Incense Cedar

            I did my gig in Venice on Saturday. Tree Man sat in with us again. I love Tree Man. Oddly enough; I was on my way to dip my toes in the ocean on a break when I saw a man standing on a flatbed truck in the parking lot. He was moving what looked like infant pine trees around.

            “Are those pine trees?” I asked.

            “Incense Cedar,” he replied.

            He was a volunteer for an organization called Vietnam Vets for Trees or something like that. He was wearing a cowboy hat and had on a pair dark sunglasses. He proceeded to give me a lesson on Incense Cedar Trees. Then he gave me a seedling to take home. I was happy to have the tree. I walked the tree to my car and placed it in a cup holder for safe keeping. It looked like a little hitchhiker sitting there.

            I didn’t get a chance to dip my toes in the water, but on the way back to the bar I saw a man in leopard skin shorts dancing on the boardwalk with two sacks on his head, a sack of beans, and a sack of rice.  

The Muse

            The muse. I seldom talk about the muse. I suppose every artist should have an opinion about the muse. I find it interesting when artist offer their opinions regarding the subject. They tend to become animated, expressive, philosophical, and even poetic when they talk about the muse. The muse isn’t all that important to me. I seldom if ever think about her or him. It’s romantic to ponder and it has a long history in art, but for me it’s the process that keeps me interested. The muse is everywhere at anytime, but usually when you least expect it, so pay attention. That’s my philosophy when it comes to the muse.

However, when I saw an online ad written by a young lady wanting to be a muse, I responded.

            “I can always use a muse,” I answered.

            “What’s your medium?” she answered back.

             I'm a amused.

First Light

I woke up early this morning. It was four when I woke up. I tried to go back to sleep, but I didn’t have it in me. I checked my email, and put in some work on a bag of sunflower seeds that I had bought earlier in the evening. I had one handful of seeds that led to another. I couldn’t stop myself. Sunflower seeds are addicting. I sat there at my computer reading the news and cracking seeds.

            Soon it was the first light. With the first light the birds became animated. You’d think I was in Africa, not Los Angeles. There was a baby hawk squealing in a tree, and blue jay hacking. I was lying there listening to doves and finches and sparrows. There was an orchestra of birds singing. The night shift had ended and the day shift had begun. It was the celebration of the sun. It was so beautiful, it put me to sleep.  

Tree Man

I was at my Saturday gig in Venice Beach. All was calm for Venice, when our singer mid song yelled out, “there’s Tree Man!”

            I looked out the window and I saw a tall figure dressed like tree. He was on stilts. The stilts made him at least ten feet tall. He was a slender tree. He’s face was painted green and he had leaves and branches coming off of him. He was dancing on the boardwalk as we played. I laughed hardily.

            “Come sing a song Tree Man!” our singer said.

            Next thing I knew Tree Man was ducking down to lower himself through the front door to the bar. He took a few stiff steps towards the stage. He grabbed the microphone, and started to sing.

            “Sitting on the dock of the bay, I’ll be watching the tide roll away.” Tree Man had a good voice. I looked outside while he was singing. There was a short disheveled man with a mustache balancing a thirty-four ounce half filled plastic water bottle on his head.

Ugly Dried Plaster

            I was in the studio yesterday. We’ve wrapped up “I’ve Come Upon Hard Times.” We need to lower the cymbal crashes, but beyond that it’s finished. I’ll post the mix real soon. Now we’re working on “Things Have Gone and Changed.” It’s probably one of my favorite songs. It’s obviously a song about change, a break up song. Someone has done messed up and is wondering why things have gone and changed. I wrote it before I had an inkling of  a break up, or mess up, but that’s what happened we broke up. In essence, the song came before the event, which is a first for me.

            I was working on a new song last night, but the words wouldn’t come. I have the chord progression, the figure, but the words I was singing were no good. I’ve learned over the years not to make compromises with words that are no good, otherwise you’re stuck with them and it can ruin the song forever. It’s synonymous to fresco painting, if you mess up while painting a fresco, you're left with ugly dried plaster.  

The Working Bee

I drove out to the suburbs to visit my friend Lou. I tend to get depressed when I go out there. We usually drink a few beers and I’ll sleep it off before coming home. I woke up at five in the morning and thought it a good idea to come home early. The sun was rising and the birds were singing.  I was looking forward to a nice leisurely drive on the five freeway. I had my top down on my convertible. I was going to cruise back. I got on the freeway and everything turned manic in an instance. There were cars everywhere traveling at a high rate of speed. I felt like torpedoes were shooting at me from all directions. I was the neutron and there were protons flying all around me. This is no way to live.

            I was driving in the slow line. I was being tailgated by a hyped up worker bee. He was right on my bumper, as if there were no other lines to pass me with. Even the semi trucks were speeding. I was holding on tight to my steering wheel, thinking this is crazy. What’s the damn rush? It’s five in the morning. The sun is coming up. The birds are singing. Lets ease on into it and have a good time. 

Found Bill

            I found out what happened to Bill the smog guru. I went to his shop once more before asking my friend Jessie Sweet to contact Norman a mutual friend of Jessie’s and Bill’s, to ask if he had heard of anything about him. Norman is in the music business, or was, I’m not sure.

            Sure enough, the smog guru is in the hospital with gastro intestinal problems. He had a removal of parts and a resection of others. Norman asked Bill if he could visit him in the hospital, but Bill declined. The smog guru is a private man, even in ill health. 

            I received a text from Bill in response to my “Are you alive?” text. It read, “barely, should be out early next week.”

            I sent him a text back, “did you see the pearly gates?”

            He sent back, “grizzly details to follow.”