I Have A Gnome In My Piano...

I have a gnome in my piano. Yea...that's right...a gnome.


I had a dream a few years back. In it, I'm standing at my front door and this gnome through my white picket gate. He looks just like a gnome should, long white beard, pointy hat, rosy cheeks, smiling, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. A good mischievous, not a bad one. He had all his stuff with him. It wasn't a lot. Just a small trunk, a bag, and jug of something seeming intoxicating in nature. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. He wanted to move in. I know that look.


I wasn't scared. Well...I was for a second, then I just let it go. I'm always like that. When something scares me, I let it fill me up, then I let it all out like a breath. I deal with everything that way. The universe is akin to breathing. Obviously in living, it is literal, but it also helps as a reminder to dealing with things that have an ether about them. A floating. Intangible.


I treat these intangibles like breath. Fear. Happiness. Worry. Excitement. Etc.


So...back to the gnome. I looked at him welcoming and said, "Hello! Come on in! Make yourself at home." And he did just that. He came in, walked right up to my small upright piano. Opened a secret door on the right side of the Wurlitzer upright, put his stuff inside, waved and walked in. The door closed behind him and I never saw him again. Talk about a great guest! Not a peep. No fiery dragons or ice queens ever showed up.  Damn. That would have been a high psilocybin adventure! Terence McKenna would be proud.


I know. I had a dream. It was just that, a dream. Dreams aren't real. Well...I think they are. I've rambled about this before, so I won't re-ramble it. Just saying...Anything that affects you is real. The ripple in the pond was made by something. Maybe it's not substantial, but it's something. Enough to change me anyway. Perception.


I wonder about my little gnome from time to time. What was his name? Could I pronounce it? What is he up to? Is he on the intergnome chatting to his gnomebook friends? Nogging about his last noog? Watching a little German Gnome Porn? Maybe he's not into all that and does it the old-fashioned way with pixie dust. 

A Cup O' Tom Jones...

It's friggin' freezing in this old house! 49 degrees Fahrenheit! That's 9.4 Celsius for the rest of the world. So...first thing this morning...blazing hot tea...Welsh Tea...which my Northern U.K. friend constantly reminds me doesn't exist. Well it does dammit! I can send pictures! Since it's called Welsh tea and many awesome Welshman have made their way in the world, I have christened it "A Cup O' Tom Jones". Yea...yea...yea...I know the reference. I'm not homophobic. I am so far away from that end of the spectrum I'm not at the least bit worried of myself crossing over to the other side and becoming a double agent.


Besides...Tom Jones kicks ass! My first song of memory is CCR's "Proud Mary". They're my favorite band...they put me in my happy place. The second song of memory was John Denver's "Sunshine On My Shoulders", the third was "Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head" by B.J. Thomas...but the fourth was "What's New Pussycat?" by Tom Jones. Hmmmm...listing those songs like that...it's kinda scary. "Get Back" from the Beatles "Let It Be" album was next...


I feel like I'm undressing in front of everyone. Ummmm...I'm gonna stop. Oh...but that's what I do. I undress in front of people...er...so to speak. Everyone love's an accident...a car on flames...flashing lights...blood...sugar, salt and fat.


Where was I? Oh yea...Tom Jones! He kicks ass! Some people think he's cheesy, but they're missing the point. They're missing the fun! He's fun like a barrel full of vaginas...ummm...that are still living...they aren't pickled or anything. *laughing* Too much caffeine? TOO MUCH CAFFEIND?!!! Could be! It's not me, it's the Cup O' Tom Jones!


Damn...I gotta jet. I gotta fly. Gonna meet Poltzy for...coffee! Damn your eyes! Too Late.

Hurricanes and ABBA...

Yes...I know...it's not hurricane season. I live in San Diego. Weather is a rarity here other than 80 degrees and sunny, but it's Winter here....and it's pretty rainy-stormy-windy-floody. This takes me back to Pensacola, Florida and being 8 years old. A hurricane suddenly changed direction and took our Navy Blue Angles town by surprise. Not that we should have been surprised. Unable to evacuate, we boarded up our windows. Electricity gone. Just candles, a multi-band radio for weather info, a portable 8-track player, and a deck of cards.


The wind was howling like a freight train, it sounded like death screaming to me, "Get your ass over here, die already, I'm busy and have places to go!" Well, I wasn't gonna oblige. In fact I was ignoring Him. Yes, it's a Him. For me, Death is a Him and Life is Her. Anyway...I was busy. Busy playing cards, playing "War". You know the card game right? Well if you don't, I'm not gonna explain it. *smile*


So I'm playing War, winning, and listening to ABBA's Greatest Hits, "S.O.S." is blasting...so right for this moment...perfect. Then, "Knowing Me, Knowing You". Then, "Fernando" and "Dancing Queen"...


S.O.S. - "So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me. SOS! The love you gave me, nothing else can save me. SOS! When you're gone (when you're gone). How can I even try to go on. When you're gone (when you're gone). Though I try how can I carry on..."


Fucking ABBA. I'm wondering if our house will get swept up, if this will be our last day. Forever entangled in my mind and heart. Near death and ABBA. Harsh weather and ABBA. 


ABBA! ABBA! ABBA!


"You seem so far away though you are standing near. You made me feel alive, but something died I fear. I really tried to make it out. I wish I understood. What happened to our love, it used to be so good." 



So good...so wrong. Twist me, tangle me. Take me away. Save me from Death my Holy Trinity of Swedish Lovelies!!!


I am safe when they're with me. Death cannot fucking touch me...

I Killed A Hummingbird...

I killed a humming bird. I was 13 years old. I had my bee-bee hand gun and shooting oranges off of trees like "Angel Eyes" Clint Eastwood...well...kinda like it. No Spaghetti Western sound effects or Confederate gold to be gotten. Then it came, a ruby throated hummingbird right in front of my orange tree. I slowly raised my gun, aimed with my left eye, squeezed the trigger...and POW! Or rather "pip".


This was the slow-motion portion of the shot. I hit the hummingbird square in the throat. It's neck flopped down sideways and fell dead immediately.


This image runs through my mind to this day. I have never forgotten one of the worst feelings of my life. I say I'm sorry to that little bird every time I think about this. I ask for forgiveness. I was a stupid, stupid child. Killing a life needlessly, without purpose except to see if I could do it.


I am not a natural born killer. Yet, I have taken part in many deaths for my hunger. Someone else doing the dirty work. Not I. I try to think about the animal before I eat it. I respectfully acknowledge it's life for my life.


I am not a vegetarian. I know that something must die for me to live. That is the price of life. You can place more value on an animal's life than a plant, but life is life in my book.


The important thing is to remember and to be humbled by the life that was lost to maintain my own...to be grateful. The inexcusable is needless death like my poor hummingbird. I will never ever forget...






Sent from the Black Forest.