Saturday, December 29, 2018

Zero Dawn

January 17, 2066

Looks like this is my final entry. If you found this then I'm assuming you already know how we got to this point, unless you're one of those people that skips right to the end (and what's up with that?).

After Evans sent out the e-mail that the Wichita facility was overrun and we had two options, I figured I'd much rather go out on my own terms than die underground in a metal tomb with the others. The hatch opened at 2100 last night for a few minutes and I was allowed to leave. About 12 others took that option, but the majority were resigned to their fate and stayed behind. I said goodbye to Kim, John and Omar and made my way north maybe a half mile where I found a decent view. 

This morning I saw the sun rise for the last time and had a strangely peaceful moment. We were warned the machines would take out everything here within 24 hours and I can already hear the sounds reverberating off the mountains so they're close. They gave us all a pill if we wanted it (I did) and I'm told it's painless. I don't really have any desire to see the machine horde as my last sight, so my plan was to finish writing this down, pop Plan Z and go out looking at the mountains to the west. It's freezing and I don't have any survival gear so there's not much point trying to make a proper escape. 

Some of the others said we're facing certain extinction, but that ship sailed a year ago. Most people didn't want to accept it even after we were locked in to secure the Zero Dawn project for the future of humanity. My security level didn't clear me for the specific details, but if it works as planned somehow the human race will carry on a few centuries down the road. Looking out at the trees and mountains now I hope I'm not the last human to get to see this. Hopefully others will be along someday after this is all destroyed and Earth manages to survive and rebuild itself. Shame to think how we managed to get to this point, but it's kind of surreal that I lived to see the actual end of it all. 

My last hope is that this journal might serve as a historical account if it's ever found someday. I uploaded it into the servers back at the facility, but obviously if this datapad is destroyed then nobody will ever read this final entry. 

I like to think I led a pretty good life even though humanity as a whole certainly didn't. Looking out over these cold Colorado mountains for the last time reminds me of when I proposed to Dani when we were hiking. I'll never forget the look on her face and what a perfect day that was. I miss her most of all.

In closing, my final set of lyrics. If you read any of my previous entries you know how much I love the oldies, especially Jimi Hendrix from what, a century ago? After all, we share a last name so that makes it kind of a no-brainer. 

Shame we don't appreciate how good we've got it until everything is gone. So long Earth, it was a hell of a ride.

"Blue are the life-giving waters
Taken for granted
They finally understand."

-Hendrix, Bold as Love

Sunday, December 23, 2018

Lucky Ducky

Good luck monster at your door
Invited by your charm
Here to help, here to stay
Figure you'd do no harm

Weeks ago you took a hike
Later ate some food
Things were looking up and up
A boon for monster's mood

You even spoke of Chinese thought
of guests and gifts and Tao
A generous host reaps great rewards
Both for future and for now

But things turned sour quickly
On just the first work day
You locked the monster to a desk
And threw the key away

But good luck monster isn't dumb
Some might say it's smart
When it comes to faking smiles
It's a master of the art

When you feel you're winning
When you see it toil
You'll never know which aspirations
Good luck monster wants to foil

With arrogance you unchained it
You thought that you had won
The monster slunk to lick its wounds
And steel itself for what must be done

Good luck monster found a bar
A private place for tears
Where it came up with its plan
To curse you for many years

It knows your weakness, it knows your mind
It's even searched your soul
Now planting small destructive seeds
Has become its only goal

So when you see it smiling
So when it says "can do"
Know well that it's bad luck code
It's put a hex on you

Bad luck monster in your house
Transformed by hollow charm
Here today to hurt tomorrow
Only causing harm

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

1983...(A Jedi I Should Turn to Be)

At the time I didn’t realize it was May 25th exactly. I just knew the key facts: I was six years old, it was Wednesday, and my dad was going to take me to the 6:15pm opening day showing of Return of the Jedi.

I was hyped all day long at my 1st grade class at Mt. Rose Elementary school in Reno. I got to home right on time at three and we lived in a small rental right across the street from the northwest corner playground. That was the “big kids” side for grades 4-6. Nowadays Google maps tells me the house isn’t there anymore. It’s just a prime piece of real estate on the corner of Arlington Ave. & Taylor St. When I got home I had to kill time until my dad got there which for a six year old Star Wars fan may as well have been an eternity.

My original love affair with Star Wars started with me listening to a record (LP) the year before, which was obviously just audio and condensed a 2 hour 10 minute movie into maybe 60 minutes. It wasn't one of those old  45s with a book where you'd turn the page when Artoo beeps. This was a full size 33 1/3 RPM LP that was just the audio track from the film. Apparently I had seen Star Wars at a drive-in when it was released, but I was a year old so of course there were no memories there. The Empire Strikes Back was the first movie I can remember seeing in the theater in 1980. My mom took me to see that one but I don’t remember much other than waiting in line, pointing out the poster, falling asleep around the Dagobah training bits, Han Solo in carbonite, and of course the whole “Who’s your daddy?” routine at the end.

But coming up to the release of Jedi (original working title: Revenge of the Jedi) I was in full-out hype mode. Listening to Star Wars on LP so many times and all the Kenner toy catalogs had me riled up and ready to rock. Back in the day we had no internet to house the land of massive spoilers, so what we got instead were things like the Kenner toy catalog with a blacked-out picture and the caption “Jabba the Hutt Playset.” You remember that dude Han name dropped? I mean he’d been mentioned in the two previous movies so he must be big (literally). But there was no way anyone was gonna find out what a Hutt looked like before May 25th.

Eventually my dad showed up on what was still a relatively sunny late afternoon in the Nevada desert. We walked down to the United Artists theater on 1st St. in downtown Reno on the Truckee River. It was only a mile but as a hyped up kid it felt like walking all the way from Anchorhead to Mos Eisley. When we got to the theater there was a line outside, naturally. My dad told me we were getting tickets to see it in Dolby, which was the kickass state-of-the-art audio back then. We got our tickets grabbed seats, and got ready for something that was about to set my own personal standard for movies and pop culture.

To this day when people ask me what my favorite movie is, I always ask, “You mean besides Star Wars?” Because all of those movies to me exist as a separate thing outside of normal filmdom. The correct answer to that question is Raiders of the Lost Ark, by the way. But I digress. As I was about to discover on that fateful May evening, Jedi cemented the Star Wars legacy as not just part of my pop culture persona, but part of my life. For 16 years after this during the most impressionable years of my life, I was part of an entire fantasy universe that consisted only of three films, or about six and a half hours of footage.

Finally the lights went down and the 20th Century Fox fanfare let us know that shit was about to get real.

“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...”

Episode VI
RETURN OF THE JEDI

Luke Skywalker has returned to
his home planet of Tatooine in
an attempt to rescue his
friend Han Solo from the
clutches of the vile gangster
Jabba the Hutt.

Oh. Shit. It’s fuckin’ on now. And what followed over the next 2 hours and 15 minutes was incredible. I got my first glimpse of iconic moments that to this day still permeate my memory. Things like:

A new Death Star. Is that legal?

The reveal of Jabba the Hutt.

“At last we have the mighty Chewbacca.” Cheessa...beecha ko wonkae Chewbacca. At least that's what it sounds like to me. Ask me to say it sometime, I do a pretty great impression.

Han Solo falling out of that melting carbonite.

Vanishing 900-year old Yoda.

That speeder bike chase. Hot damn!

Ewoks. And you know what? Fuck off. I liked them when I was a kid. Which of course was the point.

“It’s a trap!”

An actual space battle between Rebel & Imperial fleets. You know, war...in the stars.

Lando as that asshole friend that borrows your ride but brings it back without the side mirror.

The showdown between Luke, Vader, and the Emperor.

And of course, my absolute favorite moment of the film. It’s so good that it gets its own couple of paragraphs in case you weren’t around in 1983 to understand how awesome it was.

Luke Skywalker, alone and walking the plank to certain death above the sarlacc. At the last instant Artoo launched an object into the air, and we all suddenly found out what happened to Luke’s lightsaber after he lost it at Bespin. Turns out he never got it back. Homeboy made a new one.

We all thought it was gonna be blue. Because good Jedi have blue lightsabers and Sith have red. Plus all the marketing posters had Luke (or just the two hands) holding a blue lightsaber. But in that instant ol’ George reminded us once again that you should never be afraid to dream and try something slightly different. And keeping one tiny detail quiet reminded us all how much fun it is to be surprised at the movies over something so simple.

Because that goddamn lightsaber was green.

And then Luke proceeded to spend four minutes showing Team Jabba why one lone Jedi is not to be fucked with. The Wu-Tang Clan of a galaxy far, far away if you will. Even to this day that sequence is the only time we got to see a Jedi totally putting the smack down on scum and villainy until the prequels rolled out sixteen years later. I still get goosebumps when that scene starts due in no small part to John Williams' score which hits all the right beats.

34 years later Luke grew up like I did, a little wiser, a little worse for wear, and showed us how to win a battle without fighting at all yet still inspire hope. But that’s a story for another time.

Way back in 1983 we walked out of that theater and I knew I’d just witnessed a monumental experience that would impact my life for years to come.

It’s the best memory I have of my old man which made it even more special. We didn’t have that many great moments together to choose from, but Jedi is at the top and it isn’t even close. On November 26, 2016 I was watching The Force Awakens with my mom when we both found out he passed away. I thought that was fitting that the two most powerful memories about my old man had to do with Star Wars and not his music. My first theater memory was watching Empire with my mom, and my most exciting one was watching Jedi with my dad a few years later. Both parents are somehow responsible for turning me into a Star Wars junkie. The kind of guy who would opt to get “Jedi” printed on his dog tags in the Army many years later. The kind of guy who built a lightsaber hilt out of plumbing parts that was mistaken for a bong during a barracks inspection.

For me the Star Wars universe isn’t just some movies I saw a couple of times. It’s a major part of who I am. I can tell you exactly who I was with for each one of those films the first time I saw them up to and including Solo in 2018 which fittingly is the only one I've watched alone. I've attached many great memories with friends and family to my Star Wars experience. And it really all goes back to May 25, 1983.



“So be it...Jedi.”

Monday, December 17, 2018

It's never been about the Money

Since Hoss has been posting a lot of his autobiographical stuff and I'm in a real weird spot (geographically and mentally), I figured I'd write a little piece about my own pile of shit. As with the piece that will be published on my travel blog on Christmas, this is going to be a lot of me complaining and generally being grumpy.

Trying to come up with a title for this piece, one of my thoughts was "Sweet & Sour". I don't know if that's still a good title, but it might work for splitting this into two sections. My grumbling and griping followed by a bit more perspective. It's a good exercise for me to do more often, as I'm still a human reacting to what's around me rather than thinking about the arc of my life. Beware, dear reader - every sentence I type under "SOUR" needs an asterisk - I'll try to broadly address my own logical faults in the "SWEET" section.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

I guess no one reads here...



Locked Library
Little Surprise
Always Disappointed
in TTDI

***

Work Harder
Work Faster
Do what I say
Your urlaub
means nothing
Don't you dare play.

Sunday, December 2, 2018

Tell Me Baby

It’s November and it’s freezing outside. I hopped off the subway one block early because I’m always ahead of schedule and I need to get my mind into the game. I’m about to meet her for a legitimate date. It’s a big deal because after being casual friends I finally stepped up and suggested a date, and she accepted. My nerves are on full alert and I need to take a few minutes to calm down.

The reason I hopped off the subway at 5th Street is because Independence Mall is one of my favorite spots in Philadelphia. As I walk to a park bench I can see my office back to the northwest and Independence Hall to the south. There's no tourists out since it’s winter, so the whole block is calm and mostly vacant. I check my watch. I’ve got about ten minutes to the time we agreed to meet at the Gaslight over by Market & Front. That gives me enough time to listen to one song and then get moving.

When I go on dates there’s two songs I really like to listen to to calm me down. It can be nerve-wracking when you meet someone new. But this is the first time meeting a girl I already know in a new situation: an actual date. It’s a whole different type of nerves being wracked. I sit down on a bench facing west and pull up my favorite song on my iPod: “Soul To Squeeze” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. At this moment I have no idea we will be listening to this song live in three months at the end of a Chili Peppers concert in Philly. I also have no idea that it’s her favorite jam by the Chilis. That fact won’t come out until January.

It’s five minutes to myself. The freezing weather is an afterthought. I relax and spend that time listening to John Frusciante’s incredible guitar intro and Flea’s killer bass groove. I sing the lyrics to myself while the song plays. Eventually I hear “I’m gonna keep ya for the end of time,” and realize there’s only five minutes left to go. She grabbed an Uber so I have to be there on time or I’ll have failed one of my own personal standing orders: always be early.

It’s only three blocks to go but I’m nervous as hell even though I shouldn’t be. I cue up my go-to first date hype song: "Tell Me Baby" by the Chili Peppers. The song is about going to Hollywood to chase your dreams, but there's something about that chorus that makes me think smile and wonder about all the new things you get to learn when you sit down with someone for a great conversation. Like all good songs the lyrics mean something more personal to me than the most basic interpretation. I get to the Gaslight right on time, and then maybe 20 seconds later I see a car pull up. She steps out of the car wearing a pink coat and I smile to myself because that’s always been her style - bright and outgoing on the surface. She’s about to walk to the door with a slightly confused look, as if she’s not sure if she should be waiting for me or if I’m that kind of guy who would go inside first, get a seat, and just wait for her to show.

I call her name and her entire expression changes to a bright smile that welcomes a familiar friend. We hug. We go inside...together. In the back of my head I hope that it will be a great day. And it turns out to be one for the record books. Personal stories that connect. Pop culture references and laughs as we realize we have even more in common than we thought. After brunch when I suggest we head nearby to play pool and grab some beers she accepts immediately with no hesitation. 

I have no way of knowing how this story eventually turns out. But right now, in this moment, I finally feel what other people wish for and talk about all the time: a connection. And it is absolutely magical. I'll never forget those last few minutes waiting for her to arrive while I let music calm me down and help me welcome in a new friendship.

"Tell me baby
What's your story?
Where you come from
And where you want to go this time?

Road Trippin'


Back in 2001 and 2002 during my Army days I took a lot of trips from Fort Lewis down to Oregon on the weekends with my two buddies. For legal reasons I’ll call them Bailey and Farncomb, because that’s actually their names.

My man Bailey was a curious case in the sense that we became great friends even though he was an NCO and I was a Joe. No fraternization. That’s the official Army policy. But friendship knows no bounds and we had an unspoken “fuck it” towards the fraternization policy. We had lots of pop culture connections, got each other’s jokes and had the same birthday (I was 4 years older though, even as the subordinate). One day I even ended up as the Best Man at his wedding.

And Farncomb? A son of Australia and dual citizen of the USA. One of our first interactions was him all up in my face in the barracks hallway. A year later we quashed all beefs and he was reassigned to be my roommate. No lie, dude was the best roommate I ever had. We used to drink good wine and watch kickass movies to bring a sense of culture to the barracks. We’d frequently quote Pulp Fiction: “People who know the difference between good she and bad shit? This is the room the come to.” And he made an effort to keep in touch over the years, more so than I did, so my hat’s off to the man. I had the pleasure of surprising him on his 40th birthday many years later when we lived in opposite sides of the country.

We were one hell of a trio. I’m not sure if Bailey offered or Farncomb and I demanded it, but we rolled down to Bailey’s house in Portland about 2 hours south of Fort Lewis and it became a thing. We essentially made this our own Alpha Alpha for 3-day weekends. That’s Armyspeak for “Assembly Area.” We would hop in Bailey’s Jeep and drive down rocking out to ‘90s rock, specifically the Red Hot Chili Peppers when their album “By The Way” came out in July 2002. Farncomb turned me from a casual fan into an RHCP die hard and it was because of that album and the summer of 2002 which is high in the running for the best summer of my life. We’d head down to Portland and then roll over to Bailey’s family cabin at Cannon Beach, the place we all know from The Goonies. 

We also rocked the “Californication” album quite a bit on these trips. Every time we stopped into a convenience store for gas Farncomb and I would head inside to procure logistics (logpac), and then tell Bailey “we got snacks and supplies.” It took the better part of a year before Bailey realized that’s a direct lyric quote from “Road Trippin’.”

Since I can’t pin down specifics as to which memories relate to which trips to Oregon I wanted to capture some of my favorites in one mashup. And that’s the point of what you’re reading today.

There was that one time where Bailey introduced us to his old high school sweetheart. I instigated this because he showed me a picture of this beauty when we were in the field doing Army stuff and I couldn’t believe that this girl actually talked to this awkward chump at some point. Maybe I’ll type up the longer version of that story some other time, but like I said earlier I was Bailey’s Best Man. And yeah, she was the girl. A fantastic person as it turned out. Sometimes the storybook ending actually happens.

There was the time where Bailey and I rolled down to his family’s cabin at Cannon Beach for New Year’s Eve weekend right after Farncomb left the Army. We took two other friends but I remember it wasn’t the same because he wasn’t there to join us anymore. All good things must come to an end, right?

There was the time we found ourselves as guests at Bailey’s future bride’s house. Just three American soldiers in a sea of otherwise normal people. My favorite memory of that time is when I woke up alone downstairs the next morning and Bailey walked into the room. Party was long since over but I was the sole survivor in the room by the pool. He picked up an empty bottle of Sauza tequila.

B: “Hoss, did you drink all of this?”
H: “Did you have any?”
B: “No...”
H: “Then...yes.”

Most of all, there were the times that the three of us ended up at his family cabin in Cannon Beach. The routine was always the same. Great drive down there, listening to rock songs, stopping at the store to get a weekend’s worth of beer, and setting up our Alpha Alpha for two days. We’d take a whole weekend just to enjoy being friends and enjoying the freedoms that people who never lived on a military base take for granted.

We would make a campfire on the beach at sunset and drink beers until we cleaned out the cooler. Some of the greatest conversations of my life happened in those days. There’s something magical about those moments drinking beers and talking about totally unimportant shit with my best friends. I’d go on, but those conversations are for me. Get your own.

And one of my personal favorite things about these trips didn’t involve my buddies at all. I would claim the top floor of the cabin which had a central fireplace and glass windows that faced the Pacific Ocean while they slept in the proper bedrooms downstairs. I’d use the CD player to play Pearl Jam live albums from their Binaural and Riot Act tours while I drifted off to sleep. One of these was especially awesome: Live at State College, PA which at the time was the longest show Pearl Jam had ever done. At the time there was no way I could have known I’d end up calling Pennsylvania home almost 10 years into the future. Listening to songs like Better Man, Black, and Yellow Ledbetter while I reflected on how great it was to have spent such great days with my friends.

Like all good times, they would eventually come to an end. In the short term we had to pack up and head back to Fort Lewis. In the long term we went our separate ways like the guys at the end of Stand By Me. We’ve all got our own personal baggage from our Army days. Every now and then I’ll speak with Farncomb and it’s good for both of us. We’ve got similar issues and it feels good to talk to an old friend who gets it. And Bailey? Well, by all accounts he’s doing super well. I still chuckle when I think about him realizing our “snacks and supplies” joke was actually a Red Hot Chili Peppers song and he was the last guy to get that pop culture reference.

Those were some of the best days of my life. Like I’ve told many people since then, all of my best Army stories have nothing to do with actual Army work. Nowadays I’m a 42 year old IRS agent, but I like to think my friends just consider me not as a Veteran or Government employee, but as a musician, master of comedic timing, a good listener, and an all around awesome person. And sometimes, like right now, I wax nostalgic for those times when I was fortunate enough to escape to the beach with my buddies and forget about life’s problems while we just lived it up as human beings and good friends.

“Road Trippin’ with my two favorite allies
Fully loaded, we got snacks and supplies 
It’s time to leave this town, it’s time to steal away
Let’s go get lost somewhere in the USA.”






Saturday, December 1, 2018

Great God Montagawea

"Oh Great God Montagawea, grant us your favor," the assembly implored in unison. The statue stood still as the theatrics began.

First came the swaying and chanting starting with a low rumble. Over the next minute or so the pitch climbed higher and the swaying turned to stepping then to jumping. What had been a low "ohm" was now shrill exclamations of "awhoo!"

At the sound of a whip-crack, the assembly fell to their knees, silent. The rumbling began again, slowly, gently. It again edged toward ferver, the mass of people now creating waves with their bodies as they plunged down to touch the ground with their foreheads then shot up straight to stretch their arms into the sky. At the height of the activity again a whip cracked. The assembly dove to the floor.

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Top 10 Favorite Albums



The other night I was listening to a deep cut I hadn't heard in years off one of my favorite albums. I started nostalgia trippin' pretty hard and got to thinking, can I even possibly pick 10 favorites, the ones that made such a huge impact I can listen to them from start to finish at any time? Turns out I can. I quickly wrote down my favorites which took next to no effort, although I did have to trim the list a bit to get it to 10. 

Honorable mentions: Dirt (Alice In Chains), Core (Stone Temple Pilots), I Remember Clifford (Arturo Sandoval), Audioslave (self-titled), Born in the USA (Bruce Springsteen), Genesis (self-titled), Graceland (Paul Simon) and all of "Weird Al" Yankovic's first six albums.




10. Sports - Huey Lewis and the News

When I was about 8 years old or so I had a Walkman and one of my Mom’s coworkers got me two Huey Lewis cassettes for Christmas: Picture This and Sports. It was a great surprise, and since I had so few albums I used to listen to those two constantly. It started a lifelong habit of listening to music while I drifted off to sleep. Sports was the better of the two and one of the defining albums of my childhood. To this day every time I hear "If This Is It" I picture my own version of a music video that I conjured up way back then: Han Solo singing the song to Leia in Bespin’s carbon freeze chamber while the stormtroopers sing the "doo-wop" backing vocals. It’s the best video that never existed.



9. Tell Me I’m Pretty - Cage The Elephant

This album was given to me by a buddy at at SouthHouse in Philadelphia who knew I was a huge fan of Cage The Elephant. And 5 months later he got me a meet & greet with the band since he had enough industry connections to get that kind of street cred. We got smashed on IPAs and it was a killer concert. Cage is my favorite modern band and it’s probably because they kind of sound like a late 60s rock band, especially on this album. In my opinion, it’s not only the best of the bunch but the one album that feels like a solid and complete effort from start to finish. "Trouble", "Too Late To Say Goodbye" and "Cold, Cold, Cold" are just a few of the highlights. It’s so good that it beat out some classic 90s albums to earn a spot on my personal favorites list.



8. Brothers in Arms - Dire Straits

This is the first album I can remember me and my mom both loving equally, even though she was dubious when I first told her about the "chicks for free" song I’d heard sometime in second grade. Whether we were driving around town or taking road trips from Reno up to the Sierra Nevadas or over to the Bay Area to visit family, I always had the Chewbacca seat for navigation and tape deck duties in her Isuzu Trooper II. We had an ammo can as a cassette tape holder (true story) and Brothers In Arms was always on the top row, along with Genesis and The Kinks' State of Confusion to name a few. But hot damn, even today the nine tracks on this album are still a masterpiece. From the first chill notes of "So Far Away", Mark Knopfler’s incredible guitar riff on "Money For Nothing", the acoustic magic of "The Man’s Too Strong," to that funky '80s slap bass on "One World"...this album stands the test of time for me. An underrated work of genius.



7. Yield - Pearl Jam

I should get this out of the way right now: Pearl Jam is my favorite band even though I didn’t really discover them until 1998 which was about 6 years after their heyday. High school was 1990 - 1994 but I spent so much time studying jazz and classical music that the grunge era barely registered on my radar. I only heard rock songs when I was on the bus to or from DeLand High School and sadly I...missed the bus (zing!) on '90s rock for several years. When I lived in Tallahassee at the impressionable age of 21 I met some great friends who were Pearl Jam fans and we went to see them live in Fort Lauderdale on the Yield tour. I spent many hours delivering pizzas to broke college students At FSU while getting introduced to Pearl Jam via their 5th studio album. And if you’ve ever been in my house, surely you’ve noticed the huge Yield sign on the wall. My best friend in the Army recon-ed that bad boy for me off an Air Force golf course just because he knew I would love it. To this day I still consider it the best gift I’ve ever received. I went from studying music theory to a hard rocking Gen X-er because of this album. It’s evolution, baby.



6. Stadium Arcadium - Red Hot Chili Peppers

On any given day if you ask me what my favorite RHCP album is I’ll flip my 1922 silver dollar and tell you it’s either this or #2 on this list. After a really hard time in my life I moved back to Florida with my mom’s help and started to put my life on track. This album came out in 2006 and while I liked it at first, it wasn’t until several years later that I realized it was RHCP’s magnum opus and truly appreciated the album as a whole. I could talk all day about every track on this incredible double album. Everyone knows "Dani California" and "Snow (Hey Oh)", but it’s the gems like "Slow Cheetah," "Hey," "Desecration Smile" and "Wet Sand" that are the true standouts here. And Frusciante’s blistering guitar solo on "Turn It Again" is the best goodbye to old friends and fans alike that I’ve ever heard.



5. Baker’s Dozen - Larry Hosford

Yeah, you probably haven’t heard of this guy or the album. But if you have, that means you’re in a select group of fans who appreciated my old man’s tunes. I called him Dad, others called him a true Son of Salinas. He never made it big, but yet he made a big impact to the right people. This was always my favorite of his albums due in large part to the fact that I was present during the recording sessions in the summer of 1987 at MARS. Not gonna lie, I’m slightly partial to the official recorded version of "Ben Henry" with a phenomenal Fender Stratocaster guitar solo by Jeff Cruse. The musicians that worked with my dad on this recording treated me like an equal and didn’t make me feel like a kid, which is a pretty big deal when you're 11 years old. I even got backing vocals and album credit on one song. You can argue which of Lorenzo’s albums are the best, but I’ll stand by this one until the end. Sometime before he died on November 26, 2016 he managed to get this in an official CD Format re-titled as "High On Livin' " after the title track, and it also included his classic "Salinas" as a bonus. But I’ve always preferred the original "unofficial" album and track order when it was just 13 tracks - a baker’s dozen. His explanation to me was how I learned what that term meant.



4. Nothing Like the Sun - Sting

Earlier I mentioned how my mom and I used to listen to many great albums on road trips and bonded over that. In my opinion this was the best of the best. I was never a huge fan of Sting's other solo albums and didn’t know much about The Police when I was a kid, but it didn’t matter. This album is an absolute masterpiece and stands on its own. Plus it introduced me to saxophonist extraordinaire Branford Marsalis who I studied a lot when I was learning jazz sax in high school. I have fond memories of "Englishman In New York," (especially the soprano sax solo and outro) "History Will Teach Us Nothing," and the cover of "Little Wing" which was my accidental introduction to the world of Jimi Hendrix. If I ever stumble into a conversation for the best one-album-wonder contender, this takes my top spot.



3. GRP All-Star Big Band - GRP Various Artists
This album is a powerhouse of 12 classic jazz tracks arranged for big band format starring the GRP label’s biggest artists in the early '90s, hence the rather uncreative title. But don't let that fool you. This gem introduced me to names like Arturo Sandoval, Eric Marienthal, John Patitucci, Ernie Watts and Bob Mintzer. Since I was all about jazz in high school and my two best friends also played sax, we were totally into this album. And even today I can still follow along to every single magical note of each song. This was the gateway that got me into the artists' individual albums, most notably the stunning I Remember Clifford tribute album by Sandoval. And to my dying day I will attest that Eric Marienthal’s stand-up-and-shout alto sax solo on "Sister Sadie" is one of the most badass things I’ve ever heard in my life. But most importantly, this album will always remind me of good times and many great friends at DeLand High School that I won't ever see again.



2. Blood Sugar Sex Magik - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Yep. Talk about influential albums. RHCP is my second favorite band (or really, tied for first) and this right here is a great example of a generation-defining album. It came on the scene in 1991 and I was introduced to it thanks to the lone baritone sax player in high school. At the time I remember thinking, yeah, this isn’t my jam. But when I was in the Army 10 years later and really discovered the Chili Peppers I came to appreciate the true genius of this album. If there’s a list of Generation X’s defining albums then I guarantee this (and my #1) are both on the list. It starts of strong with "The Power of Equality," and the next thing you know you're already grooving to "If You Have to Ask" and it's too late - you've got to listen to the entire album.  "I Could Have Lied" is one of my favorites to play on guitar. Who can’t relate to the sorrow in that song? "Under The Bridge" speaks for itself. Yes, it's overplayed and everyone knows it, but there's a reason it holds up. And "Sir Psycho Sexy?" I’ve only seen the Chili Peppers live once on February 13, 2016 and can’t tell you how excited I was to hear that jam. Once in a blue moon I’ll still bust out that song for karaoke if I’m drunk enough. "Soul To Squeeze" is somehow one of their best known songs from the recording sessions even though it didn't make the album and ended up as a B-side. Anyone who knows me nowadays knows how much meaning that song has for me.



1. Ten - Pearl Jam

It's the best album of all time. These things are subjective but you’re never gonna convince me otherwise, so don’t bother trying. Even though I missed the boat on the grunge phase I still eventually grew to love this album while driving around the streets of Tallahassee, delivering pizzas and singing "Porch" at the top of my lungs in my Nissan Sentra. This album is 11 tracks of "I'm on my own and nobody gets me" goodness, although I will admit there’s a 50/50 chance I skip "Jeremy" since it’s a pretty repetitive ("woo woo woo woo woo woo"). It’s a complete album that still rocks the house after all these years. “Even Flow” might be my favorite straight up rock song of all time. Everybody can relate to "Black" because the pain in that song is universal. I still don't know exactly what "Garden" means to me, but damn that's a great song. "Release" is not just Eddie Vedder’s unspoken message to his dad who he never met, it’s my own as well. And "Alive?" Like Eddie himself once said, the song came about because of a death (his father’s), but us Pearl Jam fans turned it into our own song. And now it’s an anthem - a celebration of life. Eddie explained that fans can take the meaning of a song and change it because it means something different to them, and now it's their song too. Mike McCready's guitar solo on the album version of "Alive" is my favorite solo of all time. And last but not least: "Yellow Ledbetter" is one of the most heartfelt songs ever from the recording sessions and everyone knows the tune, but just like "Soul To Squeeze" it was a B-side that didn’t make the album. I think the way they play it live is the best way to close out a rock concert, and it’s appropriate that in 2009 right before I moved to Philadelphia, Pearl Jam was the last band to play at the Spectrum and "Yellow Ledbetter" was the last song played before it was torn down.



In closing, these albums have had a lasting impact on my life and I've got a lot of fond memories attached to them. Not just to the music, but also to the friends and family I associate with these albums, even those folks I won't see again. I heard a quote once that music is the closest thing we have to magic, and I've always agreed with that.



“Where I go I just don’t know

I got to got to gotta take it slow

When I find my peace of mind

I’m gonna give ya some of my good time.”

Monday, November 5, 2018

Tall Tower, Little Library


[I should have taken a picture of the KOMTAR Tower - this is the library inside.]

Tiny Library
in Georgetown
Tallest Building
For Miles Around

---

Chicken Satay Pizza
Smallest one you've got
As filling as two full meals
Best to eat it hot

---

Book a ticket now
Arrive in twenty four
I hope I still have time
To get to Kuala Lumpur

Thursday, November 1, 2018

"Patience" Contest Poems

ONE

Slow it Down
Cool it Kid
Use the Ego
Not the Id

Patience Waits
Patience Won
Spider’s Web
Is slow Spun

I Know that Look
Predator-Prey
Lusty Pursuit
Drives Love Away

So Take Your Time
Thineself Make Better
If You’re the “Catch”
Then You’ll Get Her

---

TWO

On sky-blue pond, a yellow boat
In which, a man, in denim coat
Has set his rods, some line, and bait
And comfy seat in which to wait
But his quarry, freely, swim below
Under boat and to and fro
For denim man has thoughts conflated
Patience and Idleness need separated
For the former can get you what you wish
While the latter might find you too drunk to fish!!

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Two Jack-o-Lanterns walk into a Bar

“Hey, Jack.”

“Yes, Jack?”

“You hear the one about the two muffins?”

“No?”

“Two muffins are sitting in an oven. The first turns to the second and says ‘is it getting hot in here?’ The second screams ‘EEK! A TALKING MUFFIN!’”


(written for a contest on Steemit ~1500 words)

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

A Very Scary Story

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that until you’re older.” The trio of children made their disappointment known through moans and wails. After a moment, Susie spoke up.
“Grampa, we’ve heard all sorts of monster stories! We’re not afraid of your scariest story!” Her siblings agreed with exaggerated nods of their small heads. A mischievous smile peaked out behind the older man’s gray mustache.
“I don’t know…” he teased the trio seated around the small table. A new chorus of ‘please’ just made him smile all the more. The three children made for an overwhelmingly cute sight - each with a handful of wrappers that once held Halloween candy and a mug of half-drank hot chocolate (with marshmallows - their Grandmother made sure of that!) in front of them.
When the begging died down, the older man adjusted his glasses and leaned back in his chair. The three went silent to hear his verdict.

Friday, October 26, 2018

Keep your eyes peeled!

It's amazing what people don't notice, he thought. And the ones that do often choose to keep it to themselves, preferring not to stir the pot. I suppose that's the only reason I get away with this shit.

The middle-aged man kept a blank expression on his face as he pushed his dolly down the street. A half dozen people passed him by, enveloped in their own little worlds. Some on phones - texting, calling, using whatever app was most important at that moment. Still more listening to music or podcasts or just isolating themselves with their headphones.

His wheels clacked along the brickwork as he passed pairs conversing. Groups were the most dangerous - there was often one among them who had been frozen out of the conversation and was, therefore, on the lookout for something upon which they could remark and thereby reenter their friends' world. When he saw a group, he made sure to angle away and look interested in some phenomena across the street. That usually seemed to distract them long enough to pass by without comment.

He was just a short way out from his destination when he spotted a major problem - a young man walking down the street, chin up and eyes taking in every sight. The older man knew this look - it was his own, just in a body twenty years his junior. He angled slightly and attempted to tailgate some other pedestrians, but he knew he'd been spotted. the real question was whether or not the young man would say anything.

The two passed. A little bit further and the older man would be in the clear.

"Excuse me," came a confident interjection.

Shit. The older man stopped. There were rules.

"Are you carting around three pickled heads?"

The older man felt both defeated and amused. As he rarely got stopped, he had money riding on this particular attempt. That being said, it was fun to get noticed.

"I am, though they're fakes," he responded.

"Ah. Any particular reason?"

"Art project and a bet. I bet that no one would say anything for twenty blocks."

"Oh. That's weird. How far did you make it?"

"Nineteen."

"Ha! Well, better luck next time."

[written 28 Feb '16]

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

War Zone

I watched them from across the street through my tears.

The rabbi-philosopher Abraham Heschel - or at least I think it was him - once wrote about witnessing the sublime in the transcendent experience of children playing. What an overwhelming feeling.

A dozen gunshots rang out, but the children took no notice - they knew innately what was near and what was far as they played with their airplanes fashioned from shrapnel. I, on the other hand, flinched - I was still getting used to the fact that Death had his hand on everyone's shoulder.

After an eternity, I stood up, knees creaking. A small amount of dust and grit fell off my leather jacket and thick khaki pants.

[...]


Tuesday, October 9, 2018

Bangkok Blues



A little drizzle
A quiet park
A smiling face
Under an Umbrella
A second meeting
A moment's spark
A lifted spirit
For this Fella
.
^^
.
Bangkok
Raindrop
Condensation
Inebriation

Wednesday, October 3, 2018

Tuk Tuk Goose


Mister! Mister!
Where you from?
You see Big Buddha?
I take you
Forty Baht!
No?
Twenty Baht!
No?
Ten Baht!
You come back.
I stay here.

Monday, October 1, 2018

Sunrise Land



Tired Travelin' Trio
Slouchin'
Listing now port
now starboard
A train jolt
eyes spark
no fuel to catch
burnt out
burnt out
.
.
.
Soccer Player Pipsqueak
Standing on my foot
I cannot imagine
How, to him, I look
So we look together
At people falling asleep
I don't mind too much
Him standing on my feet

Saturday, September 29, 2018

Aloha and Mahalo

[no picture because I forgot]

Aloha and Mahalo!
Thank you and Hello!
I need to write a poem
But now it's time to go


LAX lacks sex
HNL ain't hell
KIX plays tricks
'cause
DMK ain't BKK

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Raise the Flag

Best as I can recall, this is my first trip to a strip club. I'm sure there's a more P.C. or professional name for these joints, but let's call it what it is: a strip club outside an Army base. It's possible I've been here before with Warner and Wolff, but whether it's our first trip or not is irrelevant. The point is, Dick Lips is in the house and that's all that really matters. Otherwise this is just one more forgettable night lost among beer-hazed memories.

Imagine you have a completely repressed hardcore fundamentalist Republican Mormon churchgoer with zero social skills. Zero. A dude whose ideals were passed on without ever being allowed to critically think or form his own opinion about anything (except Rammstein - he loves those fuckers and I seriously doubt he got that from his parents). A guy who is ardently against everything a strip club has to offer and exposed to all the evils of society. Evils like overpriced drinks and girls who pretend they're actually into you at a rate of $20 per four minute rock song. Just imagine this person. The kind of guy who isn't savvy enough to realize he's wearing his helmet backwards. And don't worry, I'll tell you that story another time. So what happens when you introduce this individual to such a wretched den of iniquity?

Well apparently said individual takes all his fundamentalist ideals and throws them right out the fucking window. Because tits. And ass.

The sign outside says "Deja Vu - Showgirls." Yeah, it's a chain. God bless America. What would hardworking soldiers and airmen stationed around Tacoma do without such a place? Go out and try to actually speak with girls in the wild? And face rejection? Fuck that, it's payday. Friday. "The day the Eagle shits," as our First Sergeant always says.

And that slogan: "100's of beautiful girls - and 3 ugly ones." McDonald's marketing has got nothing on Deja Vu. That billions and billions served bit is old and busted.

I've already had my inaugural lap dance and fallen into the whole trap about buying your dancer a super overpriced non-alcoholic beverage. I don't understand the scam right now, but I've got that feeling that if I don't do it then Moose and Rocko are going to haul my ass out onto the street. I've got cash to burn so I go with the flow for one round. Don't rock the boat. I learned at a young age that's the easiest way to get through any unknown situation. Go with the goddamn flow.

I don't recall which song they just played even as I leave the VIP room. I would have preferred "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails but probably got "All Star" by Smash Mouth. It's already a haze. Anyway, I get roped into the whole buy your dancer a drink routine along with Warner and Wolff. We were very clearly marked as newbies the moment we walked into this place. So they're in the same situation. Three dudes, and three ladies desperately watching the clock so they can skate away from the fake conversation after like three minutes.

Meanwhile, Dick Lips is still sitting there looking awkward and trying to tell us to leave. This isn't the kind of place for people to be. These dancers are someone's daughter. That whole spiel.

So I don't even know how it happens, but of course he breaks down eventually. It takes maybe ten minutes. I'm laughing and high fiving the Super W Brothers when some girl gets ol' Wild Man to break down and leads him by the hand back to a private booth. We did it. We got him to realize he's a normal guy just like everyone else, with a dick and everything. Ok, well maybe not like everyone else. We can do things like tell a joke and remember to tie both shoes before leaving the house. But you get the idea.

Next thing I know Dick Lips is back at our table after the song ends. And I can't believe my fucking eyes. This dude is standing around, out of breath like he just sprinted a half mile. And he's got a raging tentpole. Kinda hard not to miss because we're sitting down and Cap'n Winky is at eye level.

"Jesus Christ, Wild Man! Wolff shouts. "Have a good time in there?"

"Huh?" He looks down. "Oh, yeah."

I've seen a lot of shitty 80s comedies and I thought the lap dance boner trope was just a joke. Nope. Dick Lips has got a rager going.

"Dude, fucking sit down man." He does.

Over the rest of the evening before we leave which is probably about an hour or so until we hit up a bar, two notable things happen. One: a dancer tells me that a bouncer has escorted Warner to an ATM off the premises because his card didn't work at the ATM in here. So we probably shouldn't leave without him. She's a nice girl. Probably pre-med. Law school, maybe. And Two: Dick Lips enthusiastically runs up after his second or fifth lap dance and tells us there's a girl on girl shower scene going on in the VIP lounge.

"Come on guys! It's OK, you can bring your drinks!" He runs off, waving us back to where there is, in fact, a girl on girl shower scene going on. I didn't expect to see two chicks in a kiddie pool when I woke up this morning, but whatever. Roll with it. Wild Man is apparently the guy who knows what's what in this joint.

"What the fuck, it's like he's been going here for years," Wolff says. "This is old hat for him already."

Eventually Warner gets back with sort of an embarrassed look, having been escorted to find his wallet since they wouldn't take an IOU and all. And we have to practically drag Wild Man out so Wolff can drive us to the next bar.

It only takes until Monday afternoon formation before all 80 or so soldiers in Bravo Troop know Dick Lips popped a tentpole in public. This is only the beginning of his legacy.

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Seriously, seven bibles!



Tacos on street
Dorms, no en suite
Sneering
Snaring
Snoring
Awake in ears only
.
.
.
Marching to
Marching fro
Where the hell
Do I go?
Place of note
Stand in line
Is it just
A waste of time?
.
.
.
Seven Bibles
One dictionary
Two bags
A thousand crumbs
Flip
Wrinkle
Crunch
Brush
Brush
Brush
Flip

Sunday, September 23, 2018

Fampire

"I fant to fuck your blood."

"You want to what!?"

"Fuck! Fuck! Flurp. Dwink." The man in the old-fashioned tuxedo pointed toward his extremely long canines. "My teef."

"Oh, sorry."

"It'f juft fo hawd," the man broke down. "No one takef me ferioufly."

The blonde let out a sympathetic coo. "Oh, you poor baby." She moved over and began to stroke the man's arm. "I'm sure it'll work out someday. Have you considered getting them trimmed?"

"Yef." the man stared at the ground. "I'm a fampire. I wegenerate."

The woman sat with him for a minute. "I'm not a virgin you know."

"What?"

"I'm not a virgin. I thought vampires had some preference for virgins or something."

[...]



Saturday, September 22, 2018

to Gabi


A desire we share
From babe to gray haired
Is to be free
And explore where we dare

To wander the land
As long as we can
What cities we'll see
Until we got sand

We'll swim 'round the beach
Whole schools of fish teach
Lessons from the sea
Which we must then preach

We must let others know
How to help the world grow
And how best steward to be
To life high and low

When finished, we'll fly
Soar high in the sky
We'll send word to Gabi
Just to say "Hi!"

Friday, September 21, 2018

Suicide King


I shot myself.

Sometime in March 2006. Not sure of the exact date, but I’m pretty sure it was March. I remember time by relating it to movies. I can remember in startling detail where a saw a movie and who I was with. And in this case I know I had already seen Revenge of the Sith about a year before. And that came out in 2005. So when I tried to kill myself the following year that’s how I know it was 2006.

I used a Glock .40 caliber pistol. Serial number on the barrel was CRF 404. I bought it at a sporting goods store in Tallahassee in the late 90s when I actually feared for my life while delivering shitty pizzas to even shittier neighborhoods.

Anyway, in that spring of 2006 in Portland, Oregon, I damn sure left a suicide note for my then best friend and put a round right through my gut. Left side of the abdomen because I was shooting with the right hand. I was going to go for the head but I chickened out at the last second. Metaphor for my own life, right? Turns out I missed the vital organs so after I realized I made the biggest fuck up of my life and called 911 I had a fair chance and didn’t bleed out. I’ll spare you the details, but it was a shitty experience and I spent 2 weeks in the mental health ward. I’m told it was the same hospital where they filmed One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. Not sure if I’m supposed to wear that as a badge of honor or not.

While I was there I had a few calls from family members at a pay phone in the ward. My mom telling me I should maybe go live with my dad for a while, and my dad saying maybe I should come down to California. Seems like both of them wanted to pawn me off to the other. My parents’ relationship is probably the number one thing that fucked me up since I was six years old, so who knows what I was supposed to make of this.

My best friend and his wife visited me in the hospital. They were good friends and I was the best man at his wedding. This was one of the last times I saw either of them, and flash forward to years in the future: they don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t blame them. I’m a liability.

The one phone call I remember the most was my sister. She broke down even more than I did and I could tell she was in tears. She said, “I just want you to be happy.” We didn’t grow up together, so it really made it that much more poignant when I realized that my actions had hurt her. Of all the moments in my life I don’t think I’ve ever felt as bad as when I heard her crying on the other end of the phone.

After I got out of the hospital I was homeless for a few weeks. About a month in total as I remember it. I grabbed my most important possessions and abandoned the rest to drive down to my grandparents’ house in Salinas where my dad was still freeloading. I remember him yelling at me because he demanded I go with him to some bar to hang out with his friends, while I didn’t want to. Because I was scared of interacting with people. Also I’d just shot myself and tried to remove myself from this Earth. He stormed out. I told my grandma that it was time for me to leave. I got in my truck and left. It was the last time I ever spoke to either of them. Grandma Hosford passed away shortly after this. My dad died 10 years later in 2016. We never spoke in that 10 year span. I was too furious to reach out and he probably didn’t know how.

Ironically I got the news while watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens with my mom in Philly. I say “ironically” because Star Wars was the one thing my Dad & I bonded over. He took me to see Return of the Jedi on opening day May 25, 1983 and it was arguably the best moment of my childhood. To quote Eddie Vedder and Pearl Jam: “Oh how quick the sun can drop away.” I associate Star Wars with my dad, but I remember the first movie I ever saw in theaters was The Empire Strikes Back with my mom. Can you be any more fucked up as an 80s kid in a broken home?

So after the .40 cal event. 10 years later, where am I? I’ve got a great job. I own a house, which is weird because  I was homeless living out of my Ford Ranger for a while until my mom took me back in. I activated the G.I. Bill and Veterans Vocational Rehabilitation, and went to school in Florida at UCF. Eventually I ended up with a degree in accounting and got a great job with the IRS in Philadelphia. I chose that city because my sister lived there. She got engaged while I’d been going back to school and I figured a change of pace would be good for me. And it would be awesome living near a family member who understood the ins and outs of a broken home.

After I moved to Philly my life started to get on track. There was a good 2 years where I didn’t socialize and just adapted to having stability in my life. Eventually I met some folks thanks to the Internet. I have a few good friends to this day dating back to 2013 when I decided to leave the past behind and see what was out there. Guarantee a few of them are reading this story. And to quote my favorite literary character Roland Deschain: Thankee-sai.

One of these friends, a lady... I call her “Bartendress” for the same reason that Charlie in Always Sunny referred to “the Waitress.” She understood my mental health issues. It was the biggest weight off my shoulders knowing that somebody understood. That’s all I needed. Someone to understand. I’ll probably never talk to her again because people go their separate ways and I’m a burden that people would probably prefer to forget. But I will always be grateful that she was an ear when I needed it most.

And although my old friends have lives of their own and we don’t communicate anymore, I do have a few select awesome folks that I met since I moved to Philly. We don’t talk to each other on a daily basis because that’s how it is in adult life. But we’re all there for each other when we need someone to listen.

I consider myself a minor character in everyone else’s story. But since I live my life my song lyrics and love 90s rock, here’s my favorite Alice In Chains chorus that I feel is relevant to this story. If you read this far you’re a champ. Thanks for sticking around.

“You my friend
I will defend
And if we change, well
I’ll love you anyway.”

B.H. Hosford
July 14 1976 - ??