A Dark And Stormy Night: The Bookshop

It was at the end of a seldom used side street.  Just an alley really.  Cars rarely drove the street and there was never any foot traffic.  But the bookshop was there and had always been there.  Always available to those that needed it.  Accessible to the ones that sought it out.  Open to the public twenty four hours a day.

There was no welcome sign on the door, nor was there a lock.  The little bell that rang when the door opened had no clapper.  It only made a noise because it knew it was supposed to.  And no matter how much dust was shaken off when it rang it never became less dusty than it already was.  Besides, the yellowed glass of the door wouldn't allow enough light through to illuminate the dust as if fell.  There was no shaft of sunlight for the particles to dance and float and play within like in some melancholy poem.

Just inside the door was a coat rack with an old canvas duster hanging on the one unbroken hook.  Beside it was a ancient brass planter pressed into service as an umbrella stand.  It was empty accept for a few chewing gum wrappers throw into the bottom.  From there on, all the way to the back of the shop some hundred odd feet away were books.  The two walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves and the fifteen feet of floor space that separated them was split down the middle by a makeshift wall of volumes.   It averaged about four feet high and was broken only in two places to allow a person to cross from one side to the other.

Then, in the very back of the shop was a small table.  It held only four items: a cash box, locked even though it was empty; a magnifying glass with an ivory handle; a small desk lamp with a Tiffany shade; and a pocket watch with no chain.  The old office chair behind the table was upholstered in green Naugahyde which had been patched repeatedly with duct tape.  And in the chair sat Maxwell, quite dead.

Fuck the Mayans

Well, my Tender Lumplings, it seems another year is nearly gone and while I did much better and posted a lot more this year than in the past, it did tend to slow down in the second half of the calendar.  Why is this?  I don't know. Maybe on some level I actually believed the Mayans were onto something.  It could be that I was under some spell and it wore off.  But that isn't it either.  Mostly, I prefer to blame congress.  There were many times I wanted to write something about whatever was going on at the time like the election or some tragic event or the like.  But I didn't for whatever reason.  Sometimes it was because I couldn't organize my thoughts on the subject.  Sometimes it was because I knew I would piss off a lot of you and I don't want to do that.  Mostly, I was just lazy and didn't do it.  

So am I going to promise you that I will keep up my posting in the new year?  Promise to post at least once a week and twice on Sunday?  No, I'm not.  You wouldn't believe me anyway.  I will try my best to do as good as I have this year.  

I don't make new years resolutions.  I try hard not to make any promises about what I'm going to do or try to do in the new year.  This isn't to say I don't make plans.  Sure, we all do, but I'm no better at acting on those plans than anyone.  And if I make it a formal resolution, that is just like admitting I won't do it.  So, having said that, here are some of my ideas of things I might like to try and maybe do in the new year.

I want to catch up on all the TV shows I haven't been watching.  I have several seasons of certain series both on DVD and my DVR that I need to watch.  And I also want to watch a bunch of movies I haven't seen.  I would like to try to watch all the Hitchcock movies.  

As always there are the usual unfinished projects to tackle.  

I will continue my study of Hinduism.

I want to practice musical stuff and get better.  I'm terribly out of practice.  And for someone who is wanting to write and record his epic concept album, well, you need to be at your best.  

Let's see, what else.  Oh yeah, eat better, lose weight, whatever.  

So, dearies, I probably won't see you again until after the first of the year.  I wish you all peace of mind and peaceful lives.  Just keep saying this over and over:

Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha.  

Until next time...

A Dark And Stormy Night: The Death of Johnny Bristol

As he lay there, gasping, expecting each ragged breath to be his last, he couldn't help reflecting on what had brought him to this situation. He knew the guy had been standing behind him.  He knew the fucker was armed.  Of course he was.  But he went ahead and threatened the Monarch anyway.  You don't do that.  Especially when one of his men is standing behind you with a gun.  Idiot.  Now he was dead, well, dying.  It wasn't true, he knew now, what they say about never hearing the shot that kills you.  He heard it.  A loud crack, like a violent period punctuating the sentence he should never have spoken. 

He could hear the Monarch screaming at his guy.  He couldn't move, he could barely breathe now, but his ears were still working perfectly. The fucker was really getting his ass chewed.  The Monarch was not happy that Fucker had shot him.  Not happy at all.  There was a loud bang and then a dull thud.  He tried to force his dying eyes to focus.  There, lying in front of him, no more than a foot from his own face was that of Fucker, one eye staring straight at him.  The other eye gone, blown away by the bullet.  The Monarch was really not happy. 

Then the Monarch's deep voice echoed in his now faltering ear, "Good night, Johnny.  We almost had something beautiful."

He shut his eyes, all sound faded, his breathing stopped and for a second there was silence and peace and then there was nothing. 

If I Had A Hammer...

Something has been bothering me of late, my Tender Lumplings, and I don’t know if writing about it will help or not but it seems that is what I’m going to do. I do believe that these times we have spent together here have done me good and I hope you have enjoyed them as well. There have been moments of mirth and mayhem and boredom to be sure but overall I think this is a good thing, this so called blog. Even if it soon is over, if the Mayans are to be believed, then I hope it was time well spent. (Although I have to confess I think we are in for another false alarm. The Mayans are going to pull a major “Camping” on us.) In the meantime let us get on with today’s business.


I was working on a rather large project the other day and had a sort of revelation. The project was a fence I have been building around my backyard for some time now. A project that has been going on far too long but that is another blog in itself. While working, I realized something: I have no idea how to build a fence. I have had no training, no instruction what so ever. I was just putting up boards and screwing them together. This sort of seat-of-the-pants work model reminded me of something.

Years ago there was a TV show called M*A*S*H, you may have heard of it. It was about a bunch of doctors at an army hospital near the front lines during wartime. They always said what they did was “meatball surgery”, it wasn’t pretty, but it was effective. They did what they had to in order to save the person’s life. So I decided what I had been doing there in the backyard was “meatball carpentry”. It isn’t pretty but it works. It’s still standing and it blocks the perimeter of the property.

Then I thought about this further and I think I may have been living my whole life that way. I’ve never really done anything right, I have half-assed everything. I slept-walked through high school and college, getting by with the minimum effort required. My work career has been spent playing it safe most of the time. I start projects and make plans that are rarely ever finished or fulfilled. So for the past forty some odd years I have been living a “meatball life”. Making it up as I go and getting by with just a slapdash and improvised system to keep it all rolling. I don’t think things through. I don’t consider what it will take to complete the task I have set for myself. Basically, I’m a hack.

So now I’m supposed to give the big speech: “From this day on I will finish what I start. I will dedicate myself 110% to my plans and projects and not rest until they are complete. I will…blah blah blah.” No I won’t. I won’t do any of that. I can’t change now, not this far into the show. Why lie to myself and everyone else? Better to be honest and say I won’t really change.

However I will make one statement, not a promise, just a statement: I’ll try to do better. That is all I can say, I’ll try to do better. I am going to focus on the four projects I currently have going that have already taken too much of my time and money to abandon. I have long since given up on a lot of things. I will never write that book. I admit I’m not a good enough artist to ever paint that masterpiece. I will never write and direct a great film. But I will try to finish up these four projects and then we will see what happens.

I’m just a guy trying to get through this. I’m not perfect, not even close. But I’m trying, Dearies, and maybe, sometime, I’ll get something right.

I Hold These Truths...

I was reminded of something this morning while walking my dog. We were standing there in the yard, neither of us fully awake yet, and I was waiting on her while she was looking for just the right spot. That, my Tender Lumplings, is when two things became evident to me: yawns are contagious and everyone has to pee when they first get up in the morning. These two truths are part of what I call the Great Equalizers, a group of things that are true of everyone. Whether you are rich or poor, black, white, green, whatever, these few things bind us all together as animals on earth. From the Pope, to a supermodel, to your garbage man (waste re-location engineer), we all, everyone, eat, sleep, and make #1 and #2. If you don't do these things then you are either dead or about to be. Some other equalizers include the yawning thing, which crosses species, and the morning pee thing and a few others. The thing is, not that we all do these things, but what it means that we all do these things.


Without getting to graphic, think about this: everyone goes to the bathroom every day. Everyone. Whether it is you or some celebrity or politician or whoever, when you are sitting there you are just like everyone else and no one is any better than anyone else. And that is true. Some may try and argue about that but when you think about it, it is true. End of story. Every animal on the planet knows this. Krishna, Buddha, and Jesus, when they walked the surface of this spinning mud ball as real, living men, they had to do the same things we all do do. There are other common threads that bind us together of course. We all need oxygen and water, stuff like that, but if you are looking for the most basic, lowest common denominator, we know what it really is. Just like the bumper sticker says, "Shit Happens".

What I'm really getting at is this: when you get right down to it we are all the same. We may be different colors and speak different languages and believe different things but we are all the same. We have this one Earth to live on (for now) and we should stop all the bickering and complaining and just realize that. Quit trying to kill each other over stupid things. Unless everything goes pop in December, it is going to be 2013 in a few months. When I was a kid I could barely even imagine living in the 2000's. But when I did I didn't think we would still be such a petty, stupid species.

Until we meet again my Dearies...

For The Record

Well, my Tender Lumplings, we meet again here in the murky backwaters of cyberspace, my little corner of the web that houses all my blackest dreams and most dangerous ideas.  I have brought you to this vile place to have a little talk.  We shall speak of the past and the present and all the possible futures.  We will speak of dreams and nightmares and visions seen during the waking brightness of daylight.  Landscapes and vistas never before witnessed by human eyes and the depth of the oceans will be ours for exploring.  And all the stars of the sky will be scrutinized by our all-seeing imaginations.  

So now I would like to begin a new series of posts which contain completely fictional content.  It may be stories, parables, satire or surrealism.  It could be rhymes & reasons, poems, prayers and promises.  Science Fiction, Fantasy, or historical romance, but I doubt that last one will appear often.  I may even take the real world and twist it to my own evil devices.  That really sounds like fun.  

But fear not my Dearies, I have not abandoned my usual rants and observations.  These new posts will be scattered among the regular lunatical ravings you have come to know and tolerate.  To help you distinguish the new stuff from the regular, all the new fictional posts will have the same title: A Dark And Stormy Night, and then some sort of subtitle fitting that particular post.  Expect the first entry soon.  You have been warned.  

Now on to current business.  

When you are really into music and you read about music, they always talk about "important" albums.  Those records that have become famous for being innovative, revolutionary, cutting edge or otherwise groundbreaking.  It may be the songs are a mirror of the times or the production is like nothing heard before.  And when they talk about these albums the same ones are mentioned over and over.  The Beatles Sgt. Peppers, The Beach Boys Pet Sounds, Bitches Brew by Miles Davis are always on the list.  Others include:  What's Going On by Marvin Gaye; Public Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back and whatever record it was when Bob Dylan went electric.  Now, for the most part I agree with all these and most of the others they talk about ( I admit I never saw the appeal of Pet Sounds,  it may be a marvel of studio production but at the end of the day it is still just surfer songs). 

I thought I might take a moment and walk you through what I feel are the top five most important albums in regards to the shaping of my musical tastes and influences.  I doubt any of these will make the official lists of "important" albums but they are great recordings and mean a lot to me.  So here they are in no real order. 

The Police - Ghost in the Machine

The Police were my favorite band and all because of the songs on this album.  Sting's songwriting and voice hook you from the start.  Andy Summers and Stuart Copeland are at their best. WHAT I LEARNED:  The record taught me that a three minute pop song can be art.  I learned here that a drummer doesn't just keep a beat.  I have loved complex and "busy" drumming ever since.

E.L.O. - A New World Record

The first time I heard the song "Living Thing" I admit it scared the shit out of me.  This album came out in 1976, I was 7 and probably not their target demographic.  But I was hooked.  WHAT I LEARNED:  Vocal harmony.  Pure and simple.  Jeff Lynne uses richly harmonies lead and backing vocals like other artist use paints.  

Peter Gabriel - SO

My first Peter Gabriel album.  I bought it because "Sledgehammer" was such a catchy hit.  But then I put the tape (yeah, I know) in and "Red Rain" played.  I was mesmerized.  I knew then that Gabriel is a genius, which he proved even further with his next records US and UP.  WHAT I LEARNED:  The rhythms were so foreign and layered so deep.  The songs were so beautiful and powerful at the same time.  

Oingo Boingo - Deadman's Party

I was watching this movie called Weird Science and really loved the theme song.  The credits said it was by a band with one of the dumbest names I had ever heard.  I bought the album and found what I had been looking for musically my whole life.  To this day they are my favorite band and Danny Elfman is a God.  WHAT I LEARNED:  Basically, musically, anything goes.  Here were catchy, poppy, even danceable songs with lyrics about death.  And a horn section that just cuts through the mix and floors you.  And again with those crazy complex rhythms.  

The Grapes of Wrath - Treehouse 

It's hard to pinpoint what is so great about this record because there is so much that is perfect about it.  It is just beautiful.  The songs here seem to float in space above regular songs.  They are light and airy but still bursting with emotion and power.  WHAT I LEARNED:  I know, because of this album, what a really finely crafted song is.  The music is not over done and the lyrics express the emotion of the song with out being overly metaphoric or simplistic.  It is simply perfection, as are all the Grapes albums.  

Others to check out:

The Fixx - Phantoms

Killing Joke - Night Time

Spock's Beard -V

Yes - Drama

Tonic - Lemon Parade

Toad The Wet Sprocket - Pale

Eric Johnson - Ah Via Musicom

Dada - Puzzle

Talking Heads Naked

I could go on and on but I won't.  If you can, check out some of this stuff.  If you can't find some of it just let me know and I will smuggle you the essentials.  Until next time my Tender Lumplings….

What Are Words For?

Well My Tender Lumplings, I know that my posts have slacked off a bit this summer but I beg your forgiveness. As you all know it has been a hot one and that has affected a lot of previous plans I had. When it is over 100 degrees in Tennessee, well, that is just ridiculous. It is too hot to do most of the projects I had planned and it is, yes, too hot to blog. Who can think of witty things to write when you brain is sweating? Not I, and I can normally do some pretty amazing things. But that is for another post.


This time around I want to talk about language. It’s a funny thing. I love to listen to people speak other languages. They are so diverse and distinct. Some sound beautiful and poetic even when they are saying the most horrible things. And others sound horrible even when they are saying beautiful and poetic things. I am very fascinated with dead languages, things that have not been spoken in centuries. They are some of the most bizarre sounds I’ve ever heard come out of a person. But, I wonder how close a so called expert’s reproduction of those languages really is to the actual thing? If one of these people went back in time and tried to talk to someone, would they be understood or would they end up on the wrong end of an Aztec sacrificial knife? That is the things about the long past, you have no way of knowing if you are right.

I digress, the main point I want to bring up today is a trait of the English language, it may be a trait of others but I don’t speak any others so I don’t know. If you do, feel free to speak up. This trait is the way some words can mean two or three completely different things. There are many of these sorts of words but today I want to look at one of them: Manifest.

Why, Manifest? Well, it is a very interesting word. First, it is fun to say. Try it out a few times. Manifest. Manifest. See. And second, there are the two meanings. Webster’s says manifest means: readily perceived by the eye or the understanding; evident; obvious; apparent; plain. But it also is a noun meaning: a list of the cargo or passengers carried by a ship. Now I know there are words that have definitions that are more opposed to each other but manifest illustrates my point nicely. What I like most of about manifest is its meaning as a verb, because nothing good ever manifests. When a ghost appears it is said to manifest. It is a manifestation. The symptoms of a disease always manifest. The warning signs and other indicators of the onset of some sort of mental illness are said to manifest at certain times. I read that schizophrenia is said to manifest, usually, when one is in their early twenties. You can imagine my relief when I became twenty-six or twenty-seven and had not yet begun to hear voices telling me to do things. Make no mistake; I am quite mad, but not like that. Just a mild case of garden variety nuttiness. It’s part of my charm.

So why a perfectly nice word like manifest should be stricken with this connotation of negativity. It doesn’t deserve it. It is a lovely word yet it is rarely used in a nice way. And don’t even get me started on the whole manifest destiny thing. What a load of crap.

What have we learned here today Dearies? Two things should be perfectly clear to you now. One: sometimes I get really, really bored. And two: I can write 650 words on nearly any subject and trick you lot into wasting 10 minutes reading them. I feel so powerful. Until next time…

Roll up for Dr. Zak's Old Tyme Feel Good Show

I am very sorry to have to tell you all this, my Tender Lumplings, but today’s post is going to be and all out rant. I know, I know, I don’t like it any more than you do but sometimes a person just has to get it out and say what they think and today is that day. But fear not, I have already talked with some people about this topic and they, mostly, agree with me and so you may also. That means this particular rant may elicit more cheers of agreement than jeers of dismay. I can tell you are all getting anxious to hear this and find out what has me so worked up. I won’t keep you waiting any longer.


Modern medical science is truly amazing. The things they can do to repair damage, swap out old parts for new and alter the body’s chemistry with pharmaceuticals is wonderful. I, myself take a few, shall we say, supplements that do me a world of good. Do I like having to take them? No, not really. I wish I didn’t have to take them but I do. And if, like me, someone has a legitimate medical need for drugs then they should also take them. That all being said, I also think that as a society we are too quick to want to label every tiny ailment and start popping pills needlessly. The reason we do this does not lie solely on the shoulders of the modern medical machine. It is in no small part the fault of the drug manufacturers. But mostly it is the marketing and advertising people.

Let me give an example. I person know who is advancing in years was recently observed by you humble Narrator shuffling along, taking slow and shallow steps. Another person passing by, filled with Christian concern for his fellow man, stopped and said “hey, (name deleted), are you ok?” To which the other person replied in a feeble voice, “no, I have Fibro Myalgia, and it is pretty bad today”. This was met with a heartfelt “aahh” form the other person who then began to offer words of sympathy and encouragement. As I witnessed this, I too thought of some words: yeah, right. Fibro Myalgia? No, that is crap. You are getting older and things hurt. That is just the way it is. Acid Reflux Disease? No, you had a chili dog and now you have heartburn. It happens.

This is what got me going. These made up sickness that are things people have been living with forever they that feel they have to label and then sell a pill for. But that is only part of the terrible practices the marketing people have come up with. Another trend I can’t stand is calling everything by its initials. Like we are so busy we can’t say the whole thing. COPD, ED, RLS, OMG! And the grand pappy of all the things I just don’t get with some of the new drug commercials are side effects disclaimers.

There have always been the lines in the commercials where they tell you the possible side effects of the drug. It’s a legal thing and that’s fine. But it seems they have just gotten way out of hand recently. There is one for a drug that treats a skin condition. And the side effects it may cause are ten times worse than the condition is it supposed to treat. Would you rather have some itchy dry skin on your elbows or die of butt cancer? And then there is the asthma drug that will either alleviate your asthma symptoms or cause your asthma to kill you. What? Really? Now I’ve seen people having asthma attacks and it does look like fun but do you want to take a drug that may cause the thing it is supposed to be treating to kill you. Madness! There is even one drug that it says in the commercial “scientists think (drug name deleted) works by acting on receptors in the brain”. They don’t even know how this shit does what it does but they want you to swallow them by the handfuls anyway and keep writing those checks.

That is what it is all really about, money. Just like the snake oil salesmen of old, convince people you can cure something you’ve already convinced them they have and then sell it at the highest price they will pay. Then triple that price and have your buddy sell them some insurance to help them pay for it.

It’s all a vicious cycle that will continue on and on. You either shut up and take it or join them. That is why I am announcing the debut of my new miracle salve: Dr. Zak’s Super Fix It Balm and Floor Cleaner. Yours for only $19.99 a bottle. But wait, order in the next 10 minutes and I’ll double the offer (just pay separate processing and handling). Until next time my dearies…

Macs, Milestones and The Ultimate Answer

This is a very special post, my Tender Lumplings, for a couple of reasons.  The first of which is that this is the first installment of A Night In The Kingsbury Run to be composed and posted on a Mac.  Yes, I have joined the dark side and bought an Apple.  It's not that bad really.  Actually, it is pretty darn cool.  I'm digging it a lot.  I bought it for one specific reason, to make music.  Everyone said if you want to record music you should have a Mac so I broke down and got a used one.  But now I'm digging it so much I might just switch to it for everything.  Maybe.  We will see.

The second thing that makes this post so special is that it is post number 42.  And I shouldn't have to tell you why that is important.  But I will explain anyway just in case some of you are not in on the secret.

You see, 42 is the most important number in the galaxy.  It isn't the funniest number, that is 37.  And it isn't the loneliest number, that is the number one, or so I've heard.  No, 42 is the most important number because it is the answer.  The answer to what?  Well, everything.  It is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything.  The only problem is... we don't know the question.  You see, when the great computer Deep Thought was created they asked it what the answer was.  So it did as it was asked and found the answer: 42.  But without the question, the answer was a little hard to understand.  So another computer had to be built to figure out the question.  But it was destroyed before it could complete it's program.

So I think we should help.  What do you think the question might be?  Let's play the ultimate game of Jeopardy.  We have the answer, now let's find the question.

You may, and should, recognize all this as the work of the late Douglas Adams.  The author of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series and other wonderful works would have been 60 years old this year on March 11.  He passed away on May 11, 2001.  And each year he is celebrated on May 25 with a holiday known as Towel Day.  He was a visionary writer, a charitable man dedicated to preserving disappearing species, and a guitar player.  And it is fitting that this post be written on a Mac, Douglas was an aficionado.

So, don't panic, just grab a towel and have a good day.  Until we see each other again my Tender Lumplings.

Underwater Wine Making

OK, here is the deal.  I have stated here on several occasions the fact that I have the most vivid, unconventional, strange and amazing dreams.  They are weird.  They are complex.  They are in color (I don't care what wikipedia says).  Now I don't want to sound like a broken record and I hate to keep bringing up the dream thing but every now and then I endure a night of unsurpassed mental imagery that I simply cannot ignore.  So please bare with me for a few minutes, my Tender Lumplings and I will try not to freak you out too much. 

First a quick review of the night.  It began with a visit to a friend of mine and his wife.  Simple enough, but in this dream version his wife was Hispanic and her entire family, none of whom spoke English, lived in the house with them.  They didn't like me much judging from the tone of their voices and the few Spanish insults I understand.  Then I walked down the street to where my grandmothers house had just burned down.  I knocked over a tree and it smashed my Dad's garage with him in it.  He wasn't hurt, just pissed.  After that I found myself in a post apocalyptic setting where most of the world had been destroyed and covered by water.  The water was very thick because of all the people that had died dissolved in the ocean and made it thick.  What little ground was left was soggy and radioactive.  There was however a farmer's market selling what seemed to be fruits and vegetables.  There was some guy who wanted to make wine with the "grapes" they were selling even though everyone said not too.  He planted a vineyard in the radioactive ground at the bottom of the ocean and started making wine.  Meanwhile there was a museum to show what the fish of the old world were like but the examples that were left started dying off.  So we had to close the museum and get everyone out before they realized what was happening.  Then I woke up. 

I have given up a long time ago trying to figure out what my dreams mean.  I would go nuts trying to superimpose some sort of symbolism onto these messed up images.  They really mean nothing.  But I am very curious about just what kind of fucked up mental chemistry produces this stuff.  Where does it come from?  I could never think up this stuff in my waking hours yet every night my slumbering mind can produce hours of the junk.  There must be something seriously wrong in there. 

I know how to fix it.  But I can't tell you what it is.  In the meantime I'm just gonna get my brain really drunk before bed.  I hear you, "no, no that's a terrible idea."  And you are right.  So I'm not gonna do that every night... just Monday through Sunday.  Until next time, Dearies.

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

The time has come once again my Tender Lumplings to acknowledge the anniversary of my birth.  I didn't, you will notice, say celebrate.  I do celebrate my birthday in my own way but I try not to make a big deal of it.  I don't want a bunch of fuss and hoopla.  On my birthday, as with every other day in the year, I only want to be with my wife and my animals.  The main difference being I may get some cake, or pie.  Oh, and there are usually some gifts. 

I don't get gifts like I did as a kid.  Back then there were presents with wrapping and ribbon and all that sort of things and it was great.  But as we get older the gifts get less elaborate.  Usually there is no fancy wrapping and ribbon.  Often there is not even a gift bag. Somebody just hands you something and that is that.  And that is fine with me.  I don't need all that stuff.  Heck I don't even need gifts.  Having grown older and wiser and having studied for some time now various theological and mystical ideologies, I have progressed passed the need for and pursuit of material things.  I require only the meekest of physical objects to sustain myself.  My intellectual and spiritual possessions are far more important. 

And that is all crap.  I have studied various theological and mystical ideologies and I still don't get the whole "renounce possessions" stuff.  I like my stuff and I don't want to throw it all away and see no reason why I should.  The late Guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was once asked why he surrounded himself with flowers when you were not supposed to want for physical things. He responded by saying why not surround yourself with beautiful things?  God made all the flowers of the world and they are beautiful so why not admire them.  The same goes for anything as far as I am concerned.  If God is everyone and everything then why do all the so-called "holy" people keep saying "renounce all worldly objects".  And if possessions and money and such are to be considered worthless, why are the streets of Heaven paved with Gold.  A: that would make a lousy paving surface for a street and 2: who needs gold in Heaven.  I was kind of hoping Heaven would be like an all-inclusive vacation:  everything is paid for and you only have to have cash for like liquor. 

The point of this is simply I like my stuff.  I even admit to loving some of my stuff.  I have some books I actually love.  I have some signed copies of some Iain Banks that I really treasure. I have several first editions that are really cool.  I also love my car and my guitars.  I really love my guitars.  I don't play that well but I do love those chunks of wood.  I do not love my TV or my DVDs. They are cool but I don't love them.  And as much as I treasure music, (it really is probably the biggest joy of my life), I don't love my compact discs.  Maybe if I collected old vinyl LPs?  They have a very romanticised culture around them but I don't go for that. 

So, with my birth anniversary looming in the headlights I am embracing my materialistic side and saying "come on with the pressies".  And I would also like to acknowledge the dates exactly one and two weeks prior to my birthday, the 3rd and 10th of May, which are the birthdays of two of the greatest ladies to ever grace the surface of this ball of mud.  They are loved and missed dearly.  Take care my dearies, until we meet again...

Humane Bean

Spring has sprung, my Tender Lumplings, and so of course things are beginning to be crazy.  Projects long planned and dreams long dreamed are once again brought out and dusted off and attempted.  I say "attempted" because I know from past experience that they usually don't make it too much further than the "attempted" stage.  But this time it will be different.  Really.  In fact several of the projects in progress have already gone further than I had expected.  So it all may really happen this time.  I'll keep you informed. 

But what I really want to talk a little bit about are humans.  More specifically the blatant stupidity and unsurpassed uselessness of them.  If it weren't for needing a few of them around to do the nasty stuff I don't want to do, I could quite happily do without humans.  And recently I have been reminded of this on many occasions.  Yesterday, for example, every human I came in contact with was extra dumb.  When you find yourself explaining the same very simple concept to someone over and over, both verbally and in writing, and they still cannot "get it", then something is very wrong.  Let's not even go into the completely ridiculous questions they were asking me. 

I hear you now.  I know what you are saying.  "But surely you must like someone?  Not all people are so pointless?"  You are right.  And also wrong.  I do like some people.  Quite a lot of them really but I have a theory that they, like myself, are not human.  We are something else, something more.  Not the next step in human evolution, no I think humans have just about run their course.  We are beyond human.  We are a separate, though physically similar, species.  It is the mental and emotional characteristics that set us apart mostly.  We are smarter and more emotionally attune to ourselves and one another.  We have a much better understanding of our place in the world and how we and it react to each other.  Our common sense is vastly more developed than your garden variety human.  And, if I may say so, we are more attractive as a whole than humans.  (However I do admit that there are some humans that, though they may be dumber than a bag of hammers, are freaking gorgeous.)

I believe it may have something to do with the idea of the "old soul".  Most religions believe that the "soul" or "life force" or whatever term they use, is eternal.  It exists beyond our physical bodies.  It is timeless and endless.  In the Bhagavad Gita the Lord Krishna says "there has never been a time when I did not exist.  And there will never be a time when I do not exist."  Some cultures believe we are born over and over again in a process called Re-incarnation.  Others, like Buddhist and Hindus think we are re-incarnated in hopes that after a while we will "get it right" and live a life so pure and selfless that we can earn or achieve peace and release from the cycle of rebirth. 

Perhaps we, the special ones, are the "old souls".  We have been around for a very long time and have lived these lives countless times and now we are learning.  Perhaps this time around will be when we "get it right".  We may all be close to our Nirvana.  A time when we are free of suffering and will join completely in Brahman for good. 

As for me personally, I don't think I'm quite there yet.  I may need another trip or two on this mud ball.  But I dearly hope you, my Tender Lumplings will have peace now and beyond. 

I Have A Cunning Plan...

Well, my Tender Lumplings, I have to confess I am quite pleased with my amount of posting I've managed so far this year.  My goal is to post as much as I can and hopefully match or surpass my best year which I believe is about 18 posts.  But I have not and will not compromise my rule of only posting when I have something specific to talk about.  This is one of the things that causes the long silences.  I don't want this page to become just a outlet for meaningless meanderings.  I can't just tell you about my day and what I had for lunch.  That would be worse than boring.  But it would make it much easier to post more often. 

For example, I have several projects in the works right now that I would like to tell you all about.  But I won't.  That is not for this blog.  This is not a journal or a diary.  How sad and pointless would that be to write about such things.  "Today I went to the store for some chocolate milk.  But all they had was a jug of non-dairy chocolate drink. I didn't buy it."  Of course I didn't buy it.  Who the fuck would buy non-dairy chocolate drink?  And why would I write about it?  And why would you read about it? 

This is not to say that things that happen in my daily trip on this spinning ball of mud don't influence what I discuss here.  Of course it would work that way.  Like when I have one of those crazy dreams or that whole poison ivy debacle a few years back.  But I didn't just relate an account of the happening.  These events spark questions that feed ideas that turn into ponderings that I share with you, my dearies.  And I hope you gain a little something from them.  I hope they make you think and question.  I want you to have your own spark and maybe even nurture it into a flame of inquisition that consumes you and all around you until knowledge and truth and a greater understanding of the universe and all of us and everything is drawn out into the light of that conflagration so that we can all see it and learn and live free from worry and hypocrisy.

And that, my Tender Lumplings, is one of the longest sentences I ever wrote. 

As you may have guess, when I began to compose this post I had no clear idea of what I wanted to talk about.  I usually always have at least some idea before I start and it is waiting for those ideas that cause me to not post for long periods.  Starting a post without a clue as to its topic is something I avoided on purpose until today.  This was an experiment to see what would happen.  Now we know.  I think I need to go back to making sure I have an idea first.  Or else I, your humble Narrator, will have to change my name to the Rambling Random Babbler.  Until next time.

Who the hell is Niblik?

Your humble Narrator is perplexed my Tender Lumplings.  I have been presented with some information that has me ponder many things.  You see, this blog provides me with some data on how many times people view my posts and where those people are.  Most of the page views have been from the US and Canada.  But then I have 23 views from Russia.  Ok, that is odd.  And then a few from Japan.  Ok, that's cool.  But then it gets strange.  I have a single view from Latvia and India.  I haven't a clue where Latvia is.  And a view from, get this, Nepal.  What?  Really?  I can just picture a little Sherpa guy up to his nether region in snow, guiding some white dudes up the Himalayas and stopping to check out what I have to say on his laptop. 

I know that is probably not what happened.  It was probably just somebody who came by my ramblings quite by accident.  That is how I explain all the single views I have had \from various countries.  The 23 views from Russia are a little more puzzling.  That is a big place so it isn't inconceivable to think 23 people have accidentally ended up on my site.  But what if it isn't that?  Could there be somebody over there who has actually stopped by my blog repeatedly?  That would be cool. 

So, this is what I'm gonna do.  I would like to appeal to my international readers, if they indeed exist, to leave a comment the next time to stop by.  Just say hi.  And to my friends whom I know read this, you do not have to leave any comments.  I get enough of you people's comments in person.

Anywho, it is fun to think I've gone international.  I'm taking my message to the streets all over the world.  I'm gonna let the people know the truth.  I'm gonna bring the people what they need.  Then we will rise up and...  on second thought, nah.  Revolution is too much work.  Let's just veg out in front of the TV.  Until next time my dear ones.

Take a flying Leap Day!

It seems my Tender Lumplings that another Leap Year has arrived and today, Leap Day, is what the fuss is all about.  So once every four years we get to have a February 29.  As if February wasn't a screwed up month already.  It usually only has 28 days while all other months have at least 30.  It is stuck in winter, in this hemisphere, and starts off with a holiday that nearly always predicts more winter.  I think they stuck Valentine's Day in February just so the month wouldn't be a complete waste. 

All of this fuss over Leap Year is due to one simple fact: the measuring of the passage of time is not an exact science.  The search for an accurate time measurement system has been going on since time began, or since time began to be noticed.  Early man realized the passage of time and has been trying to measure it ever since. Animals don't care about time and neither did the first vaguely humanoid things that fell out of the trees. After he stood upright and looked up at the sky he noticed something.  The first most obvious clue was the rising and setting of the sun.  Then there was the way the moon and stars didn't appear in the sky in the same place or for the same amount of time each night.  Of course all this was first attributed to the Gods and their whims.  But then patterns began to emerge and someone started taking notes.

Calenders began to appear pretty early on.  And through history there have been countless versions.  Lunar calendars and Lunisolar, Sidereal, forced synchronization called "intercalation".  There are Julian, Gregorian, Hebrew, Iranian, Islamic calenders.  And they are all different some how.  Some differ by thousands of years.  The comic Jackie Mason noted how the Hebrew calendar dated back nearly a thousand years further than the Chinese one.  Which made him ask the question: "How did the Jews survive a thousand years with out Chinese takeout?"

It is fairly widely recognized that some of these other old calendars are more accurate than today's.  Most of the world has now settled on using one calender, a modified Gregorian based system.  They figured out how many days each month should have and decided a year was 365 (ish) days.  And so we have to add one day every four years to make up for the math.  Leap Day.  Today. 

What does all this really mean.  Simple, once every four years we have to wait and extra day to get to Christmas.  Leap Year sucks. 

Good For You... Now Piss Off!

I have tried not to complain too much on this blog.  It is not, nor shall it ever be, my intention to use this as a platform for simply pointing out things that I dislike.  Yes, I will do that on occasion but I don't want to and will not allow it to become a frequent feature.  This blog is about more than that.  Sometimes it is about a lot less.  But still, my Tender Lumplings, I promise not to abuse my power here by assaulting you with my pet peeves. 

So, with that out of the way, I'm sure you all have already guessed what I am about to do.  But I will make it fast and then get on with some deep philosophical crap to make the few moments you spend here today worthwhile. 

The complaint:  I hate it when people use the phrase "If I can do it anyone can".  This is offensive to me on many levels.  One being that it is an out right lie.  Just because you have done something does not mean anyone else can achieve the same goal.  It is, in some cases, so far from the truth as to be insulting.  Say someone ran a marathon.  Does this mean my grandmother could also run a marathon?  No, of course she couldn't.  Does it mean a quadriplegic could run a marathon?  No, and it is terrible to say so.  Maybe someone wrote a book.  Does this mean the man in a coma at the hospital could write a book?  No. 

I think you see what I mean. 

The second reason I hate this phrase is the way it makes the person saying it out to be some sort of self confessed loser who has achieved some great feat.  Like these people had so little faith in themselves, thought so little of themselves, that somehow running that marathon or losing 20 pounds or getting a GED was some sort of miracle.  And if a completely worthless bag of crap like them could do it, so could anyone.  And we have already proven that to be wrong.  Is it supposed to inspire me?  If that waste of life can do it...so can I!  No, sorry.  It just shows me how little people think of themselves and me. 

Maybe it is because I am intelligent enough to see through their crap.  Maybe it is because I have a positive opinion of myself and my self worth.  I know I can do great things.  I have done great things.  But I also know that just anyone else couldn't do the things I have done.  Or the things I will do.  For what ever reason.  I may have mental or physical capabilities that other do not.  I'm sure that there are things others can do that I could never do.  But I would never belittle myself, or my fellow beings, but saying that ridiculous phrase.

And now for that deep philosophical advice.  It comes to us from that great film Big Trouble In Little China.  "A brave man doesn't mind the feel of nature on his face. And a wise man knows when to get in out of the rain."  Until we meet again my dears.

Hell Is A Capitalist State

Well, my Tender Lumplings, it is time once again to delve into the murky waters of my unconscious mind.  Yes, today we will be presenting another laugh filled edition of The Dream Journal.  Now several times before on this blog I have regaled you all with stories of my nocturnal travels though that dark and twisted landscape known as my dreams.  I have told you about the various place that I seem to frequent: the Top of The Mountain, the Motel, etc.  Today I will introduce you to a new location that I call The Marketplace. 

I don't know what town is exists in, probably the same town where the Motel is, but it is not anyplace that I have actually been in my waking life.  It is a single street, very long and straight, and there are a few streets that cross it.  There is one big main intersection that is wide and open with the buildings sitting well back from the corners.  There is a statue or fountain or something on one corner.  And this is the only place in the Marketplace where there is any traffic to speak of though you never have a problem crossing the street. 

The main feature of The Marketplace is the shops.  They are plentiful to say the least and one can find anything in them.  I mean ANYTHING.  Near the intersection they are mostly nice little stores selling nice little things. There are some lovely restaurants and cafes.  But the further one walks down the street the shops change.  I want to tell you about a couple of places that I visited just last night. 

There are two shops in The Marketplace that I visit fairly regularly: the music store and the comic shop.  They are both long, narrow shops that consist of one or two long aisles.  Depending on the dream they can sometimes be open air shops, like they are just rows of product set out along the sidewalk, but usually they are enclosed in building set right against a hillside.  They have to be long and thin to fit between the hillside and the street thus making the stores only about 8 feet deep and 100 feet long.  The music store has every album by every artist ever and a lot by artist that never existed.  The comic shop is filled with comic books and model car kits.  They are always packed with customers. 

Last night something strange happened.  I visited the marketplace and the shops were closed.  They have never been closed before.  The comic shop and the music store, which this time were both open to the elements, were also closed but because they had no building around them, I could just walk about and look at the stuff on the shelves.  There were a couple of other people walking around but I didn't know them.  It was very disturbing. 

Before I go I have to tell you about one other shop that I haven't been too in a long time.  It sits up an empty side street just off The Marketplace.  It is a dusty and dark, cramped little store.  But the treasures it holds are unimaginable.  Like Pandora opened her box and used the contents to open a pawn shop.  The wonders.  You can find your hearts desire and lose you soul at the same time.  I have spent many a long night lost in its magical aisles.  Some nights I didn't want to wake up. 

I hate those dreams the most.

Well, my Tender ones, that is The Marketplace.  Well, one side of the street at least.  Pray I never tell you about the other side.  Until then....

Memories of future pasts

Well my Tender Lumplings the days are once again, albeit slowly, getting longer as we make our way to spring.  Thought it may not seem like it right now we will soon feel the days warm and the trees will bloom.  And while this also means allergy season will start and for two months straight it will feel like someone is hammering a spike into my forehead.  But we won't linger on that. 

The important thing is I have, perhaps foolishly, been working on a list of things I wish to accomplish this spring.  It has gotten me to think about the whole idea of planning.  It is at it's core the very essence of optimism.  One cannot plan anything without believing that one will eventually reach a point where those plans will be either fulfilled or abandoned.  Whether it is either a simple weekend to do list or a freaking wedding, planning is a job for those feel good about the future. 

So what do I have on my list of chores?  Just the usual spring time type things: clean out the garage; paint the living room; that sort of thing.  And a few more ambitious challenges to but I'm not going to tell you about them just yet. 

The only problem I see with all of this is that at heart I kind of see myself as a pessimist.  The only thing I am really optimistic about is the fact that everything will eventually fail.  It's sort of like saying "the only thing that is constant is change" or, even more appropriate "I am positive everything is negative".  If this is so, if I am already predisposed to believe that I'll never actually complete any of the stuff on my to do list, then why even write the damn thing out.  Could it be that maybe I am an optimist after all?  Is there some part of me that thinks things may be OK?  I hope so.  That would be really cool.

Too bad it's all crap.  We're doomed.
Until next time...

Trivial Pursuit

It occurred to me recently that I wanted, for some unknown reason, to post here for all my Tender Lumplings, some little know facts about myself. I know that most of you already know me quite well. There are only three or four of you that have ever read any of these blogs and you are all folks that, well, let's just say we've met. And any others who may have stopped by these pages have gotten a bit of an idea about who I am.

There are a lot of things that are well known about me. I love music and, though I'm not that good at it, I love playing guitar. I don't like being outdoors. And I refuse to wear the color black. There are stories behind all these things and behind the facts I will list in a moment, but I'm not going to go into them now. If any of you would like a more in-depth explanation about any of these bits of trivia just let me know and then watch this space.

So, here goes....
I think that the tinkle of wind chimes in the night is damn creepy sounding.
I love the phrase "sons of bitches".
I had an article published in a British fanzine for author Iain Banks.
I've met Larry Kirwan of the band Black 47.
I've never eaten at a Cheesecake Factory.
I spent Thanksgiving Day 1989 in Key West. Bad idea.
I can't juggle, but I can teach others to juggle.
I was once given the nickname "Figgie Newton".
I have a cat with a "mutant tooth".
I tell people my favorite color is purple but it is really yellow.
I had three freckles in the shape of and "L" on my left arm. After having poison ivy a couple of years ago one of them is gone.

And to answer a couple of questions I'm sure none of you have been asking. Tender Lumplings is a reference to Oingo Boingo and calling myself your humble Narrator is a nod to A Clockwork Orange. Just in case you were wondering.

Anywho, there you go. I'm really pleased with my blogging so far this year. Several entries and it is still January. This could get scary.

Does that make me less of a man? I hope so.

I am sick and tired of being fat. I'm not talking "take out the side of the house and load me on a flatbed truck" fat, but I've been carrying several extra pounds for years. I seem to have topped out at about 244. I can't remember ever going over that which is good. Although if I had hit 250 or 260 or something it may have been the kick in the ass I needed to do something. But I, unfortunatly, became somewhat comfortable at 244 and since it never really changed, I was ok. But the last year or two I have not been ok. I am ready to do something.

Last year I had a great idea. I had a motto: Under 2 by 42. I was going to lose the weight and be under 200 by the time of my birthday when I turned 42. That didn't happen so I changed it to Under 2 at 42. This gives me until May to get the fat off. Probably won't lose it all but I'm gonna try. Really.

I know people say this exact same thing alot at this time of year. I have said it many times myself. But this time I meant it. And I've said that before too only to fail after a few weeks. But I'm gonna try. I and my dear one have even resorted to one of those pre-packaged meals things. I was never fond of the idea but I have seen the results first hand. It has worked for several people I know. So, here we go.

Wish me luck, my Tender Lumplings. Hopefully, in future meetings you humble Narrator will not be the same man he is now.

No Do Overs, Please

A while back I was having a discussion with some guys I work with about things we had done in our youth. Some things that we looked back on fondly and some, well, not so much. Someone posed that age old question: "what if you could go back and do it all again? Knowing what you know now." Now, at first that seems like a really great idea. Think of what you could change. Think of the bad choices you could avoid. The opportunities you could not miss this time around. My answer to this question, which I gave to my colleagues without hesitation, was that yes, I would like to go back and do it again. But I would want to end up right where I am now. My life isn't perfect, oh no, my Tender Lumplings, not at all but on the whole things are good. I have a job I like well enough with guys I like well enough. I have a bunch of animals and, best of all, the greatest girl in the world. And even though, given the chance, I would change a few things in my past, I would still want to be right here, right now.

See the key part of this idea is that second statement: "knowing what you know now". If you go back to being yourself at say 10 years old, having all the knowledge and experiences you've gained since then taken away, then you are essentially just yourself at 10 again. You can't say whether or not you would do everything the same as the first time or not. But if you become 10 again while retaining everything that has happened since then, then you are the person you have become over the intervening how-ever-many years, but younger, with decades to do over. Then you have a chance to make changes. You know what is going to happen and can act accordingly. I'm not talking about making big changes like stopping Kennedy from being shot or preventing 9/11. Even if you could put yourself in a position to try and do these things, if you succeeded or not, the entire course of history would be affected. So for me, wanting the do-over but not wanting the end result to change, that would be impossible. I'm just talking about small changes.

Well, it just so happens I had a chance to actually do this. Sort of. I a dream. And, my Tender Lumplings, if you have read my blog for a while, you know how my dreams can be.

So, I dreamt that I went back and got to do things over. It wasn't anything that happened in my real life, it was more like I was getting to do over an earlier dream. But I knew everything that was going to happen and I knew the parts I wanted to change. The whole thing happened in a hotel room with me and a bunch of strangers. There was a tornado and something to do with animals on the beach. The plot was rather vague. But the important thing was this: even though I knew what was going to happen next, the people around me were not acting as they should. They were not doing what I remembered them doing the first time around. Even the tornado was moving from west to east instead of the other way around. I found myself trying to make people do what I thought they should do and I couldn't. I had no control at all.

It made me think. If I really went back in time, knowing all I know now, and could do all this again, could I do it. Assuming everything and everyone acted exactly as they had the first time around, then maybe. But you can't assume that. Just like in the dream, I don't think anyone could have the control over everything that they would need. My problem is I would want to change things but keep the same outcome. I don't think that is possible. People who say they would go back to do it again but wouldn't change a thing, just re-live it as it happened the first time, well, I don't think that would be possible either. Only the ones who would want to go back, do things different and didn't care where the journey ended up would be able to do this. Maybe the would be the fun of it. The unknown. I don't know.

But since it is, at least for now, impossible, well it is all moot isn't it?

Until next time...

Take Off Your Headphones and Get Out!

Well my Tender Lumplings another year is upon us and I, your humble Narrator will, again, and just as foolishly as ever, vow to be more prolific in my endeavors to scribe more entries ... ah, heck, I'll try to blog more. There. I said it. I won't do it, but I said it. I won't make any lame excuses this time I'm just going to honest with you and say I'll try. Though we all know I will probably fail. My intentions are good, I really want to blog more and I will try.


There, now that that is over with I'll get on to today's topic. Stupid people. I know, they are everywhere and you will never be able to get rid of them. They make more everyday. If there is one thing that idiots are good at it is making more idiots. Seems to be their only purpose in life. Well, that and to mess things up for the rest of us. Usually we can avoid them or ignore them and pretend they aren't there. But every now and then one gets a microphone.


So, I'm driving home the other day and the DJ, a profession I myself have even held as some point long ago, opens his mouth and lets his idiot out. Now I know that DJs are paid to talk and they have to come up with stuff on the spot to fill in between commercials and songs and usually it is fine. No, their jokes are rarely funny and their "observations de la vie" are pointless and juvenile. But there is one area where they should not show their ignorance: music.


A DJ should know music. Maybe not everything about every kind of music, but have a working knowledge of the genre you are working in. Here is what happened:


The song playing was "Loser" by Beck. It ended and the DJ says "without a doubt the most nonsensical lyrics I have ever heard". Really? I grant you it is one of the top songs for not making much sense but "the most nonsensical" ever? Has this guy ever listened to music before? Probably never heard of Captain Beefheart, Zappa, Robyn Hitchcock? Even pop megastars REM were known for there crazy ass lyrics especially early in their career. "Automotive cheesecake jellybean boom". What the fuck was that about? And let us not forget a certain little band from England called, oh what was it, The Beatles I think. Seriously, what the hell is Lucy In The Skies about? "Boy you've been a naughty girl you let your face grow long"?


OK, maybe I'm nit picking. Maybe I'm making a mole hill from a mountain. The DJ dude was just talking out the hole on his head and wasn't thinking about what he was saying and just talking to kill time. But still, to me it made him sound like a yobbo who wouldn't know B B King from Bert and Ernie. Considering the history and current state of Knoxville TN radio, it is not surprising. The stations suck and they don't employ the top talent out there. They do the best they can I guess.

Still sucks.