detached heart

detached heart
written dec 2, 2007 in prague.

as soon as i decided to leave
i regretted it.
this happens all the time.
it's a result of having a detached heart.

this goofy body, always flailing around
acting connected, purposeful,
is totally unmoored, adrift.
it makes rash decisions.

our clumsy relationships are anchors.
without them, we just float away into open water
and our heart swims behind,
trying to catch up, ever late.

Me no longer on a cleanse/fast: Day 2 | 10:15PM

Pancakes.

Me BARELY on a cleanse/fast: Day 2 | 6:30PM

I'm this close to finding myself a steak.

No seriously.

The jones have hit and hit hard.

Yowza!

It's been 2 full days... Hmmm... Maybe that's enough?

Weak... I know. Weak.

Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 2 | 11:03AM

Several friends have been checking in on me... to make sure I'm not on the kitchen floor, covered in twinkie wrappers, in a diabetic coma. Here's an IM conversation between my friend Robin and me.

11:03am Robin

how you feeling??

did you put me on speed dial?

11:03am John

i feel pretty good this morning!

had a headache last night.

11:03am Robin

yikes

11:03am John

surprised it took that long for the headache to come

11:03am Robin

scary

11:03am John

?

what's scary?

11:04am Robin

not eating

11:04am John

oh.

11:04am Robin

that's scary to me

I love to eat

11:04am John

let's see...

i've missed 5 or so meals so far. not that much.

11:04am Robin

whoa.

so good, I'm glad you're feeling ok

11:09am John

yes!

i'm actually feeling better than i thought.

and wanna hear something weird?

11:10am Robin

yes

please

tell me something weird

11:10am John

I haven't been hungry once.

literally.

it's strange.

11:10am Robin

be glad you don't get the food network

and

don't watch Ratatouille, whatEVER you do

:)

11:11am John

but a couple of times, i've been psychologically hungry... meaning, i noticed my mind wanting food but not because i was hungry... because of some other eating trigger.

interesting, huh?

11:12am Robin

tode

I would have eaten my arm off by now

11:12am John

prolly not, actually.

it's a neat exercise... to see the difference between true/physical hunger and psychological/pattern hunger

11:13am Robin

oh I'm psychological, all right

maybe just psycho..

not so logical

especially when it comes to eating

ok, kid, good luck on your adventure!

ttyl

11:14am John

bye!

Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 1 | 10:25PM

Well now... Don't I have quite the headache.

O0ouch.

I think this is from not drinking a pot of coffee -- caffeine withdrawal. Oh, or eating.

I'll stop whining now. :-)

______________________________________________


Me on a cleanse/fast Day 1

Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 1 | 1:25PM

So far so good.

This cayenne is really... hot. I can honestly say I've never drunk this much lemon juice, cayenne, water and maple syrup before. And I have a lot left to drink before the end of the day.

I feel a little stoned. But honestly, I felt a little stoned last night BEFORE the cleanse. Maybe it was all that pot I smoked. Kidding. So maybe I'm just coming down with something... or maybe I'm just naturally stoned. Yah brah.

On a normal day, I would have had a pot of coffee, a bowl of cereal (breakfast), a big ass sandwich of some kind (lunch), several cigarettes, and probably some fruit by now. It actually feels kind of nice to be giving the whole eating thing a rest.

I'm sure I'll be writing something entirely different in five or six hours. I have band rehearsal tonight. I wonder how grouchy I'll be...

_________________________________________________


Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 1

Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 0... Post Script

I'm already going to shaman land... I think it's a pre-cleanse high.

I'm ready to see Jesus eating a pork sandwich with Yul Brynner in the parking lot behind The Ten Commandments Hollywood set. Jesus turns to Charlton Heston and says, "They're gonna remember you for being an NRA nut. Mark my words, Charlie."

My brain is ready for a full blown Cecil B. DeMille-meets-William S. Burroughs production. I hope the lemon juju delivers. Bring on the tremors, bitch. Wait. That wasn't very "open hearted".

See? I'm already getting agro.

Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 0

I'm starting a cleanse/fast tomorrow...

Why? Good question.

Mainly because I think it would do me some good... to "reboot" my system, kick some habits, and try for some of that loopy clarity that they say comes around day 3.

I tried a similar thing years ago and found it to be really difficult but also really cool. It's an interesting way to put yourself into an altered mental (and physical) state.

I've heard good things about one named the Master Cleanse. Several friends have done it. Oh, and I just read that Beyonce did it to. Great. So, tomorrow morning, I'm gonna start.

(By the way, I make most of my big decisions by asking, "What would Beyonce do?" She's a real North Star for me.)

I also decided to blog about it... mainly because I think this whole thing might offer up some pretty entertaining stuff. And I don't mind putting my suffering, addictive urges (coffee, nicotine, alcohol, food, etc), and off kilter, strange thoughts on display for you.

And when I say "display", don't worry -- I won't be sharing EVERYthing. Ahem.

I'm anticipating 2-3 days of biblical headaches and DEFCON 5 bitchiness followed by semi-psychedelic levels of bliss. We'll see. I might be weak and just bail 1 day in... but I'm gonna try and tough it out.

Here we go! Wish me luck!

_____________________________________________________



Me on a cleanse/fast: Day 0

(Why do I look sort of scared?)

WANTED: Kazooists for The People's Kazoo Orchestra (PKO)

Hi,

We're starting a kazoo orchestra. And we need you. Yes, YOU.
(See below for details on how to join.)

I'm not kidding.

It's going to be named The People's Kazoo Orchestra (PKO).

Why? WHY? We're doing it for several reasons:

1) I'm putting together a new band and I believe it won't be complete unless and until we leverage the untapped, mysterious beauty and indescribable power of kazoo. I need a kazoo section in my band dammit.

2) The kazoo has the shortest learning curve of any instrument other than perhaps clapping. It is the instrument OF the people, BY the people, and FOR the people. The sound of kazoo is the sound of freedom. And we need to let freedom ring. We can take this country back... Kazoo is our drum and fife.

3) I giggle and smile when I think of us all playing a show together.

4) This is your chance to rock out on stage. Don't bother learning guitar or drums. That's a waste -- the world has enough of those, frankly.

5) Clearly... This is an idea whose time has come.


MANIFESTO FOR THE PEOPLE'S KAZOO ORCHESTRA

Rule 1) There will be as little rehearsing as possible. Probably, out in the alley right before the gig.

Rule 2) No prior music experience is required. You must only be capable of humming a tune.

Rule 3) You must be committed, fully, to the pursuit and development of a career in music as a kazooist.

Rule 4) Drinking is recommended at all PKO functions.

Rule 5) You can provide your own kazoo. They are available at local music stores.

Rule 6) Remember, there is no "I" in kazoo. This is about building kommunity and sharing love through the magic and mystery of kazoo. It's called a kazoo, not a kaYou.

Rule 7) There is no Rule 7.


HOW TO JOIN -- WE NEED YOU!

Contact John Common at letters@johncommon.com. Express your interest in joining the PKO in a manner befitting your personality and unique style. If you're really good, you might get first chair!

The first rehearsal is Wed, January 28th at the Oriental Theater -- an invitation only event.

This is not a joke. we need kazooists, badly.

My conversation with W.

My WOIC.

I just heard that flossing your teeth reduces your risk of heart disease.

Think about that.

Holy shit. FLOSSING YOUR TEETH REDUCES YOUR RISK OF HEART DISEASE.

When did this happen? It kind of sounded like a joke to me... but I looked it up. It's true.

I'm not writing about this to raise awareness... (Although, now you know!) I'm writing about this because it's the first data point on my newly-minted WHEEL OF INEXPLICABLE CONNECTIONS. I just made that up, but I think I might start using it... the WOIC.

IF flossing your teeth can lower your risk of heart heart disease, THEN what else is possible? I'll tell you what. The possibilities are endless...

What if schtooping reduces your risk of being hit by a train?

What if picking your nose increases your accuracy at skeet shooting?

What if chewing gum makes you walk straighter?

What if firing your drummer makes you a better singer?

What if masturbating makes you smarter? (Score!)

What if hopping on your left foot inoculates you against lung cancer?

What if masturbating makes you smarter? (Did I already say that?)

Look... you get my point. I'm just saying that it's a crazy, whacky world. And we don't know what we don't know. And there's a whole lot we don't know... a lot more than what we know we don't know. You know?

For all we know, wearing thong underwear prevents STDs...
.
.
.
.
.
.
Prolly not.

But let this thing we call a "blog" put you on notice, dear human. You have been forewarned. Be on the lookout for those strange connections... and email them to me at letters@johncommon.com. I promise to add them to my WOIC.

One day, when you least expect it, I'll show you my WOIC.

It'll be great.

People who vote are hot. And smart.

Hi!

It would break my heart if you missed out on the coming presidential election... Studies have shown that VOTING actually reduces body fat, tightens and tones, improves circulation and makes you look hot and smart. Seriously, it's incredibly important that we ALL participate -- i.e. VOTE. But, you can't vote if you don't register and the deadline for registering is super soon. So...

Visit this link to A) register to vote for the first time (Yay!), or B) make sure you're registered to vote at your current address (Yay!). It only takes 3 minutes -- silly easy:

https://www.voteforchange.com/index_obama.php?source=091008emailR

(Be patient with the site -- lots of people are registering!)

When you're done, please forward this same link to all of your friends and family. They'll appreciate it and think you're smart and hot for doing it.

~John

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity.
The fears are paper tigers.
You can do anything you decide to do.
You can act to change and control your life;
and the procedure, the process is its own reward.

~Amelia Earhart

A Facebook Conversation About Christianity

I ended up on an friend's Facebook page, kind of wasting time and browsing when I saw something she wrote entitled "Are you sure you're a Christian?". I clicked it and uncharacteristically made a comment.

===========================
Julie wrote
Are you sure you're a Christian?
Today at 4:02pm
I recently had a conversation with a guy who said that he was a Christian. He went on to say that he believes in reincarnation, karma, and that after our souls "grow up," they go to become a part of God. I asked him if he had ever studied Buddhism, and he said he had not. I asked him if he knew that most Christians don't believe in those things, he said that there was "some priest in some ecumenical council who had the power to change the religion." I asked him if he really thought of himself as a Christian, and he said he did, but that he thought that Jesus, Buddha and Allah are all one and the same. I asked how one should made the distinction between right and wrong, and he said that you have to use your heart and not your brain. I asked if he thought it was wrong to use your brain, and he said it was not. I was confused.

Clearly, everyone is different, and some value certain things more than others. This guy admittedly hadn't spent time studying any religion or philosophy because he didn't see the faults in his personal philosphy. I couldn't help but think about the verse in 1 Corinthians: "For God is not a God of disorder but of peace." While there are some elements of mystery in Christianity, the core of it is (thankfully) simple and not a mind-numbing puzzle.

Still, I thought it was so amazing that he defended his title of "Christian" although he didn't have any orthodox Christian beliefs!

===========================
Mikael wrote
at 4:41pm
'Cultural Christians' are prevalent in our society. I am reminded of a sermon I heard long ago in Yakima (WA) Presbyterian Church entitled: "God Has No Grandchildren".

The theme of the sermon was that Christianity is based upon there being a rift between God and Mankind due to our inherent tendency to "miss the mark" and stray from the perfect Will of God.

The way that chasm is bridged is by an individual (re)establishing his or her direct relationship with God through prayer. As this bridge was (re)built from God's side rather than ours, the bridge back to God has been by his plan rather than any construct of our own.

Thus, the path to a restored parent/child relationship with God is the only one available to us - not as a 'grandchild' getting the relationship from parents or friends.

I John 4:9: "In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him."

It is my understanding that although there are many roads that lead to Jesus Christ, Jesus claims for himself to be the only road to God:

John 14:1 "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God ; trust also in me.

John 14:2 In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you.

John 14:3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

John 14:4 You know the way to the place where I am going."

John 14:5 Thomas said to him, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?"

John 14:6 Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

What is most beautiful to me is that God has done everything possible to restore this relationship but has not taken away our free will to wander or return.

But Jesus makes clear that once He is found by us, being in relationship to Him is the only perfect solution for us.


===========================
John Common wrote
at 10:03pm
This is probably an inappropriate reply to this string. I hope I'm not viewed as being disrespectful-because I would NEVER disrespect someone's religious or philosophical views -- especially ones that are the result of study and thoughtfulness and earnest emotions. That said...

"Christianity is based upon there being a rift between God and Mankind due to our inherent tendency to "miss the mark" and stray from the perfect Will of God."

THAT is my central problem with Christianity. That is where Christianity has always rung kind of false to me, personally. (This is coming from a person who tried to believe and obey, by the way -- years and years of trying.) The first "given" in Christianity's argument is: "You are flawed, lost, doomed, predisposed to evil and eternally screwed without Me. Hope you liked the apple. Enjoy the rest of the movie."

I don't buy it. And in my more cynical moments, when I think a large percentage of religion is just a way of trading people's fear (of dying/loneliness) and/or hope ( that "this" isn't all there is) for their compliance, that central, first "given" makes me want to check my wallet -- like I'm being taken.

The Daddy-In-The-Sky metaphor just doesn't resonate. What if this really IS all there is? Is that really so bad? What if we are supposed to be focusing on THIS life. What if this life isn't the appetizer-but the main course? I feel pretty good about that. It definitely sweetens things. And when those existential terrors hit... well, I just ride it out... talk to a friend... calm myself down a bit and realize that there's a lot out there that I don't know. And in the meantime, I need to work my practices-those things that "work for me" at making me feel connected, alive, useful, loving, kind.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad there is Christianity, most of the time. I'm just dealing with my fear and/or hope differently.

Hope I didn't come off as acidic! I'm really not! I appreciate the conversation.

The Lyrics vs. Music Question

A friend recently asked, "Which comes first the lyrics or the music". It's a question you hear a lot. It's kind of like asking a photographer, "Which comes first, the lens or the camera body?" Or asking a painter, "Which comes first, yellow or blue?"

Not to make light of the question -- at all. I think, from the outside, songwriting is an interesting and semi-mysterious thing. (It's even more of a mystery from the inside.) So I get that we try to understand it in a linear way. Like explaining how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But the truth is, it's a lot more layered and complicated and circular and simple and unconscious than that. At least it is for me. I think Elvis Costello said, ""Writing about music is like dancing about architecture - it's a really stupid thing to want to do." I agree, mostly. (I think he was talking about music criticism, mainly here... in which case I emphatically agree.)

I've been writing songs for a long time... and I honestly don't understand it much better than the day I started. I understand a handful of things better (what they call "the craft of songwriting") but not many things. But they're the kind of pedestrian things I imagine a carpenter would pick up after building chairs and tables for years with his uncle out in the garage... "Don't hold the router that way. You'll cut your thumb off." "That glue won't hold. Use a dovetail joint instead." "Change the angle just a little and it'll be a lot more comfortable." "You should have sanded more." "That isn't classic, it's just boring."

I could write that stuff down (the songwriting stuff), but it would probably seem obvious and small-minded and hardly soaring... so I'll spare us both. Besides, I'm sure smarter guys than me have already written it and you can find 47 books on songwriting. I've looked at a couple of them -- I think they're mostly a) insultingly boring and b) filled with stock advice for writing boring songs.

The real question is, "How do you capture that thing that makes a song worth listening to over and over and over again?" How do you create something that isn't dependent on having the right band or a great audience or the perfect guitar tones or an inspired moment? How do you write a timeless song?

Dunno.

I don't have an answer... I only really have a few suggestions (for myself, mainly): 1) keep writing, 2) try not to lie to yourself, 3) treat your weird ideas with more respect than you think they deserve.

=============

Oh, and to answer The Lyrics vs. Music Question, here is my typical songwriting process:

1) stuff happens i.e. life
2) think about some of it
3) mix it with coffee
4) some random idea or feeling or phrase usually hits
5) sit in front of a blank piece of paper with a blank guitar or a blank piano
6) lyrusicmusiclyricsmusiclyricsmysiclyrics... one informs and guides the other.
7) fall in love with the song because it's new, not because it's necessarily good
8) go to sleep
9) wake up with the song, feel ambivalent about it, try to make it better.
10) throw the song into the deep end with all the other songs and let it either drown or fight its way onto set lists and maybe even a new record
11) see a shiny object off in the distance and run in that general direction

New song - in my neighborhood

in my neighborhood
sep 7, 2008
copyright john common music

mary loved tony for 70 years
on the day that he died, no tears
he saw it comin', she saw it too
when it hurts that bad, cryin' won’t help you

in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood

michael and michelle were always in a fight
I could hear them yellin' through the window every night
but michael found a job and they bought a little house
nobody was fightin' on the day they moved out

in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood


mister ramirez lives across the street
works three jobs to make his ends meet
says he's got a dream to buy his own place
I bet he's gonna do it, I can see it on his face

ramon and his family live across the street
he cooks at three restaurants to make ends meet
says he always dreamed of runnin' his own place
I bet he's gonna do it, I can see it on his face

in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood

pretty blonde lady about fourty-four
decided that she could not wait any more
her new dream man isn't tall, dark or handsome
but she knows when she needs him, he's gonna answer

in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood

me on my porch, dreamin' up songs
smoking, drinkin' coffee all day long
everybody wonders can he get a real job
maybe I will, when I finish this song

in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood
in my neighborhood

=========================

Here's the requisite rough-sounding laptop demo:

Open A Window And Let It Out

I was having one of those conversations that you just sort of end up having with band members after rehearsal. You know the kind... Grinding through a couple of hours of new songs just sort of loosens a person up. For some reason, the topic of flatulence arose... she shocked and amazed me with her views on the topic. Thankfully, we were near my laptop, so I secretly recorded it.

Think of this as a public service announcement from Jess.

New song -- figure it out

figure it out
written by john common and jess de nicola

you're my favorite
in the whole wide world
if I could keep you
I'd be your best girl
I tried to out run it
but it ran me down
I didn't believe you
but you stuck around

you're my favorite
in this whole damn bar
I could find you
no matter where you were
we get scared, scared
whenever we fight
we could call it
but that wouldn't be right

show me how
I need your help
nobody else
could figure me out
ready now
I've got no doubt
making space
we'll figure it out

short instrumental

you're my favorite
when everything's been said
turn the light out
let's go to bed
in the morning
it's gonna be the same
it's so easy
when you call my name

CH X 2

Music and Musicians.

Music:
Listening -- really listening to it -- is undervalued. Making it is over-rated.

Musicians:
Musicians tend to be self-absorbed, egocentric, one-dimensional, social climbers with overblown senses of their importance.

Hi. I am a musician.

New song...

wide open world
copyright 2008 john common music

when you were a baby
you knew what you wanted
you kept it real simple
didn't you?

now your life is a puzzle
you keep digging the tunnel
head down in the funnel
of wandering

wide open world
it's a wide open world
world

liars love leavers
and losers leave lovers
we hurt one another
without meaning to

sad situation…
blissful rejection…
set free on an ocean
of missing you

wide open world
it's a wide open world
wide open world
it's a wide open world
wide open world
it's a wide open world
world

everyone needs everyone
everyone needs everyone in this
everyone needs everyone
everyone needs everyone in this
in this wide open world

Whisper.

Whisper has a silent "h".

Just saying... I think that's perfect.

Favorite Late Night, Post-Gig Binge Fare

Me: a bag of cool ranch doritos, a six pack of those donuts with the coconut flakes, and a pint of ice cold 2% milk.

Nothing tastes like joy-turning-to-deep-regret like cool ranch coconut donut milk sloshing around in your belly with about 5 or 6 Jamesons and one plastic cupful of PBR.

THIS kind of post-gig binging is why reunion bands are almost always really fucking fat. They spent their youths drinking, playing and binging inside 7-11s.

And you? Go...

You Got The Lonely - new song

you got the lonely
copyright john common music

when I first met you
and got to know you
I saw the storry in your eyes
you let me see you
to really see you
and babe it came as no surprise

you got the lonely
you've got it good
you tried to outrun it
you thought that you could
but it's in your nature
deep down in the wood
you got the lonely
you've got it good

we make it hard
we like to stumble
'cause falling gives us scars
every scar a letter
one more letter
and all those letters make up the words

CH

you walk away
and you don't know why
bridges burning…

solo

I heard the phone ring
and some how I knew
you were calling from far, far away
you found the bottom
you got your answer
and you needed to hear me say

we got the lonely
we've got it good
we try to outrun it
we think that you could
but it's in our nature
deep down in the wood
we got the lonely
we've got it good
you got the lonely
I've got it too
we got the lonely
we've got it good
we got the lonely
we've got it good

Here's a rough demo:

Forget Brilliant... Go For Useful.

Let's be honest. Most records are painfully self-aware pieces of trash. They're uninspired, navel-gazing, banal, cliche-ridden, ego-stroking buckets of awful offal. Yes, occasionally you run across a record that is utterly brilliant. But most sound mediocre-to-good-enough for a few days until our eye catches a shiny object across the room and -- whoosh -- there goes another disc into the wasteland of our cherished CD collections.

As for the topics covered on most records, you could throw darts at a board cut into three areas: 1) Love, 2) Allegedly Political, 3) Obtuse Journal Entry / Who The Fuck Knows, and you'd get a great guess of the average distribution of pithy subjects. (By the way, I am including myself in this unfair generalization. I have most definitely contributed my fair share to the shit heap.)

Look, I'm not just being mean-spirited here. I've been on a practicality kick lately. Think of this as an unsolicited call to action. I think we, as musicians and songwriters, can do a better job. Or, if not better job, at least a more useful one.

Does the world really need another record covering the utter sameness of your (or my) interior psychological landscape? At what point does "Universality" get trumped by "Give me something I can actually use"? I wish someone, anyone, would write and record a CD like this:

CD Title: Useful Songs For Life's Tough Times
Track 1) Whoops! You're Pregnant!
Track 2) You're Fired -- Merry Christmas
Track 3) Bad News: It's [Insert Awful Disease]
Track 4) She Doesn't Love You. She Loves Your Sister.
Track 5) I Just Puked In Your Bed -- Sorry 'Bout That.
Track 6) About That Rash...
Track 7) The Depression Test
Track 8) McCain Won. We're Moving To Europe.
Track 9) Honestly, Yes. You Are Ugly.
Track 10) First Time In Prison: A Beginner's Guide

It's time to be of direct service. Grab a hammer... Go build us a useful record.

The Best Bike Ride Of My Life

Intended time: 2 hours 15 minutes
Intended distance: 30ish miles

Actual time: 3 hours 15 minutes
Actual distance: 48 miles

I got lost.
I got some bad directions.
I got loster.
The sky turned dark as a bruise.
I got blown around by crazy wind.
I got rained on.
I wiped out out on some train tracks.
I got hailed on and utterly drenched.
I nearly got hit by several cars.
People looked at me from their porches like I was a crazy man, pedaling up their street through gales of hail and rain.

It was totally life affirming.

Naming the band.

I'm putting together a new band... that's hard, dirty work, by the way. But anyhoo, I'm thinking that it might be useful to give that collective of special, special people a name. A really good name.

Here are some for you to consider, comment upon, ridicule, edit, and otherwise heap praise upon. The band, of course, will make the final decision, pending your approval:

(p.s. some of these are JOKES designed to keep you on your TOES)

John Common and...

Blinding Flashes of Light (BFL)
The Distinguishing Characteristics
The Fakirs
The Best Ones
The Jokes Which Are Not Funny
Take Her Home
We're Gonna Break Up
We Hate Him
Leading Man
The Tater Tits
Motograss
Secret Digit
The Cavists
Hyperwhite
Magically Delicious
Team Narcissist
The Dump
Furry Feelings
A Kick In The Pants
Hipster Fister
Moustachio
The Silent K
The Derelict Savants
The Long Shots

Why Dance Music Is Smart

I got into an arguement with my friend Robby about something I said in my last blog thingy about why I don't dance. (I think I said dance music sucked.) She went on and on, basically defending dance music. I tuned most of it out, actually.

But as she was talking, it occurred to me that what dance music has going for it -- even the worst dance music -- is its ever-present beat (turned way, way, way up in the mix). EVERY dance song does that one thing, consistently. It's reliable. You can count on it. It never forgets its central mission: ass shaking.

Even if a dance song utterly fails in every other aspect of music -- originality, lyric, melody, instrumentation, arrangement -- it never forgets why it came here. If you saw it on break in the employee lounge, here's what it would say: "I might suck, but you can still dance to me. I know my job, pal. Hey, you gonna eat that?"

It didn't even get clever with its name. It's called "dance music", just in case you forget what you're supposed to do when you hear it. (I know the bike messenger class likes to call it "electronica" or "electro", but that's just a transparent attempt at trying to dress up a pig with elitist rhetoric, now isn't it? Like calling Miller "The Champagne of Beers". Not buyin' it.)

So while Robby kept trying to get me to take dance music seriously, I started thinking about other genres... Maybe they should take a hint from dance music and figure out their critical purpose, their raison d'etre, and then focus like a Republican attack ad until they build a subculture around it that people can count on. And hate.

Here are some suggestions, for discussion purposes only:

COUNTRY MUSIC
Country music could be renamed "Welding music". It could even include instructions for how to weld, mixed REALLY LOUD up front next to Kenny Chesney's, um, vocal... TIG, MIG, Fluxed-Core, Gas Tungsten, Arc Welding. There's a lot to learn. Then, when we heard Welding Music, we could say, "It sure does suck, but at least I'm learning to weld!"

FOLK MUSIC
Folk music could be renamed "Bicycle repair music"... You'd hear people in coffee shops saying, "Jesus, that folk singer is one whiny bitch, but at least I learned how to lube my chain."

INDIE ROCK
Indie Rock (huh?) would probably need to be renamed "Self-esteem booster music"... Folks would put down their PBR and say, "I totally have a fucking head-ache, but I'm pretty sure that I'm cooler than you!" (Wait a minute... they already do that, right?)

JAZZ
Jazz could be renamed... actually, I think it should still be named Jazz.

But you get my point, no? There are so many mission-less genres. They're waiting for a little leadership... a little direction. Can you give it to them? Will you give it to them?

We're waiting.

New (old) song

the fall

jack was a good boy
he did what he was told
and the boy grew up
and he moved right in to that typical suburban mold

he was climbing that crazy mountain
like they tell you to in the book
and he ignored the rattle
that kept getting louder with every step he took

they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy
or you'll bleed
now he's so scared of falling
he doesn't know it's the fall he needs

jack's mind is getting crowded
and his face is getting lined
and the voices he heard
that he thought were absurd are making more sense every time

one gray and rainy morning
while climbing the mountain side
jacky boy snapped
he skipped the trap, he let go and fell for the first time

they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy
or you'll bleed
now he's smiling and falling
it's the fall he knew he needed

instrumental

the gray hairs are comin'
and a hole filled with lye
but no box could hold
jack's pearly white soul when he falls for the very last time…

they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy or you'll bleed
now he's finally falling
it's the fall he knew he needed

It's hot.

BEFORE MY RUN:



AFTER MY RUN:

Triathlon Update: T Minus 25 Days

First of all, I don't think anyone reads this blog other than perhaps my father and two brothers. But I have these persistent delusions of writing grandeur, so I'm gonna pretend like my readership is both numerous and interested.

...

It's 25 days until my first Olympic distance triathlon. I've been training consistently (for the most part) for months. And I've been training, what feels like to me at least, pretty darn hard for the past several weeks... about 2 hours a day. You know... swimming, biking, running, core workouts, even some weights when I can sneak them in. (This commitment, by the way, is nothing but a warm up to real triathletes.) You may recall from my previous triathlon update, I have been experiencing some amount of angst about my upcoming race. I think the term I used was "suffer fest".

However, all of this effort from yours truly has led to a significant reduction in my terror threat level. If I may borrow from our government's simplistic terror advisory system:



I am proud to announce that my triathlon terror level has been reduced from SEVERE (red: a severe risk of an embarrassing flame out) to HIGH (orange: a high risk of an embarrassing flame out).

Further, I am ready to cautiously predict that by race day, August 16th, my terror level will be reduced to ELEVATED (yellow: an elevated risk of an embarrassing flame out). This will only hold true if I keep my sweaty nose to the workout grindstone.

However, please keep in mind that at any point situations may change on the ground and/or in the air that may call for a rapid increase in the threat level. We'll just have to stay vigilant, keep our eyes open, and put our faith in our higher power.

In the meantime, I'd like to make a time prediction. This is usually a bad idea... predicting one's race time -- throwing down the gauntlet with such precision. But here goes:

1500 meter swim: 42 minutes
transition one: 4 minutes
24.8 mile bike: 1 hour, 32 minutes
transition two: 4 minutes (predicting a port-o-let stop to pee right about here)
6.2 mile run: 1 hour, 23 minutes

Total time: an underwhelming 3 hours, 45 minutes

There you have it. Place your bets. I'm tired... I'm gonna hit the rack now.

7 Reasons Why I Don't Dance (But You Should)

This is my Personal Anti-Dancing Manifesto (PADM). It is a point-by-point, painfully honest examination of my dancing disability. My hope is to lay bare the ugly truth of this disability and in doing so, motivate you, the Reader, to dance in my place.

Some people dance. They dance freely. The Dance flows loosely from them like the languid unrolling of a sheet. They look beautiful in their ease. They inhabit their own rhythm, smiling, and meaning it. They look like an uncaged bird, free at last. They actually enjoy being looked at. Look at them now: see how they revel in their comfortable power? I don’t begrudge them their dancing… Hell, I’d do the same thing -- if I could.

I’d dance your damn face off...

If I could dance.

One problem: I can not dance. Let me restate this with the proper emphasis: I CAN NOT and SHALL NOT dance. I WILT NOT dance. I DANCE NOT. Are you catching my Old Testament drift, Pilgrim?

God skipped my bedroom the night he was giving away dancing powers. Do I hold a grudge against my higher power for this malfeasance? You bet your ass. Does my utter lack of dancing powers make me feel morose, “lesser than”, down in the mouth and otherwise pissed? The answer is YES.

And now, the requisite Chuck Bukowski quote:
“I never cry, baby… … Of course I do.” – Charles Bukowski

But enough of my weeping. At some point, the dance-challenged boy grows into a dance-embittered man. And that man writes his personal anti-dancing manifesto:

Reason #1 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
I can play guitar. I can sing. That would seem to indicate that I have rhythm. WRONG-O, sugar. Evidently, all sense of rhythm runs screaming from my body like a scalded dog the moment I get near a dance floor. Can words describe my freakish movements? I doubt it. But I’ll try:

Ever go to the grocery store and get that cart with the one bad wheel? That’s how I dance. No… that isn’t quite right.

Imagine someone accidentally falling out of a 31st story window, stabbing themselves repeatedly on the way down. No… that isn’t quite right.

Rapid onset cerebral palsy meets a drunk trombone player on roller skates. No… that doesn’t really capture the horror of my dancing either. Some things can’t be explained in words, people. But trust me, it aint pretty.

Reason #2 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
A girl once told me, “I can tell how a man would be in bed by how he dances.”

[Pause for devastating effect.]

Sweet Jesus... You mean to tell me that when someone dances, they’re being evaluated not only on their dancing, but for their fitness as a sexual companion too? This was like hearing I had a terminal, flesh-eating disease.

If this is true, then I make love like a cornered chimpanzee with a permanent fight-or-flight grimace on his face. This means that I screw like a bike wreck. That girl’s innocent comment about how dancing was a surrogate for sexual ability permanently welded my dancing doors shut.

Reason #3 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
Look, I don’t want to play the race card. But White Man’s Overbite (WMO) is alive and real. Scientists are researching the roots of this devastating condition. The Nurture Camp says we learn WMO from behavioral models and situations early in our childhood. The Nature Camp says the dark source of WMO is locked deep inside our genetic code. I choose Aristotle’s golden mean and say it’s both.

Regardless of WMO’s origin, the dance floors of the world are a cold place indeed for WMO sufferers such as myself. For all the progress we’ve made in the area of civil rights, it is an indisputable fact that people with WMO are constantly told to sit in the back of the dancing bus. And I just don’t have what it takes to be a Rosa Parks of the shuttered dancing class. I’m just not that strong.

Reason #4 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
Let’s be honest. Dance music sucks. I mean… I’m not an aficionado of dance music (obviously), but every single time I’ve ever been dragged into a club I’ve been assaulted with that old familiar whump-whump pumping away at some ass shaking BPM. Oh I know… there are endless subtle, nuanced variations of this thing we call “electronic music”. To wit:

Ambient house
Ambient industrial
Ambient techno
Black ambient
Dark ambient
Drone music
Illbient
Lowercase
Psybient
Baltimore Club
Big beat
Broken beat
Chemical breaks
Florida breaks
Nu skool breaks
Progressive breaks
Cosmic disco
Dance-punk
Eurodance
Euro disco
Hi-NRG
Italo dance
Italo disco
Spacesynth
Synthpop
Acid jazz
Balearic Beat
Chill out
Minimal Electronica
Glitch
Nu jazz
Trip hop (aka The Bristol Sound)
Berlin School
Electroacoustic
Dirty electronic
Electro backbeat (aka anthem breaks)
Electroclash
Electropop
Freestyle music
Bitpop
Chiptune
Downtempo
Folktronica
Futurepop
Glitch
IDM
Nu Jazz
Synthpop
Synthpunk
Trip hop
Speed garage
2-step
4x4
Breakstep (aka Breakbeat garage)
Dubstep
Grime (aka Sublow/8-bar/Eskibeat)
Bassline (aka 'Niche')
Funky
4-beat
Bouncy techno
Breakbeat Hardcore
Breakcore
Darkcore
Digital hardcore
Doomcore
Freeform hardcore
Gabber
Happy hardcore
Hardstyle
Jumpstyle
Makina
Noisecore
Speedcore
UK Hardcore
Acid house
Bubblegum dance
Chicago house
Dark house
Deep house
Disco house
Electro house
French house
Freestyle house
(US) Garage
Ghetto house
Grind house
Hi-NRG
UK Hard house
Hip house
Italo house
Jumpstyle (Chicago hard house)
Kwaito
Latin house
Merenhouse
Minimal house/Microhouse
Pumpin' house
Progressive house
Skacid
Tribal house
Tech house
Martial music
Neofolk
Post-Industrial
Electronic body music
Coldwave
Dark electro
Futurepop
Noise music
Power noise
Technoid
Clownstep
Darkstep
Drumfunk
Futurestep
Hardstep
Intelligent drum and bass
Jump-Up
Liquid funk
Neurofunk
Ragga jungle
Raggacore
Sambass
Techstep
Trancestep (aka Electrostep)
Acid techno
BrainDance
Detroit techno
Freetekno
Ghettotech
IDM
Jtek
Minimal techno
New beat
Nortec
Rave music
Schranz
Wonky techno
Acid trance
Ambient trance
Classic trance
Dream trance
Euro-trance
Hard trance
Hardstyle
Nu-NRG
Progressive trance
Psychedelic trance/Goa trance
Full on
Goa trance
Dark psytrance
Nitzhonot
Progressive psytrance
Psybient
Psybreaks
South African psytrance
Suomisaundi
Tech trance
Uplifting trance/Epic trance
Vocal trance
Space music
New Age music
Ethnic electronica
New Wave music
New Romantic
Dark Wave
Ethereal Wave

To me, this dizzying list just proves that there are 166 ways to say “I suck”. My point: dance music doesn’t inspire me to do anything other than leave the area.

[By the way, If I ever were to dance, it would be to Tom Waits’ song, “Cold Water”. I would stomp, drunkenly, as if I had a peg leg, in the center of the dance floor and not give a god damn who was watchin’.]

Reason #5 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
I think of dancing as a series of seamlessly interconnected “moves”. Kind of like chords in a song. Well… if my dancing was a song, it would be 4 minutes of someone playing a G chord on an out of tune guitar. Or put another way, I dance like a bad open mic night.

Reason #6 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
I have tried dancing once in my life. It was a long time ago. Wanna know what I learned? I learned that I think entirely too damn much to dance. My internal monologue rivaled a champion chess player evaluating his next move. I nearly overheated my cranium wondering “WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO NEXT?” I ran out of moves after 9 seconds, after which I grinned and randomly gyrated like a retard in front of that poor, poor girl.

Reason #7 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
Okay. Here’s an admission: I secretly believe that I am the world’s best dancer. But only if the song is 9 seconds in length. If songs lasted 9 seconds, I would be a frickin’ solid gold dancer. I can bust a mutha-humpin’ MOVE for 9 seconds. (Ahem... is dancing really like sex? Dammit!) I look guh-ood for that first 9 seconds. But then, my mind kicks into gear. I begin thinking… and I run out of moves. Yes. I just said “moves”. That’s another problem… See Reason # 5.

Why You Should Dance In My Place
The denouement of this unpleasant dance confession, of course, is that you, Dear Reader, have to dance in my place. There are John-shaped spaces on dance floors across America tonight. Lonely, sad, empty spaces on the dance floor, waiting to be filled with your gorgeous self. I need you to dance for me. It’s your civic duty. And when you are out there, letting yourself go, shake it, just once, for me.

Besides, we all wanna see what you’d be like in bed. I bet you’re a natural.

Why do I do this to myself? (1st Olympic Dist TRI)

Last summer, I did my first triathlon... a mostly sprint distance up at the Boulder Reservoir (click here to read all about it). I forget the name... it was for a charity thing. Anyway, I promised myself that I'd do an Olympic distance triathlon THIS summer. (1500 meter swim, 40K bike, 10K run)

It seemed like a worthy goal... something to shoot for... double the distance.

Well, it's "this summer".

I tried to find the latest one in the season that was still being held in Colorado... because even though I've been training pretty consistently since this winter, my running distances have been WAY less than a 10K. Mostly because of 1) an ankle injury and 2) a 3 or 4 week period where I just stopped giving a shit. I almost totally fell off the training wagon.

Imagine my terror and deep disappointment this week, when I realized that the last Olympic distance TRI of the summer is August 16th -- the Rattlesnake Triathlon. That's like 4 weeks from today.

So... I have 36 days to try and prepare myself for what will most certainly be a suffer-fest for Johnny Boy.

I suppose I could just curl up into a fetal position, in a closet, and star in my own weepy, pathetic meltdown movie scene... But instead, I'm gonna use THIS BLOG ENTRY to get my anxiety under control. And I'm dragging you with me, Dear Reader.

Let's break this thing down, sport by sport:

THE SWIM
Distance: 1500 meters
Mitigating Conditions:
A big ass reservoir -- i.e. deep open water. Oh, and I'll be surrounded by a hungry pack of amped up, semi-professional, amphibious, highly competitive, cardio-honed, hardened triathletes -- the real kind. Imagine that aerial photo: me, semi-drowning but trying to act cool about it, in a churning, foaming, triathlete blender.

My Strategy:
That's a cat's whisker less than a mile. (actually, about 100 meters less, but I wanted to say "cat's whisker"). Yes, I can swim 1500 meters. Not fast... or anything even remotely resembling fast. But I can do it... It's at the top of my swimming ability though... and I'll be doing a lot of breast stroke (as opposed to the more exhausting freestyle)... I use it as basically a rest stroke in the middle of long swims. Faith. I'll have faith in all the swimming I've been doing this summer. And I'll probably let the gun go off and get in the water last... let the fish-men and fish-women fight it out. I just have to stay relaxed and calm. Freaking out and hyperventilating in 50 feet of water is something I'd like to avoid.

THE BIKE
Distance: 40K or 24.8 miles
Mitigating Conditions:
Other than a strong head wind, a flat tire, a gnarly wreck or mega-hilly terrain, I don't think I'll run into any awfulness on the bike.

My Strategy:
This should be okay -- another bike workout I've been doing long rides once a week for weeks and weeks now. Again, I won't be fast, compared to everyone else (are you sensing a personal trend here? I'm SLOW), but this will be the easiest part of the race for me. I just need to get in the zone, knock it out and mentally prepare myself for the run that will be waiting for me, 24.8 miles down the road...

THE RUN
Distance: 10K or 6.2 miles
Mitigating Conditions:
As the third part of the race, it'll be late morning (for me) by the time I get to the run. I'm anticipating the following: 1) it's gonna be FUCKING HOT; 2) my legs will be feeling pretty darn tired; 3) I'll be feeling a little like a loser after spending the last 2+ hours being passed by everyone else in the race -- i.e. low motivation.

My Strategy:
Hmmm... The truth is, the moment I climb out of the water, having successfully avoided a drowning incident in the reservoir, I'll know the rest of the race will be about getting to the run and just gutting it out. I think it will mostly be about me controlling my mind... or... countering my suffering thoughts with strength thoughts. I normally take an hour to do a 10K (told ya I was slow) -- that's when I'm fresh. So I'm preparing myself to be running (walking?) for as long as an hour and a half after being all tuckered out from the swim and the bike. So here are the thoughts I'm pretty certain that I'm going to have during the run:

SUFFER BRAIN: "It's hot"
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: It's really not that bad, and besides this is temporary. Stay strong. You'll feel proud and really good when you cross the finish line, strong. Gut it out.

SUFFER BRAIN: "My legs have no energy. My form is shit. I feel clunky and slow."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: It's really not that bad, and besides this is temporary. Stay strong. You'll feel proud and really good when you cross the finish line, strong. Focus on a smooth form and breathe through it... get into a rhythm.

SUFFER BRAIN: "I want to walk."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: No you don't. Quitting feels WAY WORSE than suffering. Think of one of the 5 new songs you just wrote. How would they sound on the new record? Arrangement? Instruments? How should we record each song?

SUFFER BRAIN: "Wow. That 85 year old woman just passed me. I'm a loser. Why did I do this race? I shouldn't be here."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: Bullshit. BEING HERE is what it's about. You're doing great. It's about HOW you do the race, not where you finish. Besides, if you REALLY want to, you can find that old woman after the race and punch her in the spleen. KIDDING!


Hmmm...

I think that helped.

Okay. I gotta go work out now...

My Brothers Were In The KISS ARMY

When I was a little kid, my two older brothers were both privates in the KISS ARMY. (Did that mean they kissed privates?)



I watched their indoctrination from across the hallway in a dazed-but-fascinated stupor. I didn't quite know what to make of this kind of hero worship. I just knew that my brothers were pretty cool... so I kind of assumed that their KISS fetish was cool too?

Hey, that was my "normal". Don't judge.

At one point in the late 1970s, I think it was reported that KISS actually had the world's 5th largest army after the US, USSR, South Korea and Iraq.

Impressive.

Thank God my brothers never actually had to go to battle though... Even though they had cool uniforms (3/4 sleeve concert t-shirts, tight jeans and pooka shell necklaces) they would have been woefully unprepared for a real fight. Their meager weaponry would have only included:

1) A cardboard Gene Simmons Battle Axe Bass.

2) A fanatical ability to scream "I... ... WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT... ... AND PARTY EV-UH-REE DAY!!!" like crazed bozos.

3) And a pervasive-but-vague, homoerotic love for big-haired men in greasepaint, medieval battle gear, high heeled boots and tight trousers. If you can call that a weapon.

At the time, I really wished that I was older... so that I could have answered the call. I wanted to do my part. I wanted to join my brothers in whatever fight the KISS ARMY was preparing for. But I was just a kid... to0 young for the army.

My destiny didn't include joining the army. Any army.

Looking back, I now see the debt my brothers paid for me. Their commitment to something much, much larger than themselves. I honor their service. Are they heroes or were they just doing their job? I suppose we each have to answer that question for ourselves, in the quiet of our own hearts.

I know what I think.

I'm just glad they got out alive.

Messed Up

Wrote this one a month ago. Starting to demo it for the new record maybe... (below)

Messed Up
copyright 2008 john common music

I thought i knew
Everything there was to know
About myself
I didn't need to grow anymore
I had it all figured out
But then you walked in
Aww girl…
You messed me up again

You have this way
Of making things so clear
And it can hurt
But when it hurts, you're here
Hanging tough, you don't run
When i take one on the chin
Aww girl…
You messed me up again

Messed up
Broke down
But open
Ready
And waiting
For something
Maybe good…
Would it be such a sin?
Girl, you messed me up again

We never choose
The time or place we let go
It just shows up
And then the next thing you know
You're crying out, scared to death
Wondering how it's gonna end
Aww girl…
You messed me up again

Messed up
Broke down
But open
Ready
And waiting
For something
Maybe good…
Would it be such a sin?
Girl, you messed me up again

Here's a very rough demo:

Love's A Shark

My good friend just got her heart utterly broken... She came over this morning and told me the whole story of how it all went down. She was a wreck. I tried my best to make her feel better... to let her know that she and everything else was going to be okay. As she was leaving, she said she felt better. But she was just being nice, I think.

I decided not to go out tonight... I was just sitting around, bored. And then I wrote this song. Evidently, I was thinking about her and her story and how love generally wrecks us. Usually in the best of ways...

Hope you like it. It's kinda weird. I wrote it and immediately recorded it with my shitty laptop microphone:

love's a shark
july 5, 2008

love is stalking you
it's parked at the end of your block
when you walk away from love
it loves the way you walk
love is following you
it can swim faster than your car
you're getting drunk next to love, babe
it followed you in this bar

love is creepy
love is dark
love is scary
'cause love's a shark
it's gonna eat you, take you to the bottom
of a deep dark hole
but it's the thing you need
you know you want to bleed
baby, love's a shark
baby, love's a shark

love can swim through bedroom walls
it knows when you cry
you can curse and you can kick it
but you still can't make love die
love didn’t crown you lonely
you did that on your own
but it'll be there waiting
when you come down off your throne

love is creepy
love is dark
love is scary
'cause love's a shark
it's gonna eat you, take you to the bottom
of a deep dark hole
but it's the thing you need
you know you want to bleed
baby, love's a shark
baby, baby
baby, baby
baby, love's a shark

Messed Up

messed up


I thought I knew
everything there was to know
about myself
I didn't need to grow anymore
I had it all figured out
but then you walked in
aww girl…
you messed me up again

you have this way
of making things so clear
and it can hurt
but when it hurts, you're here
hanging tough, you don't run
when I take one on the chin
aww girl…
you messed me up again

messed up
broke down
but open
ready
and waiting
for something
maybe good…
would it be such a sin?
girl, you messed me up again

we never choose
the time or place we let go
it just shows up
and then the next thing you know
you're crying out, scared to death
wondering how it's gonna end
aww girl…
you messed me up again

messed up
broke down
but open
ready
and waiting
for something
maybe good…
would it be such a sin?
girl, you messed me up again

Greeting Cards

I was thinking... maybe I should quit music and become a greeting card writer. The pay's probably about the same... but there'd be less hauling of gear.

Here are some card messages I wrote this morning:

ROMANCE:

If I could shrink you and put you in a locket and put that locket around the neck of an owl and set that owl free in an ancient forest filled with owl-worshiping pygmies, I'd do that.

Sometimes, you make me want to stab you in the neck with a fork. But then you do something cute like try to secretly pick your nose and it makes me love you again. We're good for each other.

Sorry for looking at that hot girl at the coffee shop. I didn't think you saw me. Love ya when you're mad?

Couples always make up cute names for each other like 'Kitten' or 'Sweetie' or 'Big Daddy'. Let's not do that.

In the morning, I try and wake up before you because I like to watch you sleep. Mostly, because you drool. And I laugh at you. Right there, drooling in your sleep.

"I love you" doesn't really cut it some days. Some days you have to say, "Thanks for putting up with my meth habit".

I'd shave my head and learn Chinese for you.
(Honestly, I'm hoping you won't call my bluff on that, as I'm pretty bad with languages and a little vain.)


FRIENDSHIP:

If we were stranded in a sinking boat in the middle of the Caspian Sea and a huge stork swooped down to save us and that stork said "I can only take one of you..." Well, let's hope that doesn't happen. But I really do like you.

I believe, in a former life, you and I worked in the same sweater factory somewhere in Malaysia. We shared smoke breaks and talked about the communists together. Good times.

I believe that in a former life, you and I shared a stable. We were horses on a farm together... You, a proud Andalusian... Me, a common quarter horse with a bum leg. You were kind to me back then too. Thanks for the hay.

Friendship means so many things to different people… trust, loyalty, understanding. Or, in our case, a clean pair of pants and a place to sleep it off.

You've been forgetting a lot of things lately. One example: my birthday.

I love how your glass is always half full... of shit.

Wanna know how I know we're best friends? 'Cause you forgave me for sleeping with your wife. Wait. Didn't she tell you?

Westword Music Showcase Review

I’d seen John Common perform Tom Waits’ brilliant album Rain Dogs in its entirety twice. Any guy who’s that big of Waits fan is all right in my book. When Common played his new “love song” called “Go to Hell With Me,” I heard a bit of Waits in there. After he played “The Dreamers,” Common asked the crowd if they wanted to hear something intense or pretty and beautiful. The crowd seemed to be split, but Common decided on something pretty, and played “Good Heart,” with some sublime vocal help from the lovely Jess De Nicola Mefford.

-- Jon Solomon, Westword

Wonder... from David James Duncan

I've been reading a lot of David James Duncan -- one of my favorite writers. (Get a copy of "River Teeth" from Amazon when you can. They're cheap! A fantastic collection of short stories.)

Anyhow... I read this passage earlier today and it jumped out at me:


Wonder is my second favorite condition to be in, after love, and I sometimes wonder whether there's a difference; maybe love is just wonder aimed at a beloved.

Wonder is like grace, in that's it's not a condition we grasp; it grasps us.

Wonder is not an obligatory element in the search for truth. We can seek truth without wonder's assistance. But seek is all we'll do; there will be no finding. Unless wonder descends, unlocks us, turns us as slack-jawed as plastic shepherds, truth is unable to enter. Wonder may be the aura of truth, the halo of it. Or something even closer. Wonder maybe the caress of truth... touching our very skin.

Philosophically speaking, wonder is crucial to the discovery of knowledge, yet has everything to do with ignorance. By this I mean that only an admission of our ignorance can open us to fresh knowings. Wonder is the experience of that admission: wonder is unknowing, experienced as pleasure.

Punctuationally speaking, wonder is a period at the end of a statement we've long taken for granted, suddenly looking up an seeing the sinuous curve or a tall black hat on its head, and realizing it was a question mark all along.

As a facial expression, wonder is the letter O our eyes and mouths make when the state itself descends. O: God's middle initial. O: because wonder Opens us.

Wonder is anything taken for granted -- the old neighborhood, old job, old life, old spouse -- suddenly filling with mystery. Wonder is anything closed, suddenly opening: anything at all opening -- which, alas, includes Pandora's Box, and brings me to the dark side of the thing. Grateful as I am for this condition, wonder has -- like everything on Earth -- a dark side. Heartbreak, grief, and suffering rend openings in us through which the dark kind of wonder pours. I have so far found it impossible to feel spontaneously grateful for these violent openings. But when, after struggle, I've been able to turn a corner and at least accept the opening, the dark form of wonder has invariably helped me endure the heartbreak, the suffering, the grief.

Wonder is not curiosity. Wonder is to curiosity what ecstasy is to mere pleasure. Wonder is not astonishment, either. Astonishment is too brief. The only limit to the duration of wonder is the limit of our ability to remain open.

I believe some people live in a state of constant wonder. I believe they're the best people on Earth. I believe it is wonder, even more than fidelity, that keeps marriages alive. I believe it's wonder, even more than courage, that conquers fear of death. I believe it is wonder, not D.A.R.E. bumper stickers, the keeps kids off drugs. I believe, speaking of bumper stickers, that it's wonder, even more than me, who I want to "HUG MY KIDS YET TODAY," because wonder can keep on hugging them, long after I'm gone.

-- David James Duncan, from 6 Henry Stories

Telluride Troubadour Contest!

May 31, 2008

Hi,

The folks who run the Telluride Bluegrass Festival's Troubadour Contest let me know that I was chosen as a finalist for their songwriter competition. This means I'll be playing the festival on Thursday this year! Who knows, if I do really well, I might play again on Friday. And if I win the whole damn thing (unlikely), I'll play the main stage on Saturday night!

Wish me luck! It's an honor just to be a finalist.

The festival lineup this year includes Ani DiFranco, Ryan Adams, Arlo Guthrie, Bruce Hornsby, Paolo Nutini, Bela Fleck, Peter Rowan, The Frames, The Swell Season, Brett Dennen, Yonder Mountain String Band, Tift Merrit and a bunch of other artists... Cool!

~John

New Growth

new growth
june 1, 2008

it's spring. change and all that…
walking from the house to the car
the trees droop in front of us
burdened with green-ness
their branches heavy with new growth
it's exhausting sometimes.
we duck under, give them their space.

The PKO Idea Is Catching On... We're holding a seat for you!

Westword covered the People's Kazoo Orchestra idea!

Oh my...

Click the picture to read the Westword article!

HJTWYASP Update: Let's Give It A Name

HJTWYASP (Hire-John-To-Write-You-A-Song-Program) Update:

A fan/friend, Julie, asked me to write a song about her life-long friend Tom. Here is some of what she wrote me:

...
John, Certainly Not Common, Common- Lucky me to have received your email today. I’ve been tirelessly searching for a one-of-a-kind gift for my swell friend, Tom. I out did my self last year in celebrating his birthday with a Mark Ryden General Sherman print.(Check out surreal pop at its best: http://buckheadcustomframes.typepad.com/bhcf/2007/05/mark_rydens_gen.html) I’ve searched high and low for something comparable. I even lied to him yesterday, saying I had a gift, but have yet to mail it. I am habitually tardy, but I seldom lie. Really, I promise you on both the tardy part and the lying part. Anyway the point being is, I finally stumbled upon his gift or you stumbled upon me. However, you would like to look at it, you are hired. I trust you, your emails make me smile. So a bit on Tom, Thomas, and a very small bit on me: We have been friends since, well, since a while ago. I think we met when we were 15. You can do the math or just make it up. Make him, us, feel young. He, I must say is one of my dearest friends (that is the wee bit on me) and I dare say coolest. Yes, by far the coolest. Anyway he is down with music, in fact he had a radio show on WMPG while he was living in Portland Maine. It should give you a good idea on his style. Farm fresh, I would say. He is studying for his Master’s in Creative Writing at Minnesota State University in Mankato. He is clever, wry and witty- a personality trifecta. He also loves baseball. In truth, and you know I am big on the truth, he is writing a book about his great, great uncle who pitched for the St. Paul Saints from 1921-23, and still holds the league record for most wins in a season (31 in 1923). He is married to a lovely gal, Cathy and the have a dog named Mabel. Oh and this might be something of interest, while living in Denver he worked as a bartender at Splinter’s from the Pine and the Cherry Cricket for quite sometime. I believe he was known as the Mayor of Denver far before there was a Hickenlooper. Well, I could continue on, but seeing as I am at work, I should probably put the brakes on for now.

Is that enough to get started? Let me know what you else you might need. I would like the song to be reflective of art, music, creativity, baseball spontaneity, youth and, of course, friendship. That being said you will probably need more information. Feel free to email or call me. I never answer my phones, so email is probably best. Or, hell if it would help I would be more than happy to buy you a beer or ten to discuss Tom’s Song. Annie had hers, I suppose it is Tom’s turn in 2008. Oh, I almost forgot it needs to be funny. Again, I trust you, I laugh every time I read your emails. I am very excited to see what happens. I love the idea. Simply perfect.
...

So I decided to key in on the friendship part... 'Cause, there's only so much you can pack into one song... Or, there's only so much I can pack into a song. And besides... it's a mysterious process... what makes a lyric or a chord "feel right" etc.

Anyway, I sent Julie an email to get some more info about her friendship with Tom. Here's what I wrote her:

julie,
could you tell me about the time when you knew he was your very good friend... and not just another acquaintance... or not just another love interest. but a real friend.
and tell me the top three things that you two really connect on.
and tell me the top three things that really piss you off about him.
and tell me the top three things that really piss him off about you.
i dunno... this info might be useful.
~john

...

Here's what she wrote back:

Hey John~
I think I first realized that we were goods and our friendship was that of longevity was in high school. I remember a particular occasion that seems defining. Tom and I, along with a group of friends, went on a hayride I believe for our friend’s birthday. Afterwards we all sat around the campfire. Tom and I talked non stop about how much we loved the TV show Batman (POW!). It was funny and I loved that we could embrace our inner dork-ness. I believe he even had a Batman action figure. Don’t know if we tossed him in the fire, but I imagine we did. SNAP! CRACKLE! POP! Also one night not sure if it was the summer before college or the first summer after our freshman year, anyway we were hanging out with the group and I drove him home and he asked me to come in so he could read me something from his favorite short story. I wish I could remember what the story was, but I thought it was incredibly cool that he didn’t want to show me his fish tank. I also liked his handwriting, I am a sucker for well crafted penmanship. And of course the real reason I knew we would be friends, he could buy beer, slo gin and peppermint schnapps. I think the guy at the liquor store called him and his friend the bow-tie brothers. They showed up wearing bow ties in order to appear older. I am not entirely sure that is a true story, but that is how I am remembering it. He also got me high for the first time and I threw up in El Chapultepec. Under age and high, makes for a great and lasting friendship.

Three things we really connect on:
Music
Art/Design/Writing/Film
Drinking

Three things that piss me off about him:
1. He smokes. At least he did. I saw him last summer for a quick moment and I don’t remember if he was smoking. Either way it bugs/bugged the shit out of me.
2. He lives in Minnesota.
3. He is smarter, more creative and funnier than I am.

Things about me that piss him off:
My teeth are whiter
I look good in pink.
I can burp part of the lyrics to Steely Dan’s Deacon Blue, specifically: They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose. They call Alabama the crimson tide. Call me deacon blues. Urp!
4. The last one might just be jealousy, so here is a fourth: I don’t vote.

Hope that helps... This is fun, thanks in advance!
~Julie

...

So I wrote this song. You can hear it below... Just hit the play button.


Let's Give It A Name

You used to dress up in a bow tie
Buying beer and getting high
Runnin' 'round like we would never die
Without a care

I made a scene. I was totally wrecked
That night in El Chapultepec.
You put your arm around my neck
And got me out of there.

We met a long time ago
And time's moving fast…

When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If my house was on fire you'd run right in
And pull me out of the flames
Oh, let's give it a name…

You're back in school 'cause you want to write
They say Mankato is a pretty sight
But I know Blue Earth is mostly white
In the winter

I'm still in Denver doing my own thing
Looking for work, waiting for spring
You got married but I'm better with flings
I'm a renter

We met a long time ago
But time moves fast, don't ya know?

When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If my house was on fire you'd run right in

Sure I could make it through this world without you
But I'm pretty glad that I don't have to

We met a long time ago
And time's moving fast…

When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If your house was on fire I'd run right in
When we're old
When we're old
When I screw up you step in
And you love me just the same
Oh, let's give it a name…