My Life In A Nut Shell

      From time to time I like to give an update on my doings. To keep my readers abreast of my life and otherwise. 

      I finally got the second proof of my book in order, "And Then Dawn Dies." I had some trouble with the formatting. I went to the University of YouTube to rectify the problem. The answer didn't come right away, so the book languished while I did my research. What I discovered was that a computer is not a typewriter. It seems fairly obvious, but the long and the short of it is, there are hidden characters in the computer world, and the space bar is not to be used to make indentations. I don't remember using the space bar to make indentations, but that's neither here nor there now. 

      I've also been recording a new album. I finished the old album, "Solar Road," but I'm not happy with the mixes so I haven't promoted it. The same thing happened to my first album, "Janus." I'll have to remix both albums at some point. But until then I'm working on my third album, which I haven't named yet.

     I've been writing songs for both the new album and The Glen Livers. The Glen Livers is the live act, the band, or the general term for my music. I'm trying to keep The Glen Livers live show upbeat. Many of the songs I write are not upbeat, so I'm using them for the third album. 

     I'll be compiling my blogs for a book idea I have. While I re-write my second book, "Lilies In The Fridge," as I finish my third book, "Brother Jerry."

     That's the report. Stayed tuned. 

Change

      My neighborhood has changed some over the years. It used to be a quiet neighborhood inhabited by older graying folks with nondescript faces. Ordinary looking people who rode bicycles up hill in the dark. I remember an older woman in particular who would ride at night with a fluorescent green flag sticking up from the back of her bike. She lived in the house below me, down the hill.
      One day I noticed that her husband was gone. Just gone. I don't know what happened to him. I remember emergency vehicles showing up to their house one night. I don't know for sure if it was their house, or the house next door, but he did disappear forever.
      The lady sold the house in his absence. An ambitious couple bought it, fixed it up, and then sold it again. Now the house is sitting empty. It's been that way for a couple of months. I don't mind. It's peaceful in an eerie way. The lights come on, but nobody's home.
      I had it in mind to write this blog about noise. The neighborhood is noisy now. With ambition comes noise. I've also noticed that the ambitious have a distaste for trees. I'm not sure what that's all about. Maybe they see trees as a form of competition. I mean, let's face it, trees are much smarter than the rest of us.
      

The Landlord

      
      I had a landlord who liked to talk about money. He had a theory about real estate trends. According to him, the market dipped every ten to twelve years and that was the best time to buy property. It was always the same when we talked. It was like we never talked before. It was money, money, money.
      His desire for money struck me as wrong being that he was a pastor of a Christian church. What added to my disgust was that I knew he was going to jack my rent up at first opportunity. Some Chriatain. 
      I'm forever thankful to the man though. If it weren't for his overt greed, I'd never gotten angry enough to move out of his beat up bungalow and build a cabin on the cheap. I didn't want to give him half my income for the rent anymore. I sacrificed time and energy for that money. Having to navigate through the wing-clipped personalities of my fellow workers was enough to bring me down. We're all wing-clipped in some way or another, but still.
      I drove by my old place the other day. It looks the same seven years later. It still needs paint, and it still looks shabby. It made me think about the landlord and his disease. It's a disease lots of landlords have, chosing money over people. It's the sad reality of the sick mind. Money over people. Money over everything. 

The Snake River Project

      The Snake River Project was a development I was working on for my G.I. Joe. It was a joint construction with the neighborhood kids to provide a training ground for the aquatic special task force. 
      We started digging it in my backyard behind the garage. I soon discovered the neighborhood kids weren't as enthusiastic about the project as I was, but undaunted, I kept digging. 
       The idea was to build a river with twists and turns that emptied into a pool so I could collect my G.I. Joe before sending him back down the rapids in his black special task force raft. There was to to be a waterfall, which was to be made from rocks and a water hose, the details of which I hadn't fully worked out yet. But that was the gist of it. 
      When the digging was complete I approached my eldest brother. "I need to buy a bag of concrete. Will you give me a ride?"
      To his credit, he didn't ask many questions and gave me the ride. 
      Not fully confident as to how to apply the concrete the project stalled. 
      Ultimately, the project was sabotaged by other developers, my brothers, who decided to build a patio in its place. Angered but outnumbered, I moved on.
      

No Muhammed

I was a big fan of Muhammad Ali when I was a boy
I was introduced to him while he was laying flat
on his back after being dropped by Joe Frazier in their first fight
he was on the cover of Sports Illustrated Magazine
and it struck me that the magazine was mocking him for some reason

I used to watch his fights and cheer for him
and I was always disappointed when he lost

The thing about Muhammad was,
he'd make me feel squeamish when he talked
he was so brash and outspoken
and contrary to the accepted norms
that I wished he'd shut up

A part of me felt like he was being used by the media
to show how ill-mannered the black man was
keep in mind I was just a boy,
but I remember having these feelings

When he talked to Howard Cosell
I'd say no Muhammed
don't mouth off and I'd get uncomfortable
listening to him brag about his greatness

I didn't know what a poet was until I heard
people calling Muhammed one
I remember liking some of his poems
and being disappointed by others
he was hit or miss

The Trampoline House

      There's a house in my neighborhood that I walk by on the way to the grocery store. I've been walking by this house for years, twenty-five at least. 
      There's a trampoline in the front yard and from time to time I'll see kids playing on it. I can't help but look over at it and watch them play. They're usually screaming and laughing, having a good time.
      The funny thing about the kids is they never seem to age. Ever since I could remember they've always looked the same. These kids are about seven or eight years old, nine tops. I've never seen their mother pregnant. She looks the same as well. She drives a Subaru wagon, and the car hasn't changed much either.
      I can't figure it out. Maybe the kids are foster kids, or extended family. What gives? Ageless kids that's what. The reality is that they're really thirty-five years old. Or a generation slipped by me without me knowing it. 

Candy

      I was putting gas in the tank when I saw a kid holding a cardboard box filled with candy. Chocolate bars I presumed. He was selling the candy for an "organization," it's common in Los Angeles.
      I did my best to make myself small, and for a time it was working. But the kid was making his rounds, and I was his next target. I tried to think of what to say to him when he finally did get to me. I was bored with my standard answer, no thank you. 
      I know! I'll tell him I'm a diabetic! Genius.
      The kid and I made eye contact, and he moved toward me. I was staring at the cardboard box under his arm as walked.
      Sir, would you like to buy some candy? The kid asked. 
      I'm sorry I'm a diabetic, I said with a sad face.
      The kid didn't blink an eye. Well, you can buy one for your mother, your aunt, your girlfriend, your kids. 
      I wasn't expecting such a quick-witted answer. I stood dumbfounded. It was obvious the kid had heard the diabetic line before. 
      You've heard that excuse before I said to the kid. Let me get back to you when I think of something else to say.