Your Gnome is Busy as a Keebler Elf

Well it’s official – it’s been on my mind since February but now I am convinced – Birdsong is booked for the year. I’ll still be taking orders, but they’re for 2019. This is looking like the last weekend to get in line for a bass I might be able to get out by Christmas. Call, we’ll dream up a dreambass together, and I’ll put an 18 on the front of your serial number on anything but a fancy Artist. But it will be in pencil, not ink, on the order sheet. I’ll make it worth it, but that’s the state of wait right now. Also, I’m not taking further orders for the Shortbass right now; I’ll slip them into inventory as I can. So grateful to be so busy! Thank you all! I wish I could clone myself and build twice as many – but I tried years ago and that didn’t work. What’s been great is the recent percentage of clients I work for that say “You’re the craftsman, I want what you do, I want the full experience and it takes what it takes. I’m in.” NOT every builder or company gets that on a regular basis… I get that from most of you. I guess that comes with trust and time in. I’m honored; believe me I know 10 months is a wait, but believe me also I’m in here working my butt off and so grateful for the work and to get to do this. Birdsong has been my living since the day we launched as a legitimate little company in 2004. As soon as it looked like water I handed off my students, handshook away my share of a music shop, hung up my stage boots, and dove into the deep end with no water wings. We’re still not fast food – clearly – so that weeds out some. At least until I sneak something up onto the inventory page, which will be happening throughout the year, then they go… unless the calls that start, “What do you have that’s in process you haven’t put up yet?” also continue to grow. Then they just appear on the builds page as orders. I’ll do my best to keep the inventory page interesting this year while I’m at it!

Truth is, a Birdsong can’t be made any faster than the time it takes to work it through the hands and across the benches. There’s no lever on the big machine to set to seven and a half instead of six and hope it holds together. That would be me. I’m the big machine, LOL. The only way to make more happen is to put in more hours, and the only way to cut the lead time (the line waiting out the door) would be to put out something less people want. I don’t see those happening as there are only so many hours to use and, well, there’s been a line since 2004. Thankfully not the same people still waiting, ha! We do keep things humming in here at a very productive pace – but a balanced, healthy productive pace. It’s how our best work goes out to make you the happiest.

Our worlds are different. You order one bass and wait. In here, though it’s just as important and individual to me, and that goes for you as well, there are many waiting their turn – their next steps – and that is what I do, those next steps. I don’t build basses so much as perform nexts. Edge these, rout this, shave that neck to fit and put side dots in over here… put in the parts order, check the stock of cases, and put the next oil coat on the ones hanging by the finishing bench. Don’t forget to drink some water, and make notes to build tomorrow’s list. That list is actually part of a bigger one, like link to chain, that has no end so long as I am here, and the hours are many, lost in the task, in the moment.

They again become whole instruments to me when the neck is shaved and fit and mounted into the body. That serial number, this person, this bass. But I just work with wood and parts – the process happens and the basses come together. The result is a bass but I have only seen small tasks along the way. One of the most common questions is “How long would it take to make one if you did it from start to finish?” I only guesstimate for them, because that’s how you do it as a hobby with no backlog or time concept or plan for the next handful. And it hasn’t been that way for decades, and the man and craftsman I was then was certainly  not what those years have built ME into. So this guy? Right here? He has no idea because that’s not how he works… but it seems like such a simple question. And it is when you think of one instrument.

I don’t think in one of anything, except my wife. If I like something I surround myself with it en multiplata until it becomes the very walls of my temple to it. So I got into this to help manifest tools of music, not to build one. I’m arming the world! Tiny numbers compared to a factory, sure; but that is not the world I live or the position I’ve been given to play. I’m spending myself given all I can accomplish in THIS context. I’d take a crack at running Gibson but that’s mostly an irrational lack of fear; I wouldn’t know what to do in the board meeting expect tell the truth as I see it, simplify concepts into doable plans with lists of nexts, and send dead weight over the sides. Which seems to be the antithesis of how big companies run. So I’m probably where I belong. Right here, right now, in a small green workshop deep in the woods, with Van Morrison’s Moondance album playing and birdies nesting up high above the lights, the tools of grandfathers in my hands and the dreams of some great people about their basses in my heart, still living and breathing music and its magic, knowing this is what I am serving and arming and assisting, grateful for the opportunity to be of service doing something I love, very comfortable with the next task at hand and whatever is to come of all this.

I can’t thank you enough, so given the chance I’ll just build you a bass – that will say it all and carry all of our gratitudes to you for life. There’s a wait to be seated and it takes time to be served, but the home cookin’ is worth it. Have a great weekend everyone!

Listening to: Van Morrison Moondance; Semisonic Feeling Strangely Fine; Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet; Paul Desmond Feeling Blue (1996).
 

Offerings & Riffs

Birdsong is a vast and scattered family, each one of you whether we’ve ever met or not a part of the story… but there are a few characters that have become part of the mythology. I have a couple and another Birdsong brother I would like all to be in your thoughts or prayers – whichever you offer and however you do. Some of you have noticed Greendog has been kind of quiet out there in social media land. Greendog’s been in the hospital - he had a stroke, then influenza which brought on a pretty good sized heart attack. He might be slow to respond, or not at all because of the situation, but a little note to him at  stu.madison44@gmail.com would go a long way in a difficult time. 

Our sweet friend and legendary Birdsong enthusiast Ben Bernales is “Thinking positive and thankful for all the experiences I have enjoyed in my past.” He is endlessly strong and full of will, but he could use some good energy directed his way at this time; let us all in our own way offer outward that we would wish for, on his behalf, an easing of his discomfort. And closer to home in south-central Texas, a Birdsong bass has been blues-rocking brethren backing up Merlin in and around San Marcos. Merlin is suddenly battling end-game cancer and I don’t know the man, but I know his Birdsong-flying bass player well, another Ben. So for Merlin, his compadres in the trio, and his circle of family and friends we pray, on their behalf, for peace within this traumatic turn. Merlin, the music is on sir.

The blessing in any of these situations is that we get to tell people what they really mean to us and that everything here will be OK, we are given time to put them at ease as their situations change so they can concentrate on healing or accepting, whichever and whatever THEY need to think about and focus on, with a heart full of others’ love and fewer burdens and concerns to be carrying. I wish their favorite music upon them all, and that their lives – their songs – become a part of ours as we continue to go forth, create, and offer our best. Then it will be theirs too, and they will be with us.

It always comes back to the music. Groove on this, brothers and sisters. Music and laughter are sometimes the last things you can share with someone… let’s not wait.

10 of my favorite riffs you may never have heard…

Black Sabbath Hole In The Sky – the mother of all riffs, and I’m not using the term in the matriarchal sense. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-PJDim8CsY

Los Lobos Mas y Mas - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c66IfTFePiU   If this doesn’t make you flail around the room like a muppet, at least on the inside, we might need to check YOUR pulse! This whole album (Colossal Head) has gotten a bunch of play in the workshop over the years. Full of texture and groove, tones and soul. Love it. WAAAAA!

Veruca Salt Seether – the ‘90s were cool because non-rock-stars absolutely wiped clean the mess '80s metal had become after it had overstayed its welcome and became a parody of its own worst attributes... hey, it happens to every genre. Weaving Beatles melody with punk attack and Black Sabbath crunch, here came those kids with the guitars again to hit the reset button. This time though, they showed up with big ass riffs. Grunge certainly turned too, but for a time a whole lotta misfits found a whole lotta love and bought a whole lotta guitars and had a whole lotta fun. This track always was a favorite. Here’s a version from a huge festival in ’95 and they bring it and ROCK this crowd and that, to me, is rock and roll. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPsQcB52V18

Van Halen Take Your Whisky Home – Good God what can one say about this riff except it has balls so big they were last seen rolling down cavern tunnels behind Indiana Jones. Choosing between Unchained, Running With The Devil, Mean Street… man. Tough. But when this one hits, in some ‘70s car with mags and side pipes and fat tires, through the 6x9s God intended for this kind of stuff to be blasted through, it’ll turn your nipples inside out. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlYO-lVrSCg

Miles Davis So What – There is little as beautiful in this beautiful existence as the entire Kind Of Blue album. Just go buy it OK? It’s the least I can do for you. When it’s my time and I know it’s near, if it’s the last thing playing I ever hear, that will be fine with me. Float me into the great mystery, oh man with the horn. This riff may not be crushing guitar and earth-shaking electric bass but it’s heavy with a different kind of power, a little deeper and less tangible, like the movement of waves of healing inside us. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ylXk1LBvIqU

Soundgarden Spoonman – Another of the '90s that has stood the test of time, and one of the best riffs of all of a riff-heavy band. There are fewer songs more fun to play than this drop D tuned odd-time ride for the fingers. Here’s the actual video – and who knew the singer from Tool could play such great spoons? KIDDING. That’s the actual spoonman, Artis The Spoonman from Seattle.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0_zzCLLRvE

Atlanta Rhythm Section Homesick – Here’s another one most won’t know, from a groovy band that caught my ear as a kid. There are musical moments that pry us out of the background on the way to be called to participate, and this song was an early tug. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNMT01E28MU

Neil Young Hey Hey My My (Into The Black) – Yes. There are tugs and then there are epiphanies. I noticed this riff on the radio in the same way one day you awaken to who you’re personally attracted to… yesterday they were what’s-her-name and somehow today something inside you has started to boil. The tone of those nine sonic syllables, their movement, the sheer impact, all triggered a hunger in me, a lusting in my ears for some deeper intimacy with whatever that sound was and the tools of its making were. It can still, played loud enough with my eyes closed, raise the hair on my arms. Here is a great live version; I saw Neil with crazy Horse twice in the ‘80s, one time even helping push the Principal’s daughter onstage. How about that? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0O1v_7T6p8U

Blue Cheer Summertime Blues – there is no possible way to overstate the impact this had on me. Even before I knew it was a cover of a '50s song by a late '60s band in 1982, I knew I HAD to make this kind of noise. The guitar of Leigh Stephens literally rearranged my molecules and set the course of the rest of my life. This video as a “Closet Classic” came on a then brand new thing on cable called MTV and suddenly I was gape-jawed, my dinner falling out of my mouth, and nothing was ever going to be the same. Of important note, that’s not Leigh in the video as he had left the band. The audio IS Leigh Stephens on the guitar, though – and for the most out there guitar of the psychedelic era, one could do worse than to grab that first Blue Cheer album, Vincebus Eruptum. I mean it can’t even be described, only experienced. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nU5uDozoSSM. And, decades later at a reunion, here they are again... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlO47o8d9QU Take a WILD GUESS who built that guitar Leigh is playing? Yeah. Life’s magic circles right there, pal.

Starship Jane –  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXmrMMYpQL4  As cheesy as you may think this is, there is no way you could have come of age with this blaring out of the radios of cars cruising in the summertime without wanting to pick up the guitar and make some noise. And without that, the goofy kid in Massachusetts doesn’t get rock star dreams, there’s no rusty black van headed to Texas, none of the at times completely surreal path that followed, and thus – no Birdsong. No news page blog. No “This moment we’re sharing.” So while it may not register in any big way on the Richter scale of world happenings, you ARE here reading this right now so it DOES mean something to you, and you most definitely mean something to me. Here we are grooving together, my highest and your highest, on common ground. We have this. And we owe it to Starship to make the best out of it!!! Ok, that’s a stretch, but not totally… we do owe all of our experiences good and bad, our victories and losses, life’s bliss and its beatdowns, and all those who have been with us on the ride in whatever role, for whatever beauty we know right now and our being awake enough to savor it, and our strength to keep walking onward through the storms.

Listening to: Dub Reggae, mainly Rasta Dub ’76 and Skin Flesh & Bones Dub In Blood; Ten Years After Cricklewood Green; Willis Alan Ramsey. 
 

At Some Point It Has To Become Music

Hey, brothers and sisters back in the northeast – you folks all take care OK? That looks like it was some nasty weather. Be careful but be daring if you have to, stay safe and help each other. 

Had a strange dream the other night. No, not the one where I was pushing my cart in the supermarket and stopped to ponder the selection of sliced watermelon when the guy pushing his cart came up beside me, leaned in, and said, “Dip your tipsy disco pipe… it’s all good.” and then just walked away, as if he had just imparted the most profound bit of wisdom or some secret spy code to the wrong dude. Not that one – though Jamie did make a T-shirt of it and we take turns wearing it out to confound the locals.

No this one was serious. My friend Brady Muckelroy was not the world class luthier he is (www.bradybass.com), he was a music professor and had “Kid duty” the composition performance day of student graduation exam week. And he picked me to step in as substitute, to pass or fail these young Einsteins on what would be half of their final exam grade… in other words, pass or fail them right out of the school. “Sorry man, I pulled kid duty. You’ll do fine.” Yeah, I live and breathe and sleep music at a very deep level but let’s put this into an academic perspective and just say I’m more qualified to step in as CEO of Gibson than I am to conduct a symphony-level pure science side of music theory class and decide who gets to go further with it or not. Schooling and education can be very different things.

How am I supposed to judge a class where every single student could sight read the night sky and shred circles around me on instruments I don’t even know how the hell to tune, while plunking out from memory four inversions of Cmaj9add4add6(b13)(b5) on the Steinway grand in the corner? Then it occurred to me – this was composition. This is where it all has to become music, not rocket science math or an Olympic event. If they couldn’t make some magic and move me with all of that – “Adagio!” they were GONE.

Then I woke up and, thank everything Holy, just had to build basses and run this ship. What a relief! And speaking of old friends, look who is back at Birdsong world headquarters… the old Ridgid bandsaw! It spent a few years over at Muckelroy Basses after its first 9 with Birdsong and now rejoins us. We’re brutal on tools and this one has some hard miles under its wheels. A little TLC and fine tuning and it’ll be back into service. Birdsong began humbly as a name and a corner of ol’ “Uncle” Johnny’s workshop - a board on two sawhorses - then as a company in 2004 with a few borrowed tools. This was the first bandsaw Birdsong bought. Beep yourself out a little theme song for it; I promise I’m not going to grade you on it!

Music on,

Listening to: Some great long Grateful Dead jams from ’73; Count Basie - Half a Sixpence; Rolling Stones Beggar’s Banquet and some Miles Davis.
 

Defining Moments

That strange energy / gonna make you strong
While it strips away / what won’t belong
In who you’ll be…

We are defined by moments we never saw coming, they come and change our world around us while we’re taking our next steps. One pursuit or idea pursued… or idead… and there you are, if the light shines just at the right angle when you show up. Others who never got their shine grab nails and get in line and the whole world beats a path to your door. I’ll be Scott the Birdsong Guy forever. I have friends who experience this in their own world – tiny little "small F" fame but very deep within their little corner of their niche slice the universe granted them. It really changes everything – you look around one day and however your situation has changed from the opportunity, you have changed more from the validation and enduring all of that shaking out around you during liftoff. You get it in the air, my friend, you’re a pilot and they can all say whatever they want down there on the ground in the wake of your prop wash. 

Because from there, however humble the flight path, you now represent more than what you thought you were doing – the doing itself, the devotion, the chasing of it, the do it or die trying ethic that the whybothers will never know. I humbly, from here where I’ve stumbled to, hope to share that in these little Friday news page blog posts along with the fun and the wood and the wire. Because whatever your version of this is, this little happening, this little quest that manifest, it’s just as important as anything I have to show you. Uncover that dream inside. Put it in your hands. Make it real. That strange energy of arriving, being known, of blooming and becoming, is the very energy that will sustain you, strengthen you for the tests, and ultimately make you into the Captain your new ship requires. It will build you as you build it. 14 years in, Scott the Birdsong Guy thanks YOU so much for your interest in our little basses that could… and did, and DO!

Other than things with strings and making them sing, steel with wheels and making them roll is the other thing that consumes me. For those who don’t follow me or Birdsong on Facebook (like, the only two pages left on there with 0% political content, why wouldn’t you friend & follow pics of instruments in the making, can-do Mondays, “What’s Up Wednesday?” or Throwback Thursday posts, plus the occasional cool old machine pic?! Huh? Huh? Why wouldn’t you? Huh?) – this is Sarge, my main ride. He’s a 1974 Plymouth Roadrunner street machine, pure ‘70s style; my time machine. 

Anyhow, I’ve entered into a conversation with Coker Tire about showing them interest enough to reproduce the old Formula 1 Super Stock tires. Bias ply N50s and something skinnier for the front. If you’re a nostalgic car person with a ‘70s ride that needs them – despite their quirky nature (hey, everyone who conceived you got around OK for decades on bias tires) – please email andrewr@coker.com, let him know you’d be interested, and thank him VERY much for passing these emails along. He has gotten a few more than he expected. A more official inquiry can be sent by providing: “Name, Address, Phone, Email, Club Affiliation (if applicable), Quantity interested in, Size, Brand/Type, Requirements, Intended service, Vehicle Fitments, and any additional info. They can send their inquiries to support@coker.com."

Spring has sprung here and the little crawlies of life are crawlin’ around doing their thing, we share this place but live in different worlds so I try to watch out for them when I can and help them out of the way. The little birds again have decided the little workshop named Wingfeather where all your little Birdsongs come to be looks like a perfect place to nest. They’re up high this year so probably no pictures, but everyone getting their instruments this year, yours will have some extra springtime new life born again real life bird song vibrations in them courtesy of Mother Nature and the cycles of hope and new and things to be that always come back around. Keep a little springtime inside you and it grows there too. Anywhere you plant it; anywhere you plant you; anything you do can be carried by it and also carry it. Outward go the ripples… and outta here for a few hours goes the woodgnome.

Be… and be well,

Listening to: Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet; Dr. John albums - The Sun Moon & Herbs and In The Right Place; live Frank Zappa guitar stuff; and some live recent Matisyahu.
 

Honing The Edge

Beginning is a process of gathering; becoming is a process of letting go. 

To begin one gathers. Strength, knowledge, tools, and belief in the steps one faces if a person; nutrients and light and water if a seed. Then we are driven to get on with it.

We grow and gather – filling our lives with pursuits and others and cool stuff, bigger and better tools, optional directions, more and more associations. A tree gathers mass and height and girth. More energy. Many more branches of many more leaves to help it do what it does. Bigger roots spread to feed a bigger system in both cases; one literally, one metaphorically.

There come times of change – sometimes of situation, sometimes of form, sometimes of path. Times when we are to evolve or transform. Much of the time loss is a part of this process, whether voluntary or the winds that find us. What is lost transforms and what is left is transformed by the loss. The tree is harvested. People come and go. We let go of ways that don’t serve new goals or new priorities. Distractions and drains are eliminated. Planks are cut. We age into chapters of revision and renouncement; but what remains grows deeper and the blade is only made sharper by what is shaved away. The lens is ground to see better by careful removal of material. Heal while you’re walking - the instrument is already in the plank, just waiting for the rest to be cut away; this small portion of the tree will now sing to the world in ways the larger form could never know.

You’ve got to embrace the changes on the way to the goal; beware those “voices of reason” flailing in their own splashings as if they were waves of IToldYouSo doom, telling you your happiness is a fluke because the world is gray; celebrate your losses if they focus your life. Never regret going for something and failing – become better, sharper, smarter, more experienced from taking the chance and trying. Learn from the river and your body and flush out the toxins – focus your energy on what you can do and do those steps, not listening to the shamers and blamers with their 50 shades of whatabouts and whytrys. It’s always too late to them. Go and tell it to the butterfly. 

From this little workshop in the woods, guiding the planks to instruments and myself from young and clueless taking on the world to the sharpest tool in one little workshop, I can guarantee you it’s springtime somewhere no matter what the weather of the moment feels like or time may tell you. Start something. Give the naysayers absolute conniptions. If you know it’s in there, start chipping away. Much more than meets the eye is moved by the time a dream is driven.

Good seed in good ground has the chance to grow.
Some wood will be given voice and sing.
There is summer stirring in the winter
And much springtime to be found in the fall.

Just some thoughts from amidst the songs of new birds out here in the little workshop that could, out in the woods… make yourself a good day and have at it. Cheers!


Listening to: Ted Greene solo guitar album; Mississippi Fred McDowell You Got to Move; Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers; Scott Denett The New Yorker (live jazz guitar stuff), and David Coverdale White Snake. Yep, two words – it was his SOLO album right after Deep Purple, very bluesy/Bad Company ‘70s rock – and the band Whitesnake was named after this album.

New Tools and Old Lessons

Well it’s the end of an era here, as for the first time in many years there is no longer a green Grizzly brand oscillating spindle sander in the Wingfeather workshop. We went through a bunch and they served admirably for a couple of years each time. See, I only equip with tools big enough to do what we do – we don’t need big tools like cabinet makers, they just take up space while we use what little bit of them we need. And smaller tools are often hobbyist tools, and not really up to the task of building things every day. Sound familiar? A big part of the problem I had with bass guitars before starting Birdsong, exactly! So I used what felt right to work with and every so often that main shaft would strip off or it’d stop going up and down and when that happens, it’s gone. A tool that pays for itself on the first part of the first bass it touches is not going to hold up the works every bit of a hundred later while I try to reverse engineer it, source a part… no. It’s gone. I mean with honors, with great respect, with reverence… but it’s gone and another one, usually waiting still in the box, gets put right in its place. The train keeps rolling.

So this time, when it was the last one and the ol’ Griz was out of stock, I decided to look at what was available out there in store-land this decade. Not much. But then I saw a Ridgid combo spindle sander / upright small belt sander and though, “If that works half as well as it looks like, it’s still worth a try...” the tool equivalent of Jonesy’s Law of Diminishing Expectation which states, “If a guy does half what he says he’s gonna do, that’s two thirds more than I expected in the first place.” Well so far it’s 2 instruments’ work into its service and I’ve only used a third of what it can do, and I’m more than halfway hopeful! How’s that, hanh? You still with me? I mean it’s got a long way to go to be the Bosch Colt plunge router with 180-something complete instrument routings under its metaphorical belt (that’s one of those hard to find replacement parts), but every legacy starts somewhere. It was almost as if they made this for luthiers. Part of smart small workshop workings is to stick with the same tools for replacement so all the accessories it has and jigs you made swap right over… but sometimes it’s time for change. You’re not just marrying that one, son – you’re marrying the whole family. I’ll keep you posted.

I want to give a shout-out to two important men in my life who I have learned a lot from, both having birthdays this weekend – my father and my stepfather. From my father Paul I learned age is just a number and received a genetic predisposition towards a bizarre sense of humor and surrounding myself with things I enjoy – including the old car thing. I learned sometimes you make decisions that are messy, and often they work out for the best given time. When you’re already pretty much formed and you hang out with a guy and realize you stand the same, look the same, and cut your breakfast up the same, you also realize there is something there to build on, and that in many cases surroundings can only influence what’s already somehow in there. Any time another project is wheeled home… “Most of this tree was already in the seed, baby.” Thanks Pops! A big Happy Birthday your way.

And Jay? Jay raised me as his own. I resisted, believe me – but his discipline, his example of going your way and being who you are and finding contentment in the face of enormous pressure to perform and produce and provide as others want you to be, his “just do it” work ethic, his ability to fix anything at least halfway, and his final lesson on when to take the exit and when to drive on past… it all was planted, it all took, and it all still lives. He was a good man, misread by most. I know I live partly his ideal life – and I do partly live it for him too since this is the ship I built and we sail this way. Since I’m still here to taste the salt and see the sun on the water, doing what I do with it absolutely everywhere around me like a nest for solutions, a total mess of potential because sometimes that’s what it looks like where things actually happen. Since I’m still here with tools in my hand fixing the tiny part of this world entrusted to me one piece at a time, music on, the bay door open, with a little grease under my nails. I salute you Jay Alexander. Happy Birthday to your memory and your essence in the Great Beyond. Your fingerprints are in my world; my little victories will always be partly your ripples in the water.

Thank you all for being with us and checking in!

Listening to: Doug Raney Sextet Meeting The Tenors; Dorothy Ashby Hip Harp and Afro-Harping; Black Crowes Shake Your Money Maker (forgot how good this still is); Grateful Dead 4-8-72, The Scientist Dub From the Ghetto, Suburbs of Goa channel on somafm.com. Please go check out ALL of this stuff; I hope it shines into your world.
 

Tend The Garden, Not The Pricks

On the Facebook page I post some sort of inspirational sentence on Monday mornings – I find if I can kick Monday’s butt the rest of the week knows I’m serious and falls in line. But what I’ve found more than anything is the world always needs another ray of sunshine telling you the truth – that you’re valid, you’re stronger than you think you are, and you’ve got this. Some folks take umbrage at any attempt to spread anything like that, but generally those insufferable bastards are the same ones who want to tell you it’s all hopeless and there’s nothing to believe in and you’re just doomed to struggle until something cruel takes you out. You know what? F those people.

Yeah yeah yeah it’s a walk and sometimes we’re wobbly. The feet are going to hurt and sometimes the incline gets a little steep. Sometimes you’ll need a shoulder, sometimes you’ll need a rest. There are things that come and you have to figure out how to get around. The night always comes and the winter does too… BUT ALWAYS followed by the sunrise – every day – and the spring – every single time. So it’s your choice which to focus on and what to obsess over. I know which side I’m on. The world has its share of horrors and time brings its measure of surprises. On a grand scale we live in a time of unintended consequences with no simple answers. We’re way down that road. But we’re here – we made it this far and we either have the will to live and the drive to keep going or we’re food. From there you have a garden that grows what you plant and you are spent in the process… it can be a glorious exchange despite the occasional pricks. If you’re reading this you wake up every day with blessings or luck and opportunity many will never know, in spite of your troubles. Lead with those. Plant your dreams and help them grow. Feed them with gratitude. Share your good seed with others. Never give up hope or be unwilling to make the changes you need to be happy and fulfilled, or at least walking yourself towards happiness and fulfillment, and don’t ever let anyone piss away your rainbow or steal your dream. Fixing those people is above your stripes – you fix you, daily, and let them talk while you go build your life.

Here’s a poem for you. I wrote it in response to the folks who’ll line up to tear down anyone who tries to better themselves, to be positive, to chase a dream, to rise above something… you know, you’ve felt it. We all have. Anyone who has ever accomplished anything has gone through it in their own way. “Why are you doing that?” “Why even try?” “Why do you think you can be better than…?” Don’t you know about the statistics? Don’t you know about the failures? Don’t you know about society? Sorry, don’t have time to roll around in all of that… there’s too much to do and I’m busy doing. That’s been by response for the past 25 years. If I put my foot here and then the other there, I’m that much closer to my goal. If there are a hundred steps between me and my goal, all I have to take is the next one. If I die on the way, hey – I went facing my dream. These are what I fill my head with. Next steps and reasons why – not why NOT. That’s the choice we do have, regardless of what the day has brought. Whatever path of life you’re on from the office in the city to the shack in the woods, from the big family to the lone monk, be there and put your heart in and never listen to those who minimize your worth or preach of decisions that have no risk. Life is risk. Living is a quest. And to quote John Wayne, “Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.”


One For The Whys

I don't live by that kind of logic
That leaves a man's head full
But his soul empty
Having never seen over the mountain

I do not wonder "What if" from here
I have tasted the wind
I have felt the rain
Not just gotten wet

This I know...
The turning point is far, far
Far beyond the point of no return

If sense holds you back
That is fine
If you don't understand the quest
That is OK
Go back and be sensible
In your safe decisions
Where your future awaits

But don't for a minute pretend
That going around the mountain
Will give you the view
Or turning back from it
Will leave you wiser
Merely because you avoided failure
By avoiding the bigger odds
Of the bigger dreams of stirred passions
Where another's destiny calls

*

I could write a hundred pages of this stuff. Maybe I will. Meanwhile have a great weekend and don’t be afraid. Whatever you’re facing, face front and take that next step. 

Listening to: Audio of one of my favorite documentaries, 1959 – The Year That Changed Jazz; Sex Pistols The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle; and delta blues like Jack Owens, Son House, Mississippi Fred McDowell and Boyd Rivers.