Perspective is EVERYTHING

I'm in a daze today
My family is now in turmoil
Leading up to us saying goodbye
To Cassie's earthly remains on Friday
Accusations, anger, frustration
Remorse, fear, regret
Division
Law enforcement
Whirling around
Wrapping us up
In frenzy

But the smoke shall clear
The lives mend
The spirits lift
And we will stand back and see the truth:

Cassie is gone
at the accidental hands of her cousin
She is united with God
Our lives forever changed
And those responsible will be held accountable
As sorry as I will be to see that
when it occurs.

"There are greater forces than you at play here
We must bring people together now
Not drive them apart
All other worries are fruitless."

Cassie Covers

Back in Brooklyn, currently working. Need to articulate the comings and goings, the ebbing and flowings of the days gone by.

My family has been cut down by loss. A tragedy of sharpest pains has hit us all; a young life ended so suddenly, so accidentally, and so tragically.

Only if you are like children can you enter the Kingdom of My Father. I think back to singing "Let the children come to me" in elementary school in Church on Fridays. "Never hinder them, never stop them, just let the children come." Cassie has gone to God, and she is there.

As a thinking man, I am contented to know that she must, absolutely must, be with God right now. United with Him, with great life force. One in the same now. She had her last rites, she was without sin, without any blemish whatsoever, and for that, I am overjoyed. I feel our prayers have only made her closer in unison with God, and she now is a part of those who have gone before us that observe, assist, and help intercede. This comforts me, and I hope it comforts the rest of my family.

I saw the depth of loss on Saturday, I witnessed it firsthand. I took 3 or 4 steps back, evaluated my own life, family, and priorities, and saw how beautiful a family truly is. I played the role of reinforcement, relieving my sister who had been at the hospital all day and all night and all morning, along with my father who was there that same timeframe as well. It was just this horrible yet at the same time, inspiring, moment. We would all make little jokes, something my family does to try to deal with things, and little sarcastic remarks about how Cassie thought her doctor wasn't very funny. Then, as expected, the reality of who was lost would set in, and everyone would be hit by a wave of devastation. This cycle would go on and on, and seemingly will as long as it needs to. But I felt everyone already celebrating the beautiful, yet short life, and I saw the imprint she made on everyone there.

I myself recall all the times I saw her at my aunt's house, ruling over the house and taking no lip from anyone. She called my father "Nutin", meaning nothing, and even his strong personality was no match. My sisters would leap and cheer for her, would squeeze her tight and show her off, my Aunt would laugh and sit back and revel at the energy and beauty of young life. She was the spark to that side of my family, and she always will be.

It's fitting that we all wear pink and purple to the funeral. I too, even thought I cannot make it, will make sure to wear my pink tie that day, for Cassie. We will be the pink and purple members of the princess' court that day, and I will be honored to take part, even from so far away.

There is tremendous wisdom in youth, and Christ saw it, and I see it now.

Little Cassandra

Cassandra
The little firecracker
That makes my sisters and father bounce
We're praying for you, love
Hang on right there.

Aunt Debbie
Be strong
Life is forever dealing you setbacks
And this tragedy is no different

Be with my family tonight, Lord.
However you wish to take,
Be with us all
And make us one in you.

The boy who I helped baptize
Has shook us all
And crying right now is not the half of it.

Ceasefire.

Let the slinging stop.
You win.
No more of it.

When you bend it, you break it, it's gone

So I didn't get my promotion.
::punch in the gut::
Not because I didn't do well.
Because I just haven't worked here long enough.
I was a "superstar" in the interviews, I was told.
And, in the end, I've lost nothing.
But I feel so disappointed.
It is certainly bringing out other things.
Now, I might not be able to go home.
I don't think I'm going anyways, now that I think about it.

Must have been karma.
Must have done something.
A cloud has just covered me
And into the depths I go yet again.

And for the record, I am not bitching
And fuck you if you want to label me as dramatic
I care so much about what I do
Who I do it with
And where I do it at
That when disappointment strikes
My spirit breaks a bit.
Don't blow me off
Or write me off
Or dumb me down
To be a glorified actor.
You'd be dead wrong.
I have Wrath
My most glaring deadly sin
And it can take hold of me so quickly
And so completely
And leave no one in its path
But don't. Don't do that.
I have layers like an onion
A raw, stinging onion
That awaits cooking use
And if you cannot see that
Then we are now done with this post.

My favourite scene...

Me and Sean Conrad acted this out
in Sophomore English class for a project.
The great Dane, cunning and sarcastic
He makes an ass out of his would-be father-in-law

Enter HAMLET, reading.

LORD POLONIUS
How does my good Lord Hamlet?

HAMLET
Well, God-a-mercy.

LORD POLONIUS
Do you know me, my lord?

HAMLET
Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.

LORD POLONIUS
Not I, my lord.

HAMLET
Then I would you were so honest a man.

LORD POLONIUS
Honest, my lord!

HAMLET
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

LORD POLONIUS
That's very true, my lord.

HAMLET
For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?

LORD POLONIUS
I have, my lord.

HAMLET
Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to 't.

LORD POLONIUS
[Aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord?

HAMLET
Words, words, words.

LORD POLONIUS
What is the matter, my lord?

HAMLET
Between who?

LORD POLONIUS
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

HAMLET
Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.

LORD POLONIUS
[Aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?

HAMLET
Into my grave.

LORD POLONIUS
Indeed, that is out o' the air.
[Aside] How pregnant sometimes his replies are!
A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

HAMLET
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal:
except my life, except my life, except my life.

LORD POLONIUS
Fare you well, my lord.

HAMLET
These tedious old fools!

Kings will kill kings, and marry their Queens

My stomach is finally settled. BURP. I drank too much; I got sick on Saturday night. But that's neither here nor there...

Friday was reminiscent of how my days were a few months ago. Jay was home working and seeing his family, Vinny was out to dinner with someone, and Elliot was working I believe, so I had the house to myself. I remember how I used to have that every night when Ryan still lived with us, and at first I cherished it, but it began to weigh on me.

Well, I welcomed the solitude for once. I was invited out to see Maria and Carolyn, but I was already down to boxers and a t-shirt, eating some chicken and watching baseball when she called. Another time for sure.

My time alone was wonderful, watching baseball and studying the game as usual. No other sport can attract both casual fans and "student" fans. I'm a student, and I love to see stats, match-ups, tension, and drama play out on the field. The Yankees lost 2-0 on Friday night to the Mets, and although they lost, it was great to see an entire game. That's the beauty about baseball. The Yankees lose to their cross-town rivals, and everyone just says, "eh, get em next time" and heads home. There are no tears, no screams, no boos, just a feeling that it's a long season, and sometimes you take your lumps, sometimes you give the lumps. It's a great way to view life. Every loss is not a cause for concern, unless the losses start piling up. Every win isn't meant to be jubilant, unless the wins start piling up. Then, in the end, the sum of our consistent efforts is what translates into victory or defeat. The way school works, with all the quizzes, papers, tests, projects, and so on. The way a marathon works, one foot in front of the other, 25+ miles.

After the game, I decided I would go lay down for the night, with it still early, because I knew full well that tomorrow would be a long day. When I sat in bed, I accidentally click on my blog when trying to log into myspace or something, and my last post came up. I read through it, and had an almost out-of-body experience. Often times I will re-read words or lines I have written, and they almost seem to be from the mind of someone else. I never quite know why my soul chooses the words that it does, and I think when I am in a logical, normal mode, like right now, my mind is speaking. But, when I wash away all the muck, and let the soul speak, I see and read things I wasn't sure I was capable of articulating.

For example, I wrote, in reference to my feelings of loss and being let down: "Hamlet to Ophelia: Adieu, adieu." In context, it made perfect sense. Hamlet is the most compelling and intriguing character I have ever encountered in literature. The stakes for him could not be higher - a recently dead father-king, an uncle marrying a recently-widowed mother-queen, and a ghost commanding him to "avenge me." He is betrothed to Ophelia, daughter to Polonius, a court advisor. Hamlet suspects his uncle has killed his father, and then charmed his mother in order to become king. He feigns madness (if you ask me), and casts aside all others in his attempt to get revenge.

Hamlet's relationship with Ophelia is one that particularly always interested me. While pretending to be insane, he pushes her away; he calls her names, shoves her, and makes her incredibly uncomfortable. Then, after an unfortunate accident, he accidentally kills Polonius, her father. Ophelia then goes insane from this, and kills herself out of grief. She lost everything, including herself. Hamlet pushed her away, on purpose; he removed her from his love and affections.

Looking at things from Hamlet's perspective, there were so very many factors that were weighing on him. He had the immense grief of suddenly losing his father, coupled with the frightening and sobering request of the spirit to "avenge me." He had intense anger at his mother for not mourning her husband long enough, and quickly marrying his brother. He had recurring thoughts of suicide, which is where the "To be or not to be? That is the question." speech came from. His childhood friends, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, were trying to murder him, and his future father-in-law, Polonius, worked for his uncle and was a royal pain in his side. All this swirling around his head, his room, his life, his sleep, his soul.

And then there was Ophelia. The little flower that loved him. The one source of true love and concern in his life. His one opportunity to feel alive again, to feel something again. Hamlet becomes an animal before our eyes, and his one chance to turn back, if you ask me, was in staying with Ophelia. Hamlet slaved over this, until finally deciding he would end his times with her, as it oft made him lose focus on what he felt needed to be done. He called her a whore, screaming "Get thee to a nunnery!" and scared her sick. Polonius was trying to use her with him, and he realized it, and needed to cut her off.

Now, that is remarkable. Standing in the face of all that, Hamlet even turns away romantic love. Not even his heart is worth saving, and he shuts it down. That is where I can begin to relate. I have never lost someone so dear to me so suddenly, and my heart goes out to those who have. I can only speculate on what that must do to your feelings and mind and body. But I do know what it is like to deny someone your affections, despite your inner-workings wanting otherwise. I know what it is like to feel tricked by someone you loved, as Hamlet did with Ophelia, and feeling the wrath associated with it. It makes you a cold, calculating animal. You want to feel nothing, and you want to build a massive wall, so your bleeding stops and you keep any new information from getting in. You say adieu, not bon voyage. Adieu, out of frustration, longing, anger, and sobering clarity.

There is another facet to this I think. It is more a jealous feeling than anything. There are certain people who have a knack, not that much different than the way I have a *knack* for solving problems with electronics, for being in love. They go from one, to another, to another, to another, blowing through people, cherishing every moment, and getting drunk or high from whatever it is that love does to us. You know what I mean; this is not just some girl who finds her flavor-of-the-night when out, or a guy who hooks up all the time. I'm talking about the people who have 7 6-month relationships in a row, dating back to sophomore year in high school, or the ones that always are on the cusp of seeing someone new, because she seems so exotic, wild, or grounded and normal for once. I don't really understand it - is there a love receptor that they are especially biologically attuned to? Do they just get lucky that many times?

I have been in love twice in my life. For two distinct periods, no more than 14 months at a time. I have much to show from those two times, and I cherish them no matter how they worked out or ended. They are times I fall back on when I feel no love, and those people, ironically enough, are still a big part of my life. The love never leaves you, you know?

But what is frustrating is how so many people blow through others like Hamlet's mother. They mourn a relationship for a moment, and jump at the next thing that comes forward. Good for them, right? Way to get back on the horse, eh? Just because I haven't had that good fortune, doesn't mean I should get pissed at those who have, ya know?

Yeah I know, I get it. And I cannot just neatly put someone away and stop feeling. I cannot pour myself into someone new without living out the one before. It fucks me up too much. I doubt myself, my spirits, and who I am as a man before I can ever let someone new in. And I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around the people who can do that with new people. I admire you, and wish I had what you have. I get tastes of love every now and then, and I get all excited and anxious for it to take hold, and then I'm left there as the bus leaves. "Head in my hands, here I am standing in my bare feet / watching you drive away, watching you drive away."

Hamlet has shown me a way that I can deal. I have to turn to ice, to completely shut down. To guard myself ferociously until that hurt goes away. It feels like a caged animal, more a golden retriever, who wants to lick everyone's face, but can't get out of his pen. You say adieu, you must say adieu.

So love is lost on me, and maybe always will. I've yet to meet someone willing to give what I want to give, at the amount I do and expect. I wonder if there is such a person.

And in this very notion, I began to play my guitar in my room, and a song came out. Based on Hamlet, based on me, feeling the depth that comes from a soul speaking, not a mind. It felt GOOD. REALLY GOOD.

I went to bed on Friday feeling numb, but comforted in my new addition to my repertoire.

Saturday was good, with rehearsal, the show, good friends, and getting sick on the way home. We played excellently, and Zuppe came up to play bass with me, which meant so much. I felt respected by him; I felt I was part of the scene here. He's a tough sell, and he was itching to play on stage with me. It was wonderful. Maia Davies was wonderful, all the way from Quebec. I was so sorry I missed her show on Sunday too. But I suspect we will cross paths again soon.

Sunday was golf and relaxation, once I calmed down about playing terribly. But, my spirits were up and it was a nice day to hang out with Vinny and laugh. My friends make my life so beautiful, so wonderful, in their own way.

Wow, this is long. But I can go on and on about Shakespeare, most especially Hamlet. It feels good to articulate that all for myself, and for others it may ring true with as well.

Adieu.

Sonnet 43 and Guster

Golf on Sunday
Gets me through Saturday
Taking me through Friday
Guster is my Soundtrack of Life right now

Wake up the past few days to:
"Woke up today to everything grey
And all that I saw just kept goin on and on
Sweep all the pieces under the bed
Close all the curtains and cover my head
And what you wish for won't come true
You aren't surprised love, are you?"
____________________________
Part of following The Way
'The path of moderation'
Is cherishing the grey dawns
The cool breeze
The smell of fresh rain

My spirit ascends
And the music
Speaking in tongues
Raises me
"To tell you the truth, I've said it before
Tomorrow I start in a new direction
I know I've been half-asleep
I'm never doing that again
I look straight at what's coming ahead
and soon its going to change in a new direction
Every night as I'm falling asleep
These words repeating in my head
Voices calling from a yellow road
To come downstairs and say hello
Don't be shy, just say hello"
_______________________
Complacent, content Me
I don't wear that badge well
I want everything I can taste
Whether it be the soft, infinite nature
That are a new pair of women's lips
Or the screams of those
Who understand what I can do with song
I must be forced out into the open
To fight through my astigmatism
into the sun

When I begin to feel pain
Associated with loss
mal-opportunity
Or discontent
At dishonesty
Or Deception
Or when my Anxiety Friend pops by
To say hello recently
I again find solace
In words not my own
Transcending my emotions and state
"So long, so long and on to the next one
Go on and it won't be too soon
You're gone, you're gone, are you waiting for something?
Go on cause I won't be back soon
It's hateful to say, see it this way
Don't even know who you are
But in my defense I'd do it again
I don't need to know who you are
So long, so long, front foot leads the back one
Go on and it won't be too soon
You're lost and gone and on to the next one
Don't need to know who you are "
____________________________
Hamlet to Ophelia: Adieu, Adieu.
Echoing back through a millenia
How oft we say goodbye
Out of necessity
I said goodbye to "Annie" once
I would not help her anymore.

A weekend that will test my limits
And my spirit
Resolve
And ability
Come see my show
And see me play me

All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

And now we pass, and just like glass

Tell the tiny chemicals
The ones you hold responsible
They've lost me
You've lost me

Tugboat

So, I'm kinda chugging along today. Maria and I got dinner last night, followed by some wonderful desserts in one of downtown Brooklyn's finest eateries, Junior's. Yummmy.

I went to bed super early, like 9:30, and I woke up so refreshed today. I think I'm starting to find a sleep rhythm for once. Been following the Zen Guitar book I was given, and it's shed light on many things in my life. Self-deprivation gets us nowhere, and will only feed us to follow a different path than The Way. We must take all things in moderation, accepting their risks, enjoying their benefits, and possess the wisdom to put them down, walk away from them, or turn them off.

Tonight is going to be boring, but wonderful. Pay day has arrived, that means another two days of me saying "don't blow it all this weekend! SAVE SAVE SAVE!" and then Monday comes and I think "what the fuck was I thinking? Did you need all that shit?" lol I make myself laugh. It's like a married couple makes up the duality of my psyche. They truly love each other, but man can they fight. When they're unified and pissed off, look out. I think that's why my temper is so intense, my potential to scorn so drastic. They're never afraid to talk to each other though, and I think that's the beauty of wisdom. Constant colaboration with the soul. Forever adjusting, observing, discussing, thinking, feeling, and finally doing.

Tomorrow I'll be seeing some bands, and then having people over the house to party. I've missed people over our place. It has become such a place of comfort, a caccoon out in the middle of South Brooklyn, a beautiful, thriving, peaceful, spacious home. "The Big Brrrrr" doesn't hurt, either (my room with chilling AC). Saturday is yet another show at Wicked Willy's, with Maia Davies playing from 7-8pm, followed by a set of original music by me from 8-9pm, and then our standard set of fun music from 9-12. I love that I sing so much now, that I play guitar so much now. That it's forced in my hands out of necessity and love blended together. It keeps me honest, it keeps me grounded and forever feeling like a student.

If you're reading this, I miss you. I've not seen so many people in so long, and you all mean so much to me. Meghan told me I make people feel like they're the most important person in the world when I talk to them, but to me, they are. I live in the moment, a nanosecond behind the present on the space/time continuum. The words and feelings and sensations that accompany those I love are things I try to snatch up and cherish, and forever will be that way. It makes me so observant and aware. It makes me feel real things and emotions. The prospect of seeing Eric, Maria, and Jessica next weekend makes me jump. Not to mention my family.

Don't ever be satisfied. Ever. Don't let yourself do that. And don't ever think that you are not worthy of whatever it is you want. It will be drawn towards you once you take ownership of it. And please continue to laugh, it's what gets us by. It's what makes me crave tomorrows.

The boss is overrated

Talk about being in the right place, at the right time. Just because you write pop music, doesn't mean you're good. And, just because you're successful, does not mean you're good. Call me a class warrior, but I need to verbalize it. Bruce Springsteen is horrible.

First of all, he writes out of pure nostalgia. I say this because he had a choice after his very first record, one that I enjoy, "Thunder Road." His choice was this: make touching, heartfelt, honest songs about suburban life in New Jersey, about love, early adulthood, and a longing to rise above the mediocrity around him. It was sincere, rough, and beautiful.

But then, the 80s happened. And this is a hot point - did the 80s make Bruce the way he is, or did Bruce make Bruce the way he is? Our culture had an indelible shift once the 80s arrived, and people like Bruce were at the helm of hip and cool. Suburbia was finally reached out to as a target market, and as an accepted facet of American life, and so culture, sex, TV, and consumerism (most importantly) poured in in a most uncensored, blatant way. So Bruce Springsteen, with his headbands, ripped jeans, and baggy, torn-off dress shirts, became a sex symbol. He sang songs like "Dancing in the Dark," and if you compare the synthesizers and beats to his first record, the contrast is stark. He brought Courtney Cox on stage, and made himself appear desired by gorgeous woman. In point-of-fact, gorgeous woman indeed desired him, but that's beside the point.

So, Bruce wrote "Born in the USA." Tell me, reader, what is it about? It's not a patriotic song. It tricks you. Look up the lyrics. It laments the Vietnam War, and puts in to question what it means to be American. I don't have a problem with this, but I feel this is one of music's biggest misunderstandings. Bruce never bothered to mention this though, he just pounds his foot on the ground and looks at the crowd like "Yeah! Sing it OUT!" He let Ronald Regan use it as a campaign song until someone realized what it really meant. Some call that cool, some admire Bruce for it. I think he owed us all the respect to stand up for what he meant.

Everything from that point on, from "Dancing in the Dark," is crap. Crap, crap, crap. Tacky, gaudy, cliche, and generic. I think of his songs "Devils and Dust," "The Rising," and so on, and I think of how it's all the same. He tells the story of a young girl, young man, or someone, who is hard on his luck, and can't seem to find his way. Or, he tries to market 9/11 in a way that's neatly packaged and seemingly innocent. It's probably sincere on his part, and I don't think he's a bad person or maybe even a bad guitar player, but enough is enough.

This blog will sting many people around me who love Bruce, but I cannot find that something special in what he does.

For example, he recently has decided to become Bob Dylan. Singing poorly, stripped down, harmonica, tattered clothing, songs about Americana or those forgotten, showing people what a "naked" Bruce sounds like. But please. He is no Dylan. He can't hold a candle to Dylan. This guy is sitting up there, singing and playing, and people immediately think there's something magic going on. Bruce says he's sitting up there singing about the ones society does not reach out to, that he is their champion. Devils and dust? Devils and Dust? Here's the thing about that one little line:

A little trick songwriters do when writing. If you hear a line, something like devils and dust, in passing conversation, you hang onto it. A hook, it is called. Aliteration helps. Now, take that one line, and construct an entire song and meaning around it, so it sounds legit and deep and meaningful. But is it really? Of course not. It's writing from the outside in, instead of the inside out. Hooks arrive in songs, at least for me and those I respect, from the songs themselves. Verses and choruses meld together from a life experience, or from a learned idea, emotion, or concept. Devils and dust, while it sounds deeper, was probably the very first thing Mr. Springsteen had when writing that song. He then had to find a way to (this is a BIG thing here) "APPLY" the meaning to that phrase through the rest of his song. Do you see what I mean? It's fake, it's meant to apply meaning to something that sounds appealing to masses; its not his life or someone else's life or experiences. I could sit here and write songs literally all day if someone kept sending me hooks.

That last bit may be hard to understand if you aren't directly associated to music, but it's crucial to my point. I think this notion makes him phony, the way pop-punk bands are, the way The Eagles are. Think about it, what is "Hotel California" really about? There is no deep meaning. I assure you, the hook, like the proverbial cart, was placed ahead of the meaning, the proverbial horse. Look at a song like "Don't Think Twice, it's Alright" by Bob Dylan. The depth, the real and raw emotion, it's all there, and everyone knows it. No one questions what Dylan writes, because he lives it. The way Johnny Cash does. The way new-folkies like M. Ward, Damien Rice, or Jewel (pre-hip hop, "Pieces of You" phase) - these are the cohorts Springsteen would like to be held in regards with (except probably Jewel, just making a non-gendered case). He cannot hold a candle to Johnny Cash. Couldn't tie his shoes. It's so clear once you listen closely.

Listen to your pop records again, and tell me you don't agree. REMEMBER: Just because you write pop music, doesn't mean you're good. And, just because you're successful, does not mean you're good.

P.S. The Boss? Of who? Not me. And hopefully, not you.

Route 17 -> Rt.86 -> Rt. 395 -> Rt. 81

A long, long road
Alone
Seeing the stars that Times Square tried
To bring to the Earth
But best kept up there

I lay in the back seat
After leaving myself up on a stage
Swelled up with emotion
And for once, not reaching for my cell phone
Complete, more like it.

I feel a part of me dying off
A wing, a familiar me
being lowered in the ground
I've grown this part
Watered it
Tilled its soil
And now, I see it wilted
Not enough sun

I will lament this part
For a few more short weeks
And kindly break it off
Bid it adieu
And begin to grow something new

Honey, you're not supposed to get off this easy
And most other nights
With the Big Sky
And the Little Dipper in plain view
I lamented you
I cried for you
I desired you above all

My eyes burning
A familiar phase
Means I spent too long awake
This time it was lack of sleep
Lack of oxygen
Breathe
Lack of night
That I needed to dip into tomorrow
To get home

I do not lament you anymore
I do not lament you
I do not lament
I do not
I do
I

Left with I
I tend the garden
Planting seeds
Mending
Where the afternoon Sun shines
Singing my Dirge

"If you get struck by lightening
Can you rise from the dead?
Is that great strike of lightening
Where the rising begins?"

Zen Guitar

I found a book today
Zen guitar
at work
Amongst all the journals
Very odd to find such a thing
amidst "Journal of Laparoscopic Surgery"

It is written to teach people Zen
through playing guitar
The cover is a beautiful back and grey
With a parch of red

"Zen guitar is nothing more
than playing the song
we're all born with -
the song that makes us human.
Any one of us can do it.
The music is waiting there to be unlocked."

I open the cover, and there is a paper inserted into it
A pamphlet from a memorial
It says "A Celebration of Phil Sudo's Life"
June 22, 2002
Mr. Sudo died of cancer, I infer
And he wrote this book, I found
in 1997
To teach others
A hip, new path to Zen
To that force that governs the universe

Mr. Sudo,
You died about 6 years ago, with what seems to be a multitude of love.
I am going to read your book.
I am ready am moved to tears when I think of how you must have lived.
Through your death, your book ended up on my desk
And while everyone else laughed and said "Zen Guitar!? What!?"
I opened your book
And found the insert from your family
Where they honored you
Where they cherished you
In community
Shared stories, movies, anecdotes
And ultimately
Gave your book to those in attendance.
Thank you, Phil. I can already see how beautiful a man you were
And still are.

"One Memory"
music and lyrics by Philip Toshido Sudo

Read me stories as I go to bed
Put a simple vision in my head
Take me far away and hold on tight
Listen carefully as I confide

Orange, yellow, red and lemonade
Sound of drums and trumpets in parade
You're my one memory
What I clung to when I'm lost at sea
No confusion finally
You're my one memory

Take me back to sunshine in the park
Whisper that you love me in the dark
Put your arms around me as I dream
Wake me from the nightmare when I scream

Orange, yellow, red and broken wings
Sound of grounded angels as they sing
You're my one memory
What I clung to when I'm lost at sea
No confusion finally
You're my one memory

Run your tender fingers through my hair
Let me go with you from here to there
Though my future doesn't look too bright
Keep tomrorow far away tonight

You're my one memory
What I clung to when I'm lost at sea
No confusion finally
You're my one memory

I'm lost at sea...
One Memory

Memorare of St. Bernard

Brandon is here.
I can feel that he will be moving to New York City
For The Dream

I am here.
I can feel sometimes, sometimes I am numb
For my Dream

God is here
I can feel him in the form of cold metal and rope, placed on my neck
For my heart

"Remember oh most gratious Virgin Mary
That never was it known
That anyone who fled to your protection,
Implored your help,
Or sought your intercession
Was left unaided.
Inspired by this sacrifice
I turn to you
O Virgin of virgins, My mother
To you I come, before you I stand,
Sinful and sorrowful.
Oh, Mother of the Word Incarnate
Despise not my petitions
But in your mercy
Hear and answer me.
Amen."

I haven't prayed as hard in months.
Answer me.
More importantly, listen to me.
Send me people to gather 'round me.
Lift me on high,
And do not forsake me.
Mold me into something
I can be proud of
I have only become more hardened
More tense
More consumed
Less likely to believe
I am but clay
For You to form into a man
Protect Me
Now and Always
Because I know I cannot
Protect Myself
Stay near my heart
Stay between my skin and my shirt
Stay cold
Stay Rope
Stay Metal
And radiate to my chest
Radiate to my soul
Keep me Healthy
I command You
Love me
I Forcefully command You
Please, please Love me
Oh, Lord hear my prayer
When I call, Answer me.

Bridge

http://jaym121.blogspot.com/2007/06/bridge.html

There's a band in me playing all these songs that remind me of you

"When two souls meet ....
"Half of the world forgets...
"When two souls meet...
"All of the traffic lights...
"And when you stand right...
"That you don't care if...
"Oh when two souls meet...
"You better be there...."

One chorus, unable to *not* be sung, and a trip to New England is worth the price of admission. You who aren't me and reading this do not get to have the other half of the words or the melody yet. I wouldn't want to grab your mind until you hear it in its entirety. But when you do hear it for the first time, then I won't care if you can't stop singing it. It is what it is. Perhaps my opus? Perhaps I'm Mr. Holland?

What a lovely experience Providence was. The train ride rode through the rough-and-tumble industrial stretches of Connecticut, and I knew it would. Rusty, more like it. Every 15 minutes or so, we'd enter some mid-level metropolis, like Stamford, with office buildings set in front of the horizon, the way a city like Binghampton or something small tries to 'pretend' it has skyscrapers. "Real" big cities cover up the horizon.

We exit the cities, and started traversing along the coast of Long Island Sound /Atlantic Ocean. Small fishing villages appeared, which probably do not contain fisherman anymore. Instead, snooty New Yorkers drive 4 hours each way to "get away" from whatever it is we New Yorkers get away from, to spend two days in a newly refurbished rustic mansion. I say that out of total jealousy, because the scenes were breath-taking, the homes beautiful, and the smell of the salt in the air from the ocean, intoxicating. New England, with its tremendous hype from those I know, really is something to cherish. It was above and beyond my favorite train ride ever, not just because of the scenery, but also because it was only 3.5 hours. A movie, a book, some dinner, and I'm there.

My first minute in Providence was very much like my first minute in other cities I loved. There is something great that hits you *BAM* when you step out into cities I love, and puts everything else into a wonderful perspective. In Pittsburgh, it was the way the river and cascade hit you coming up from the tunnel in West Virginia; in New York, it was stepping out of Penn Station to see activity not unlike an ant colony, frenzy at its peak; in Ediburgh, Scotland, it was the sight of the ever-looming castle that immediately drew your eyes to the one watching you from above. In Providence, it was the Rhode Island Statehouse.

What a beautiful building, made entirely of marble, rivaling and I think surpassing our Capital in Washington. Surrounded by trees, which act almost like a natural security force, it's actually quite hard to get a good glimpse of the entire establishment from where I first saw it. I was lucky to get a wonderful glance on my ride back to the train station, and that will forever be engrained in my memory. Providence is steeped in history, ancient history by our American standards, and I felt amongst some old souls when I started walking around.

My time at the coffeehouse was wonderful and parts sad, in that it was so short. Tony, the owner of Brooklyn Coffee and Tea House www.brooklyncoffeeteahouse.com was so wonderful, so accomodating, and even offered to put me up for the night. There's so much I want to say about my experience there, but I think I will devote an entire post to my short time there.

Anyways, my set went great, I snuck a song in that no one really knew, and I was on my way home before I knew it. The trip was wonderful, beautiful, soothing, therapeudic, and ultimately a great success. If for nothing more than my finishing that damn chorus, something I am excited to stand up and proclaim to people, to the masses.

I went golfing in the driving rain yesterday with two other wet warriors. We fared well, and walked miles and miles doing something we love. I felt like a million bucks when I got home, it was so rewarding and fun. Sunday ritual for sure.

Found my Kairos cross. Been wearing it since. Kairos = in Greek, "God's time." I constantly touch it under my shirt now, I think to remind me that its actually there, and to make sure I didn't lose it. It's been through hell and back, and still lives on. I don't know if I can take it off again.

My Away Message 06/03/07

ASCAP inc: the devil wears prada

EverythingTABOOO: nacho libre

ASCAP inc: legally blonde 2

EverythingTABOOO: the fluffer

ASCAP inc: mean girls

EverythingTABOOO: the village

ASCAP inc: stomp the yard

EverythingTABOOO: finding nemo

ASCAP inc: coach carter

EverythingTABOOO: stuck on you

ASCAP inc: weeds: season 2

EverythingTABOOO: team america

ASCAP inc: hannibal: rising

EverythingTABOOO: fat actress

ASCAP inc: dude, where's my car?

EverythingTABOOO: cum fiesta

ASCAP inc: bring it on

EverythingTABOOO: in the bedroom

ASCAP inc: snakes on a plane

EverythingTABOOO: freedomland

ASCAP inc: gigli

EverythingTABOOO: bowling for columbine

ASCAP inc: an inconvenient truth

EverythingTABOOO: a league of their won

ASCAP inc: romy and michelle's high school reunion

EverythingTABOOO: lost in translation

ASCAP inc: shrek

EverythingTABOOO: chocolat

ASCAP inc: to wong foo: thanks for everything! -julie newmar

EverythingTABOOO: chitty chitty bang bang

ASCAP inc: die hard: with a vengence

EverythingTABOOO: liza with a z

ASCAP inc: never been kissed

EverythingTABOOO: 10 things i hate about you

ASCAP inc: die another day

EverythingTABOOO: mrs. doubtfire

ASCAP inc: the talented mr. ripley

EverythingTABOOO: the stepford wives

EverythingTABOOO: goodnight

ASCAP inc: goodnight, and good luck

EverythingTABOOO: tomorrow never dies

ASCAP inc: the butcher's wife