Sunday, May 28, 2017

Songs other people sing

I've never really liked covers as much as originals. Until I heard a little redhead blow the doors off of The Weight.

Then I started hearing covers all over the place that I loved better than the originals. Clapton's blistering rendition of Don't Think Twice, It's Alright, Motley Crue surprising the piss out of me with their Elvis cover.

I've even found myself liking covers of songs I never liked in the first place.

My brain got rolling down the cover rabbit hole this morning because of a Ben Marwood cover that I LOVE.

I'll tell you an embarrassing secret. The first time I heard it I thought he was covering Frank Turner. Then I thought, maybe Frank is covering Ben.

I know now that I am so fucking wrong.

In either case, I like both of their versions better than the original. I like Ben's a wee bit more.

I have to go drive a boat now. I will check in on comments throughout the day. Post a link of some of your favorite covers in the comments, or tweet them at me, or FB, or telekinesis. Whatever.

Yes, I will judge you.

Titty sprinkles!

Friday, May 26, 2017

It's weird, my brain

I set my DVR to record Timeless last year because I've been pulling for Abigail Spencer for years.

I'd see her in a commercial and always tell TGB, I remember her from that movie with Reese Witherspoon.

What movie?

I literally just told you. The one with Reese Witherspoon.

*tried killing me with her stare*

I don't remember what it was called. She was Tom Hardy's ex. They end up back together in the end because Reese picked Chris Pine and his MONUMENTALLY LARGE forehead. I always thought Hardy's character ended up with the better end of the deal. 

This Means War. 

What? I didn't do anything!

That's the movie, dumbass. 

She was also in HIMYM. 

What? When? 

She was the psycho Ted met online.

You can't remember a movie title, but you can remember a bit player in a tv episode from years ago?


Fucking weirdo. 

You married me.

I thought I was gonna die! 

She was also in Oz, Great and Powerful but let's all pretend that movie never happened, okay?

My point is, I finally binge watched Timeless and I really like it. I'm glad they un-cancelled it.

There are a few other thespian types that I am pulling for you might not recognize except as that person from that thing.

Ohhhh, Rachel Harris has been a favorite of mine for years! I love her on Lucifer. 

Gillian Vigman is in more commercials than I can keep track of. I LOVED her in Subergatory. Hated that show getting cancelled for myriad reasons.

Those are the ones that pop into my head this morning.

Titty sprinkles!

Thursday, May 25, 2017

In hindsight this song makes no sense

The pendulum is in full swing to the right. It happens every few years in this country.

Swing too far to the left and people on the right complain about the cost in dollars. Swing too far to the right and people on the left complain about the cost in lives.

I don't understand why anyone on the right thinks it an insult to call me a liberal.

Somewhere in a parallel universe there is a version of this world with no imaginary beings to die kill for.

If it really is true, if there is an infinite number of universes there has to be at least one where we aren't complete shits to each other, right? One where Bill and Ted can be excellent to each other in holy matrimony without anyone protesting. One where the Lovings never had to fight the fight to have their (and ultimately my) marriage legitimized. One where poor kids have full bellies and everyone sick is tended to. One where the GDP is spent entirely on making the country better there are no countries because imaginary lines dividing us don't exist.

I'm feeling whimsical this morning. That happens on the rare mornings when I come downstairs and TGB hasn't left for work yet. Hard to be surly when she's shaking her hips from side to side as she saunters up the stairs to shower.

Okay, I have to get some writing done and sent away.

Titty sprinkles!

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

I didn't feel like writing this morning

It's pouring down rain this morning.

I suspect Dexter is shivering in his kennel like a sissy la la.

He'll attack a bear, but heaven forbid it get a little windy and rainy outside.

Weird. In the time I wrote the above three sentences the wind died, the rain stopped and the ocean went flat.

If I get whisked off to Oz I promise to punch a flying monkey.

I got sidetracked by Kate Mara and now I can't see because she brought some invisible onion chopping ninjas with her. I don't usually care about dog movies, but I want to see that one.

Holy shit, the sky is blue and it is raining again. #Floridia

It looks nice outside. Which means it's hotter and stickier than satan's taint.

Never visit Floridia in the summer. It's unbearably hot and sticky and the bugs will eat you alive. And the ones that don't eat you will fuck right on your face. They call them love bugs but they're really fucking fuckface bugs because that is what they do: they fuck on your face.

In case you've forgotten, #45 is still a fucking moron.

Titty sprinkles!

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

No sprinkles today

I find The Little Prince comforting even in the worst of times.

My heart is heavy for Manchester and this came to mind when the news began coming in.

It used to just remind me of the people I have loved in this life and then lost.

But I realized somewhere along the way that everyone is someone's person.

I've loved reading the stories of the helpers. People giving a place a to stay, a place to eat, a ride to complete strangers afterwards.

Again, I refuse to blame an entirety of people who worship a certain way for the acts of a few who fly the same banner have commandeered that faith for nefarious means.

That would be like me blaming all white people for the few acts of racism I've had to endure in my life. I've never considered doing that either.

Mostly, I am resolved to go to more concerts and hug more strangers than I was yesterday at this time.

Also, this whole thing is turning me into an Ariana Grande fan. So suck on that, terrorists!

Monday, May 22, 2017

Ain't it wonderful to be alive when the rock-n-roll plays

My face hurts and I cannot breathe. That's a byproduct of living in Florida with allergies.

Drugs, please kick in.

In the last couple days animals have dished out some sweet vengeance on humanoids. First was the elephant that crushed the dude that shot her. Well done, lady giant.

Then there was the seal that yanked the little girl into the water. He was lonely and wanted to play. Or he was hungry and reads my blog so he knows kids are tender at that age. Either way, the kid is fine and the seal is lonely/hungry. Poor seal.

I'm re-writing a screenplay I am sending to a couple of people to review. I read it last night and realized I have no fucking idea what I am doing.

I read a thing where David Bowie once said something like, I was driven to get through this life very quickly as if it was almost something to just get over with. That's how I've felt the vast majority of my life.

That feeling is broken up by rare moments of wanting to out run the ticking crocodile lest he catch me; moments when I can almost will time to stop so I can relish it just a little longer than time will allow.

Whenever I write a thing that is real and not just some word salad dribble I can't get it over with fast enough.

But then, sometimes, I will stumble across a thing I wrote and think, wow, I really wrote that? Hmmm, maybe it's not all rubbish.

My face still hurts, but I can breathe again.

Every one of us is riddled with doubt at some point. For some people it's chronic and debilitating. I was born with just enough I don't give a fuck-ness to soldier on through my moments of trepidation.

I don't have a point.

But I do have Billy Joel.

Titty sprinkles!

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Ummm.... words or whatever

It's raining. That means there's likely no boat rides today. So I will sip my coffee and enjoy some quiet this morning.

I was tempted to write another post about Jason Isbell just to do it. I actually considered writing about Isbell for a month or so just to make a point.

The point? That this is my blog and I'll write about whatever the fuck I want and if one of the seven of you doesn't like it that's more than okay with me.

But then I remembered that I don't really want to write about Isbell for a month or so.

I think we need to start taxing the church. If our tax dollars are going to go to religious schools then it seems only fair. In fact, tax them like we tax any other vice.

Like any vice, whatever good feelings the church brings they couple it with far more damage so, it seems fair to tax them just as voraciously as say cigarettes.

Think of the brilliant campaign the tobacco industry could run if we taxed the church.

Cigarettes, sure we're bad for you, but at least we're not the church. 

I dunno where this is coming from. I need coffee.

Cigarettes, we love the gays and we'll never try to rape your kid. 

Wow. I mean, it's spot on, but still.

Cigarettes, put us in your mouth, ladies. Or don't. We won't make that choice for you.

See, this is why I should be on the boat this morning.

Titty sprinkles!

Saturday, May 20, 2017

I think I finally have it all out of my system. If not, I'll probably write more about Isbell tomorrow. Deal with it.

The first time I heard the words, the old lovers sing, I thought it'd be me who helped him get home...

That's when I thought, I know those lovers. This guy is talking about being a drunk and the damage of humans he left in his addiction's wake. 

...home was a dream, one that I'd never seen until you came along.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at Samantha and knew who he was singing about. 

Damn near strangled by my appetites, Ybor City on a Friday night...

Someplace in Kansas. Maybe South Dakota. Or was it Missouri? 

...couldn't even stand up right

All of the above. Fuck.

When she was drunk she made cancer jokes... I buried her a thousand times...

That one. That's the one that turned me into a stone block. The waiting and not hearing in a fluorescent room standing up to the voice screaming the worst in my mind. The goddamn fucking act of reassuring her every three months while secretly begging a god I don't believe in for just a little more time. 

...where's that liquor cart? Maybe we shouldn't start, but I can't for the life of me say why

The white knuckle of it all. 

And the story's only mine to live and die with, and the answers only mine to come across. But the ghosts that I got scared and I got high with look a little lost... ten years ago I might have thought I didn't have the right to say the things an outlaw wouldn't say...

I earned these scars. Most of them were inflicted by the person who hated me most. 

There's a man who walks beside her, he is who I used to be and I wonder if she sees him and confuses him with me. 

That's the guy that got her. I wonder if she misses him. I wonder if I was more fun, more alive in her eyes. I still wonder sometimes. 

I had to summon the confidence needed to hear her goodbye...

Remember that lover who thought it'd be her? 

And I repeat the mantras that might keep me clean for one day...

That time she noticed and took my hand. I was just sober a few months. She didn't know a lot about what went on in those meetings, but she knew there was something about a higher power or some shit. She offered to pray with me. I didn't drink that day. It was a good day. 

And I'd had enough about a month ago tomorrow... god bless the busted boat that brings us back

This dude is talking about getting sober. And glad for it. Fuck yes.

When they picked me up I made a big noise, everything to blame except my mind... with you there's always something to look forward to, my lonely heart beats relatively easy.

This has just been snippets of what Southeastern means to me. I could almost go line-by-line. It's a perfect record to me. It's my story. It's every recovering addicts story. 

...but I made it through 'cause somebody knew I was meant for someone. 

Titty sprinkles!

Friday, May 19, 2017

If I wanted to, I could write a post about each song on that record

After yesterday's post went up I saw that Isbell has a new song.  That is purely coincidental, but it really did take the sting off of the otherwise melancholy feel of the day.

I noticed I was coming off of my London high yesterday.  It could also be jet-lag.

There were so many moments on that trip when I wanted time to slow waaayyyy down.

You know the kind of moments I mean. Your favorite singer plays that one song you thought she'd never play live and it hits you in a place you never thought anyone would reach. That person you love more than most does something that makes you fall in love all over again, laugh, swipe that strand of her hair behind her ear, look at you and smile just so.

More than once I was in a room filled with wonderful people.

Other times I was with TGB and maybe one or two others. And that was enough to fill a place with love and magic.

There was even genuine sadness. The kind of sadness that sucks while simultaneously reminding me how lucky I am to have this sadness in the first place.

Frank sang Magi and my brain went back to a boat and a little English chick I love so much. I leaned in and listened. And cried a little. I missed you, Charlie.

I've been listening to Southeastern on a loop since yesterday.

Titty sprinkles!

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Dear rock stars, be more Isbell.

I suppose you want me to catch you up on all the fun that was London.

It was a great fucking time.

All caught up.

Chris Cornell died. I love his voice. That we still have. I'm sorry for his family, though.

When a musician dies I always think about my friends who make music and get a little scared for them.

Not exactly the healthiest lifestyle, you know?

Then I think about Jason Isbell. He got sober and fixed his life.

I don't know what killed Cornell. It's not any of my, or your business.

I just know that being a rockstar can lead to a rockstar lifestyle and sobriety can save that life.

I am going to post my favorite Chris Cornell song at the end of this, but I put on Southeastern as soon as I read he died.

At the end of the first night in London a friend wondered aloud to me, it must be really hard on nights like tonight where everyone is drunk. 

I looked around and breathed it all in.

Not even a little. 

I know if I was drinking I would likely be the one ruining an amazing night. The kind of night you want time to stop for just a little while longer.

No, Craig, nights like tonight make me so fucking happy not to drink so I won't miss a fucking moment of it. Is what I wish I'd said.

TGB's tattoo artist is a Cornell fan. We commiserated over our love of that fucking voice while he was working on her back piece. The next time we came in he handed me a bootleg of a Swedish concert Cornell did.

We will always have the music.

Titty sprinkles!

Postscript - I am not pretending to know what killed CC. It's just that my mind goes to things like OD and addiction whenever someone in his position dies prematurely. It was more a train of thought post than an actual thought piece on the actual events of his life/death.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Just in cases

Tine for one quick last post before I head to the Old Country.

While I am away do me a solid.

<<--- see those links over there? Click on them and read a post or two from my friends. They write better than I do anyway. And it's more than just word vomit.

If something should happen while I am away, if my plane should crash or, a terrorist takes me out or, I annoy TGB one too many times and she drowns me in the Thames just make sure you do a couple of things.

Cremate me and spread my ashes in the Monterey Bay.

Give my Lance Alworth jersey to my buddy Charlie (the boy version).

And, from time to time, remind Jason that his mom's a whore. It'll make him feel not so far away from me.

Oh, and makes sure you fuckers laugh at my funeral.

Okay, have fun whilst I am away!

Titty sprinkles!