From the monthly archives:

July 2004

Death

by johnford on July 31, 2004

It seems to me that I’ve been the witness to more than the average share of death in the last couple of years. Not like I’ve been on the front lines or working in a cancer ward, but it’s been closer than it has been for a while. It could be that it has to do with the fact that I’m at that age when most of the adults I’ve been around all my life are reaching the point of no return.

Today I drove my mom and uncle to West Palm Beach to visit their brother (obviously my other uncle) who has been battling lung cancer for the last three years. His disease has progressed to the point where he is in the final stages, hospitalized and the doctors have only given him “a few hours” to live.

Now here is this guy who was perhaps the most alive person I have ever met in my entire life. And through the haze of drugs and disease the person who he is and was still refuses to die. Still fighting with the doctors and us and against the tide of time and eternity. Even with his eyes unable to resist folding into his brow and the coming misfortune and inevitability of his final curtain, he’s fighting for his life. Not for his time in this place, but for his life. That inner thing that makes him the lovable son of a bitch that he is.

I would have to believe that if your were around this death often, like these folks that work in the hospital and see this passage every day, it might be easy to walk beyond the wonder of the final moments of someone’s life on this earth. Some folks just wouldn’t be cut out for this factory of death.

I’m walking to the twilight
along this starry fold
I’m staring in the river
for my family of souls

and soon I’ll stand among them
their loving hands to hold
the boatman on this river
will finally steer me home

And today the children are flying in from across the country, in flights that cris-cross land masses and defy sanity with zig zag lines of abortive journeys that sputter and leap from time zone to time zone with paper boarding cards and little strips of squiggly lines among the peanut packets and rolling carts and aluminum tubes

To the square sterile walls of the cancer ward. For plans and stories and old times to share and caskets and plots, both adjectives and nouns. And the food. There is always the food. Why do the dead need all this food anyway? How hungry can they be? Hungry for this world. Hungry for the meat of life. Hungry for the grease that folds and hangs on the bone and laughs at another martini. Another disease from the plowman of time and the applause of destiny and inevitability.

But even though the dead surround my world, I can only think about the living. The living I can see and they surround me like an ocean of reality, thick with the swirling bacteria of love and desire and beauty and decay. And through all of the decay, there is a light in this world today that shines into my heart and minds eye and the world lights up around your feet. And I’m not ready for the dance, but I’ll gladly step for you today. Step across the grass pregnant with dew that washes my feet with the tenderness and the love of a new found morning.

[Slashdot] [Digg] [Reddit] [del.icio.us] [Facebook] [Technorati] [Google] [StumbleUpon]

Bored and lonely

by johnford on July 30, 2004

I’ve just been exceptionally bored and lonely the last few days. And tonight I can’t even get to sleep. I guess a lot of it has to do with the fact that my daughter has been out of town for the last week and when she’s not around it can get pretty quiet around here. And being alone can sometimes bring out repressed feelings. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been pretty much of a loner. But even a loner gets bored and lonely.

Now one good thing about being bored and lonely (and about strong emotions in general) is that they really do help the creative process. There’s nothing like a swift kick in the id to get the juices flowing. So in the last 24 hours I’ve written three new . I’m not really happy with them and if I don’t loose interest I may work on them some more. But as I’ve said many times before, the process is more important than the product.

I was revisiting William Blake today a bit. Got to thinking about it from a recent posting on Kris Kristofferson. Now Blake believed that all this creativity stuff was a gift from God and if someone is called to create and turned their back on that calling they would be cursed for squandering the gift. Now, it’s a whole lot more involved than that, but in a nut shell that about sums it up. To quote the Kristofferson article:

“He said that if you buried your talent, sorrow and desperation would pursue you throughout life, and after death, shame and confuse you until eternity.”

Well I’m sure I’m in trouble enough for not handing out money to the homeless, but this is pretty scary stuff. I do know that when I’m not creating I’m pretty miserable. So why is it when I’m misserable I’m usually creative? Sometimes the more misserable I am the more creative I am. But I must admit that if I do jump in head first it does push back the desperation of solitude or whatever is bothering me down for a while. The beast does go to sleep. But like a junkie, the hungry little bastard will gnaw at the numbness until the pangs return.

I once read an article in some magazine written by Rosanne Cash, the daughter of Johnny Cash, and amazing songwriter, player and singer in her own right. The whole article was about how many, many songwriters have a tendency to shut themselves off from the world. Because of what they do is so introspective and internal songwriters, more so than many other artists, become hermits. The article was a swift kick in the ass to get out in the real world. And let’s face it. If you do get out and experience new things it will give you more to write about. I know I find this to be true. I sometimes have to force myself to get out of the house during the week and get coffee at Starbucks and write there. Or walk up the beach and have a couple of beers or something. I still have the social skills of a slug, but getting out and being with real people helps the creative process and helps open the mind. It’s doubly tough when your “day job” also revolves around and working at home. It’s easy to get comfortable just hanging out at the house. Breaking that habit is really important.

And on top of all this boredom and loneliness I’ve been listening to the new Sam Phillips record. It’s my favorite record so far this year. But it is listening in to the last year or so of her life while her marriage aparently fell apart and God knows what else. Then my mp3 jukebox just happened to land on the Frank Smith song (if you’re not familiar with Frank, he’s a songwriter that I knew from a million years ago and was and is one of my favorites) called Such A Romantic Night, that’s got to one of the saddest fucking ever recorded. At about this point I was ready to become a monk.

I’m sure I’ll snap out of this soon. If it lasts another day I may have to graduate from Blake to John Donne And that won’t be pretty.

[Slashdot] [Digg] [Reddit] [del.icio.us] [Facebook] [Technorati] [Google] [StumbleUpon]

{ 1 comment }

Well here’s another song I’m working on. A rough draft of: “Love is Thicker than Water.”

July 29, 2004

mp3 link–>> Love is Thicker than Water

the lights came up, the stars bowed out
the day they laid his body down
out here on the end of town
and no one could recall
a word or a single note
from all those lines he wrote
no well dressed man would stand and quote
today day after the fall
but somewhere in a magazine
a [...]

Read the full article →

Another rough new song “Don’t know nuthin’ bout love”

July 28, 2004

well I’d like to sing the finest song
that ever has been sung
break your heart with wounded words
straight from god above
I’d like to paint a masterpiece
make a grown man kneel and cry
but I can’t me do none of these
cause I don’t know nuthin bout love
don’t know nuthin bout love sweet darlin
don’t know nuthin bout love
spent my [...]

Read the full article →

Today I am thankful

July 28, 2004

That my darling daughter is coming home. For the harmony of Buddy and Julie Miller. For Sam Phillips pain. That my hands still work. I had enough coffee to make a cup. The smell of my old Kalamazoo…. and you.

Read the full article →

Monday Night

July 26, 2004

And the man asked me if I had Bluetooth. In another lifetime these might be fighting words. My teeth aren’t looking all that great come to think of it.
I could be at Chumley’s tonight and stagger out onto Bedford and Barrow, past the captain’s daughters burning a light in the window of the townhouse that [...]

Read the full article →

Lyrical idea for a new song “Lincoln told the Band to play Dixie.”

July 26, 2004

The band came together
ribbins fell to the ground
our ghosts wern’t forgotten
but we all just laid down
It was right down this river
she cried “don’t you forget me”
then Lincoln told the band
to play dixie
through blue smoke and thunder
in the cane and the vine
the cotton bales drifted
and the chains came untied
there’s times when our freedom
is much more than [...]

Read the full article →

The Bourne Stupidity

July 25, 2004

It was Sunday so I took mom to the movies. As far as the movie goes, if 2 hours of shaky camera shots floats your boat, this flick is right up your alley. I really tried to enjoy it, but between the idiots with the cell phones on, the crying babies and all the shots [...]

Read the full article →

The process and the product.

July 25, 2004

Once the adventure was in getting there and the journey was the adventure. If you look at the prospect of heading to a new destination, today the journey is something to be avoided. Time not spent well. Toiling from airport terminal to terminal is as fatal as it sounds. Endless busy, noisy rooms and [...]

Read the full article →

2:52 AM

July 25, 2004

Do you believe in fate, or predestination or whatever it’s called. Do you believe that people or events are drawn together by forces they can’t or don’t understand. That sometimes things and people happen, or are allowed to happen, that just defies logic. That sometimes all that is required is a leap of faith to [...]

Read the full article →

Waiting for a haircut

July 24, 2004

So I wonder in to get a haircut today at the local Supercuts. I pick Supercuts mostly because I’m cheap and for the most part, vanity isn’t one of my big sins… yet. And even though I’m starting to really show quite a bit of grey in my hair, to be completely honest, I really [...]

Read the full article →

I’m in love with my Johnson

July 23, 2004

When I was younger, not that I’m completely over the hill, I used to wonder if the days of my dick were numbered. Not like a parable, not like the hairs of your head, but the days of its usefulness. Now it’s obvious that if most of the male population of the western hemisphere didn’t [...]

Read the full article →