Or maybe just mine. Whatever.

I made a nice song for you.

I wrapped it in your tones.

I bounced amidst its moments.

And then returned you to your shelf.

–

It went like this: Slowly.

–

A True Conversation with My Daughter, Chapter 677

Me: Did you see there’s a chess tournament coming up next month?

Daughter: No thanks.

Me: Why not?

Daughter: Because those kinds of things lead to joining gangs.

–

I’ve stayed home so long I’m beginning to wonder: Do you need a passport to go to Morrisville?

–

This next song is for you:

–

I’ve thought a lot about what you deserve and all. And it amounts to: Nothing.

–

When they say, “the sap is running,” they’re not just talking about the trees. Nope. Because they’re also talking about the fool who spends time boiling it.

–

Fool, meet self.
Enjoy yourselves.

Note to self: Bad blogger, bad.

Note to readers: Whatever.

First up: Music Theft. Or is it video theft? Whatever. Because it’s theft.

The little-snot-nosed poseurs from “PDX” are still trying to fly on the enormous rock-n-roll coattails of the original Drunken Boat (“NYC”). Um, that would be me, the little drummer boy, and – oh – those other four weirdoes.

While doing what every “oh-those-were-the-days” ex-rocker is prone to do from time to time, I was perusing the video goodies from yesteryear. And, much to my surprise, I was treated with the news that Drunken Boat finally did a video of “Salad Days.” Click.

The music is right – it’s a Drunken Boat tune (New York City version, that is). But the images are of the poseurs from the West. Cool – our music and your mugs. Dopes.

Let me be clear: You people better stop this shit or Drunken Boat NYC is going to be traveling west to rock you into your senses. And we’re fucking nuts. Trust me.

[Note to my regular readers who might be wondering about the tone of the above piece: It’s all about rock-n-roll street cred, if you know what I mean. If not, roll with it. Sort of. If you wouldn’t mind and all.]

It all reminds me of the glory days of playing rock and roll in New York City’s finest rock establishments. There was, for example, that day we showed up to a sound check at CBGBs. Along with our sorry souls were a dozen or so other misfits milling about nervously.

The badass soundman finally made his move to create some order. He pointed rather animatedly toward one group of misfits: “Are you “The Total Idiots?”

No, they said with their heads – shaking quickly as if to also indicate a certain sense of contempt for the assertion. And then, in unison, they replied: “We’re the “Complete Fools.”

Of course.

Rock and fucking roll, my friends.

But stop stealing our shit.

Oh yeah, the video. NYC DBoat’s Salad Days placed to the images of some west coast bunch of wussies. It’s below. And the song is especially significant to Mr. and Mrs. Us because it was played at our wedding ceremony in 19-fucking-91. She’s still with me. Imagine that.

–

Short Story No. 769

She pinched him hard as she passed in the marketplace.

He flinched. But less so than the pinch had warranted.

So she pinched again.

This time, he yelped and flailed.

But to no avail. For neither of them.

And so it continued, for years and years to come.

The end. Or not.

–

All This Time

I thought you were different.

Now I know.

Ho-hum.

–

He smelled of smoke; dense, summertime campfire smoke. The kind burned loose from green wood. The kind started by a man seeking to make maple syrup in what must be the most inefficient way possible. But he seemed happy about it, if not slightly tired.

And the best news was the he mostly stopped bugging others. It was, after all, sugar season.

–

Oh boy, and tonight I get to go to the Worcester Selectboard Meeting and try to explain to them why crushing gravel in the middle of the village isn’t such a great idea.

Perhaps I’ll try something new: I’ll come out in favor of it and assure its demise.

All together now: Good thinking, Moike.

–

Oh yeah, about that big announcement. Here it goes. No, wait. Not yet. But soon.

–

After collecting and boiling sap for more hours than I want to count, I’m pleased – if not slightly embarrassed – to report that we’re heading toward our fourth gallon of pure maple syrup. That should explain why I’ve continually smelled like a campfire for the last two-plus weeks.

Are there no limits to my mad pursuit of the old and uneconomical ways? I think not.

–

Thanks for playing.

This looked easy.

Well, it’s just you.

And we know why you’re here and all.

–

I sat in the woods for twelve hours yesterday. And I never felt better. But next time I’ll try it without the beer.

–

Sugaring is a mindset. And I have downloaded it.

See:

1. Count.
2. Ponder.
3. Watch.
4. Re-count.
5. Re-ponder.
6. Re-watch.

Dude, I think I’ve got it.

–

Today I became a student again. Yep, after dropping out of college with one course to go in 1986 (University of Iowa), I found myself sitting in a classroom once again today. But this time – today, that is – I was studying something far better than political science: post and beam construction.

–

A man I once knew approached me today. He was nervous. He fidgeted more than I like to be around fidgeting, if you know what I mean. I think he was sweating, too, even though it wasn’t hot. Not even warm, in fact. But I can’t be sure. If he was sweating, that is. Because he made me too nervous watching him be so nervous that I lost track of who was watching whom be nervous.

“Tools,” he said, plaintively. “The secret is in the tools.”

Of course.

–
This year’s best death-rock band is now featuring Jim Carroll, Vic Chesnutt and Mark Linkous (see Sparklehorse video below). As Carroll would sing, “ they were all my friends, and they died.” Musically speaking, they were. And they did. Damn it.

–

And, for some reason, this song was going through my head all day long. No, make that: All. Day. Long:

–

They said if you keep smiling while you say, “Vermont,” you could stay longer.

So many rules. But all in the name of: Self-love.

–

Note to Deb Markowitz: That opening speech was dreadful. You seem more interested in being something that someone – or many someones – wants you to be. Worse, you’re apparently not very good at being that someone. So stop. And just be yourself.

–

That’s all, folks.

Sorry, life took over in that way only life can: completely and totally. And I gladly surrendered to it. Other than the under-employment, it’s all good – especially the sugaring project (see photos below).

These have been the days that will not be forgotten, a magical winter and an early spring spent with my daughter, Bel, as we seek to morph the needs of schooling with the pleasures of living and being.

Thanks for your patience.