It's been two weeks, so here's the latest news:

Lovely Lady Leslie's ring arrived via UPS in the past week. It's her birthday this coming Wednesday. I'll figure out a way to tell her I love her and want her hand in marriage very soon. I know she reads this, and more importantly, SHE knows it's coming. I just have to figure out a stealthy way to do it.

Yesterday, I saw "Fahrenheit 9/11". There are many more erudite ways I can say it, but America's current president MUST be removed from office. The movie didn't even mention that his grandfather found it necessary for the sake of the almighty dollar to do business with Adolf Hitler until 1942, when he had to be ORDERED to stop by the Roosevelt administration.

Now, I must get back to my songbook, which is almost finished and readable throughout. Register to vote. PLEASE!!!!

Now HERE'S an experiment. I've decided that at this late hour (1:20 AM CDT) I am going to type until I either pass out or my fingers atrophy. The following will be ruminations, exhaltations and a few stops for micturitions (look it up). I hope I can keep the mood light, so here we go:

Name: John Paul Spencer
Date Of Birth: April 29, 19- bum bum bum bum
Place Of Birth: Yeadon, PA
Occupation: Medical Coding Supervisor (It has its moments)
Eyes: 2 (brown; seeing if you're paying attention)
Hair: Brown (I would have typed "See 'Eyes'", but I didn't want the reader to think that I only had two hairs on my head; I actually have quite a bit of hair for a male my age; my poor friends)
Height: 5' 10" (5' 11' if I feel like standing up straight)
Shoe Size: 12 (NO, I've never tried to power a row boat with these, but it's only a matter of time)
Ethnicity: 1/2 Italian, 1/4 German, 1/8 English, 1/8 Protestant Irish (what a freakin' mess!)
Religion: Jonestown People's Temple (only survivor: We shall rise again! May I offer you a Kool-Aid?)
Favorite Living Musician: Richard Thompson
Favorite Dead Musician: Let's put it this way. Richard Thompson is one of the only musical heroes still breathing.
Favorite Movie: "Cool Hand Luke"
Favorite Album: "Astral Weeks" by Van Morrison
Favorite Song: Yea, right. Like I can narrow THAT down.
Favorite Actor: James Stewart
Favorite Actress: Anne Bancroft
Favorite Male Vocalist: Tim Buckley
Favorite Female Vocalist: Sandy Denny
Favorite Food: The Philly chicken cheesesteak
Favorite Dessert: Leslie (more on her later)
Favorite Historical Moment: The Murder Of Julius Caesar
Least Favorite Historical Moment: The 2000 Presidential "Election".
Favorite Book: Narcissus and Goldmund by.....
Favorite Author: Hermann Hesse
Favorite Politician: Eugene McCarthy
Least Favorite Politician: Joseph Stalin
Preferred Sex Symbol: Brigit Bardot

In addition, I prefer to do the cooking if I have all the ingredients; I like candles, incense, dogs and cats, birds from a distance and the smell of burning leaves. I like cold weather; I eat meat and am not ashamed; I loved my grandmother; the fastest way to buy my friendship is through junk food; I think Tom Cruise sucks; I never listen to anything but NPR; I have a very firm belief in the afterlife; I have no belief in people in power; I don't know what the Function keys on this keyboard do; I have never been to Spain, and unlike Hoyt Axton, I don't kinda like the music; the scariest thing I ever saw in my life was Patti LaBelle live; I like watching people fall; I think it's even funnier when animals do it; I think Russia is slowly slipping back into dictatorship, and they couldn't care less; I wish I could play piano, but I'm stuck with guitar; I can outsing any white man alive given half a chance; I'd rather listen to the dumbest folk song in the world than the best heavy metal song in the world.

Now that we all know me, let's take a listen to what's on my CD player:

"They'll be trains of blossoms...they'll be trains of music"

Laura Nyro. A best-of collection. I love her music. It gives me instant hope. I'm very surprised that no one I know is online tonight. As stated in earlier posts, Lovely Lady Leslie is not a night person. She fell asleep at roughly midnight. She's wonderful. It took too damned long, but I found my perfect match. She's all things to me.

I'm in my home office in Milwaukee, home of sausage, cheese, beer and (in the last month) 5 billion gallons of shit in Lake Michigan. Mmmm, what a stew! Serve some on a cracker today!!!!

"Save The Country". This is my theme song this year. I've never been able to vote in an election that meant so much to the world. I want to be able to say I svaed the country after election day this year. Here's hoping. "Save the people/save the children/save the country".......

My favorite sport is Ice Hockey, but the NHL is about to self-destruct, so I may have to drop sports altogether. It may be all for the better. I am rather lazy when it comes to creating music, which is something I love to do. Maybe a lack of hockey will spur me on to greater heights.

HEY! I just noticed that my Austrian friend and fellow Laura Nyro fan Dani (Daniela) just signed on. Let's see if I get a message..... so far nothing........I know she has a choir concert today in Vienna (she lives there)......

I'll interrupt if anything happens on that front. So I was trying this tooth-whitening kit earlier where you have to paint your teeth with this goopy peroxide stuff, and it was just damned silly. You're supposed to put it on at night before you go to sleep. Therein lies the problem; I very rarely sleep, so I kept salvating, turning this goop on my teeth to WET goop on my teeth. I wiped it off with a tissue. I'll try again tomorrow when I actually go to sleep.
I have high hopes for my teeth. I recently gave up soda (or "pop", as they call it here in the Midwest; "pop" to me is either a punch in the eye or anyone's dad; curse this infernal language!) and am drinking virtually nothing but water. I gave up caffeine along with that, so I'm feeling much healthier.

I'm sitting here thinking that if I keep typing, maybe I can bring Blogger.com to its knees. Wouldn't that be something? I like being a wordsmith. Nothing makes The Man meet his maker faster than too much information. I'll never stop typing. I shall rule the world by never being silent AHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!

So recently I got a cell phone, and I think I've gotten more wrong numbers than calls from people I actually know. Apparently, my cell phone number used to belong to someone who fixes car air conditioning systems. I get a lot of voice mails asking me to fix people's air conditioning. It's rather humorous. This is solved by hitting the number which matches up to the "Delete Message" command. I thank whatever higher power that is that my number didn't belong to a gigolo.

I mentioned before that I write songs. I had a bit of a problem a few weeks ago when about a quart of soda spilled onto my song notebook. Luckily, I stored all of my songs on computer discs, so no harm done. A lot of these songs are awful, but I keep at it. It keeps the mind sharp.

I've decided to take the initiative and Instant Message Dani...Let's see what happens....

(As I chat with Dani..the new album now playing in my 12-disc changer is "Sweetheart Of The Rodeo" by The Byrds [extended reissue])....
Myth number one exposed: Dani's choir concert is actually TOMORROW; rehearsal is today...from 3 to 7 PM Viennese time...concert tomorrow at 8:30 (same time zone)...apparently they have to rehearse how to enter and exit the stage..I suggested that the choir should surprise the audience and sing the entire concert while standing on one leg....this idea is being rightfully ignored...I've suggested that if it doesn't go well then explain that this choir concert was an avant garde jazz interpretation....this is of Renaissance and Baroque music...this plan may not work...Her choir director's name is Vijay. I suddenyl want to write a song called "The Hindus Of Vienna". It will be a waltz on sitars. It sounds like the choir concert will feature Italian folk songs. Dani is in a relationship with an Italian (from Italy) named Angelo. Dani likes mostly female vocalists, being one herself. That makes sense. We're currently talking about modern interpretations of Bach. I mentioned "A Whiter Shade Of Pale", she mentioned "For All We Know" by the Carpenters (She stumped me; i didn't know about that one). I like Richard Carpenter's vocal arrangements. We both don't care for the songs "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" and "White Christmas". I really don't like show tunes. Dani likes some operas, but not musicals. For operas, it depends on her mood. I've now sent her the IM background of a fishtank. It's very relaxing. Kind of like watching Bob Ross paint a landscape (God rest his soul).

SO as the night goes deeper, My thoughts of blogging the reader to death have subsided. I shall soon turn in for a night's sleep next to Lovely Lady Leslie, and probably with the assistance of our cat Sadie, who likes to help me fall asleep by laying on my chest. And at the same time, I'm getting kind of hungry. I hope I've let a little light into my world. I bid you good night.

Another night, another song by Donovan.

It seems that whenever I'm disgusted by current musical trends, I go back to the '60's. A little more uplifting, a little more fast and loose with musical styles. Donovan was really flighty musically. I dig him.
Am I the only one who's fucking sick and tired of hearing about the still-dead Ronald Reagan. LET IT GO! He hasn't known who anyone else is in years. He shouldn't be on currency, he's not a hero, he ruined the economy and put weapons in the hands of our future enemies. This is not a hero. This was an atavistic fool who couldn't recognize a true threat to America. I'm most insulted by the fact that he let AIDS burrow into the American fabric, spread and kill thousands for no other reason but for political expediency.
On to the uplifting! My bandmate in the Jumping Frenchmen Of Maine, Bassman Dylan, and his wife had a baby boy yesterday. Xavier James. They call him "XJ" It's so Jaguar. I'm not sure I can call him that, but hey, the kid is loved! Now THAT'S a whole lot better than a dead president.
The humidity broke last night. I'm back to comfortable again. The cold keeps me thinking. I pity the reader, but hey, whatever floats MY boat!
I'm coming into Friday, and feeling a little thirsty, a little rammy, a little musical and a little funny. I'll take it.

And so it ends...

The National Hockey League handed out the Stanley Cup for what may be the final time. Tampa Bay took it. They earned it. It was nice to see Dave Andreychuk take a cup after 22 years in the league.

Now the important work begins. It's time to jumpstart the musical bandwagon. I'm in the midst of cleaning up the songbook and putting it in a new binder. Unfortunately, I'll be on my own until roughly Mid July, as the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine take a hiatus for childbirth and doctoral setup work by the other member of the band. So it's time for me to take the reins of my own career.

I'm finishing up listening to the Hollies' Greatest Hits. Do yourself a favor sometime; listen to the drumming of Bernie Calvert of the The Hollies. The guy was sharp.

12:30 AM CST. Out of the darkness of a new day, a ray of light shoots from my fingers.
In a time when all the world is electric with hate, conflict and other forms of nonsense, I feel incredibly empowered almost to the point of being bulletproof.
I am not famous. I am not a Hollywood star, a man of money or influence, a Casanova or even a guy who can cook the greatest meal on Earth. I am but a simple citizen of the Universe. Doesn't that put it all in perspective? OPEN YOUR EYES....WIDER. Doesn't that feel good? Don't you feel your face stretching? Don't you sense the use of blood vessels that you've let grow dormant and calcify?
Now check out your hands. Bend your fingers at half-staff. Now just randomly flex and straighten those knuckled suckers. AREN'T THEY GREAT? Tap the tip of your nose repeatedly. If you try hard enough, you can tap your upper lip at the same time.
I'd be willing to wager that you're smiling in spite of yourself right now. And yet you are beginning to feel good, and all in all it didn't take much, and best of all, it didn't cost you a thing. When in doubt, dear friend, dilate! This has nothing to do with your eyes. Your whole body has to do it or it just won't work. When one part of your body and mind dilate, no matter how insignificant you think it might be, eventually - or maybe instantaneously - your heart is going to do it too. It's at that point that you're hooked. You couldn't stop it if you tried, and why would you want to? This has nothing to do with chocolate or beer or speed or sex or cold or heat or air or water. It's all up to you.
MAN, I hope you feel good right now. I hope you feel infected by light and happiness. Thanks for stumbling in....

(I always knew that if I put my mind to it, I could make a great benevolent cult leader. The best part? I don't even want your money or want to make you wear white robes and hand out flowers or want to make you drink Kool-Aid.)

Now that the good feelings are spreading inside the reader, I'll tell you the concrete things going on in my immediate universe. I'm listening to the Best of Brewer & Shipley, drinking some water (I gave up soda; no more caffeine and I'm still stoked; how does THAT happen?) and feeling more in love with Lovely Lady Leslie than ever before. She sleeps a room away, and I know she falls asleep frustrated every night because I'm not next to her due to my nocturnal habits. When you truly love someone, geography in three dimensions doesn't mean anything. The geography of the heart is where love lies, and with her, I always know the way. AS this band says, "Shake off the demon/see how the angel run". While not grammatically correct, I know the feeling. The demon has been shaken, and my soul is finally doing some soft traveling. I live in the same house as that angel. I'm in the best place in the world. As I once saw in a Bob Mould video, "What you see is not what you get/what you see is what you have". When you look up on a sunny day my friend, you have the whole fucking universe!!

9 long days....not too much to tell.
Memorial Day is approaching. None of the veterans in my family gave their lives for the cause. My father served during the Korean War, but spent most of his time in occupied Japan in geisha houses. My grandmother once told me about a cousin of hers that served during WWI in Europe. He came home and began to have seizures. It turned out that he was exposed to mustard gas. He was taken to a military hospital in either Maryland or Virginia and eventually succumbed to the effects of the gas.
I sometimes think that the dead soldiers are the lucky ones. I have seen the living relics of the Vietnam War far too often on the streets of my country struggling to find inner peace and failing. Having been 9 years old when the last helicopter left the roof of the U.S. Embassy in what was then Hanoi, I grew up thinking that every war, deep down, contains error and miscalculation. Whether it is a repelled invader or the resolve of a eventually vanquished defender, one side eventually turns out to be in error. Watching old newsreels of battles from a time before I walked the planet, I was shown moral imperatives for battle, and yet every infantryman in every army that ever existed, no matter what the moral persuasions of their commanders, carries with him the idea that he is right.
Seventy years ago, my country entered a war which was supposed to be fought against an imminent threat to the well-being of the nation, but ended up being a war defined more by its racism than its true goals. We went on to spend trillions of dollars on it and continue to do so to this day. We spend all of our time in this war fighting it from the wrong side, and no one has the nerve to call for a stop to it, and if they do, they are quickly beaten down verbally for even daring to put forth such an idea. This war has become not a victory, but a long protracted lesson in tic-tac-toe, or rather, one endless string of draws. This war is called the War On Drugs, and I fear that the War on Terrorism is following its wasteful model. It's no longer God Bless America. It's God Help America. As an American in these troubled times, you'll pardon me if having this leader of our country gives me the feeling of living under a ladder with a target painted on my chest. Or as Pete Seeger said so many years ago, "When will they ever learn".
To all the soldiers in Iraq, come home quick, stay safe and know that if it were up to me, you'd all be home with your loved ones now. May no one ever cry for you on Memorial Day.

It's an exciting week!
Last night, I experienced the beauty of the local emporium known as the Bremen Cafe. I played the open mic there. I did a fair version of one of my own songs, a horrible version of "Candy Man" by David Ackles and if I might say so myself a pretty damned good version of "Once I Was" by Tim Buckley. I was thanked by some people for that one. Then the heavens opened up and it rained enough to kill off half the rat population of greater Milwaukee. I figured it was Ackles getting back at me for screwing up his song.
Tonight, on the last night of qualifying, I answered all five phone round questions for "Super Millionaire" (a guy can dream). I have to have my cell phone on from 8 to 11 tomorrow for (hopefully) that random call. I haven't been to New York in about 14 years. I'd be happy to win enough to buy Lou Reed a drink. That wouldn't THAT set the twilight reeling!
And now it's time to scrub the tub (Lovely Lady Leslie's orders [it needs it; she's right again; when will she stop that?]) grab another soda, and tempt fate by hitting the ATM after dark. Adieu!!

ALBUM REVIEW
Laura Nyro
Spread Your Wings And Fly: Live At The Fillmore East May 30, 1971
Columbia/Legacy

April 8th is a horrible day in contemporary music history. April 8th, 1976 found Phil Ochs taking his own life after a long decline fueled by being attacked in Tanzania three years before and descending into alcoholism. April 8th, 1994 brought the discovery of Kurt Cobain's body in his Seattle home. April 8th, 1997 took away Laura Nyro, one of the first and greatest of the "Singer/Songwriters" that would change the landscape of American popular music for the better part of the late '60's and early '70's.
This latest gem from the Columbia/Legacy catalog represents one of the last concerts at Bill Graham's Fillmore East. Nyro is alone at the piano on her home turf of New York City, bringing forth more soul than any white girl before or since. Slowly, through a deft use of melody and medley, she offers the audience a brief history of the songs by herself and other contemporaries such as Goffin and King (her splendid interpretation of "Up On The Roof") that had delivered her to this point in time. As the liner notes are careful to explain, the sound quality of this disk is not without its flaws, but the occasional sonic accident doesn't diminish from this music. Nyro, on this night, effortlessly moved the audience from songs of desperation ("I Am The Blues" and the David/Bacharach museum piece "Walk On By") to songs of hope ("O-o-h Child" and "Map To The Treasure"). Two tracks on this album, "American Dove" and "Mother Earth" have never been released in any form on any of Nyro's previous releases.
It is important to note that the audience responds most vociferously to Nyro's own "Save The Country", a song that takes on increased relevance in these troubled times. While it is songs of life and the heart such as "Stoned Soul Picnic", "And When I Die" and "Eli's Coming" that put her on the musical map and ensured her legacy, it was songs such as "Save The Country" that give Nyro a timelessness and continue to make her music relevant seven years after her death. In fact, it is maddening that in the 33 years since this performance, we seem to have been forced back to square one with regard to ecology, war, and man's inhumanity to man by the current keeper of America's keys. As another of Laura's songs says, "I'm mad at my country", but it is Laura Nyro's shining musical messages of love and peace that give me some sense of hope and strength these days.

It has been roughly 11 days since my last confession, and these are my triumphs (God wants us to do well).
On May 3rd, I officially became John Paul Spencer for all the world to see. It became easy to explain to the judge why I wanted to change my name when his clerk mispronounced my old name. The paperwork for these changes never stops. I'm rather amazed at the different levels of proof all of the financial and governmental forces at work would like from me. The only thing I have to update are my 4 CD club memberships and I believe that I am finished.
I wrote one song on a whim and finished another by force. One started out grandiose and ended up light-hearted, the other started grim, became morose and descended slowly into utter despair. As you may have guessed, I'd rather play the first one.
I have a busy weekend ahead of me, all of it involving some sort of athletic pursuit. On Saturday, I join Lovely Lady Leslie on the NAMI walk (according to the brochure, that stands for the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill). Lovely Lady Leslie devotes her professional life to the treatment of the mentally ill, then comes home to me. As you might have guessed, she never gets a break. I'm beginning to understand her constant need for sleep. On Sunday, I play street hockey with friends. I wonder how I'll look out there.
This evening, we dined with friends expecting their first child. The man in all this, Dylan, is also my band mate in the two-man-plus-effects-box collective known as The Jumping Frenchmen Of Maine. Very soon, we shall set about cutting a record with the help of all of our musical bric-a-brac and Dylan's computer. More on that next week.
And so, as the sun rises on Central Europe, I bid all in the dark and light and peaceful, a quiet, a humble goodnight.

I'm in the middle of what could be the most important weekend of my life. On Thursday the 29th, I turned 38. It was low-impact. I stopped by The Philly Way on 2nd & Florida and got myself a chicken cheesesteak. For a further taste of home, the Phillies were on ESPN, they lost in 13 innings, but I enjoyed what I stayed awake for (c'mon, it's BASEBALL! What, did you want me to stay awake?). Today, I got the best haircut I've had in a LONG LONG time. I feel and smell great from the head down. I got a few compact discs in the mail today. I already listened to "Cold Spring Harbor" by Billy Joel, noted pianist and reckless driver. I'm currently listening to the Belfast Cowboy himself, Van Morrison. "Bang Masters". My favorite album until the day I die is "Astral Weeks".
I got a pleasant surprise at work before I left on Thursday; Jenny, a young lady who handles charts for one of the clients I deal with at work, sent me an e-card for my birthday. Such a sweet person, Jenny. I wish wonderful things for her in her life. May the bumps in the road be few. Tomorrow, I'm going engagement ring scouting with Lovely Lady Leslie. Yes, it's that serious, and it almost always has been since we came across each other. She has been feeling ill lately with a virus. As usual, she's asleep at this late hour. Sh always warned me that she loves her sleep. Unfortunately, she paired off with a ghoul.
I feel I need to recommend one-half of a recent album purchase; Disc 2 of Nellie McKay's "Get Away From Me". It's an ambitious debut. Too bad she's touring with a relic like Sting. My Lord, why doesn't he retire already? I feel embarassed for him. I'm wondering just exactly when he began to morph into Enya.
Now that my diet soda cup is empty, I'm going to move to Rolling Rock to help me get some rest. Monday is the big day. With the grace of a judge, I will officially be known to the world as John Paul Spencer for the rest of my life. If the door closes, dear friends, kick it back open. Accept NOTHING at face value. Good night. I may be back in an hour or two. I'm wired on caffeine.

Lotsa news....

The hearing for my name change is May 3, 2004, which is 4 days after my 38th birthday.

There were many times in my 20's when I used to tell people that the day before I turned 40, I'd throw myself into the ocean. In many ways, I'm doing just that, but just a few days early. With a handful of exceptions, I want to immolate my old life. The people I know will be a little saddened, but I can't help feeling excited. It's been time to slam the door closed on the first half of my life for roughly the last ten years. I'm just coming around to the good part. And with Lovely Lady Leslie on my arm, the future's wide open.

I got a nice haircut last weekend and had the last chicken cheese steak at The Philly Way in Walker's Point. Some habits die hard.

Sleep in peace, brothers and sisters! The show shall begin in 32 days!!!

Another Friday, another beer...

My boss really pissed me off today, but I ENDEAVOR to stay positive, so I'm going to let her fall by the wayside. I find her petty and ridiculous at times, and this is not how I want to spend time on this blog.
As the clock turned midnight EST (I'm in Central Time), my sister turned 45. She's nice, but naive and completely unrealistic.

I just realized that I've begun this blog tonight taking pot shots at two women. I don't want to give the reader the impression that I'm a chauvinist. I happen to live with Lovely Lady Leslie, the most wonderful woman in the world (she's in bed; she craves sleep; I'm a ghoul). Up until Leslie, I had a horrible track record with women. I now realize that I kept getting together with women that were FAR too much like my mother, who's a sadistic bully and a traitor to her own children. You know how Dylan said, "If you see her say hello", well if you see my mother say "Fuck You". Thanks to Leslie, I now realize how sick and evil my mother's approach to parenting is, and I shall strive for SOOOOO much better when Leslie and I eventually marry and have children. Leslie makes me realize how wonderful life can be. I'm in her debt for the rest of my life.

And so I'm hanging, listening to Stephen Stills' "Manassas" (a forgotten classic). I'm on my second beer (Goose Island Hex Nut Brown Ale- straight from the variety pack - not a bad brew). I get a hair cut tomorrow. Since I moved to Milwaukee, I have YET to have a decent haircut. The thinning hair and greying genes are not heavy in my family, so at (nearly) 38, I have a thick head of brown hair. I HATE cutting it. As I get older, my hair causes me great guilt, as some of my greatest friends have no hair whatsoever. I used to go to a Russian barber who told me "you hev very nice heer. Very tick". He was an avid fisherman and a great fan of 40's and 50's jazz standards. I'm a Russophile, but it's hard to watch people from a distance who've never known freedom in their lifetimes stumble so badly. Russia, unfortunately, is slowly slipping back into dictatorship, and it seems like they don't even care. I used to think I'd never see the Berlin Wall come down. Until the last Russian election with Putin, I thought I'd never see an East Bloc dictatorship again. I guess I'm not an oracle. The world is repeating itself in frightening ways, but with transistorization, the speed at which the world repeats history has reached about one generation of actual time. I wonder where the true visionaries are hiding nowadays. It is ironic that the greatest mind of the last 10 or 15 years, Stephen Hawking, is more machine than functioning human being. Is he the harbinger of things to come?

I'll leave now to urinate, ruminate and meditate on all I've written here. Live well, dear reader.

It's been a few days...

And so we find ourselves in the midst of March Madness. Being from Philly, I have to root for the St. Joe's Hawks.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time in a bar called Ray's, that was just behind the St. Joe's campus in West Philly. It was a place where you could get a drink before you turned 21. Walt the bartender was usually more lit up than the patrons. I remember one night when I had a heavy dinner, and went to Ray's to drink up. I ended up throwing up on the sidewalk across the street in front of a thrift store whose dollars went to a campaign for the homeless. Then I turned 21. I went there on my 21st birthday to say goodbye. I was too old for the place.
My good feelings are still flowing. I'll let the readers in on a little secret. As of this moment, my name isn't John Paul Spencer, but I will be changing it sometime soon. I see it as a rebirth. There will never be a force on Earth that will be able to wipe the smile off of my face on the day that the world knows me as Mr. Spencer. Things inside me are beginning to change, and the name will seal the deal.
Good night. Vote Democratic. Give love a BIGGER chance.

Well, it's been a few days.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. On Saturday, I play my first childhood love; street hockey. We have an informal group of mostly English grad students who play on designated Saturdays at Ellen Park in Milwaukee. It's messy, it's unskilled, but it's VERY fun. Afterwards, a cookout with my meat of choice. I chose Andouille sausage. I love that stuff.

I'm working on a song called, "The Other Side Of The River". It's rather dark, but I like that. It owes a lot to me listening to the work of David Ackles. It may take a while to find just the write language to tell the story of this one, but thus far the payoff has been quite remarkable, at least to my ear.

And forward I go, awaiting my tax refunds.

Lunch time finds me behind my desk.

I'm a medical coding supervisor for a small medical billing company in the Midwest. This is what I'm doing this year. I tend to change jobs a lot. With the economy being as decimated as it is now, it may be awhile before I can change jobs again, but one never knows.

I think I'll play the Open Mic tonight at the Miramar theatre downtown. I'm going to look into it in a few minutes after I complete this post. I need to re-oil the vocal pipes in public for a change. My dog is getting sick of me. It drives him nuts when I sing Laura Nyro songs at him. Poor guy. Poor Laura. She died.

An uneventful Sunday, but a positive one.

I went with Leslie (from now on to be referred to as "Lovely Lady Leslie") to the local mall just to get out of the house. Wisconsin winters are fairly unforgiving to the point that we've been in virtual hibernation for the whole of the winter. We walked around for a little while.

At the mall they have this little circular train track that the kids can ride for $1.25. I noticed that every time the train went around and passed the lady who ran the train, she waved to the kids inside the little cars. I thought to myself, "What a GREAT train lady!".

After the mall, we went to the Old Country Buffet. I don't make a habit of this. I usually go there when I feel like my body is down a quart of starch. True to form, I ate turkey(twice), rice (twice), stuffing (also twice), a salad (HA! Fooled ya...I only had one salad), a few glasses of Diet Coke and two small desserts. We got home after going shopping for pet supplies (we have a dog and a cat). Almost immediately, I fell asleep for 4 hours (starch overload).

And I have enough recycled all-starch-burned energy to share my day here. My residual happiness is bleeding through to today. I bid all a good night. It's just that simple.

The most heart-opening experience happened to me a few minutes ago...

As previously stated, I live in Milwaukee. The radio stations up here play unusual oldies from time to time. A few weeks ago, one of them played "One Toke Over The Line" by Brewer and Shipley. Other than that one song, I didn't believe I had ever heard any other song by them...

Fast-forward a few weeks, and I decided to use some of the bonus points I'd accumulated through one of my 5 CD club memberships, and I bought "The Best Of Brewer & Shipley". So, I listened to 6 tracks, including the wonderfully quirky "One Toke..." and the rest of the music was ok. Then I started to listen to track 7, a track called "Witchi-Tai-To".

I can only guess that this was a song I used to sing in kindergarten in 1971. Sometimes, sounds, faces and memories from the distant past hide in your mind just waiting to be rediscovered. It's so easy to let them just lay there when you get older, stuffed in a cobwebbed space of your mind, with your innocence, your optimism and all of those feelings of indestructibleness that come from youth. When I heard this song again, I could only smile. The words echoing in my head like an awakening mantra. I wanted to cry, but I was too happy to do anything else but smile, shake my head and sing along.

At this very moment in my life, I forget all of my failures. I forget all the things that have hurt me. I forget that I threw my innocence away like a lint ball on my t-shirt. In one 6-1/2 minute burst of song, I feel reborn and immortal all over again. The world has grown as big as it once was when I viewed it with the eyes of a child. I remember that I have senses that I've probably set to the side for far too long. The world has lost its tarnish and shines like a brand new dime. I truly love, and I must become a friend to all things. In the long-forgotten-now-unearthed words of Brewer & Shipley "What a spirit Spring is bringing 'round my head/makes me feel glad that I'm not dead".

I bid all readers peace. I bid all things the sweet breath of life.

Well, I warned you about the beer...

I'm about 7-8 beers into the evening. If it wasn't for Leslie (the significant other) being tired, I'd have more than 8 ounces of beer in front of me at this very moment.

So, I find myself listening to "Electric Music For The Mind And Body" by Country Joe and the Fish, drinking a Leinenkugel's (a local Milwaukee microbrew) and generally enjoying life. I'm currently IMing with my old friend Brian. We go back about 10 years through a common employer. To this day, we entertain each other simply by once sharing space. THIS is the stuff of life. The goal of life is the following: you're in Heaven, you're just hanging out, and someone says a name from your past and you either smile or laugh or both. Ladies and Gentlemen, BE THAT NAME!!!

I have nothing more to add this evening.

March 5, 2004
12:03 AM CST

Bless me computer, for I have existed. It has been two days since my last blog and....oh nevermind. Just a Catholic flashback.

Well, it's raining like I'm Noah in Milwaukee, Land of Beer and Cheese, Home of the Mullet, where heavy metal is still inexplicably worshipped. It's an interesting change from Philadelphia, that's for sure.

Yea, I'm from Philly. Actually I'm from in order of appearance) Drexel Hill, PA; Enfield, Connecticut; Phoenixville, PA; Plantation, FL; Wilmington, North Carolina; Havertown, PA; Philadelphia, PA; West Chester, PA; Greensboro, NC; West Chester, PA (again, in three different places) and finally, here in Milwaukee.
I enjoy the Midwest. After years and years of kneejerk bad attitudes in the Northeast, it's nice to meet people who are nice OUTSIDE of their job descriptions just because. I also like that both of my senators are Democrats, unlike the ignoramuses in Pennsylvania.

I think in order for this to be a successful blog, I think the length of it needs to take time to read roughly equivalent to walking the length of an average-sized apartment, so I'll end here. Thanks for reading. I hope you're drier than me right now.

Oh, and as a warning, I REALLY wanted to recommend the new Johnatha Brooke album "Back In The Circus", and then I heard the dreadful covers of "Fire and Rain" and "God Only Knows" that are on it, and I was crushed. Some songs are untouchable. "God Only Knows" off of "Pet Sounds" is a masterpiece. I'm NOT on a major label and I KNOW to cover that one is to have a death wish............Good night.

As is obvious, this is my first entry.

I am doing this primarily to keep my mind working. Given the current leadership crisis in America, it's easy to let the mind calcify. I figure if I have something to do every day, such as this blog, I keep moving forward. It's been a difficult personal journey up to this point (this will become apparent in future posts).

I'll be throwing anything in that comes to mind. Hopefully I keep my OWN interest, let alone the interest of any possible readers.

I'll keep this post short. As I stated, who I am and where I'm going will become clear in future posts. Sorry I'm starting with a wimper. Hopefully, through experience, love and a touch of beer, this will be a worthy read in the future.