snow

The dude plowed, but I still had to brush a few tons of snow off the car, shovel a thin path to it.. then figured I'd probably just die. Not that long ago, you quit when you were tired- in other words, done. You did it, then bitched. But you did it without thinking. Or dying.

I prefer "out of shape" to "old.." shit, I'll be 96, lift a shovel, gasp for air and fall down, mumbling that I shoulda renewed my JCC membership. Yeah, and that frozen shoulder still stands up in the air because I once again neglected to do my exercises. If Anne doesn't bitch to me about it, I'll probably just kick myself.

"See?- use it or lose it, ya lazy bastard!"

I must be a lazy, out-of-shape bastard- not up to my usual superhuman performance of wiping out all snow that fell anywhere on or near my driveway, watching it part like a white sea as I walked amongst it deciding where to throw each shovelful. ("But I just Walked there!..."  "So what, let's not get anal about it..")

Well, at least I got the car door open. Turned on the heat. Made the stuff on the windows melt. The snow that fell from my coat, now on my car's floor, will remain solid till spring. Every day till then, I'll be sitting and stepping in the shit- the Snow that followed me. The Snow that doesn't melt. Even when the ground is totally sweeped and shiny, those snow piles will sit beside me and go wherever I go.

Beats the heat and humidity, though.... but hell- no way was I gonna make it into work today!

Too.. much like... winter.

Howard K's tears?

Your comments:
I don't know, and I don't think anyone else does, either. Blogs is not
the news. It's certainly not necessarily the Truth. What we do know is
that Anna loved her baby, her son, and Howard K. Stern. We know that
she hated her mother, had not been face-to-face with her "sister" for
10 years. Zza Zza Gabor's husband? We know that he either has
alzheimer's, has a flair for "sick comedy," and undoubtedly wears
Depends, if he can go at all... Crocodile tears?- The Brickhead dude
who claims to be the father and "cries" over his daughter- now That's
acting!

RS's "Best and Worst Cover Tunes"

My post:

auramac | 2/9/2007, 7:45 pm EST

Some good choices here- Hendrix, Sinead, Johnny Cash’s “Hurt”- but G & R doing Dylan or pretty much anything else by them is a good thing to listen to if I ever need to quickly empty my stomach.

passwords

I couldn't add an entry to this in Firefox or Safari- so I tried to log in, ended up not creating or recreating password for this but losing my10-year password for my screen name! Long, long, long story short- was on phone with AOL tech support, and even tried changing back on iBook with OS 9. No dice- end of an era. I now have a *&^%#?!! 6-digit alphanumeric password.

New "Guitar gods"

They just don't move me. I know you can't reinvent the wheel, but real guitar gods did their best work in a more inspired context. These are less innocent, but much shallower times. Soul moves. What happened to it? It used to fuel the "performance." Now the performance is the act. And it's toilet paper.

Oy

Hope you're doing well- hell, if I were chain-smoking and shooting down shots and snorting powder right now, I probably wouldn't feel that much different..

Well, maybe so- but it's been so long.....

It's spiritual awakening time: he not busy being born is busy dying. I'm changing clothes, shedding skins. I just hope I survive the week at work. I would love to not just quit- but retire now. Put on a little hat, bend over and pretend to walk with a limp- no workee for me, no!

I feel like I'm working for Bush and I'm the only one there who's not Cheney. I'm the only general who wants to get out of Iraq- so therefore, he better find another general.

Long story short- I need a break, a change, a vacation, a sabbatical, a trip..

I gotta get out of this place (my head- or, the job would be a nice place to start). I gotta get the job out of my head, my place- the people, the boss.. gotta get the news, the Rosie- Trump towers, Britney and Paris and all the rest- outta there. I had to turn off the TV. For once- I embrace silence. And sleep. And dreams- even the bad ones- better than going to work! Oh- it's the same thing! It's all the same fuckin' dream!- as Janis Joplin once said. Or did she say "day?"....

Flashback- Mike Chen at the Kubert School, saying "you're in a creative hell and you've got to get out." My father had said- don't quit your day job. Who's gonna hire you?

That's where I came in. I'm now in physical therapy for calcium deposits in my arm, I get transfusions monthly now to calm my colitis, and yet more drugs- but thankfully no prednisone yet...

As Madelleine Khan said in Blazing Saddles- I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired.

My parents pop up in my dreams in cryptic situations with different voices- always separately. My father wished my brother a happy birthday- but I wasn't in the dream. Then again- it wasn't my birthday.

My band keeps playing sets 1 through 3, same or different drummers. Last night by myself I was playing songs I wrote in the mid-70's: who was that guy?

Lotta emotion in those old songs- a lot of life. I can sing and write better now, but I didn't try to disguise anything back then- at least in the music. Now, even my dreams are dress rehearsals, or nightmares. Work. Meaningless stuff like that.

I personally don't think there's a drug or therapist alive that is appropriate for the situation.

Seriously, simply, I guess it's the old pick your battles- and the serenity prayer. Situations have to change. I do.

8 years on the job- not bad. But there's another fork in the road- sorry, Yogi: "Take what?".......

The preceding has been the gradual altering of conscioiusness brought on by our trusty friend, Mr. Ambien CR. I aint sleepy, but I'd better.. not stay up.

If I survive the week at work- the meetings, the politics, the toxic waste- I should be much more coherent next time.

Oh, God- the clock must be wrong....

Lori letter

Hi-

Hope you're doing well. Listened to the new George Martin and son's Beatles collage on the way to my sister's on Thanksgiving, amazing how great they still are and always will be.

Just picked up Aimee's new album- had to turn the bass down just a bit (that's what happens when your bass player becomes your producer)- first impression was "very nice but fake.." Then thought- I knew she was a great songwriter- she's also an incredible vocalist. Started settling into the album- how can you go wrong listening to Aimee Mann sing? Looking forward to starting up the car/stereo tomorrow and hearing more.

I'll be out of town when she's at the Egg, though..

I won't get into it just yet- but I couldn't help but notice "message from geri ratigan"- interesting story, I'll tell you more later. Big hint: "I Will Survive," the disco song. Hint #2- me and my band.

Hint #4- arrrrrgggghhhhh!!!!!!!!... Ok..

Well, I do believe that ambien is settling in- sometimes you forget or don't notice.... the clock too is making faces at me and the TV turned itself off. The post office is closing, and the mail box will lock.

Now it's time.. turn out the light...

Goodnight-

talk to ya later..


PS. I finally got myself a (Martin!)12-string (acoustic) guitar. I sound like me playing a really good guitar, or two at once.... with a little George and McGuinn thrown in when picking instead of strumming. It smells real good too- I think I'll play it all weekend! Really fits in well with the Mitch Band- Mitch on vocals, keys, harp, 6 & 12-string acoustics, electric 6-string, percussion stuff... all songs written and arranged by Mitch. Heard by a couple people here, couple people there. Usually me and then myself.....


Mitch