Back again for the first time

Ok, so the blogging thing hasn't exactly panned out as I'd hoped. Definitely not how my esteemed board of advisors had wished. But it's probably about as I'd foreseen. Habitually, I'm not one of those that when something's on my mind, my instincts lead me to the computer. It is much more likely I'm led to the wet bar currently housed in the back of a borrowed 2002 Cadillac.

I can't really call it 'eventful' but the last few months have certainly gone by in something of a blur, and only partly aided by the cut-loose at that. I turned another year older, have written some good songs that I need to memorize so I can actually play them for people, have started several recording projects that are finally starting to see the finish line in the light at the end of the tunnel, and I'm finally gonna move into a new place. Life is good.

I just need to write more prose. Plain and simple.

No sense getting down on myself, though, right? Indeed. I can start right now. I am starting right now. I still don't see the point of blogging, but I'm told it's something I need to do. I have to do. So I'll try. Again.

Why prose? I like it. That should be good enough. It's more of a challenge than writing a song or poem. Maybe not a good song or poem, but if nothing else, it's a different kind of challenge. I'm pretty sure. The satisfaction of really nailing a song is incomparable partly because the form is much more constricting than prose. This presents a challenge unique to the format and I enjoy it for exactly what it is.

And we're not even talking about performance yet.

Music is it's own thing, and I'm happy to devote part of my life to it. Of course, I'd almost certainly be more successful were I to devote all of my energies to it. Submit and thrive. But I can't. I've got this other part of me that loves stories, short and long. I'm a reader. Since my earliest childhood I've loved books. I'd be no more true to myself were I to deny this part of me at the expense of a life in music than were I to quit playing music to focus on the written word.

It's a delicate balancing act that I've nowhere near mastered yet. I'm constantly falling off the tightrope, as it were, but at least I'm still trying. Or trying to try.

Time management is not my forte. Discipline has never been my thing. It kept me from ever being much of an athlete though I had aptitude and even some skill. "If only he'd apply himself..." was and is a constant phrase on the lips of teachers, coaches, mentors, parents, peers and most any other observant persons looking at me.

I feel it. I know it. It's futile to pretend otherwise. Now you'd think that'd be motivation enough for me to do something about it. But you'd be wrong. It's far easier to pour a drink, sit back and daydream, drifting off to the magical worlds in my head where everything is as I order it and I am king and fool both. It's a helluva place, my head.

But now even that's become too confining. Or maybe just too lonely. I'm not sure. I'll have to think about it. Hoho. Not too long, though. The time for thinking has passed. The time for action is at hand. George W. Bush said that. Not really, but he should have.

Life's a quick trip on a rocket ship, you know?

I'm feeling good right now, optimistic if not about the state of the world than at least about the state of myself in the world. It's as good a place to be as I know of, this side of a nice stream full of fat fish eager to bite.

On Cutting Loose

The name alone could very well say it all, and i should have known what to expect when I attended my first Handgun & Hard Liquor Night somewhere outside of Llano, TX over the Memorial Day weekend, but there was no way to properly prepare for just how much good honest country fun it was gonna be.

We cut loose as only good ole boys can, or are willing to do.

In our wake, we left behind hundreds of spent shells & cartridges, several empty bottles of booze, and enough beer cans to make a good bed at the Kerrville Folk Festival. I know. I've slept on such a bed before, seven years ago. It was good sleep, aided, no doubt, by a heavy dose of Old Crow bourbon whiskey.

Cutting loose. Seems to me people get so worked up by our daily lives, are so wound up & balled up tight, that cutting loose is the only way to get any release from the tension of living, working, grinding, struggling to get by. And yes, there are many ways to cut loose. Handgun & Hard Liquor Night isn't for everyone. But if you only cut loose every now and then, only when you've reached the end of your line, however short or long it may be, well, then you're in for trouble.

It's like a rubber band snapping. You get stretched too severely, too fast...then, POP! That's it. The older I get, the fewer friends I have who raise hell the way they once did, when they were in their prime and stomped the earth. It's like Hank Jr said: The hangovers hurt more than they used to. Instead of regular or semi-regular outings to the bar, they stay home.

Nobody wants to get high on the town. No one wants to get drunk and get loud. All my rowdy friends have settled down.

But every now and then, just when it seems the fun's stopped, they'll cut loose. And then pay the price. If you don't keep at something, anything, you lose your knack for it.

Cutting loose is good. Staying loose is better.

Tension's only useful under certain conditions. Physicists and hell-raisers know this.

When Dangosaurs Ruled the Earth

Spurred on by Others, I've decided to join the Future Age and get hip to this blogging thing. I'm told it's a good career move, whatever that means. I'm not much of a career man. Not all that good with technology, either. I curse my computer more than some sporting teams.

But we can't go backwards, can we? Not on your life, pal. The future is here in all its bestial stink. Just yesterday I heard there were no more cash register-repairmen around anymore. Gone. Extinct. Just like typewriter repairmen. A way of life, a living, just disappears. Sink or swim. Adapt or die. It's an ancient story.

And maybe its for the best. No one wants actual dinosaurs roaming the earth, wreaking havoc and leaving reeking piles of steaming dino-waste in their wake. No, people prefer their dinosaurs in museums.

Perhaps then this blog is simply that, an online museum. Let's hope so, for now.



So here we go then. Welcome. Take a look around. Enjoy yourself.

And goodnight...