My Magic 8-Ball and the Chaos Theory...

I love my Magic 8-Ball. All life's questions can be answered in a quick shake. Maybe not the best answer, but an answer none the less! I decided to take a whole day and only let my Magic 8-Ball make any choices I had to choose. It was awesome! I laughed at every shake. Talk about a stress free day, my Magic 8-Ball had me cancelling plans with good friends, watching old movies, eating food I didn't want but liked, hanging out with a virtual stranger, and drinking rose flavored lassies. It wasn't what I had in mind at all. That's the point! Putting a day of your life on random.

I enjoyed that day so much, I have a web page that had a Magic 8-Ball program on it that I get to from my phone. I've been using it out occasionally. Talk about pulling the trigger, taking a shit or get off the pot, choosing a side of the fence and fall off, stab it and steer, hit it or quit it...you get to doing or not doing fast! I will say that when it gives me the non-committal reply it is a little frustrating...they need a Robert Mitchum version that gets rid of all that "Maybe" crap.

See....we can't do random. We need external forces to give us random. Hence flip a coin, roll some dice, close your eyes and let your finger fall randomness that we use all the time. Random should not be confused with chaos, chaos is a powerful force in nature. Random is kind of like a bounded chaos. It has set number of variables like my Magic 8-Ball.

● As I see it, yes

● It is certain

● It is decidedly so

● Most likely

● Outlook good

● Signs point to yes

● Without a doubt

● Yes

● Yes - definitely

● You may rely on it

● Reply hazy, try again

● Ask again later

● Better not tell you now

● Cannot predict now

● Concentrate and ask again

● Don't count on it

● My reply is no

● My sources say no

● Outlook not so good

● Very doubtful

Chaos Theory is the science of how things change. Acknowledging the chaos in our lives can be scary and unnerving, but can do us a world of good. Accepting we really have little control over our lives and the world, does not go down easily. We simply need to let many things go and swallow a chaser.

*cough* *cough*

"Whew! That's some strong but smooth stuff!"

"Hello officer, yes...I am under the influence of random and chaos and I just rolled past that stop sign, crossed the double yellow line, did a donut in the parking lot and urinated on the Wells Fargo bank ATM machine..."

"Yes officer...it was completely random's fault, not me. See this Magic 8-Ball? Yea...those old toys...yea...that one...see...hold on I'll show you. Should I flip off this officer and haul ass out of here?"

*shake* Yes - Definitely

"Bye-bye mother fucker!" SCREEEEEEECH!!!!!

(2 hours later in jail)

"Ummm...Magic 8-Ball when will I get out of here?"

*shake* Ask Again Later...Much Later

Hot and Sweaty Bars...

Aaahhh...hot and sweaty bars. I love performing in them. Packed with people, low oxygen, high humidity, swimming pheromones, estrogen, testosterone, whiskey, little on light, heavy on sound...mmmm!!!!

We started late. Our drummer whilst owning a bitchin' '78 Ford two-tone truck that he bought from me and I bought from an old man in Memphis, Tennessee, is after all a '78 Ford truck. It didn't wanna start. She finally relented..."Velma" is her name. She's a solid gal that needs a little coaxing once in a while. A twenty-four volt spanking from another truck battery was all it took, and off she went to meet us. Waiting for her. Everyone was waiting for her. Us, the other band, the people in the bar, and the angels and devils.

Finally when we got to go and we went! Jumping, laughing, fucking up, nailing it, doing stuff we never had done, and stuff we've done for years. A show. A sound system that can't take all we were giving it and everyone forgiving it for something the poor P.A. couldn't deliver. Hell, we're in a small sweaty bar, we have our icy drinks, our friends, our soon-to-be-new-friends, former friends and lovers, current lovers and wish-we-could-be-lovers. This is the reason we go out. This is why we spent what little cash we have and relinquish what little left the week hadn't taken from us. Even the angels and devils weren't fighting. "Ah hell..." they say, "Let's dance, then go outside for a smoke and grab some fresh air." Only to get back inside, fill up and let it loose all over again.

This we were are a part of, the human experience. Looking for those small, rare out-of-body experiences we pay good money for, through illegal drugs, alcohol, prescription drugs, lack of sleep, lack of sanity, lack of propriety, lack of a fucking filter that we use most of the day. Thank God and the Devil that in these small moments we can put down the war flags and have a good time for a little while until the newspapers, television, family, preachers, politicians, friends, salesmen, bosses, and lovers tell us what's wrong with us in the morning...

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a hunter who lived in the Black Forest. He had no idea how he got there, or whether it was really a forest or just the dark crevices in his mind. But one thing for sure, he got lost in it. After a few years he started to know pathways and trails. He started to be able to get around enough that he kinda liked this Black Forest. Even with all the wild animals, enchanted tree stumps, and crazy maidens that made his days quite adventurous indeed.

One day he came upon a sword. A sword with seven deadly edges. It was so sharp he accidentally cut himself just picking it up. "Damn" he thought..."One could do quite a lot with this sword..." Yes Hunter, you could do quite a lot. And he did. He slain many a beast and monster...almost a maiden or two, but good fortune and quick thinking on both their parts saved unnecessarily injure and harm. It can be tough in the Black Forest, and lonely too. Sure, the elves are fun, but they get on your nerves after a while. The occasional old witch would knock on the door, but he'd just pretend to be not home. If that didn't work then it's just off with her head. That's how it is in Fairy Tales. Lots of violence with seldom meaning or moral. Most everybody here in this forest are just crazy. Good crazies, bad crazies, and pure and simple delusional crazies. All crazy because that is the price to admission to be in this forest. The normal people live in the village and the way-beyond-lunies live in the castle.

Every once in a while some giant or dark wizard will come into the land and everyone would band together to vanquish their mortal enemy...but that rarely happens, so everyone just bickers between themselves and gossip about who's doing who and who said what. Aaahhh...just stuff to pass the time away.

The princess was found convorting with the hunter and the whole Kingdom was out talking about it at all the wells, written on walls and whispered at the fences. The heralds would tell and retell the stories so much that the stories grew into stories of other stories. That's where fairy tales came from, and this one too. Complete and utter bullshit because we're just kinda bored...

To be continued on another quiet and mischievous night...There will be XXX fairies, violent ogre blood baths, magic, and comedy from the village fool...me.

Sent from the Black Forest.

Rambling About Future Histories...

Our future history is now. No wait...now! Right then! And now! I say now to signify the time's past, it's ending. It's history. But what is history? Is it what we write down? Or is it as it really happened? Or does that even really matter?

In the truest sense, it is as it really happened, but until we can gaze unclouded by skewed perception and prejudices, we rely on what's written. A very scary proposition, especially in these days of unchecked facts and Wikipedia. Though I must say, I had extreme misgivings for Wikipedia and it's public entered information without the prerequisite of fact-checked data, and while I know there is a lot of misinformation, if you look at it statistically, the longer the Wikipedia pages are updated, the more true the information becomes. The extremes get slowly overwhelmed by the middle, and a better more honest representation is shown through. Granted extremes are a natural part of life and deserve their moment in the sun, but as in all things, extremes are a much smaller part of the whole.

The next question is, is the middle the truest path? No. In fact there is none. It seems that at the end of the day, all paths seem to lead to it. Of course, that is the inherent problem with linear thinking. It always gives way to circular movement....and give that a multidimensional framework and you're on to something else entirely. One that we can visualize, but cannot really express easily. We have put it to words. Religion, Philosophy, and Poetry. We have put it to equations. Math and Science. The best way to get a handle on it, is to FEEL it.

Have I lost you? What am I talking about? I am saying that we know all our answers inside ourselves. We just either don't want to pay attention to them because it might be painful, or we deny it's existence because it would shatter our core beliefs. We want to look to others, or outside of our world for answers that we already have inside us. Sometimes those answers are ugly....but in that ugliness, if we acknowledge it, we can overcome it and grow from it, into something greater than we have ever been.

Why is it that we want our "outlaw heroes" to escape capture and live, and our prophets/teachers to die? You can say "It's not me.", but we all have to take credit for the good and bad in this world. There are ugly answers to this question. Going against the grain/status quo is highly revered as long as you don't force people to deal with their ugliness. We don't want to truly improve our world. We are scared, lazy, selfish children. If we can acknowledge this, we are on the way of overcoming it. When I see all the fear, greed, and hatred some people have, I feel sorry for them. I cannot change their minds. You cannot change their minds. It must be found within themselves to be extinguished.

Our future histories depend on us to take a real hard look inside and bring all that ugliness out in the open, expose it. Us and the light will kill it. This world has always had the greatest expectations and abilities in it, we just have to let them out.

Speaking for one's self as only anyone can do, I know that I know very little of this world and out of it. I know I am scared. I can be selfish. I can be immature. I am weak. I am just smart enough to rationalize anything, making my thoughts dangerously illogical. I am a man, proud, humble, good, bad, intelligent, ignorant, strong and fragile...always on the verge of breaking...because someday I will break, and be set free.

Go South...Go North...Go East...Go West...

Why is it that when I want to escape I wanna go South? And when I wanna find something within myself I wanna go North? I go East to find the past and I go West to find the future. I am a product of movies. Too many damn movies. My life compass. The "Wild Bunch", "Jeremiah Johnson", "King Solomon's Mines", "Tarzan", "The Man Who Would Be King", "How the West Was Won", any of those really bad Genghis Khan or Marco Polo movies...yea too many damn movies.

I better head south and cross the Rio Grande into Mexico to out run the posse that's after me from robbing that bank in San Rafael, Texas only to find out the gold was only bags of steel washers...ugh.

I'm gonna head due North to the Rocky Mountains and grow a big ass beard, live on my own in a log cabin I just made with my knife and my .50 caliber Hawken rifle...and learn the ways of the mountain. "You can't cheat the mountain pilgrim! Mountain's got a way...shhh! Ya here that?!"

I'll head East to where the world began...Africa...the Old Mother going down the river in a small steamboat meeting up in Mogambo to capture gorillas, crossing the Nefud Desert with Lawrence through the great Mesopotamia, then to the far, far East on the Mongolian tundra plains to where the struggle for life happened every second of everyday in battles and taking wild Tartan women because my "blood wills it". *laughing*

West...I'll go west...ummmm...no...I'm already there. I came here for a future hope...a dream I had of divine providence...telling me to go here to make my way...to become a man. Not like Zeb Rawlings but my version of it.

I better get a compass. Oh wait...I have GPS on my phone...oh wait...that'll mean real service everywhere. Yea...I better get a compass and hope the Earth doesn't switch magnetic poles on me and screw up this stupidly fun way of thinking of the world and which direction I go to get there...

Where's my paper back book I used to carry around with me all the time... "How To Survive In the Wilderness"? It's a good read...especially if you plan on getting lost in Northern Canada. Yea...getting lost to find yourself. Kinda sounds like a movie or something...

The Magic Shuffle...

I have an iPod. Like all old-schoolers I resisted for a while. Then I thought the stupidest thing is to resist the new age. The Digital Age. The Analog Age is dead and anything on that analog vine is gonna die eventually. Vinyl will die too. I love vinyl. But it only lives through nostalgia...and nostalgia is made from a generation of people who romanticize "how it used to be". When this generation is gone, so will be the nostalgia for it.

Now enough of the old days. What's going on now? The same thing that was always going on. Portability and convenience. That's right, the same old stuff. First you had to see live musicians or make music yourself. Then came cylinders and records. You could play that band or orchestra in your house! Then came the radio. You play in your house, outside, or in your car. Then 8-tracks and cassettes, smaller and even more portable and convenient. Sound? Who cares? Nobody minded AM radio in mono versus a real band when you could listen to it anywhere. Walkman and small crappy headphones were the newest best thing. You could jog to AC/DC! The came CD's, the lie of better sound, but really it was convenience again. It lasted longer, took less space. Then came digital files like mp3's. Again, much more portable, worse in sound but the trade off? Thousands of songs in the palm of your hand.

I have my entire record collection in my iPod except for my out of print vinyl. I can even put that on there if I want to spend the time. I have the old 160 gigabyte model. I have all my songs on the mp3 highest quality of 320kbps. Over 10,000 songs and movies, tv shows, cartoons, language books, all my lyrics in case I forget them on tour...*laughing* everything.

Do I hear a difference? Yes. I'm an engineer and producer. Do I care? Yes, but convenience wins and 320kbps sounds pretty darn good, at least better than a radio station going in and out and all those crappy commercials. When storage becomes even smaller, we won't even need to compress all the data, and eventually we'll be able to expand to 24bit sound rather than 16bit. It's all gonna happen in its sweet ol' time.

Now here's my favorite part of the portable player. "Shuffle". Having 10,000 songs doesn't mean you listen to all of them. We are habitual creatures. We play favorites. Shuffle/random play means anything goes. The Minutemen to Russian Orthodox Vespers by Rachmaninov to Loretta Lynn singing duets with Conway Twitty to Slayer to Captain Beefheart to Blondie to Bernard Herrmann to King Tubby to Serge Gainsbourg to The Stranglers to Candi Staton to Deerhoof to Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass to Sonny Boy Williamson to Ice-T to Neil Diamond to...you get my point. I hear songs I might never hear if I was left to pick 'em. Some songs honestly I've never even heard, or remember. Amazing gems that make me go "Who the heck is that?! Awesome!!" Some songs that make me go..."Okay...when I get home I'm deleting that awful song!" In time, my music collection will just get better and better, finding beautiful obscurities like Les Baxter or odd happenings like a Bukowski reading a poem.

Yes! Everyone let's do the Shuffle! Skip the song if you don't want to hear it, but you might be surprised what you will want to hear. It might not be in your favorites. *smile*

Get Off My Lawn!!!!

"Get off my lawn!!!" Remember that? You know the grumpy old neighbor that would yell at you for running across his lawn? That sad mean old bastard. Now. Now I occasionally have that same inclination. Damn. I'm turning into that mean old man all of us kids used to despise. Damn his eyes! *laughing* I say this knowing full well I'm not him, but I understand him now. The whole "empathy requires understanding" thing.

Kids lack the much more complex theme of respect. They confuse fear with respect. We adults still do. They immediately level the playing field and make everyone equal. The lines of property blur. Awareness of others feelings are drowned out by their own selves yelling out to the world "I'm here! Look at me!" This is being a kid. Self discovery. Triple underline the word "self".

It's not really about others until the teenage years. Then we become hyper aware of how others see us and having the conflicting feeling of wanting to be approved and assimilated by our peers and yet needing to rebel at authority to assert our individuality and our specialness. A balancing act hard to achieve with many stumbles along the way.

It was wondrous Hell being a kid. I couldn't wait to grow up. Getting control of my life. Or so I thought. Finding for myself that control is just an illusion to make us feel safer in this beautiful and sometimes cruel world.

I want my inner kid to live and thrive. I want my inner adult to lighten-up but still rule. Growing up diminishes the selfish tendencies and adds the understanding of others, re-enforcing the true reality of our connectedness with everything. To hurt someone or some thing hurts ourselves too. That we are not alone, nor can we every truly be alone, even though our bodies and physical reality seems to deem it so.

Yep. I want to hold on to the magical discovery and wide-eyed wonder of a child, and the wisdom and understanding of being a part of something much greater than ourselves.

September, Yucca Street, and Tree Living Punkers...

Sitting here sweltering at my computer transports me to 1985 Hollywood, Dire Straits - "Money For Nothing" came out, I'm seventeen years old, and my first studio apartment. It was hot like this, hovering around 100 degrees, my air-conditioning unit would ice up and I would have to chisel away the ice to get the cooled air out an into my 300 square foot room. In these "olden" times, Hollywood was much skankier on the strip. The day I moved in, there were all these women at my apartment complex. Lots of smiles and stare-downs headed my way like arrows at Little Bighorn, while I was unloading everything I owned in Chevy S-10 pickup. I thought to myself "Wow! I haven't even moved in yet and adventure is already swirling around me!" I started to talking to one girl, we were laughing and getting along pretty good, when more women came into the complex...then it hit me...internal dialogue-"Hookers!" Oh Hell...this isn't the adventure I thought it was. Embarrassed and feeling really dumb, young, and full of...I quickly unpacked my truck and stayed inside. Alone. You have to understand, that up to this point in my life, I stayed in my room playing guitar and never left but to eat, take out the garbage and mow the lawn. My social skills and worldly knowledge were of the pre-school age. *laughing*

Living in Hollywood at this time I grew up quickly, someone was mistakenly killed at my front door by a gang. It could have been me. My life threatened on two occasions by drugged out psychos, and someone else pulled a knife to take my candy apple red Gibson Flying V Heritage guitar from me. You know how many lawns I mowed to get that guitar? "Fuck you! You're gonna have to take it from me!" I pulled out my own knife that I always had cupped in my hand when walking the streets for this very occasion. Fortunately the guy found it to be too much work, so he just walked away cursing. Yes...I know...a Gibson Flying V...it was the 80's. I was in a metal band. I had just played the Rainbow Bar, I was underage, so when I to played, I had to wait outside most of the time except when and only when I was on stage. It was the time of Depeche Mode vs. Megadeth. You were on one side or the other. This is very funny to think about now. It was also when I saw the movie "This Is Spinal Tap" and when I seriously thought about jumping the metal ship and going to blues. Teenagers...

When you're seventeen, you think that because maybe you're smart, you know everything sans experience. It is in experience that life reminds you that you don't know shit no matter how many books you've read. I was humbled in Hollywood. Watching dumpster diving for food, drugs take over people's minds, whores puking up their job they just finished 5 minutes ago. Humbled.

One morning I went to my truck to go to the grocery store and my truck hood was all dented in and scratched up. There was a small group of punkers who practically lived in the tree above my parking spot. One of them apparently fell asleep and fell out of the tree and on to my truck. They were really sorry about it and they pooled their money together and bought me a case of Keystone beer. I was really mad, but I couldn't be mad for longer than a minute. I realised these guys had nothing. Not even a place to live. If you take the money they spent on the beer for me, it probably was 60% of what they had. Damn. That's a lot. In my mind that case of Keystone was one of the biggest offers of restitution and compensation from someone in my life.

I still think about those guys every time I see a parking lot and a big tree looming above the spaces. You never know what might drop out and change the way you look at things forever...