The Lady and The Mailman

            I was walking in the hills when I ran into the mailman. He and I are friendly. We wave hello when we see each other. 
            You'll never believe what just happened to me, he said. 
            What. 
            I was walking away from a house when I heard a voice say excuse me. I turned around to see who it was. There was a young woman standing at the front door in her underwear. Can you help me with this, she said. Her coffee maker was stuck. It had a twisty thing. Sure I said. I thought this was a gift from god. 
            That's every delivery man's dream I said. 
            Yeah, I know. 
            So what did you do? 
            Nothing, I twisted the thing off the coffee maker and handed it back to her. 
            You crazy fool! You'll be thinking of her for the rest of your life I said jokingly. 
            I know he said as he walked away in a fog.
            I saw the mailman again a few weeks later. 
            Whatever happened to the lady who came outside in her underwear, I asked. 
            What lady? He paused, oh, her. She moved out! About a week later she was gone. 

The Black Cat

            For weeks, I'd drive down the hill and make a left turn, only to see a black cat waiting for me on the curbside. I'd speed up so he wouldn't cross my path. I'm not overly superstitious, but you can never be too careful.
            It happened over and over. And once or twice I'd speed up in vain, for the cat had it in mind to cross my path at great risk to his safety. In those instances, I'd drive away consumed with irrational fears of the unknown, having to convince myself it was just a cat.
            The cat had a look to him that worried me, like he knew something that I didn't know. Sometimes he'd look me in the eyes and follow me as I drove by. He'd just sit there and stare like an old sage with bright yellow eyes.
            A few days ago I made the left turn in the afternoon and there was the cat waiting for me. I turned to look at him to gauge whether he was going to run or not. But this time when I looked at him I noticed something different. There were four or five other black cats asleep on the pathway behind him. I laughed. Well, that explains it. It was trickery to the highest degree.
  

Banco

            I parked my car in front of my bank. I was on a slope. I turned my wheels toward the curb. I hadn't finished turning the wheel when I heard a crushing sound coming from the right front tire. It was ominous. I got out of the car and checked the tire. Sure enough, there was a hissing sound coming from it.
            I wasn't sure what to do. I considered my options. Should I drive away and find a tire shop, or deposit money into my account? I might as well make the deposit, I reasoned.
            There was a line, but it wasn't too bad, a couple of ladies and myself. But things slowed down some. I could hear the tire hissing in the back of my mind as I stood there.
            Anything else for you, Miss? Yes, may I have a cashiers check for a hundred dollars... I was hoping she'd say oh, no thank you.
            A guy in his twenties was playing with his phone while he waited for his transaction to be made. The kid couldn't pull himself away from it. He was looking down at it stupidly. He was all thumbs. He had the fastest thumbs I've every seen. It was troubling to look at.            
            I finally had a turn at a teller. I slid him a check and asked for a dollar in quarters just in case I needed to put air in my tire. The teller looked at me oddly. I felt obligated to tell him the story. I parked on a slope and I turned my wheel... I should have never told him. 

Sleepus Interruptus

            I was startled from a deep sleep by a loud bang. It was more like an explosion than a bang. It was three in the morning. I was laying in bed when I heard a second explosion. I got up to see if I could figure out what was going on. If the neighborhood heard the noise they weren't bothering to get up. Not even the dogs showed any interest. All was still. 
            I heard a popping sound and then a loud buzzing sound. Black thick smoke was billowing in the air. I figured a transmitter blew or something. I went back to bed and listened. I heard a fire truck in the distance. The firemen turned off their sirens as they approached. It was as though they didn't want to wake the neighbors.
             The next day I took a walk to see if I could figure out what had happened. I was looking up at the transmitters, but they all checked out in good shape. (I was pleased to see that there were quite a few new ones). I kept walking. There's a windy road that leads to the top of the hill. I followed it up. I soon discovered what caused the racket. There was a burned out BMW. The heat had exploded its windows. Glass was scattered about. I inspected the carcass. There was nothing left but a burned out shell. I was trying to figure out if the fire was set intentionally, or if it was poor engineering. I never did figure it out. It was irremediable damage of the strangest kind.

Cleaning the Galaxy

            I spend my Sunday evenings at the hippie compound. They're not really hippies, but there is a communal element to their domicile. They have a fire pit, and we play music. There's a matriarch who is the brains of the outfit. She asked me if I had written during the week. I mentioned the blog I wrote about William Shatner and Star Trek.
            I have dreams about removing trash from the galaxy, she said.
            How do you do that, I asked.
            I fly from star to star and pick up the trash.
            How do you get from place to place? Do you will it to happen?
            She looked at me as if I were a dummy.
            I compress it. I use to fly around from star to star, but I realized it would take me a million years to finish, so I compress the galaxy. It's a lot easier that way.
            You mean like a digital file?
            She looked at me in a confused manner. I just do it!
            

The Way to Eden

            I heard part of William Shatner's new album. God bless him. He has a way with words, I tell you. Everybody's a poet, even William Shatner.
            I was once in a book store and I stumbled upon Leonard Nimoy's book of poetry. I read through it while standing. It was funny. I'm not sure that was his intention, but as a poet myself I laughed.
            I got to wondering if William and Leonard recited their poetry on set. I'm sure they did. Actors like to recite things. It's a shame there wasn't a Star Trek episode of their poetry. I'd pay money to see that. Kirk reciting a poem on Time. Mr. Spock reading a poem on the awkwardness of being different. Space hippies playing their bongos, Primitives singing songs: "Going to live like a king on whatever I find, eat all the fruit and throw away the rind." Episode twenty, season three.
            
           
           
            

Apps

          I've been composing music with an ipad. It's pretty dang amazing what apps can do. Equipment that would've cost thousands of dollars in the past is now $2.99-$4.99. The most expensive app I've bought so far was $15.00.
          I have experience working with vintage synthesizers, Moogs, Korgs, and samplers, so in a sense I'm rediscovering elements of my youth by composing electronic music. I have no shortage of ideas, but I haven't figured out a proper workflow yet. I've tried various approaches to sequencing, using different apps, but I'm not yet satisfied with the results. I'll be posting tracks soon, nonetheless. I figure my methodology will solidify itself as I gain practical experience, or when I find that perfect app.                                
          Writing songs is about sixty-two times harder than composing electronic music, but I like both mediums. There's a freedom to technology, it's called the delete button.