"Cicada"
oil on canvas
6" x 12"
Can you hear it? They're singing for you.
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
If We Were Vampires
Today, I'll leave my pile of bones to be picked by the birds.
Some of you might know the singer/songwriter/guitarist Jason Isbell. I met him in 2006 while he was playing with one of my all-time favorite bands, Drive-By Truckers. They were playing at The Bluebird nightclub in Bloomington, Indiana. I was eighteen years old. Now, I'd been in "The Bird" several times already, however, I'd been there as a part of the night's entertainment. I discovered as a teenager, for better or worse, if you're in a band, you're usually assumed to be over the age of twenty-one. By this point, I'd played in just about every club with a stage in a 50 mile radius. I'd also played in most of the dingy, hole-in-the-wall establishments nestled in neighboring shady towns and four way stops. Being "21" had became pretty boring before I became a legal adult. Nevertheless, I knew getting into The Bluebird through the front door, not the load-in door, was going to be a challenge.
I figured "DBT" would be arriving early in the day, as their tour schedule had them in Tennessee the night before. After my 9am class, I walked from campus to Walnut St. and found the band's bus sitting under the marquee. As luck would have it, the guys were heading out for an early lunch as I walked up. I met Patterson Hood, talked to him briefly about Indian food, and gave him directions to Siam House. John Neff, the band's pedal steel player, stayed behind and chatted with me for a bit. I explained my birthday dilemma with him. He was a sweet guy and suggested I come back at 4pm for load-in. So, I made my afternoon classes, ran back to "The Bird", and immediately began lugging speaker cabinets and road cases with the road crew. I kept a low profile for the rest of the evening, but when I needed to look the part, I just pretended to be busy doing something around the stage as if I was supposed to be there. The show was great, but I'm embarrassed to admit I bailed on loading out through the wee morning hours.
I did stick around just long enough to meet the guys from the band again. I can easily remember Patterson Hood shaking my hand with a big smile, yelling, "You made it in!" As I was leaving, I crossed paths with Jason Isbell, who I mentioned earlier. I thanked him for the great show and told him about the lengths I'd gone to see the band play that evening. He let me have a swig from the band's jug, thanked me over and over for being there, and treated me with a whole lot of Southern hospitality many miles from his home.
I've met Jason a couple more times since then and he's always treated me with the same love and character. And the Drive-By Truckers, I've seen at least six more times Four of those shows were at The Bluebird, two with the help of my legal driver's license and two with the help of a blue felt-tip pen and my ability to draw the little bluebird handstamp that is given for readmittance. Jason isn't with DBT anymore, but I'm still a big fan. His new album, "The Nashville Sound", is outstanding. Drive-By Truckers are still at it too....their latest album, "American Band", is controversial, pertinent, and per their usual, brutally honest. You know, after all of these years, music is one of the few things that has remained constant in my life. But, I suppose everyone from these times probably feels the same to some degree. I hope so, at least. Kurt Vonnegut regularly pleaded with his audiences, "If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music.” So, I plead with you, for God's sake, if you haven't found music yet, let it find you now.
Hey CBS, sorry about the jokes. Check out this video of Jason performing "If We Were Vampires". It's a bit of tearjerker really, but man, oh man is it a good song. His wife is on the fiddle, in case it's not obvious. Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFcw7S0BqgE
And here's to another 40 years...I hope you're all in love.
Some of you might know the singer/songwriter/guitarist Jason Isbell. I met him in 2006 while he was playing with one of my all-time favorite bands, Drive-By Truckers. They were playing at The Bluebird nightclub in Bloomington, Indiana. I was eighteen years old. Now, I'd been in "The Bird" several times already, however, I'd been there as a part of the night's entertainment. I discovered as a teenager, for better or worse, if you're in a band, you're usually assumed to be over the age of twenty-one. By this point, I'd played in just about every club with a stage in a 50 mile radius. I'd also played in most of the dingy, hole-in-the-wall establishments nestled in neighboring shady towns and four way stops. Being "21" had became pretty boring before I became a legal adult. Nevertheless, I knew getting into The Bluebird through the front door, not the load-in door, was going to be a challenge.
I figured "DBT" would be arriving early in the day, as their tour schedule had them in Tennessee the night before. After my 9am class, I walked from campus to Walnut St. and found the band's bus sitting under the marquee. As luck would have it, the guys were heading out for an early lunch as I walked up. I met Patterson Hood, talked to him briefly about Indian food, and gave him directions to Siam House. John Neff, the band's pedal steel player, stayed behind and chatted with me for a bit. I explained my birthday dilemma with him. He was a sweet guy and suggested I come back at 4pm for load-in. So, I made my afternoon classes, ran back to "The Bird", and immediately began lugging speaker cabinets and road cases with the road crew. I kept a low profile for the rest of the evening, but when I needed to look the part, I just pretended to be busy doing something around the stage as if I was supposed to be there. The show was great, but I'm embarrassed to admit I bailed on loading out through the wee morning hours.
I did stick around just long enough to meet the guys from the band again. I can easily remember Patterson Hood shaking my hand with a big smile, yelling, "You made it in!" As I was leaving, I crossed paths with Jason Isbell, who I mentioned earlier. I thanked him for the great show and told him about the lengths I'd gone to see the band play that evening. He let me have a swig from the band's jug, thanked me over and over for being there, and treated me with a whole lot of Southern hospitality many miles from his home.
I've met Jason a couple more times since then and he's always treated me with the same love and character. And the Drive-By Truckers, I've seen at least six more times Four of those shows were at The Bluebird, two with the help of my legal driver's license and two with the help of a blue felt-tip pen and my ability to draw the little bluebird handstamp that is given for readmittance. Jason isn't with DBT anymore, but I'm still a big fan. His new album, "The Nashville Sound", is outstanding. Drive-By Truckers are still at it too....their latest album, "American Band", is controversial, pertinent, and per their usual, brutally honest. You know, after all of these years, music is one of the few things that has remained constant in my life. But, I suppose everyone from these times probably feels the same to some degree. I hope so, at least. Kurt Vonnegut regularly pleaded with his audiences, "If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music.” So, I plead with you, for God's sake, if you haven't found music yet, let it find you now.
Hey CBS, sorry about the jokes. Check out this video of Jason performing "If We Were Vampires". It's a bit of tearjerker really, but man, oh man is it a good song. His wife is on the fiddle, in case it's not obvious. Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFcw7S0BqgE
And here's to another 40 years...I hope you're all in love.
Monday, August 28, 2017
LOL
I saw some great footage of a comedy show that aired last night on prime time television. It was a bunch of "musicians and performers" that were pretending to do artistic and profound things in front of a fashionable audience. I mean, they really went all out...a big stage, awards, a red carpet, and lots of politically charged ramblings that were almost believable. There were moments that nearly seemed legitimate, but then I turned the volume up to really hear the "songs"...hilarious! Oh, and there was lots and lots of choreographed dancing and thrusting. They even had a Rod Stewart lookalike. Great job MTV...I never knew you did comedy so well.
Turns out, the news is doing comedy too. I watched about fifteen minutes worth before school today and laughed hysterically at the MTV recap, what appeared to be an Alec Baldwin SNL performance, and some trash talk from what might've been WWE's Summerslam. I think there was something about the weather too...a storm here or the Middle East or whatever. They tried to spice it up with a reporter yelling in waist deep water, but it just didn't hold my attention. What will they come up with next?
Thankfully, reality television has finally started making real life bearable. Just like Leary said, all you have to do is "turn on, tune in, and drop out"...just opposite of the way he meant it and more like the way everybody interprets it. When does WWIII come out?
*If you haven't noticed my regular attempts at sarcasm and satire by this point, please disregard everything I've said. Here's something on the news you can use: USA Today / How to Help Victims of Hurricane Harvey
Turns out, the news is doing comedy too. I watched about fifteen minutes worth before school today and laughed hysterically at the MTV recap, what appeared to be an Alec Baldwin SNL performance, and some trash talk from what might've been WWE's Summerslam. I think there was something about the weather too...a storm here or the Middle East or whatever. They tried to spice it up with a reporter yelling in waist deep water, but it just didn't hold my attention. What will they come up with next?
Thankfully, reality television has finally started making real life bearable. Just like Leary said, all you have to do is "turn on, tune in, and drop out"...just opposite of the way he meant it and more like the way everybody interprets it. When does WWIII come out?
*If you haven't noticed my regular attempts at sarcasm and satire by this point, please disregard everything I've said. Here's something on the news you can use: USA Today / How to Help Victims of Hurricane Harvey
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Turn Around, Bright Eyes
Once upon a time, I was falling in love...
Now, I'm only falling apart.
Nothing I can do...
Nailed it.
Monday, August 21, 2017
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Looking for Work?
What's the big deal about hard work? I must be missing something. I'm not talking about hustling in a football game or finishing a college degree here, I'm talking about people addicted to the appearance of being too busy to enjoy themselves. Everyone seems so proud and eager to complain about how hard they've been working. We're in such a hurry to be busy with "work", I'm surprised we can find time for the numerous "just trying to stay busy...not enough time in the day" conversations we have with every acquaintance we cross paths with on a daily basis. What do you say when someone asks, "Are you staying busy? Working hard?" Maybe you like to romanticize your daily work-related suffering. Maybe you're looking forward to that retirement you've been suffering for. Maybe you wear a permanent stress-induced scowl as a sort of hard-working gold star badge of honor type thing. I guess I stay busy, but when someone asks me if I'm working hard, I try my best to tell them I'm not. And if I happen to offer them the reassurance that I'm attempting to work as hard as they are, it's simply because I know they can't fathom the idea of leisure.
Work hard, earn money, save money, keep working, keep saving, dream of what you'll do when you've put in your time and realize when you get there, you still can't afford it. You know, the average life-span of a human being is 71.4 years. That's 26,061 days, 625,464 hours, 37,527,840 minutes, or 2,251,670,400 seconds. I've been told a honey bee can flap its wings 200 times in a single second and travel with a hive upwards of 90,000 miles, the equivalent of three orbits around the earth, to gather just 1 kg of honey. They're a threatened species you know? Neonicotinoids, a type of insecticide commonly used on farms and urban landscaping, are thought to be a partial cause of the honey bee population's sharp decline. I don't want to alarm anyone, but Albert Einstein said, "If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would have only four years of life left." With a life span of just six weeks, I can't help but feel sorry for the worker bees, but I sure hope they keep busy preserving the life span of the rest of us. Maybe all of the "busy bees" out there are instinctively working themselves to death for the good of us all and I'm just a broccoli flower awaiting pollination. If that's the case, I'll try to be a dandelion. I'm grasping for irony...maybe I should work a little harder?
It's August here in Indiana. The sun is shining and the cicadas are singing. You can call it work if you'd like, but for God's sake, go enjoy yourself. As for me, I need to go mow the grass. I don't necessarily enjoy lawn care, but you can be sure if I find hard work somewhere in the front yard, I'll stop the John Deere right there, have a glass of lemonade, and take a nap in the shade until the work goes away.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
Rattle Crackle Boom Bam Snap!
Today was the first day of school. This year is going to be an adventure.
You know, teaching is like a driving a jalopy cross-country. Your ride might look ragged, but it's a trusted machine that's taken you to far off places. It's never failed you, but it's certainly not fresh off the lot. You check the tires, top-off the fluids, and pull out of the driveway with your fingers crossed and five quarts of motor oil riding shotgun. You overheat, your radio stops working, you get a speeding ticket, and you might even forget what side the gas cap is on. But when you hit the coast, you open your creaky door, shake the sciatica out of your legs, and celebrate another great journey. Now, you just have to get back home...winter break is over.
You hit the state line at midnight. You're exhausted, but you've got another hundred miles to go. Your clunker is hobbling down the road to the rhythm of its balding tires. You pull in the garage, cross the finish line, and toast to what might well have been a great success with expired orange juice and a cold slice of pizza that hasn't moved since you left...school's out for summer.
When you wake up the next day, you're ready to reminisce. You remember the smell of the sea, not the smell of exhaust. You remember the sound of the waves, not the engine knocking.
The thing about a jalopy is this...when you're sure you have one, you can be sure you're the only one who can drive it. Nobody else knows how to start the engine on a cold day. Nobody else knows how to get the passenger window to roll down. Nobody else knows how many miles you really have left when the gas gauge says you're empty. Now, before you park it in the front yard with a "for sale" sign in the window, remember, it took you an extended warranty, a hundred oil changes, and two decades of model years to truly learn to how to drive. So, until your junker can resale for as many dollars as miles it has traveled, keep on driving. There is always more road to ride so long as there is fuel in the tank.
You know, teaching is like a driving a jalopy cross-country. Your ride might look ragged, but it's a trusted machine that's taken you to far off places. It's never failed you, but it's certainly not fresh off the lot. You check the tires, top-off the fluids, and pull out of the driveway with your fingers crossed and five quarts of motor oil riding shotgun. You overheat, your radio stops working, you get a speeding ticket, and you might even forget what side the gas cap is on. But when you hit the coast, you open your creaky door, shake the sciatica out of your legs, and celebrate another great journey. Now, you just have to get back home...winter break is over.
You hit the state line at midnight. You're exhausted, but you've got another hundred miles to go. Your clunker is hobbling down the road to the rhythm of its balding tires. You pull in the garage, cross the finish line, and toast to what might well have been a great success with expired orange juice and a cold slice of pizza that hasn't moved since you left...school's out for summer.
When you wake up the next day, you're ready to reminisce. You remember the smell of the sea, not the smell of exhaust. You remember the sound of the waves, not the engine knocking.
The thing about a jalopy is this...when you're sure you have one, you can be sure you're the only one who can drive it. Nobody else knows how to start the engine on a cold day. Nobody else knows how to get the passenger window to roll down. Nobody else knows how many miles you really have left when the gas gauge says you're empty. Now, before you park it in the front yard with a "for sale" sign in the window, remember, it took you an extended warranty, a hundred oil changes, and two decades of model years to truly learn to how to drive. So, until your junker can resale for as many dollars as miles it has traveled, keep on driving. There is always more road to ride so long as there is fuel in the tank.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Faster Than History
So, this is a typical Sunday here at home...laundry, Pioneer Woman, coffee, Fixer Upper, email, Brunch at Bobby's, coffee, guitar noodling, Property Brothers, start a new project, wine, abandon project, paint something, dinner, wine, Bob's Burgers. Every Sunday, I end up watching more television than I'd like to, ultimately obligating myself to some type of home renovation project and hungry for something beyond my culinary capabilities.
Anyone see the Perseid meteor shower last night? I spent about an hour in my backyard with a blanket and a slice of apple pie. It was all I hoped it would be. Did you know you can identify and track satellites visible to the naked eye? Evidently, there are around 500 satellites in low-Earth orbit, many of which can be easily spotted on a clear night, depending where you're standing, of course. We can bounce information off of those little things at a whim with our cell phones, you know? Ironically, we can't use all of our know-how to stop hating one another for no good reason. We're still driving our cars into crowds of innocent people, you know? We're the smartest idiots we can come up with.
Have you ever really thought about what you're looking at when you stare up into space? It's pretty ridiculous. I took a few astronomy classes in school, so maybe I've studied too much about why I should be astounded, but I still can't fathom the vastness of it all. It's one of those things that only becomes more difficult to understand the more you learn about it. I've always thought confusion is a good measure of understanding in any subject though...if you're not totally perplexed or at odds with yourself at some point, you're probably not learning anything. That said, let me establish my cognitive prowess by stating it plainly...I have no idea. I'm more unsure of everything than I've ever been.
There are dozens of stars you've looked at on any given night that aren't there anymore. While we wait for the speed of light to catch up with the history of the universe, we can go ahead and assume most things visible in tonight's sky have already swollen up red, exploded or imploded, and formed things that have already repeated that same chain of events, millions of years before the first humans came to be on our planet, no matter your beliefs or lack thereof. And if there are a few living specks, capable and willing to study the world we share with them, on a rock revolving around a fiery mass ten million years away from here, they can assume the same about our existence. We're everything and nothing at every moment. That's what I think, anyway...but then again, I'm pretty unsure about all of this.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Hamburger Midnight Blues
"Another Bovine Committee"
oil on canvas
22" x 28"
I trade paintings for vintage music equipment. If you have an original Klon Centuar, a pre-1960 Fender or Gibson, or anything else old and cool with six strings or vacuum tubes, pick out a painting...I'm putty in your hands.
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
Ball Game
I called my satellite television company and complained about how much I was paying. They offered me a twenty percent discount and movie channels. I took the deal. Last night, I watched "Hoop Dreams". It was one of my favorite movies growing up. In fact, I would go to the VHS rental store every couple weeks and rent "Hoop Dreams", "Blue Chips", "The Pistol: Birth of a Legend", and "Hoosiers". I even had the "Hoop Dreams" movie poster from the VHS rental store. The owner kindly sold it to me for a couple quarters and I proudly displayed it in my room, right next to my Alonzo Mourning / Larry Johnson poster. My summer break revolved around swimming at the public pool, watching basketball movies, and practicing my jumpshot on the court at the First Baptist Church. For those of you who aren't, I'm from Indiana...basketball is a church we all belong to. Remind me, what's a Hoosier again?
Last night, after "Hoop Dreams", I went to the town park to work on my jumpshot. I was challenged to a 1-on-1 game by someone 10 years younger, menacingly barked at by two enormous dogs, and heckled by late night cruisers who are presumably my high school students. I shot 109 for 150 free throws. Seventy-three percent isn't bad...it certainly isn't good. Is Gus Macker still a thing? My feet hurt. Last night was awesome.
Last night, after "Hoop Dreams", I went to the town park to work on my jumpshot. I was challenged to a 1-on-1 game by someone 10 years younger, menacingly barked at by two enormous dogs, and heckled by late night cruisers who are presumably my high school students. I shot 109 for 150 free throws. Seventy-three percent isn't bad...it certainly isn't good. Is Gus Macker still a thing? My feet hurt. Last night was awesome.
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Just Mow Around It
You did good Earth...keep up the good work.
Check out my new plein air rig. It'll be available at next year's plein air convention in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Included with the solid wood easel and uncollapsible folding table is a genuine curbside find wooden chair and 50' of nylon rope to tie everything on the roof of your car. What it lacks in portability, it more than makes up for in weight.
www.legrandeasyeasel.com
Monday, August 7, 2017
Playlist
Albums I've been listening to lately...
Tweedy - Sukirae
Joe Cocker - Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Bob Dylan - Self Portrait
Chelsea Walls Sountrack
Lucius - Good Grief
Otis Redding - The Soul Album
Simo - Let Love Show the way
Sturgill Simpson - A Sailor's Guide to Earth
Son House - Complete 1965 Sessions
Drive-By Truckers - American Band
Nels Cline - Lovers
Courtney Barnett - Sea of Split Peas
T Rex - The Slider
Forest Gump Soundtrack
Ali Farka Toure - The River
John Coltrane - Impressions
Sylvan Esso - What Now
Jason Isbell - Nashville Sound
George Harrison - All Things Must Pass
Paul Westerberg - Come Feel Me Tremble
Highwaymen - Highwayman
Ry Cooder - Chicken Skin Music
Marcus King Band - Marcus King Band
Grateful Dead - Aoxomoxoa
Tweedy - Sukirae
Joe Cocker - Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Bob Dylan - Self Portrait
Chelsea Walls Sountrack
Lucius - Good Grief
Otis Redding - The Soul Album
Simo - Let Love Show the way
Sturgill Simpson - A Sailor's Guide to Earth
Son House - Complete 1965 Sessions
Drive-By Truckers - American Band
Nels Cline - Lovers
Courtney Barnett - Sea of Split Peas
T Rex - The Slider
Forest Gump Soundtrack
Ali Farka Toure - The River
John Coltrane - Impressions
Sylvan Esso - What Now
Jason Isbell - Nashville Sound
George Harrison - All Things Must Pass
Paul Westerberg - Come Feel Me Tremble
Highwaymen - Highwayman
Ry Cooder - Chicken Skin Music
Marcus King Band - Marcus King Band
Grateful Dead - Aoxomoxoa
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Clocking In
Vacation happened...it was fun. I did the math, turns out I've traveled a few hundred miles more than the total circumference of Earth in 2017. Buenos Aires, here I come.
Now, it's time to get back to work...I mean, I think I'll paint a picture.
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