The Womb Sessions : Part 1 ...

After our usual Saturday morning bagel fantasia, Bug and I began setting up The Womb for an exciting, long awaited project ... the first kirtan recordings with Beth Ann!

It's been a long time since I've made a record. Close to seven years. And though Bug drum teched for me on that session, it's been quite a bit longer than that since her and I have worked as a producer / engineer team. Truth be told, we've never worked on something together with the potential to be heard by so many people ...

We did remember, mercifully, that the first day of any session is a breach birth. Things don't ever work how you think they should, even now when our 21st gear makes our nightmares of the VS-880 seem like they happened to someone else. So even though we started setting up around 11am, and BA arrived around 130, we didn't start any meaningful tracking 'til close to 4pm.

Once we began, though, we found our groove pretty quickly, which was impressive considering BA has never been in a recording situation. EVER. It took us a few takes to get our first tune in the can, but once we did, the other two followed fairly quickly, and in about three and a half hours, we had about 35 minutes of music recorded. Now to rest our ears, and mix in a few days ...

It was so rewarding and validating for us to do this. For Bug and I, it was a return to form, and proof that we could take on a project of this size (we're planning on doing four or five more sessions, and turning this into a double album) and for BA, it was validating that she could rise to a challenge of this magnitude with grace and power. Oh my, there are bits on here I cannot wait for you to hear!

After BA left, Bug and I were exhausted but happy (knackered was the word of the evening) and we went out for a quiet dinner (sushi and Wendy's) with E. We reflected a bit on our work, but mostly we were quiet, and quietly proud. The yawning started at dinner, and hasn't stopped, and now it's time for it to stop. By hitting the couch.

Deep gratitude to Beth Ann, and to Bug, for an absolutely perfect day.

Reunion With The Muse ...

The morning was quiet. The afternoon was meltdown-y. But I'll spare you that story.

Better to begin at 8pm, when I picked up The Muse so we could continue birthday week. How can it be that we haven't had an evening together since Imbolc?!? Hell, we haven't even seen each other since that awful mid-February shamanic journey. I know we're a bit star-crossed, but still ...

Before we got to our proper birthday celebration & reunion, we stopped at the kirtan superjam up the street, so I could bail Beth Ann out of a flat gig I'd previously turned down, and so The Muse could hear a little of our music. (She's only heard us once; at that strange kundalini gig on New Year's Eve.) Walking in the studio, I was not surprised that they didn't turn the temperature down from hospice, since I wasn't actually supposed to be there.

There was a nice crowd, over 30 people, and with the door right at the front of the room, there was no real graceful way for me to enter without causing a ruckus. So I just owned it, and swanned in like Snape in my big black coat, and admit I was not all that surprised when people started clapping. Even though this was supposed to be a devotional event. I'm such a troublemaker sometimes ...

It's kind of hard to talk about what happened next without sounding like an insufferable asshat. So I'll just say that it took me about half a measure to completely change the energy in the room, and the clapping did not stop, and The Muse and I could not stop looking at each other. (She later told me my playing was "sexy" ... ) I finished the song, then played Jai Ma, then swanned out as suddenly as I appeared. We did have other plans, after all ...

She wanted to go somewhere nice, somewhere elegant, which is a bit tough with my limited palette, but we eventually agreed on Veggie Heaven. Unfortunately, she had a hard time conveying to the waiter how utterly severe her tree nut allergy is, so she ended up barely eating. But we had a solution for that ...

She remembered the corner booth of the PQ very fondly from our Imbolc date, so we went there for part two. We had been building our parallel world all night, from the minute she got in the car before the kirtan, but when we settled into that booth, everything got deeper, sharper, more honest.

So much of what we feel and talk about is so personal, (though much of it does end up as fuel for my poems), so I hope you'll forgive me for not going into too much detail here. Just know that when we're together we see each other as no one else sees us, and we know that we are continuing a story with roots that go so so very deep. There is nothing like these nights. Nothing.

It was already after midnight when we got back in the car. Neither of us wanted me to take her home. We just wanted to drive forever. But that wasn't possible, of course, so we headed back. When we pulled up to her house, before the I don't want to go hugging, I showed her the Sigur Ros video from my phone. She cried. I cried. And that was that.

Fuck. Just ... fuck.
Why does life have to be so complicated sometimes?
Good night.

Another Year Around The Sun ...

It was my birthday today. I'm a lot older than I look, but I feel like I'm getting younger. Every year that passes, I seem to need wonder more and more in my life. My metaphors may change, but my hunger for it, and the utter fucking necessary-ness of it, just keeps growing.

The first part of the day was quiet, with E & J at work, but so much love & kindness from my other dear ones. Emails & a blog comment from Nancy. A text from Julia. An email & card from Beth Ann. Tweets from Cara, Erin, Patrick, Tempest & Bug's new friend Sae. I admit, I love being loved.

When the workday ended, there were lovely cards to read and a few presents to unwrap. (The big present was Sigur Ros the other night, of course.) A few Gene Kelly movies. The new Justin Timberlake album. And a little dinosaur named Douglas. Yes, he's a brachiosaurus ...

My birthday dinner, not that this should surprise anyone, was at the PQ, before getting on the road to head to the only place that would make sense for me to have celebrations at this point in my life. Yes ... that means The City for the third time in four nights. Is it any wonder I just want to stay there ...

The traffic on the West Side was unusually stiff, so we took Riverside to Broadway and drove through Times Square at 7pm, which was just as stiff but infinitely more colorful. These are the things which must be obeyed on birthdays ... color, whimsy, and not taking things too seriously!

We got to our garage on 14th street, and walked down 6th to the IFC Center, to see the latest Studio Ghibli flick, From Up On Poppy Hill. Year in and year out, Miyazaki-san and his company produce stories that are unlike anything else you will see. I'm already looking forward to The Wind Is Rising ...

After the movie, we headed back up 6th to 14th to Broadway, where we stopped at Max Brenner's for chocolate. We had planned on sitting, but it was PACKED at 10pm, so we got our Italian Thick Hot Chocolate (or melted brownie in a cup) and went to sit on the steps at Union Square.

What a perfect way to end a birthday, in my necessary city, sitting there at Broadway and 14th eating heavenly chocolate with my family, watching an inept skateborder try to do tricks. I didn't want to leave. I never want to leave. But it was late, and so we left, for now.

Thank you to E & J, for yet another birthday together (give or take 20) and everyone else who loved me and sent me words that told me I mattered to them, that I make a difference on some level. Really, that's the reason to continue onward, isn't it? Love. Always love.

Birthday Week Continues ...

It was Wednesday today, and E and I were uncommonly in tune from minute one. We went North, to all the usual places. The good vibe and open hearts continued through the entire day. I do want to say that after seven years, we were finally able to return to a very special secret spot, along the Mighty Hudson, that has been flooded every single time we've tried to access it since 2006. It was as time-stop-y and soul restoring as the Beaverkill spot from a few weeks ago. No, I will not tell you how to get there.

I'd really like to let my pictures tell the rest of the story. Enjoy.

It's been my birthday for almost an hour already. Huzzah! Big fun planned for tomorrow. Can. Not. Wait.

Good night.

Another Night In The City ...

I am so damn tired I am barely forming sentences. By necessity, this will be brief.

It was my second consecutive night in the city, this time for the monthly Interstitial Arts Salon down in the West Village. Our usual host, my friend Tempest, wasn't going to be able to attend, so she asked me to host this month, which was very cool. There ended up only being about 8 people, which was fine as it meant I didn't have to stand on a chair and deliver a speech. It was a bit of a weird vibe, with a group that small, as four of us knew each other and were very heart centered, and the other four were new and were VERY head centered / post modern / skeptics. Right when my other friend Ricardou (another shamanic practitioner, of all things) and I were getting frustrated and ready to leave, Tempest showed up after all, and we drove her up to Inwood to end the night.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the continuation of birthday week, with the arrival of this lovely and so very me gift from The Dear Boy. Now I have a sonic screwdriver pen for my purse! Just like a proper Time Lord! Huzzah!

Practically slurring here. Good night.

One Of The Great Nights ...

You might not know this, but Bug and I rarely go out and do things together, just her and me. Part of that is my fault. Part of it is hers. After nearly 20 years, we've never been closer, but whatever the reason, that hardly ever manifests itself in going on adventures.

Tonight was a rare exception, and it was all the more exceptional because of its rarity.

To kick off my birthday week with a bang, we went to Madison Square Garden to see one of our favorite bands, Sigur Ros. (Remember, I mentioned this a few days ago?) Normally we shy away from arena shows, but we had a pretty strong feeling this one would be different.

We were right. We were so so very right.

Readers with long memories might remember that all three of us went to see Sigur Ros' singer/guitarist Jonsi at a theater show (about two blocks from the Garden, oddly enough) back in 2010. It was without hyperbole one of the most beautiful, emotional, borderline overwhelming shows we've ever seen.

Though she would have liked to go, E had to teach her weekly yoga class, and the last time she gave her class over to a sub, it literally killed the program she had at the time. So besides her honorability and work ethic, superstitiously, we was concerned about not being there.

So Bug and I headed out around 6pm, got a cheap garage with my trusty app, had a little walk in the drizzle (thankfully nothing worse!) and got to MSG around 745. Since we didn't feel like being bombarded by some opening act, we sat across the street at the Roy Rogers.

Heading in to the venue around 815, we noticed how different it looked, and I realised we hadn't actually seen a show at the Garden since 2004! The main chamber looked the same, of course, and as it turns out, the opening act was ambient music, so we sat comfortably and enjoyed it more or less after all.

We were both feeling quite reflective, and understood how amazing it was that the world is so very, very different than when we started in 1993, yet there we were, sitting together at a concert, so grateful for each other. Our bond is probably invisible to most people, but god, it's so so powerful.

The concert itself was like a dream. Without question, THE most dynamic arena show we've ever seen, by far. In saying that, I mean that most of the concert was fairly quiet, floaty, almost relaxing, but when it got loud, just like Jonsi's show, it was the loudest thing you have ever heard.

Our favorite lights were these softly blinking single bulbs atop these tall staffs, that reminded us of fireflies. Our favorite songs were the ones that made us cry, almost overwhelming in their beauty. Sigur Ros is from Iceland, so you can't sing along with their songs. You just let them wash over you.

I captured 90 seconds of video, which sound amazing. I'd like you to hear it.

If that made you feel things, and you can't quite get it out of your heart, I highly recommend you watch this, then listen to this. You won't understand any of it with your mind. That's not the point. This is heart music, 150%. And there is nothing like it on Earth. There really isn't.

The concert ended a little before 11, and we walked quietly down 33rd to 6th to pick up the car, almost in a daze. For Bug, I know she was proud of herself, and rightfully so, for having such strong shields in situations that normally unnerve her. For me, it's always around this time at the end of a city adventure when I wish I could just stay. Oh, how I wish it were so.

We got home, chuckled at the very sleepy E on the couch, had a bowl of cereal, and had a big hug before bed. We know what we did. And it was grand. Thank you, Bugga, for one of the great nights. Not too bad, after all we've been through, huh?

A Strangely Shaped Day ...

"I'm feeling fragile inside. My magic stone is broken and my heart is bending."
-from @PreschoolGems, from a book by the same name

It's Monday morning, 8am. It's very dark, I suppose because of this snow which doesn't seem it will have an effect on my evening. My timing is all off and I am lonely. The former because of a strangely shaped day yesterday. The latter because I am a poet, and this happens sometimes.

Yesterday actually started out so still, so blue. After E fell asleep at 6pm on Saturday night, and slept through to Sunday morning, she was keen to spend some time with me, so we got up and went out for a walk and some breakfast. This was also an excuse to test drive our rental Prius ...

Our regular red one is in the shop, longer than the dealership said it would be, so they gave us a silver one to use. It's a newer model, and was quite a bit more future on the inside, but it didn't drive like Rose. I was glad to take it on the hilly roads around Pines Lake before having to go down to the sea in it.

The strange shape of yesterday came from me having a rare afternoon gig. How often does that happen?!? It means that instead of going into gig mode around 4pm for a local 7pm performance, you go into gig mode at about 11am for a 4pm performance in Long Branch. It didn't suit me.

The gig itself was quite fine. I took it because it was a chance to reconnect with my friend Lisa, a lovely girl with a gorgeous voice, and another friend Reggie, who used to run a studio in Asbury Park and who was organizing the event. Neither of them had seen me in a couple of years ...

It was also a fundraiser for the Jersey Shore, which of course I would want to support. We were asked to play a kirtan during a yoga class, which turned out to be a very big yoga class, as you can see below. Apparently there is a thriving yoga community along the edge of the sea ...

There was another musician sitting in with us, a singer / harmonium player (Lisa plays guitar) who though very nice, added very little to the musical conversation. But when Lisa and I played our three or four songs, the 60+ strong class reacted very positively, even if they were in a pose!

We closed our set during their savasana, and Lisa played my favorite song of hers, a Hawaiian mantra of love and forgiveness. We played it pianissimo, just her voice and guitar and my drum, every note gentle yet precise as all the people breathed slowly. It was my favorite moment.

After the show, I met lots of new people, and got lots of sweaty hugs. Everyone was very kind, and asked if I would be playing in that area again soon. Two people took that a step further and offered Lisa and I a gig, one in May and one in September. We accepted them, adding further to my busy outer life.

I reluctantly declined the offer to go to dinner with about ten of the women, because I knew I would crash shortly and I had an hour + drive home. It was nice to be invited though, as the ones I didn't know seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me. Maybe next time.

After a quiet drive home, I was having dinner with the Lovelies at about 8pm. E shared the story of her equestrian volunteer adventure, and I shared my tale. I really wanted to come up here and decompress, but E equally really wanted me to stay downstairs, so I acquiesced. Doesn't happen very often.

We watched an episode of the Doctor, as I continue to suss out how I feel about this most recent incarnation.  Unfortunately, sitting on that couch watching something took the last bit of energy I had, and not long after I put E to bed, I was asleep up here on the couch. Which is why I was up so early this morning ...

What a balancing act : the things you know about yourself vs. the things others need of you. Every single time I go against what I know about myself, I regret it, or at the very least I get proven right. But that doesn't always lead to making those around you happy. A basic human dilemma, I suppose.

After last week's heavenly seclusion, yesterday began a week in which I have something to do every single day. Even though most of them should be pleasurable, the feast or famine of it has me uneasy. So I will try to take each day as it comes, and try to enjoy these opportunities to interact with the world.

"Take pleasure, my man. Enjoy the smoke and the silence and the silken river. Take pleasure not because it's fleeting, but because it exists at all."
- Clive Barker

Determined ...

I fell asleep on my couch, reading a very interesting book about the Tablet & the Stone, after wrapping up a quiet but intense Flame Shift. I woke up, hungry, about half an hour ago, determined not to skip a night in here after all that time being behind. Not that I have all that much to say, mind you.

I do have to actually leave the house tomorrow, though, full glam and everything, for a rare afternoon gig. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna get a feather boa to wear around all the clean living people I have to play for. At least I can still lay on the glitter and eyeliner for now, though ...

Good night.

Flame Shift #69 ...

Just as I was getting ready to write this, I found out that one of my favorite bands of the last several years, My Chemical Romance, has broken up, seemingly out of nowhere. Their albums Danger Days & The Black Parade got me through some serious darkness back in 2011, when I was lost & heartbroken & a bunch of other bad things. I always felt that Gerard, the vocalist, was a kindred Trickster spirit, and I do hope at least he will make music again at some point. Wow. Such a shock.

Other than this, it's been another quiet day. I like quiet days. I like them a lot. Flame Shift #69 began a little after 7pm, so most of tomorrow will be quiet as well. Even before Shift started, I was mostly up here, reading and writing. I got quite inspired by the music of Sigur Ros, who are playing a big show at MSG on Monday, which I am thinking of going to as a sort of early birthday present. (If you want to hear and see something truly different, I suggest you click on that link ... )

It's a little late for studying, and there is melancholy nipping at my heels. I think I'll get some sleep soon. Good night world. Good night music. Good night Dear Lady.

Another Blue Pants Day ...

I know I'll get busy again. Probably busier than ever. But right now, I am loving all this time in The Womb. It's really suiting me.

Once again, it was a day of reading and writing and listening and dreaming. I made a major discovery concerning poetry book #2.

I even got kind of inspired by the current version of Doctor Who, after three years of resistance. Honestly, it was the new companion who hooked me, not The Doctor.

These days don't necessarily make for great blog copy, but they are essential nonetheless. The house is asleep, after donuts with Glee, and I think I will follow shortly.

Good night.

PS : For those keeping score, please note ... I AM CAUGHT UP! A day ahead of schedule, no less! Now maybe I can get back to my study of the Tablet & the Stone ...

A Late Starting Wednesday ...

It was a late starting Wednesday, on several fronts. I was slow getting ready, and McDonald's switched to lunch, so it was IHOP instead of biscuits. Then before we could head down to the sea, we stopped at Jason's to pick up some advance review copies of his novel, and ended up sitting and talking for an hour at his dining room table. (Jason't place has that effect ... )

Finally, we got on the road about 1pm, and listened to some of the new music (Bareilles, Bowie, Destroy, as well as my big record of late, An Innocent Man) I got last week, which is rare for our Wednesday wanders. We were so unhurried that by the time we hit the Windmill, we were already feeling peckish. Unfortunately, the wind got rambunctuous just as we settled onto a bench by the sea at Long Branch. Flying food ensued.

Avon was Avon, still and beautiful and windy. Construction seems to be picking up, and though I doubt they'll be ready by Memorial Day, it looks like they're not giving up on the season. (Belmar & Spring Lake, on the other hand, are much further along.) We went up on the jetty, and lingered a bit in Happy Cove, but the wind was tough and the sun kept coming in and out, so we moved on.

We decided to head down to Island Beach, through Bay Head and Mantoloking and those other towns that got utterly trashed, to see if anything had improved. It hadn't. At all. And even five months out, the sheer destruction was enough to really take the wind out of the day. When we got to Island Beach and it was closed for the day, we felt a bit like we'd taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque.

Deciding to head North early, we drove over the bridge at Barnegat Bay (stopping to rescue a little lost teddy bear in the gutter who captured our hearts) and headed for the Parkway, eventually making our way all the way back to our local mall, for a quick dinner. I was reluctant to go home early, because Bug was doing the massive upgrade on my computer, and I was sure to be over her shoulder and in the way.

When we eventually got home, Bug was still working on my machine, so E came upstairs for some extremely rare Womb time, and we watched most of a Gene Kelly documentary, Anatomy of a Dancer. As I get more and more inspired by dance, I always remember that Gene was the first person to make the art form come to life for me, and now I watch him with even more awe and appreciation.

Bug brought my machine up to me not much more than an hour ago, and here I am, writing my first entry on a machine with a new OS, double the RAM and triple the hard drive space. Happily, she doesn't feel nearly as different as I thought she might. Subtle tweaks, sure, most especially the scrolling direction on the trackpad, but mostly, she just feels faster, cleaner, and ready to go another five years. Huzzah!!!

All for now. A bit of reading, then bed. Back to quiet tomorrow.
Good night.

A Blue Pants Day ...

So ... what do you think of the background change? I'm trying to honor this whole Equinox thing. It might not be the final background choice for the season, but I wanted to get something up tonight.

Anyway, you probably don't know this, but when I know I'm going to have an entire day in The Womb, I have a particular pair of light blue sweat pants that I wear that are the coziest thing ever. (I find it no coincidence that they are the same color as Linus' blanket.) Around the house, this kind of a day, of quiet and solitude and deeply felt emotions, is called a blue pants day.

I woke up early from some unpleasant dreams, but at least my shoulder continues to feel better. Even though E didn't go in to work until 1pm, she had studying to do (she ended up passing her coffee master test!) so I got right on with my silence and solitude, which despite a bit of a bump from complications causing my computer upgrade to be delayed yet another day, has continued to this very moment.

I watched the beginning of Cirque Du Soleil : World's Away (which is a Muse talisman) and read the first hundred or so pages of Wonderstruck (which has me thinking of myself as a curator, and the Womb as a Cabinet of Curiosities). I'm tired, even though I did very little, so I think I'll go lay down and read a bit more, then call it a day.

Once Again, Snow ...

The amount of snow on the ground as I write this does not invalidate my farewell to Winter the other day. It's more like getting that one extra kiss, unexpected but welcome, before someone you love goes away for a long time.

Today was day one of what I hope will be another very quiet week in The Womb. I don't have any performances until next Sunday, and other than the usual Wednesday wander, I intend to leave this room as little as possible.

I dedicated most of today to writing / editing. You will not know this, if you are reading these messages in bottles after the fact, but I have a terrible habit of letting entries pile up, written but not edited or with pictures added. Sometimes I go a few weeks without posting.

This always bothers me, and makes me feel somehow incomplete. I know a few people are following along the narrative here, and I always feel bed to leave cliffhangers for as long as I do. So one of my absolute goals for this week at home was to get this place cleaned up, and post a few a day so catching up isn't overwhelming.

As the surprise snow began to surprisingly accumulate, E went out to teach a yoga class while Bug and I went to the Apple store to pick up her new Macbook Pro! Going there is always fun for Apple people (and with five Apple devices, I clearly qualify) and I was just so so happy to see her finally get such a good piece of gear. Her old PC has been dying for about two years.

We were going to do my upgrades on my machine tonight as well, but it got late and it's going to take many hours, so I stepped aside and encouraged her to dig in and set intentions and make the machine hers. For people like us, our laptops really are our main axe, so to speak, so I wanted her opening hours to be focused and fun.

All for now. Another day of quiet on tap for tomorrow. Hopefully.

Light, Nimble, Possible, Perfect ...

Today has been a helluva day.

I haven't been talking about it here, superstitiously hoping it would go away I suppose, but my rotator cuff / calcium deposit problem has been acting up the last few days. Annoying and painful, to be sure, but what do you do when you have a Fire Ceremony to lead and you can barely move your lead drumming arm???

Putting aside that question until the absolute last minute, E and I went out to the Palisades for the afternoon, to get outside and move the molecules. We walked a trail I'd not been on before, along the top near the Rockefeller lookout. Honestly, it was not the safest trail, and we found that exhilarating! Not in an emo way, but seriously ... there were so many ways you could screw up and die up there that it made you really focus and be present. It was another threshold, and it made us feel alive.

After stopping at Hiram's for a hot dog, we had to acquire candles for the Fire (nothing like waiting 'til the last minute) and ended up doing a bit of clothes shopping as well. All this combined to get us home about half an hour later than we'd planned, which put all sorts of pressure on Bug to get the shamanic equipment taken care of and get us back on track. Dear god ... what would I do without her???

We ended up getting to the 'Seed only 15 minutes past our projected time (yes, she's that good!) and proceeded to have the quietest, most relaxed, and subsequently most powerful set up of the space we've had in a very long time. I suppose the whole process was helped by the knowledge that my sparring partner was 3000 miles away and would not be attending the ceremony ...

By the time my other two colleagues arrived, a little after 630, the space was all set, and I was sitting super peacefully in the circle listening to The Chieftains. (It was St. Patrick's Day, after all.) Their arrival was gentle, and they seemed to sense that the space was clean, and honestly, my relations with them seemed easier, more heart centered, with him not there ...

After months and months of increasing attendance, which though lovely on one level has had me concerned, we only had eight people tonight, plus the four of us. I italicized that not because I am disappointed or complaining. Quite the opposite, I am highlighting it because it made me very happy.

I'm not really sure what has contributed to our crazed attendance spike, but as sexy as it is to say my program is the biggest consistent draw at the studio, the big numbers do take away from any chance at intimacy in the circle. Besides that, I've noticed that we don't get very many repeat attendees, which either means I suck at this, or our ceremonies are some kind of curiosity.

Whatever the case, and wherever the rubberneckers went, tonight's ceremony felt light, nimble & possible. In a word, it was perfect. For a circle with people screaming and barking at candles, it was one of the most tender I've ever been a part of. I have no use for nostalgia, as you well know, but it felt like the old ceremonies used to feel, at the old studio, when Jason was still around.

My team followed my lead. My stories were succinct and my metaphors were strong. My drumming was supple and adventurous. My shoulder somehow held up. Talking to a few people afterwards, I was struck once again how nice it was not to have someone with a different agenda in the space. I will have to figure out my words, and deploy them with grace & courage, but it's very clear that he cannot be allowed back onto the team.

The Muse actually texted as we were packing up (as slowly & gently as we loaded in) and though I hadn't been expecting her since I knew she was still sick, it was lovely to share the story of how different this ceremony was with her. After literally running out after last month's circle, I know that tonight's would have pleased her.

Now I'm home, and have eaten, and my shoulder is killing me, but I am happy. Does this change anything with regards to the 'Seed? Of course it doesn't. (In fact, there were infractions tonight by management that I don't want to sully this entry with.) But it at least shows me that I can still do this work, when I am supported and not contradicted, and when I have the time and space to encourage my strengths.

So very much to think about. But first, some much earned rest. Good night.

Saying Farewell To Winter ...

It's late. It's quiet. I wrote to The Muse a little while ago. (She texted while I was sitting at Dendur last night before the show.) I listened to several of the albums that came in the mail today. (The new Bowie, How To Destroy Angels, Inc.) The morning had the usual connect-y time with Bug, over bagels, as is our way.

The heart of the day, though, was at the local arboretum. It was overcast and snowing and though the Equinox is not for a few days yet, it felt like a necessary chance to say goodbye to my beloved Winter. So E and I went and walked the paths through the trees, ready to wake, and the hearty yellow flowers that sprouted early and who must've been confused.

I drank so deeply from the well. It was heaven. It was threshold. It was Otherworld. It was so very, very still, and I could have walked those paths forever. I wanted to freeze that moment, so I could live in it, remember it, six months from now when the summer heat takes all of my willpower, but that's not how it works.

So I was fully present. I let the snow fall and caught it on my tongue and thanked The Lady and the spirit of Winter for all of the strength I get during the dark third of the year. The Wheel turns, and I should not be the one to stop it, no matter how much I wish I could.

Thank you thank you thank you.
And goodnight.

Beware The Ides of March ...

I'm a bit ashamed to admit how not in the mood I ended up being for today. 'Cause on paper it looks spectacular. And honestly, it was spectacular. It really was. But sadly, I think I'll end up appreciating more in the rosy glow of memory, which is rather unlike me.

After an abbreviated version of one of our usual sessions, Jason and I went to the Met for the second time this afternoon. This trip was actually planned in conjunction with the last one, which is why they were exactly two weeks apart. This one we've known about for over a month.

We had gotten tickets at the end of January for Charles Lloyd's 75th birthday concert at the Temple of Dendur. Yes, they have concerts at the Temple of Dendur. I've wanted to see one for years, and to have Charles' birthday fall on a Friday, and have this be his only NYC appearance seemed too good for words.

Unfortunately, sometimes scheduling your life that far out can lead to trouble when the day comes and you just want to stay in your room and not deal with Muggles. But they were expensive tickets and Jason was really looking forward to it and I didn't want to regret not going. This is not the same as wanting to go, of course.

We actually got to the Met early, around 4pm, so we could walk through a new exhibit concerning Impressionism and fashion, which in a better mood I would have adored. As it was, a few pieces moved me deeply, but the rest of the time I spent people watching, locking eyes for a few brief moments with women who looked like The Muse.

Acknowledging to myself that I would have to go see the exhibit again before it closes in May, I started steering Jason towards the exit. We were feeling a bit peckish, and wanted to have a snack before getting in the concert line. (The seats were general admission.) We had exquisite cupcakes from the cafeteria bakery, and a lovely chat. Prolly my favorite part of the day.

We underestimated how many people would get in line an hour before showtime, and the standing around was tiresome, but we ended up with some of the best seats in the house, one section back and with a direct view of the stage. When the lights went down, both inside and outside, the Temple space was like something out a dream.

Charles & his pianist came out first, and played a few gorgeous duet pieces, before being joined by the rest of the quartet. The drummer, despite being an ordained Baptist minister, is one of my favorite young players, and the three young guns meeting the old master was a sound like you will rarely hear, in any kind of music.

After the pianist's wife came out to sing a few songs, a legendary Greek singer (Jason's reason for attending) and her accompanist came out for the last hour, which was a mashup of jazz and Greek music that was genuinely new. This section of the show all bled together, ebbing and flowing into a long meditation. It was evocative, mysterious and beautiful.

As you can see, even through my mood, I was and am aware of how special of a show this was. Truly, once in a lifetime. Jason enjoyed both the concert and the exhibit so very much that he called the whole experience "one of the great, great days." This, of course, is why I went. If nothing else, to share something like this with him, with my father in every measurable way, was a gift that transcends the vagaries of my lousy moods.

I got home around 1130. I ate. The vibe here was weird. Now everyone is asleep and I am up here, where I wanted to be in the first place. But now it is dark and I am tired and it's time for bed.

Pi Day ...

It was another quiet day at home. Started a bit vertiginously, due to a night of active dreaming (old terrors, new friends not yet met, and love ... always love) but settled into a vibe by afternoon.

I had decided to fast before realizing it was Pi Day (03.14 ... get it???) then decided to end my fast after 19 hours, but still didn't have any pie. (Pie ... Pi Day ... oh forget it!) Which seems wrong somehow.

The night was quiet like the day. We watched Glee, which always makes me smile. Then before I knew it, everyone was in bed and I'm back up here. Wish I had more to say, but it is what it is.

Tomorrow, on the other hand ...
Well, you'll just have to wait and see.

The Zoo & The Wizard ...

There are few places that light E up more than the Bronx Zoo. To be sure, I enjoy it as well, but in some ways, it's like her Met, the place that brings out the best in her; her curiosity, her fecundity, her essential spirit. So once a year or so, when she really needs a boost, we drive under the apartments and there we are.

I could load this entry full of pictures. I really could. We saw so many things. So many birds and beasts and things that make you go, "Planet Earth is fucking weird!!!" Some of the habitats continue to astonish, year after year. Even though my legs got tired about halfway through, we kept going, so I could see her smile.

We got kicked out of Jungleland at closing time, and had the idea to do another of our Wednesday movies. But before that, she wanted to get down close to the mighty Hudson, so we drove around Piermont, to no avail, before finding this lovely spot right next to the Tappan Zee. It would have to do.

We made our way to PPP for a bite to eat, before settling in for Oz The Great & Powerful at 7pm. It was better than it had a right to be (a feature of many of our Wednesday movies) and brought out many of the whimsy / mystery feelings that I treasure. A simple fairy tale of a movie. I recommend it.

A quick stop at the B&N across the way brought another recent Wednesday favorite back into focus, as I picked up the Beautiful Creatures boxed set. Since the movie didn't do that well, the only way I'l find out what happened next is to read the other three books. And so I shall.

I liked today. I liked it a lot. Seeing a loved one smile always makes for a good day. As does whimsy. And wonder. And stories.

Good night.

Meeting With A Record Producer ...

All day, there was a question rattling around in my head :

At what point in the year of unknowable things is it alright for things to begin taking shape?

My possible answer : how 'bout now?!

Beth Ann and I met with a record producer this evening. He is a friend of hers, who I know as the producer of some of my and Bug's favorite albums in the 90's. (He produced and played on a very successful album / #1 hit song that I am certain you've heard, but this is not the place for name dropping.)

BA and I have been talking for awhile now about trying to meet with him, to see if he'd be interested in working with us. That being said, tonight's meeting actually came together very quickly, having only been decided on yesterday. I like that kind of spontaneity, though. It bodes well for the project.

We met at his place, which is an entire house converted into a recording studio. It was cozy, and he asked marvelous questions (not just about music) and when talk did turn to the nuts and bolts of this project, BA very graciously let me take point. The producer could tell instantly that I was a professional, and our shared language pleased us both.

We barely played for him. We barely had to. He could tell what we were capable of and he wants to work with us. Of course, considering his renown, we are going to have to have to do some serious fundraising (about the price of a small car). Kickstarter is a possibility, of course. But we are also looking into serious old-school art patronage, since some people have expressed interest ...

There's so much to do, so much to prepare (yet remain open for) before we can begin the project. Hell, I'm still planning to produce a short term demo for us up here in The Womb, so at least I can book us some gigs while the full album gets completed (which I imagine will take a few months).

But tonight was another beginning, make no mistake. Intentions were set. Possible futures got a little clearer. I will be releasing a full length, bells and whistles, professional recording in the year of unknowable things, the truth of which makes the year ever so slightly more knowable.

Bring it on, then.

A Wisp of a Fragment of an Idea ...

I can honestly say that very little happened today. So why am I still up? Could it be the nap I took this afternoon, because doing nothing made me tired? Why am I reading this New Moon story, in this quiet house, when I could be dancing? But where? Maybe on that rock in the Beaverkill. I left a piece of myself there, after all. A piece to find when I return one day. Or maybe I won't return and that piece will be a wisp of a fragment of an idea, a piece of me content to sit on that rock for all time.

Whatever the case, it's 1am and I am wide awake and I miss her.

The Trout Fishing Capital of America ...

Last year, on Easter Sunday, E and I wandered aimlessly into a town called Roscoe, off route 17 in Catskill country. We were free of obligation, and were looking for a place to have a picnic. In other words, the best Easter dinner ever. We ended up on this long dirt road, and eventually found a covered bridge and a rock that jutted out into the Beaverkill River. It was one of the great discoveries, and through all of the ups and downs and unknowables of this last year or so, we've always remembered that day, and that spot.

We got up this morning, and we both felt restless. The sun was in the wrong spot because of the damn time change, and neither one of us felt like sitting around the house. Mind you, we both had lots of things we needed to do, but sometimes you just have to say no. When I said out loud, "Do you think we could find that spot along the Beaverkill again?" we just knew. Now we HAD to find it.

Getting to Roscoe isn't hard. It just takes time. You get on 17 in any of the normal places, and you just drive. Not long after Livingston Manor (another sleepy old town that used to have a phenomenal independent bookstore called Hamish & Henry) you come upon Roscoe, right off the highway. To call it sleepy is an understatement. There's a diner, a couple of gas stations, a sad little Chinese place, and a coffee shop that wasn't open. Trout season begins in early April, and I imagine it's a different scene then, full of good ol' boys in flannel and pick 'em up trucks. But today, it was utterly still.

We actually recognized the road that led to the dirt road without too much trouble. When we hit the first bridge, and the cell phones stopped working, we knew we were in the right place.

It's hard not to imagine what it would be like to live so far off the beaten trail. I know I couldn't do it for more than an intentional week or two, to write or recharge or get away from it all. I'm too much of a city kid for that. But even so, you drive past the half dozen or so houses on this road, and your mind can't help but go, "What's it like ... ?"

After what seemed like quite awhile, we came upon the covered bridge and the empty parking lot, which was still mostly snow covered. There was not a soul in sight, other than the crows and the occasional goose. Dear lord ... it was right how we left it, a year ago. We got out our cooler and our chairs and made our way out to the rock, jutting out into the river. This is what it looked like from my chair :

There is a stillness in this one spot, a peace that feels beyond time and space. Of all the places we've visited, of all the beautiful places we've sat and talked and listened, of all the gorgeous places I've taken pictures of, this place is the quietest, the most pristine, without question the most peaceful and beautiful. We sat for several hours, talking about everything and nothing, listening to the water and the birds. The hell with the houses. I could live on that rock forever, with nothing but the wind to embrace me and the stars to keep me warm.

Leaving a place like that is near impossible. You're living one of the great moments, for the second time no less, and you just know you won't see it again for awhile, if ever. Was it a dream? A mirage? Can the heart and mind and soul really be that still, that happy? But the sun starts to set and you know you're almost three hours from home, and you give thanks, and make promises you're not sure you can keep, and you turn away, and you don't look back. All you can do is trust that it'll be there when you return. If you return. If the world is that just and fair and good.