she couldn't talk about it. I think it was the first time I realized my Mom was human.

More: when I wrote "The Pen is mightier than the Sword" I really wanted to write this song but I didnt have the necessary details. And while both songs are on the somber side, it's not that to me. It's more that those are two sensitive place in my person and I only wanted to venture into them when I felt ready as a writer...eee...ready or not here I come!

Further, I've scared myself as a kid trying to imagine the tragedy both of my parents had to endure. It's no wonder they found a compatibility together that they couldn't with someone who couldn't relate to that experience.

Interesting: I remember when I was in fifth grade, my Grandma Marge came over to the house and gave my mom a taped together note from when she was 15, her father was murdered when she was 12. She wrote a letter to her Mom (my grandma) expressing her pain, and their struggle to regain normalcy. I remember one line reading, "We both lost a man we love," it was very powerful, particularly when imaging the strife my Mother was enduring at such a young age. Needless to say, I think my Mom had some wild teenage years as a byproduct of dealing with a murdered father. Anyway, my Mom never gave the note to my grandma. She tore it up into tiny pieces and threw it away. My Grandma found the note, taped it back together and saved, giving it to my Mom 30 years later.

One last thing: Please understand any hyperbole I use with regard to anger, in this note or any other. I dont keep those emotion convenient, I try to live happily. However, writing is an insane journey to me. I've explored and surpirsed myself, and by doing that I've had to touch on some unhealed wounds. I say this with regards to this poem, the one about me being stabbed, and the unwritten ones about my experiences I have kept stored in my head.

One thing I liked what my Mom said when she volunteered alot of info in this discussion, is that, she believes in looking forward. So do I. You have to. And I try never to live in revision but I believe in analyzing my past experiences to lear from them, obbviously. This poem though doesnt even pertian to that.

One last thing; when I curse in any of my songs, I'm not singing those words angrily. Well, at least not in this song. It's soft and the words are used more to surprise you. Think about a curse word in a Lisa Lobe song, that's how I be.

More More More - I write my poems way longer than necessary, b/c they can always be hedged down later and pillaged. So if you're like some people and think they're too long that's only b/c when the words are flowing I don't turn them off, I'm just putting all of it out there for later. Holler.

(I wrote this up in Montana but it will definitely go under some major overalls. I need to sleep on it more. But I figured I'd publish it now and try and get some feedback.)

And FINALLY, I wrote this with "Hurricane" by Bob Dylan in mind, if that helps you imagine the flow of the song. It's not to the same melody or anything, but the same in delivery.

Muggy Summer Night
August Eleventh
Southwest Portland
Nineteen Sixty Seven
A Father lost Forever
An Angel Sent to Heaven

This 22 year old boy, This Bad Young man
Come to buy a car, but left his scratch in Salem
So they plan to go....
Go on down the road
To pick up the Cash
cuz the deal's closed
Oooohhhhh....and just so you know…
Margery said she would follow
Oooohh...grab Jeanne and head on down the road
It made sense,
It’d simplify the trip
But they suddenly left
w/o saying a blip

Oh Oh...and just so you know...
A life of memories you done Stole....


Mr. Edwards -- Robert Roy
A Father you stole, from two daughters and a boy
And Margery Lucille
God Rest her soul
Left to raise a family all on her own
A young widowed mother, Left all alone
Left without her husband to console

Off Forever, Never saying Goodbye
A family in shambles
And young Jeanne left to cry


Oh Man...Oh Larry!! I wish it was you that they had buried!!!
Oh Man...Oh Larry!! I wish it was you that they had buried!!!

Imagine the memories, that you robbed
40 years later, My Mom still sobs

He was selling a car, for his son in the service
He was a family man that in no way deserved this
Local Classifieds, He put out an ad
And in came the Devil with intentions Bad

And all for what?
A $400 car?
In hell I hope you burn like a fine cigar.
Slow and Steady -- Eternal Flame
I hope you burn a thousand years for each second of pain
That you've caused my family
Lana, Monte and my mother Jeanne
And even the grand kids and especially Margery

She stayed up all night
the night you took him away
I hope you know what you're facing on Judgment day

From 52nd, and Taylors Ferry
You stole a life, without a weary
An innocent man, left to be buried

For just that lil' red MG?
With a sporty racing stripe?
Another human being had to give their life?
For a $400 car?
You left a family in strife

Your actions a wave, every year's been a ripple
Through the rest their lives, this moment's trickled

How could you even accomplish that task?
Burn in Hell you sociopath

After only twelve years, in the state prison
Now a free man, living free in Lebanon

And only twelve years, for stealing a life?
That's hardly describes "paying the price"
So keep your fingers crossed
Cuz if we ever see your face
I guarantee, your life we will erase

But that's just my anger, talking aloud
Strumming my ego, being a man for a crowd.

I'm far beyond that, I believe in one common love
But what you have done, cannot be undone
In the heart of this family, You thoroughly stung.

Fatherly obligation, selling off the car
The end result, was you committing cold blooded murder.

Larry Hutchinson, you sunovabitch, you sunovagun
What were you thinking when you murdered someone??
Oh Man...Oh Larry!! I wish it was you that they had buried!!!
Oh Man...Oh Larry!! I wish it was you that they had buried!!!

Following Monday, found by the boys in blue
With the stolen car and murder weapon too
Holding out, legally stalling
Plea bargain comprises are appalling
2nd degree murder, to give up the body
Like the twilight zone, reality shoddy

Murder in cold blood, you killed a man
My Grand Daddy you shot with a gun...
Murdered in cold blood by Larry Hutcinson

I never met my Grand Dad, due to your selfish Actions
Cold Blood on your hands. Where the fuck was your compassion?