Wednesday, July 27, 2016

     I walk at a local park. The track is 1/2 mile around and has an nice varing view to keep your mind off of your inner voice telling you not to do another lap and get a ice cream cone on your way home just to cool off. There is a yellow stripe in the middle of the ten foot wide path. People smile when you pass each other. Seems everybody has a favorite lane. I like to do left hand laps in the inner lane. Anyway, last Monday afternoon I thought I was in a Twilight Zone episode. I am used to seeing pairs and trios of kids walking with each other while they stare at their cell phones while doing laps. And everywhere else I see kids. But, I am not used to seeing these groups turning in unison and changing direction. Going off the track crossing the soccer field or the baseball diamond. The more I walked the more I became aware of the erratic behavior. I had no idea what was going on. Felt like a half dead minnow slowing sinking to the bottom of a 100 gallon bait store tank surrounded by 1001 Red Bulled fueled minnows.
     Come to find out about the new game. Read that 140 MILLION people spend an average of 43 minutes a DAY playing. Oh my! What a world.


Jim Harrison

Most of my life was spent
building a bridge out over the sea
though the sea was too wide.
I’m proud of the bridge
hanging in the pure sea air. Machado
came for a visit and we sat on the
end of the bridge, which was his idea.

Now that I’m old the work goes slowly.
Ever nearer death, I like it out here
high above the sea bundled
up for the arctic storms of late fall,
the resounding crash and moan of the sea,
the hundred-foot depth of the green troughs.
Sometimes the sea roars and howls like
the animal it is, a continent wide and alive.
What beauty in this the darkest music
over which you can hear the lightest music of human
behavior, the tender connection between men and galaxies.

So I sit on the edge, wagging my feet above
the abyss. Tonight the moon will be in my lap.
This is my job, to study the universe
from my bridge. I have the sky, the sea, the faint
green streak of Canadian forest on the far shore.


Unique journey through Chuck's brain.


The Chairs That No One Sits In 
Billy Collins

You see them on porches and on lawns
down by the lakeside,
usually arranged in pairs implying a couple

who might sit there and look out
at the water or the big shade trees.
The trouble is you never see anyone

sitting in these forlorn chairs
though at one time it must have seemed
a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.

Sometimes there is a little table
between the chairs where no one
is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.

It may not be any of my business,
but let us suppose one day
that everyone who placed those vacant chairs

on a veranda or a dock sat down in them
if only for the sake of remembering
what it was they thought deserved

to be viewed from two chairs,
side by side with a table in between.
The clouds are high and massive on that day.

The woman looks up from her book.
The man takes a sip of his drink.
Then there is only the sound of their looking,

the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird
then another, cries of joy or warning—
it passes the time to wonder which.


Walk On In
Walt Sample
Two clicks north of Da Nang
I went down
Bullet cut thru my lower spine
I’ll never forget that day

Uncle Sam gave me a silver chair
For servin’ in Vietnam
Been prayin’ the same simple prayer
Every day since then 

At the gates of Heaven
Jesus please tell me
Go ahead and walk on in

Sittin’ in my prison for over 40 years
Wanna’ be set free
Pushin’ 2 wheels thru lakes of tears
Arms are mighty sore

Wanna’ get to heaven and stand around
And listen to the angels sing
If I cry anymore I might drown
I’m ready to move on

At the gates of Heaven
Jesus please tell me
Go ahead and walk on in

Walk on in


Thursday, July 21, 2016

Fur Peace Ranch is a sacred place.

Arts & Minds Fest is a blast!


Good vibes.



Old and new.

Saturday night ears treated to-

 Sunday night ears treated to-

 Sunday afternoon-

 Saturday afternoon ears-

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Big weekend at Art's & Minds Festival at Fur Peace Ranch.

Sold a bunch of watercolors and oils!

More tomorrow.

Runin' crazy today.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Good stuff from Hank Jr.


Guy Clark was all in.


The Daylight is Huge 
Amy MacLennan

The daylight is huge.
Five a.m. and the sky already
blushing gray. Mornings so full
of blue the clouds almost sheepish
as they wisp over hills.
High noon only happens in June,
mid-day a tipping point, the scale
weighed down on both sides
with blazed hours. And the evenings—
so drawn out the land lies stunned
by that shambling last light.


I found this fascinating.


Liz Danzico hits the nail dead center-

I grew up with a mom and dad who played music every chance they got. Most nights after dinner, one parent would turn up the classical music coming from the local station on the kitchen radio, the other retired to a room to read, while the kids each went off to practice their respective instruments. One child on the upstairs piano, one on the downstairs piano, another in the TV room practicing a wind instrument.

They took the kids to piano lessons, French Horn lessons, saxaphone lessons, flute, clarinet, whichever instrument struck our fancy. For some period of years, all kids were required to take two instruments, so mathmatically, our practice sessions took most of the weeknight evening not already taken up by homework. But the house was, interminablely, filled with “music.”

My mother was a whistler and when not actually playing the violin, she was whistling her way around the house, making certain no room was unfilled with sound. Every morning about 5AM my father would rise first and start tea or coffee, making the most of what little solitude one could find in the house. (For years, I also woke at 5AM to “keep my father company,” thinking he was lonely. Not until I had kids in my own house did I realize those early solo hours were not lonely, but intentional — a needed respite from the clamor of everyday life.)

Learning to play music is an long exercise learning to to be kind to yourself. As your fingers stumble to keep up with your eyes and ears, your brain will say unkind things to the rest of you. And when this tangle of body and mind finally makes sense of a measure or a melody, there is peace. Or, more accurately, harmony. And like the parents who so energetically both fill a house with music and seek its quietude, both are needed to make things work. As with music, it takes a lifetime of practice to be kind to yourself. Make space for that practice, and the harmony will emerge.

Take a minute and check out her blog-


Dolly Parton-

 "I still use my little tape recorder, and I still write longhand. I can’t think unless I’ve got a pen or a pencil in my hand, with a big old yellow legal pad. I think my writing is as good as it ever was. In some ways, I think it’s better because I’ve lived longer and I’ve experienced more stuff. But when I write, I don’t try to be commercial. I just write what I feel, and hope that it might turn out to be a “Jolene” or an “I Will Always Love You.” You can’t really purposefully try to do that. If they’re good, they’re good, and if they’re mediocre, they’re mediocre. I got a lot of them, too. "

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Jim O'Rourke is unique.


What is music?


I need to get a couple spinning staves



Jim Harrison

In truth I am puzzled most in life
by nine horses.

I’ve been watching them for eleven weeks
in a pasture near Melrose.

Two are on one side of the fence and seven
on the other side.

They stare at one another from the same places
hours and hours each day.

This is another unanswerable question
to haunt us with the ordinary.

They have to be talking to one another
in a language without a voice.

Maybe they are speaking the wordless talk of lovers,
sullen, melancholy, jubilant.

Linguists say that language comes after music
and we sang nonsense syllables

before we invented a rational speech
to order our days.

We live far out in the country where I hear
creature voices night and day.

Like us they are talking about their lives
on this brief visit to earth.

In truth each day is a universe in which
we are tangled in the light of stars.

Stop a moment. Think about these horses
in their sweet-smelling silence.