Is it just me, or is Spring making a pass at us?

I was well in to a pot of coffee this morning... when I looked outside and thought it looked decidedly Spring-like out there. So I opened my front door wide to see if my eyes deceived me.

Nope. Spring is totally hitting on us.

Now I'm sitting at my desk sipping coffee, wiggling my toes and letting the Spring air have it's way with me for a bit. I'm sure we'll have at least a couple more snow storms, but for today let's pretend that Spring is here.



(Yes. I'm capitalizing "Spring". I believe, after a long winter, Spring deserves to be treated with respect.)

Hacienda Concert

Well, as predicted, the house concert at Haleigh's Golightly Hacienda on Saturday night was transcendentally lovely. I don't really think I can do the evening justice by trying to describe how great it was... so I'll just skip trying.

Here are some snapshots from that night. That's me with the guitar. And Jedward on the keys. Those are 200 year old beams above our heads. Rock solid and going strong.

Goodnight Tulsa

goodnight tulsa

goodnight tulsa
you broke me bad
goodnight mary
a kind of kindness I never had

some habits…
you never can kick
I've got a pocketful of bad ones
take your pick
they're winning, they're winning
hell most of them have won
but I just wanna be with you
when the morning light comes

goodnight tulsa
you broke me bad
goodnight mary
a kind of kindness I never had

you taught me to drink
you taught me to steal
you taught me to duck
and never really feel
I'd ride this one out
if I could sleep through the night
but it's so cold here
under your mean street lights

goodnight tulsa
you broke me bad
goodnight mary
a kind of kindness I never had
… goodnight tulsa
… goodnight tulsa
… goodnight mary

some people are cats

some people are cats

no matter how softly you call them
or what promise you hold out
they won't come.
heartbroken, you pretend not to care.
but then suddenly
you look down, and
they're spiraling your leg.
you enter a purr-induced amnesia.
it takes embarrassingly little love
to make you forgive a cat.

The portable funeral

The portable funeral

He walked around all day
Every day
With a funeral in his head.
He never could quite bring himself
To bury her.

a sort of haiku

My house is empty. Without you in it, all the objects are useless.

How it all started.

How it all started.

It's about God and Devil. They used to be good friends man. But they fell in love with the same Girl. Some chick named World. And that's why They started hating each other. They were always fighting to get Her attention and get in Her pants. Just stupid kids. But then God knocked up World. At least, that’s what everyone thought. And World decided to keep It, ‘cause She was tired of guys and their games. I think She was lonely or something. So She had this really cute bastard baby, Jesus. This really pissed Devil off... He pulled God into court, saying the kid was His. Because, you know, He'd been screwing around with World too. And besides, it killed Him to see God and World as some happy little family. So Devil and God had a custody battle over Jesus... and World just sat there and let them fight it out, ‘cause she was torn too. Jesus did sorta look like Devil… around the eyes. It dragged on and on… It just got stupid. Finally, World just went to live with her mom in another town. Last I heard, God and Devil both ended up in prison. Jesus is gone too. He got in a car wreck one night and didn’t make it.

Vegas

Vegas

He booked his last flight to Vegas. He’d spent his entire life going there for trade shows, conventions and sales meetings, first with his father, and later, as a salesman himself. He didn’t drink. He didn’t gamble. He hated strip clubs. Even the hotel sheets made him itch. Vegas represented everything wrong with his life, everything wrong with America, every compromise he had ever made, every chance he never took. This time was different. He landed in the late afternoon, rented a car at the airport, stopped at a liquor store on the edge of town, and then drove straight west out into the desert with the radio off. After about an hour he pulled over into the low sagebrush and parked, facing east. The sun was nearly gone now. He took off his shoes and stood there beside the car, lightly breathing in the muted desert heat. Then he stripped off his suit coat, his tie, his pants, his undershirt, his boxers, his socks and his watch. Naked, he climbed onto the hood holding nothing but a bottle of his father’s brand of scotch and sat with his bare ass on the warm car roof, legs dangling over the front windshield. He just sat there and drank… watching Vegas burn like a circus funeral pyre out in the distance.

The Middle

The Middle

I still sleep on the left side of the bed.
Like I’m waiting for you to slip in beside me.
We both know that isn’t going to happen.
I wonder if you see me-shaped holes everywhere.
I should move over to the middle.

Inheritance

Inheritance

I just stood in the spitting rain
Grinding autumn leaves
With my creased leather boot
While they buried my father
Beside a damp wood.
Funerals make you think.

Earlier, they tried to give me his chair,
A scratched watch, some letters,
Old photographs, a blue robe,
Dog-eared books, a record player...
Remnants of his unvarnished life.
I told them, “Give it away.”

Besides, I carry his mark:
I leave parties suddenly.
I’m good at making bread.
I smile like a wolf.
I constantly need to be alone.
Children trust me.

We're bound together, he and I.
But when they lowered the box into the ground
Something broke loose.
I looked up, through watery shrouds of breath,
And saw something shooting away
Like a distant star,
Very alone and terribly free.

Emma

Emma

Otter tail
Monkey chest
Pancake lips
Deer butt
Pig nose
Rabbit belly
Gator chin
Velvet ears
Chaplin ‘stache
Squirrel legs
Chocolate eyes
Labrajumpaloveatfetchadorsnuggltriever.

The best part of growing a beard...

By far, the BEST part of growing a beard is getting to shave it off.

...

Incrementally.

[WARNING: THIS IS A RIDICULOUSLY NARCISSISTIC BLOG POST -- EVEN MORE THAN USUAL]


Note the huge zeeb on my right forehead...
This is the starting point: "Full Beard In Bed With Zit".
Also known as "The Myspace Pillow Shot".


Now Let The Cutting Begin! It's A Beard Harvest!

...


I call this one "Gay Civil War Era Train Engineer".
Excuse me, do you like Mutton?


So thoughtful...
"Where DO these train tracks lead anyhow?"
A coal-powered bathhouse, perhaps?



This is just straight up "Serial Killer"...



Off With the Chops! Perhaps the "Ugliest Kissey Face Possible".
Note the single eye being closed.
Does it say "I'm Quirky" or "Permanent Brain Injury"?



I dunno... The Handlebars...
They DO offer something to hold on to... visually, I mean.



Look Ma! No handlebars!
I call this one: "Scott Common Circa 1983"
Or... "The Carpet Installer"



Again, why do serial killers love mustaches so...?
"It puts the lotion in the basket, or it gets the hose again!!!!!"
And yet... It also has a certain "Porthos of The Three Musketeers" quality...



HEIL!
Alas, no beard escapade could ever be complete without a brief stop in Nazi Germany...
For the record, this is named a "Toothbrush Mustache".
Dammit! Hitler ruins EVERYTHING!



And finally we return, full circle, to where we once began...
But wiser somehow...
To that most subtle of facial hair statements: "The Soul Patch".
Otherwise known as "I'm White But At Least My Lower Lip Can Have Soul"


I hope you enjoyed this trip through the Facial Hair Forest as much as I did. Somehow though, I don't think that's possible.

Ahem.

Enough of that.

~John

Back in the (swim, bike & run) Saddle.

Well now...

I started back with triathlon training this week.

Holy shit.

I'd forgotten how big the difference between a normal workout schedule (well, my normal one) and a TRI workout schedule is... I spent the last 4 months doing 2-3 runs a week, 1-2 bikes a week and 1-2 swims a week. As of this week, I'm doing... hell, 2 workouts a day (swim, bike, run, weights or core) with Sundays off. It's not as bad as it sounds though... It's only about 1 to 1 1/2 hours a day. Even your dentist tells you to work out 30 minutes a day. So yeh... Where was I?

I can tell something has radically changed in my schedule. By 9:00PM I'm a zombie. Which is funny... because I'm not exactly a crazy party guy to begin with. I've gone from nerd to uber-nerd.

Gimme a protein milkshake dude.

In A Bookstore (Live in New Mexico)

This video was filmed on a little tour through New Mexico took during the winter of 2007. We stopped for a little golf at the Rio Grande.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=PWDebrnUR7E

I'm working on a new theory.

I got a very short haircut a week or so ago. And then decided to grow a beard.

I *thought* these two things were unrelated... But then it dawned on me... "Hey John, this is John. Perhaps those two things are very related."

And so, I began work on something I will tentatively name my "Global Equivalence of Hair Theory". (GEoHT) Every man hopes to find his one, true, single purpose in life. His 'masterwork'. Perhaps this is mine.

It goes something like this:

The total global amount of hair on the planet, proportionate with the population, at any one time is a constant and must remain constant. This means that when one person gets a haircut, another must grow a beard. When one girl gets a Brazilian, another man must not shave his back. When one indie hipster grows an ironic mustache, another will drunkenly shave off their eyebrows.

Etc.

Dude, you're just another pawn in the global hair game. Sorry 'bout that.

What's truly interesting about this is... by what mechanism are we humans moved by the "invisible hand of hair equivalence" to grow or remove our hair in order to nudge the planet back into hair balance. Is it electro-chemical? Pheromonal? Psychosexual? Metaphysical? Is it just the internet?

Much research is required.

Please share your thoughts, below, with your comments.

Oh... and if you, for some insane reason, think my theory is "hairbrained"... How could you possibly prove me wrong??!!!

Same Scar

same scar

hold on, your innocence
is all you get to spend
it hurts me just to see you blush
the universe is waiting for your touch

you're lovely and more than that
it'd break me into half
if any harm came to you
but I know that it's coming, there's nothing we can do

get ready
don't wither
i know where you've been
i know where you are
get ready
don't wither
coincidence
I have the same scar

the taxis are running
the tv's are humming
the camera loves to see skin
hollywood is waiting to break you in

and it might be painful
and you might not know it
but you'll feel the cutting
when you're in the moment
the scarring helps you
'cause it toughens you up
but try and remember
everyone's got the same scar
same scar

lover go to bed
I'll see you in my head
I'll sculpt you out of air
put you in a bubble, floating over there

CHORUS X 2

coincidence
I have the same scar

coincidence
I have the same scar

coincidence
I have the same scar

...

This is a song that will hopefully make it to the new record. To me, it's about how living is trading innocence for some sort of life wisdom... And that process, that cutting, is inevitablepainfulbeautiful. And there's a weirdly powerful thing that can happen when we show our scars. In some ways, this song is related to Psalm 151.

A: You're gonna get cut.
B: But it'll be useful... Lessons.
C: And this thing that you're going through? It's normal. Everyone goes through this.
D: You'll be okay.
E: Oh, and we all pretty much have the same scar(s).

Lyrics to psalm 151

I wrote this song a little while ago... I wanted to write something that would actually be useful to someone.

It seems to me that sometimes, the thing we most need to hear is, "It's gonna be okay. You are gonna be okay. Just hold on a little longer."

There are only 150 psalms in the bible.

psalm 151

there's a calm inside you
there's a calm inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

there's a fire inside you
there's a fire inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

there's a storm inside you
there's a storm inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back

there's a word inside you
there's a word inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back

there's a voice inside you
a little voice inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

songs for a new record

I've been working A LOT lately on getting songs ready my next record.

I've been writing a lot -- even more than usual -- for the last year and a half. So I've been sifting through about a hundred ideas... and about 40 songs. Pulling the songs out, seeing if I really, truly like them... how they sound, what they say... and then, if they feel worth it, I put them under a microscope and make sure they're really done... and then I play them for close friends to see what they think. I might record them, as rough demos, and drive around listening to them... and let my brain just float around, thinking of how they might be arranged better, or what instruments would sound good, or listen for ideas about harmonies, or complementary parts... always staying open to new ideas that could change all or part of a song...

I'm also starting to think about what *kind* of record this could be. Looking at the songs and starting to thinkg about how they could fit together... like puzzle pieces. Imagining what that larger picture might look like. Very early stage.

They ("the recording people") call this step, preproduction.

I'm really excited about these songs! And this next record! More excited than I've ever been about any record, actually.

Here are the songs that I feel are strong, tonight... (these things can rapidly change):

carousel
don't follow virginia
psalm 151
paper plates
the turnaround
do you know my name
same scar
ghosts
good heart
let it rain
thinking 'bout god
somebody ought to break down
following cynicism

Here are the songs that are still in the running... for different reasons:

walter whitman
i do, i don't
right now
pass that bottle down
don't need you
messy mind
together
black ribbons
clara
to know you
lift this man up
the letter
farmer's only son
into the light
artificial day
in the dark

I love this part of the process...

Let's move to Japan.

If i understand it correctly, the premise of this japanese game show is to jump in either freezing or boiling hot water (I'm guessing freezing... as that makes more narrative sense) and sit on a button that jiggles a bikini-clad girl until her top falls off.

It makes perfect sense to me.

Personally, I think that's a lot of work to see a topless girl.  But I'm lazy like that.

Pop

"Shoot if you must this old gray head
But spare my country's flag," he said.
- John Greenleaf Whittier

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I know about these two poems and A WHOLE LOT OF OTHER STUFF because I am my father's son. He's an incredibly smart, big-hearted man with more integrity than anyone I've ever known. He's lived through some fairly horrible things, but you wouldn't know it. He's a talker, until you mention it. He's loved his wife (my mom) without ceasing from the moment he saw her, 47 years ago. He can be really intense and overly critical at times... and then he'll realize it and apologize. He reads constantly. He cries without shame. He's funnier than hell. He hates it when I call him Pop. He calls me "J" sometimes, in shorthand. I could go on...

Oh, and he's responsible for quite a lot of my strangeness... I owe him for that.

I don't know why... but I've been thinking about him constantly the last several days. Yes, I called him. And emailed him as well. We haven't connected yet. But we will.

I could write a long time about that man... and probably will.

Here's a photo we took together when he came to visit me last summer:

(This is him after 3 mojitos, on an empty stomach, at altitude.)

And another:

(This is him saying, "Enough with the photos, please! But I'll humor you, John...")