I'm sick. Have been since Friday. I don't know what it is, but I blame my little germ-ridden, virus-spreading offspring. Despite my best (most neurotic) efforts of washing my hands and ingesting all sorts of anti-sickness herbs, vitamins, and minerals, I knew I was doomed from the start. Resistance is futile, but highly entertaining, I'm sure.
For a moment on Saturday, I thought my extra rest and herbal concoctions had gotten me off easy. However, by late Sunday I knew I had just experienced a brief intermission before the main event struck me. I spent the better part of both today and yesterday in bed. And when I wasn't in bed, I was shuffling around the house in my sick clothes. Miserable. Bored.
I hate being sick because I drive myself crazy thinking of all the stuff I could/should be doing if I weren't sick. And then as I start to feel better, I feel even more irritated with myself when I look back and see all the time I wasted just laying around feeling sick! That just leads me to look back even further and see all the time I've wasted in general. Not when I was sick, just when I was slacking or putting way too much effort into something that turned out to be fruitless or unimportant.
I've been saying I'm going to release a new CD now for approximately FOUR YEARS. I've been recording songs for said "new CD" for even longer. Some are finished, more are in various stages of being done, and then others are new(er) and haven't even been recorded yet. No money. No time. No motivation. I'm sick.
Hey, I'm still writing though. Like these few lines that just came to me the other night...
Sometimes you gotta think things through
To discover the hidden truth
The triumph in a tragedy
What is lost in a victory
It's not always black and white
To be admired doesn't mean you're right
Sometimes the greater good
Doesn't feel as noble as it should
Even a wise man plays the fool
Sometimes you gotta think things through
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Sometimes People Die Slowly
Sometimes people die slowly. Stroke. Multiple Sclerosis. Cancer. Addiction. It doesn't really matter what the cause is, it's the fact that you look at that person and think to yourself "It's all downhill from here." You know there's no light at the end of the tunnel, no sun coming up on the horizon. Just a whole lot of rough times and heartache ahead.
That's what I see when I look at my mom. 80 years old and afflicted with dementia - Alzheimer's is the fancy buzz-word these days, but basically what it boils down to is seeing a person you love and admire morph into an annoying, pitiful stranger that you feel obligated to help and yet, at the same time, you dread being around. The real hard part for me to swallow is knowing that my mom would FREAK OUT if she (in her right mind) could see what this disease has made of her in that last few years. She took care of people like that. Worked in nursing homes and home health care jobs for years. She would come home crying to me about how these people were treated and how sad it was to see them in such a state. And then she would always make me promise NEVER to let her end up like that...
Still, there she is... in a nursing home. Confused, depressed, and just wanting to go back home and be on her own. She has her own little altered story of how things used to be that includes none of the agonizing months my wife and I battled with her to get help and, ultimately, took away her options and decided things for her.
I know in the grand scheme of things that I did the right thing, but I know in my heart that I should've done better. Simply because she did better for me. In every circumstance, in every way. I never saw this coming and I was ill-prepared for it when it confronted me. I'm glad the way things worked out as far as where she's at now -considering the circumstances- but I can't help thinking that -maybe- if I'd have done MORE with my life and been MORE successful, I'd have the money to spend on her to make sure her last years were spent better than they are being spent now.
Sure, we visit her and bring her over every chance we have, but she doesn't remember that. She only remembers the loneliness and the confusion of why she is where she is and why her son won't let her go home. It kills me. Slowly. And while I still cling to remnants of my mom and treasure them, I realize that she is fading. Slowly. And in her place is this annoying and confused old woman whose only purpose in life is her next cigarette and, if you have the time, she'll fill you in on her evil son who took away her freedom and never comes to see her. That just kills me. Slowly.
That's what I see when I look at my mom. 80 years old and afflicted with dementia - Alzheimer's is the fancy buzz-word these days, but basically what it boils down to is seeing a person you love and admire morph into an annoying, pitiful stranger that you feel obligated to help and yet, at the same time, you dread being around. The real hard part for me to swallow is knowing that my mom would FREAK OUT if she (in her right mind) could see what this disease has made of her in that last few years. She took care of people like that. Worked in nursing homes and home health care jobs for years. She would come home crying to me about how these people were treated and how sad it was to see them in such a state. And then she would always make me promise NEVER to let her end up like that...
Still, there she is... in a nursing home. Confused, depressed, and just wanting to go back home and be on her own. She has her own little altered story of how things used to be that includes none of the agonizing months my wife and I battled with her to get help and, ultimately, took away her options and decided things for her.
I know in the grand scheme of things that I did the right thing, but I know in my heart that I should've done better. Simply because she did better for me. In every circumstance, in every way. I never saw this coming and I was ill-prepared for it when it confronted me. I'm glad the way things worked out as far as where she's at now -considering the circumstances- but I can't help thinking that -maybe- if I'd have done MORE with my life and been MORE successful, I'd have the money to spend on her to make sure her last years were spent better than they are being spent now.
Sure, we visit her and bring her over every chance we have, but she doesn't remember that. She only remembers the loneliness and the confusion of why she is where she is and why her son won't let her go home. It kills me. Slowly. And while I still cling to remnants of my mom and treasure them, I realize that she is fading. Slowly. And in her place is this annoying and confused old woman whose only purpose in life is her next cigarette and, if you have the time, she'll fill you in on her evil son who took away her freedom and never comes to see her. That just kills me. Slowly.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Me & Todd @ Luke's Grille
If you're a singer/songwriter or a local musician and you're in it for the money and fame, you're in the wrong line of work. Music, sometimes, is a labor of love; a struggle to share what you have created and, at the same time, entertain. For the longest time, playing live gigs was a real struggle for me. These days, with only a few gigs here and there to worry about, I'm actually enjoying the experience -the actual experience of playing and hearing myself play. I'm getting into the songs and the music. I think I'm finally at a level of playing/performing where I can hold my own against the true pros. Todd Kreuzburg is one such "true pro" -the guy's a machine when it comes to playing the guitar. Whether it's Pop, Rock, Blues, or Flamenco, the guy just kills it every time. He's also a genius when it comes to recording, arranging, and producing other people's music... like mine. Todd has done all my recorded material. I don't think I'd be doing what I'm doing (musically) if it wasn't for the opportunity that Todd gave me of hearing my music brought to life in full-color production.And so it was my honor and privilege to have Todd as my guitar wingman for tonight's gig at Luke's Grille. We didn't have any pre-gig practices, I didn't send him over a bunch of chord charts or arrangements. No. I just stood there and called out covers and originals and Todd nodded and played along. I enjoy playing gigs with Todd because he's such a master and he always takes my nervous edge off because I know he's got my back. But sometimes I just get lost and mesmerized with his guitar playing and I end up flubbing the chords on my guitar because I'm too busy admiring the cool lead or fill that Todd just came up with out of the blue. It's funny and annoying (more so to Todd, I'm sure).
I guess the main thing that I'm starting to grasp now is you can have a great performance (like tonight) without having a great (or large) audience. I think I'm at the point now where I can actually observe an aspect of the gig as an audience member. So even though there was nobody there most of the night (except for a few good friends who kept us company early on), I really enjoy the performance and, as always, I learned a few gems of information from Todd in the process. Music is a labor of love. But I'll take love over fortune and fame any day.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Roedown Review
It's over. It was successful. There were no major incidents or catastrophes. I was able to get up for work the next morning. That's pretty much all that matters and I could leave it at that. But that would be no fun for you, the reader. So... here's all the juicy details on the year's greatest rural horse race/music fest.
Here's a little background... ROEDOWN - it happens every year in April -usually the first Sunday. This year was the 35th running. It's Steeple Chase Racing - a little different than the standard around-the-track racing. And the biggest question every year for Roedown is "What's the weather forecast?" Aside from that, it's not only a horse race, but it's a huge conglomeration of tailgates -the social event that ushers in spring.
Me and/or my band have played at Roedown for 4 out of the past 5 years. This year, my wife and I did an MS fundraiser in conjunction with the live music. There were two other bands involved too: Sweet Leda and Pressing Strings. Wendy Marxen, the Marlborough Hunt Club's Marketing Director (and super-cool chick) was heading up the "Music Festival" angle of Roedown and was counting on a local radio station to do most of the grunt and leg work when it came to getting a stage, sponsors, etc. Unfortunately, this local radio station fell FAR short of Wendy's expectations and she called me to "help coordinate" things. My wife and I turned it into a huge fund-raising tailgate. Wendy got PRS to donate a guitar, we got OpenMortgage to donate an iPod, and Rams Head kicked in some free tickets to UB40. Blah, blah, blah... that's enough the background.
So... I have very interesting and colorful friends. One of them is Charles Funk - one bad-ass photographer (check out http://charlesfunk.com) He's been a close friend on die-hard fan of my music for years. Charles also has some colorful friends. One of them is named Buzz. I'm sure Buzz has a proper first and last name, but "Buzz" is all I ever knew. And this kat lives up to his nickname quite well since 90% of the times that he's been present for a band outting, he's managed to get shitfaced - quick. Buzz aparently suffered a terrible motorcycle accident years ago that rendered him a little mentally challenged. You wouldn't really know it talking to him in general conversation, but it's obvious after prolonged exposure that his reasoning skills are greatly diminished. Especially when it comes to consuming alcohol. And after our first dose of Buzz years ago, everyone in the band sorta grins when Charles announces he'll be attending an event. This was the case for Roedown. Buzz was there in all his splendor. Zak and Terry (guitar and bass player) were excited to see Buzz again... not to catch up on old times or talk about music... Nah, they just wanted to get old Buzz shit-faced again and see what trouble they could get him into. They did a GREAT job at Roedown.
For most of the early afternoon at Roedown, I was busy running around doing coordination-type stuff. With the bands, with the Roedown officials, with the tailgate people... Busy, busy, busy. So by the time my band, The Populists, were ready to hit the stage, my band had already played a significant hand in leading Buzz down the Whisky Highway via EarlyTimes Avenue. Zak had arrived at Roedown with his signature super-size plastic bottle-o-EarlyTimes and was anxious and happy to share it with whoever would take a swig -especially Buzz who was happy to partake. A few days before Roedown, Charles had come up with the idea of having Buzz introduce the band before we rocked out. I thought it sounded like a harmless enough idea at the time, but little did I know that Buzz would be in rare form by the time we were ready to play. Somehow he managed to get to the stage and proceeded to introduced us as "the greatest fuckin' rock-n-roll band in the world" followed by some other unintelligible gibberish. Zak, my guitar player, was laughing so hard after Buzz's intro, he was doubled over - 'course, he been partaking of the EarlyTimes too. Good Times compliments of EarlyTimes. And, for the record, I did not have even one little sip of the whisky. In fact, when we took the stage, my alcohol consumption for the day consisted of a tiny shot of Tuaca minutes before.
I'm pretty sure Buzz kept on cruising down EarlyTimes avenue after his MC duties for the band had ended because about an hour or so later, he was having problems standing. Uh, he was also having problems sitting. So much so that he went from sitting in a chair to laying on the ground face first. Somewhere between the chair and the ground, Buzz managed to gash his head open on another nearby chair. So there he was, on the ground, bleeding profusely from his head, unable to right himself, unable to get up, unable to form a coherent sentence. And to his rescue comes my Florence Nightengale wife. She got direct pressure on his wound and ordered me to find Charles and a first-aid get. I found the first-aid kit in our van and I found Charles in the big red barn taking photos of Zak and his nearly-naked wife with a guitar. Ah, another two passengers on EarlyTimes Avenue. I called out "Hey Charles, Buzz just fell and hit his head - it's pretty bad." Charles looked at me like "yeah? so?"
I continued "Hey man, he's probably gonna need stitches..." Charles paused from his photo shoot and shot me an irritated glance "Can't you see I'm a little busy here?!"
Got it. Boobies come before Buzz. OK.
Anyway, my wife ended up getting Buzz back on a chair. But not before Terry (bass player) grabs the half-empty bottle of EarlyTimes, props it up under Buzz's arm, and snaps a picture. Classy. And then once Buzz is back in a seated position, Zak comes to lend a hand... "Buzz, what you need is another swig of whisky, man!" I quickly grabbed the bottle from Zak and gave him the "what the f*ck are you thinking, dude?!" look. He sheepishly grinned and mumbled "sorry"
Well we got Buzz into a car and Charles got him stitches later that day. Terry got his trophy picture, I got sunburned, Zak got fired from the band, and the MS Walk got nearly $2k from our fundraising efforts.
That's the long and short of it. Or at least that's all I have to say for now.
Here's a little background... ROEDOWN - it happens every year in April -usually the first Sunday. This year was the 35th running. It's Steeple Chase Racing - a little different than the standard around-the-track racing. And the biggest question every year for Roedown is "What's the weather forecast?" Aside from that, it's not only a horse race, but it's a huge conglomeration of tailgates -the social event that ushers in spring.
Me and/or my band have played at Roedown for 4 out of the past 5 years. This year, my wife and I did an MS fundraiser in conjunction with the live music. There were two other bands involved too: Sweet Leda and Pressing Strings. Wendy Marxen, the Marlborough Hunt Club's Marketing Director (and super-cool chick) was heading up the "Music Festival" angle of Roedown and was counting on a local radio station to do most of the grunt and leg work when it came to getting a stage, sponsors, etc. Unfortunately, this local radio station fell FAR short of Wendy's expectations and she called me to "help coordinate" things. My wife and I turned it into a huge fund-raising tailgate. Wendy got PRS to donate a guitar, we got OpenMortgage to donate an iPod, and Rams Head kicked in some free tickets to UB40. Blah, blah, blah... that's enough the background.
So... I have very interesting and colorful friends. One of them is Charles Funk - one bad-ass photographer (check out http://charlesfunk.com) He's been a close friend on die-hard fan of my music for years. Charles also has some colorful friends. One of them is named Buzz. I'm sure Buzz has a proper first and last name, but "Buzz" is all I ever knew. And this kat lives up to his nickname quite well since 90% of the times that he's been present for a band outting, he's managed to get shitfaced - quick. Buzz aparently suffered a terrible motorcycle accident years ago that rendered him a little mentally challenged. You wouldn't really know it talking to him in general conversation, but it's obvious after prolonged exposure that his reasoning skills are greatly diminished. Especially when it comes to consuming alcohol. And after our first dose of Buzz years ago, everyone in the band sorta grins when Charles announces he'll be attending an event. This was the case for Roedown. Buzz was there in all his splendor. Zak and Terry (guitar and bass player) were excited to see Buzz again... not to catch up on old times or talk about music... Nah, they just wanted to get old Buzz shit-faced again and see what trouble they could get him into. They did a GREAT job at Roedown.
For most of the early afternoon at Roedown, I was busy running around doing coordination-type stuff. With the bands, with the Roedown officials, with the tailgate people... Busy, busy, busy. So by the time my band, The Populists, were ready to hit the stage, my band had already played a significant hand in leading Buzz down the Whisky Highway via EarlyTimes Avenue. Zak had arrived at Roedown with his signature super-size plastic bottle-o-EarlyTimes and was anxious and happy to share it with whoever would take a swig -especially Buzz who was happy to partake. A few days before Roedown, Charles had come up with the idea of having Buzz introduce the band before we rocked out. I thought it sounded like a harmless enough idea at the time, but little did I know that Buzz would be in rare form by the time we were ready to play. Somehow he managed to get to the stage and proceeded to introduced us as "the greatest fuckin' rock-n-roll band in the world" followed by some other unintelligible gibberish. Zak, my guitar player, was laughing so hard after Buzz's intro, he was doubled over - 'course, he been partaking of the EarlyTimes too. Good Times compliments of EarlyTimes. And, for the record, I did not have even one little sip of the whisky. In fact, when we took the stage, my alcohol consumption for the day consisted of a tiny shot of Tuaca minutes before.
I'm pretty sure Buzz kept on cruising down EarlyTimes avenue after his MC duties for the band had ended because about an hour or so later, he was having problems standing. Uh, he was also having problems sitting. So much so that he went from sitting in a chair to laying on the ground face first. Somewhere between the chair and the ground, Buzz managed to gash his head open on another nearby chair. So there he was, on the ground, bleeding profusely from his head, unable to right himself, unable to get up, unable to form a coherent sentence. And to his rescue comes my Florence Nightengale wife. She got direct pressure on his wound and ordered me to find Charles and a first-aid get. I found the first-aid kit in our van and I found Charles in the big red barn taking photos of Zak and his nearly-naked wife with a guitar. Ah, another two passengers on EarlyTimes Avenue. I called out "Hey Charles, Buzz just fell and hit his head - it's pretty bad." Charles looked at me like "yeah? so?"
I continued "Hey man, he's probably gonna need stitches..." Charles paused from his photo shoot and shot me an irritated glance "Can't you see I'm a little busy here?!"
Got it. Boobies come before Buzz. OK.
Anyway, my wife ended up getting Buzz back on a chair. But not before Terry (bass player) grabs the half-empty bottle of EarlyTimes, props it up under Buzz's arm, and snaps a picture. Classy. And then once Buzz is back in a seated position, Zak comes to lend a hand... "Buzz, what you need is another swig of whisky, man!" I quickly grabbed the bottle from Zak and gave him the "what the f*ck are you thinking, dude?!" look. He sheepishly grinned and mumbled "sorry"
Well we got Buzz into a car and Charles got him stitches later that day. Terry got his trophy picture, I got sunburned, Zak got fired from the band, and the MS Walk got nearly $2k from our fundraising efforts.
That's the long and short of it. Or at least that's all I have to say for now.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Full Circle
Back in 1999/2000, I decided to join or start a band. I got together with three other guys and we started muddling through songs. Somewhere along the line, three of us decided that the fourth guy didn't fit so we mercilessly kicked him out of the band -the band that he thought he started.
We practiced and practiced and tried to get gigs as best we could. We decided on a name "SlipMickie" that our drummer, McGee, said came to him while he was sitting listening to some live jazz. The band never went too far, but we did perform for my CD release party and it was a great night. After that we all sort of drifted apart.
It wasn't until recently that the three of us connected on Facebook. The drummer, McGee, lives in Virginia and is a master at video production/editing (much like he was when we played together), the bass player, Matt Batarseh, continued playing in bands - first it was "Another Lincoln" and now it is "Fiction 20 Down". I got to open for that band tonight at Armadillo's in Annapolis. I played a solo hour set of originals and I thought I did pretty good. I got to catch a lot of Fiction 20 Down's music. Honestly, I wasn't impressed, but it was good to see and hear Matt play again. I was anxious to catch up with him. I wondered how he and his wife were doing and if they had any kids. They did. A three-year old daughter. But Matt and his wife are divorced and, because of this recent development, he's quitting the band so it'll be easier to arrange visitations. That's sad. I always liked Matt and I always thought his wife was a quiet and sweet person.
I never asked exactly what went wrong because that would've been an involved answer, I'm sure. But it really left me with a sadness in my heart. And then I looked over at my wife and, again, I was grateful to have found her. I think we'll be together forever. I think it's destiny. No one can say for sure, but I know her and she knows me -at least we both think so. And, the important thing -- WE FIGHT. Often. Not the knock-down, drag-em-out fights, but we disagree, debate, and argue all the time. And when one of us unknowingly pisses off the other... well, let's just say it doesn't go undiscussed. That's a good thing.
Back in 1999/2000, I decided to join/start a band. I also met a girl and decided to take a chance on love again. Tonight all that came full circle and made me grateful for how things work out.
We practiced and practiced and tried to get gigs as best we could. We decided on a name "SlipMickie" that our drummer, McGee, said came to him while he was sitting listening to some live jazz. The band never went too far, but we did perform for my CD release party and it was a great night. After that we all sort of drifted apart.
It wasn't until recently that the three of us connected on Facebook. The drummer, McGee, lives in Virginia and is a master at video production/editing (much like he was when we played together), the bass player, Matt Batarseh, continued playing in bands - first it was "Another Lincoln" and now it is "Fiction 20 Down". I got to open for that band tonight at Armadillo's in Annapolis. I played a solo hour set of originals and I thought I did pretty good. I got to catch a lot of Fiction 20 Down's music. Honestly, I wasn't impressed, but it was good to see and hear Matt play again. I was anxious to catch up with him. I wondered how he and his wife were doing and if they had any kids. They did. A three-year old daughter. But Matt and his wife are divorced and, because of this recent development, he's quitting the band so it'll be easier to arrange visitations. That's sad. I always liked Matt and I always thought his wife was a quiet and sweet person.
I never asked exactly what went wrong because that would've been an involved answer, I'm sure. But it really left me with a sadness in my heart. And then I looked over at my wife and, again, I was grateful to have found her. I think we'll be together forever. I think it's destiny. No one can say for sure, but I know her and she knows me -at least we both think so. And, the important thing -- WE FIGHT. Often. Not the knock-down, drag-em-out fights, but we disagree, debate, and argue all the time. And when one of us unknowingly pisses off the other... well, let's just say it doesn't go undiscussed. That's a good thing.
Back in 1999/2000, I decided to join/start a band. I also met a girl and decided to take a chance on love again. Tonight all that came full circle and made me grateful for how things work out.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Dogfish Head
Never name a beer such a complicated name. Because after a few of the said beers, it's likely you'll be unable to pronounce it.
I got to hang out at the Dogfish Head Ale House in Gaithersburg tonight. Friends of ours were holding an MS Fundraiser there and I was in charge of entertainment. I managed to get the very talented Doug Segree (http://segree.com) and Angie Miller (http://angiemiller.com) to come and each play a solo set. Then, me and "the band" played for an hour.
Tonight, "the band" consisted of Terry, Zak, and Ken. Ken is the drummer of an up-and-coming Baltimore-based band, FALL BACK PLAN. He has sat in with us before in a pinch. Good drummer and a nice guy. Zak looks tired these days but his joy and exuberance really comes out after playing live with the band. It was a good time for a good cause and it was the first real band outing in a LONG time.
Charles Funk came out too and shot some cool pictures. I haven't seen them yet, but I just know they're cool. Because Charles is cool and he's great photographer and a great friend.
My only regret? It was a Tuesday night. That means work in the morning. Ugh.
I got to hang out at the Dogfish Head Ale House in Gaithersburg tonight. Friends of ours were holding an MS Fundraiser there and I was in charge of entertainment. I managed to get the very talented Doug Segree (http://segree.com) and Angie Miller (http://angiemiller.com) to come and each play a solo set. Then, me and "the band" played for an hour.
Tonight, "the band" consisted of Terry, Zak, and Ken. Ken is the drummer of an up-and-coming Baltimore-based band, FALL BACK PLAN. He has sat in with us before in a pinch. Good drummer and a nice guy. Zak looks tired these days but his joy and exuberance really comes out after playing live with the band. It was a good time for a good cause and it was the first real band outing in a LONG time.
Charles Funk came out too and shot some cool pictures. I haven't seen them yet, but I just know they're cool. Because Charles is cool and he's great photographer and a great friend.
My only regret? It was a Tuesday night. That means work in the morning. Ugh.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Passage
Today was unseasonably warm. March 8th and it felt like April or May 8th. I was looking forward to this weather... this warmth and sunshine. I hate the cold. It makes me edgy and -at times- miserable. I can't get warm and it's hard to feel the sun even though it blinds me on the way home from work almost every day during the cold, short days of winter.
Another change of seasons is about to dawn and although I'm happy about the passage of winter, I'm sad about the overall passage of time. The older you get, the faster the moments fly before your eyes. The older you get, the less you can enjoy the "here and now" without worrying about tomorrow. I'm always worried about tomorrow these days. Not just mine, but my family's. And many times of late I find myself disappointed in today. Disappointed about what I did with "today" and just afraid that -as they say- tomorrow never comes.
Today was unreasonably warm.
Another change of seasons is about to dawn and although I'm happy about the passage of winter, I'm sad about the overall passage of time. The older you get, the faster the moments fly before your eyes. The older you get, the less you can enjoy the "here and now" without worrying about tomorrow. I'm always worried about tomorrow these days. Not just mine, but my family's. And many times of late I find myself disappointed in today. Disappointed about what I did with "today" and just afraid that -as they say- tomorrow never comes.
Today was unreasonably warm.
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