A bit of free advice?

Sometimes, when you dance like nobody's watching, you come pretty close to spraining your ankle. Ouch.

Wordlesss Wednesday: Utah Edition.

I remember when I lost my mind.

I don’t like to throw words like magic around too much. My fear is that, if I use it too much, it ends up falling on deaf ears. And that’s the last thing in the world I want to happen. I’m using it now, however, because it applies. There’s no other way around it.

That’s the beginning to what was.

I don’t want to talk this up too much, but the stage needs setting. Last week, I was in Utah for a few days and nights. And, on one of those nights, I strolled over to Kilby Court to see some of my favorite local bands and musicians: Paul Jacobsen & the Madison Arm was one and Jay William Henderson of Band of Annuals was the other. One preceded the other, when they combined forces to add some extra strings and melodies to Jay’s new, unnamed songs. It’d never happened before. I wonder if it will again.

Not a lot of people were there and that didn’t much matter. It was a comfortable hour or two, one where those who’d gathered were keener on listening than talking. There were moments where songs really did give me the good kind of chills and notes were hit that just made me shake my head. There was even a Gnarls Barkley cover mixed in that I didn’t hate.

When it was all over, it didn’t make me miss Utah. It made me thankful that I got to spend the past 13 years there to discover and appreciate the music I was hearing. And I was grateful to have spent a few months away, as it caused that appreciation to grow even deeper than it’d been. And, yes, it was as magic as it was magical. It really was.

Listen for yourselves. This just needs to be heard.

Terribly shallow thoughts while on an airplane.

Is there anything greater than having a buffer seat between you and the old Southern guy on the aisle, something that morphs into a catch-all for all your various things?

Okay, so maybe there's this one thing. And it's being able to turn on the noise-canceling headphones, plug into an iPod and allow Astrud Gilberto and some bossa nova to drown out the little one in the back, the one who hasn't stopped screaming for the past two hours. Oh, and being about to Internet while being so many thousand feet in the air, sure. How I adore you, technology.

Being able to balance a business trek for a few days while catching up with family, friends, old taco haunts and some good, old-fashioned musics? That's just some kinda heaven, that's what that is.

I forget ever sweating as much as I did these past few days in Utah. There's that age-old debate between the "dry" heat and the "wet" heat, sure, but perhaps Florida has changed me in just four months' time. Lips are chapped and shorts and air conditioning were absolute necessities. Then again, maybe I'm just fatter. Definitely one or the other.

One thought I've actually had is that I just don't have time to get married. Not with how long my Netflix queue happens to get with the passing months and years. It's a good thing, then, that I watch more movies than I have dates. What? You can't judge me.

There are few things greater than watching a couple Utah bands at Kilby Court on a summer's night. Sure, it's a bit of a garage that usually caters to the kiddies, but, now and again, it morphs into something so much more. I actually got chills three times during Paul Jacobsen & The Madison Arm's rendition of "Apocalypse Wow." True story. It's almost enough to make this aging music lubber break out in the happy tears.

What am I doing on the July 4th long weekend, anyway? Please say it isn't fireworks.

I have so many good friends, ones who inspire, make me think, force me to laugh and cause smiles to break out across this uncommonly expressionless face. I'm incredibly thankful for that reminder these past few days. They make my life richer. They each deserve Thank You cards detailing the same.

I'm plenty happy. I just am. Even though the batteries on my headphones just ran out. Time to grab the book o' poetry and try to achieve a bit o' the serenity. It's that or I get to try and decipher what alla those screams and yelps from not too many rows back actually mean, if anything at all.

I only stole it cause I love it.

And it's sorta the way I choose to live my life. Thanks, Joy!

More than words.

Okay, this was gonna be directed to my ma, but after reading through the lyrics, I can't bring myself to go dedicate it to her. Plus, well, chances are she wouldn't go for the Ozzy, anyway. Still, um ... good song and stuff. For reals. Takes me back to high school (shhh, that outs me as one of the old, crusty ones).

What a difference a day makes.

As one prone towards adventure (and having recently discovered it’s a major reason I exist), I can report to nobody in particular that an adventure came together in typical haphazard fashion last weekend.

Sunken Gardens was a place I learned about in a book, a short drive from here in St. Petersburg. An individual created these lush, tropical gardens on his property, about 20 feet below sea level, way back in the 30s. They’ve now been adopted as a park the state of Florida helps maintain. We arrived just after buckets of rain had fallen, proceeding to splash around in puddles, stared at so, so many flowers and handled leaves bigger than even me (really). There was a 2-foot-long alligator snapping turtle, a parrot that could tackle a handshake with one of his pointy feet and mating lizards everywhere. It was a beautiful oasis of a place, really.

Other parts of the adventure happened on the way there or just after, like stopping at a roadside market that had so, so many fruits and vegetables, things like a bowling ball sized watermelon for $2 and tomatoes the size of grapefruit and peaches and mangos and, well, that list goes on. There was the crab shack dive with the crabby, bearded waitresses (no joke) who served us scallops and cod and shrimps. There was a new beach to grab rays at, even, and it, too, felt like warm bath water. We were advised to “shuffle our feet” as the stingrays were out in full force that day. And there was a place called Dairy Kurl that was a must-see (must-taste?), because few things go better with sunshine than gigantic dipped, drippy soft serve cones.

Ah, summer. Ah, summer!

The adventure ended with lightning and so, so much more rain and dark, foreboding clouds but, well, perhaps that was all part of it, too. Yes, yes … I do think that is the case.

Until the next adventure, then. And I sorta hope it includes swimming with the sea cows.

Lush Life.

It's almost 3 in the morn and I'm giving up sleep to write down thoughts and listen to Johnny Hartman and John Coltrane make effortlessly beautiful music together. I don't have insomnia. I never have. In fact, my superpower is that I can sleep pretty much anytime, anywhere. I simply choose to do other things than sleep sometimes. At least I'm able to do this sort of thing without upsetting anybody. That's a plus. And, on that note, I'll share this poem I came across earlier by Richard Jones, because he gets it. He probably also knows that, the longer you live alone, the more you end up talking to yourself. It's true.


White Towels, by Richard Jones

I have been studying the difference
between solitude and loneliness,
telling the story of my life
to the clean white towels taken warm from the dryer.
I carry them through the house
as though they were my children
asleep in my arms.

Gotta get back in time.

Sometimes, when the rain has fallen and it's resting right around 80 degrees warm after the sun's gone down, I am almost magically transported back to the Philippines. I suppose it's not always a smell that transports you to the life you knew before. Sometimes it's the sweet, thick humidity that's prone to do the trick, more than fifteen years later. And it's triggered a lot of other memories, even. Memory is truly an amazing thing.

We're lucky, cause we sang some song.

There are a lot of ways to find my smile on a Saturday morning where I'm still in need of sleep. One would be getting to sleep more. Another might be the possibility of adventuring through the curiosities that are Florida. And, well, a lovely song like this one. Seriously, I'm grinning like a big buffoon. Oh, and follow that link at the end and you can download their whole album for free. For free! It's what I'm doing. On borrowed Internet power, no less. Who knew a band that calls itself Mittens would be this gorgeous? Must be the power of the multiple xylophones. They're the new cowbell.

Mittens "Deer Park Mirage" from Mittens on Vimeo.

On the half shell.

I feel like this blog has way, way too many photos of me on it lately, but I'm going to go ahead and share the following link, anyway. Short story: our two designers have entirely too much time on their hands. This is why this exists. End of short story. If nothing else, perhaps this'll serve as a pick-me-up for you. A jumpstart to your weekend. A reason to hate me forever. Something.

CLICK

This is where I should be today.

It's a little sticky outside, with plenty of humidity in the air (I dig the stuff, really) and it's a comfortable 86 degrees from where I sit. I've been so tempted to visit the shores instead of doing that work thing, so ready to risk a shark attack instead of a papercut. I'll have to do something about this crazy urge this weekend. It's time for another adventure, after all. Who's with me?

Wordless Wednesday.

Your wish is my command.

"Maybe I'm a king."

I'm not inclined to call this day a sad day, because I'm not one of those sorts who says such things for all the world to see (not very regularly, anyway). I'm also not one who bellyaches when Monday rolls around simply because of where the day happens to fall in the week, for I've had some very lovely Mondays in my time. I do, however, get some strength from the words of one William Stafford this day and night, especially with my recent push towards living a rich life of significance ... to be an individual who matters to someone other than himself. There are so many reasons why I like this piece and, well, given those things I've just said, perhaps they'll be readily evident.

A Story That Could Be True, William Stafford

If you were exchanged in the cradle and
your real mother died
without ever telling the story
then no one knows your name,
and somewhere in the world
your father is lost and needs you
but you are far away.

He can never find
how true you are, how ready.
When the great wind comes
and the robberies of the rain
you stand on the corner shivering.
The people who go by—
you wonder at their calm.

They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
“Who are you really, wanderer?”—
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
“Maybe I’m a king.”

Body of a God.

You know, the bigger my belly seems to get, the more I am prone to being in situations where I'm shirtless and showing it off (beach, swimming pool, etc.). So this is what it's like to get old, is it? You care a little bit less with each passing year what others are wont to see. All you young kids, this is the mentality and attitude you get to look forward to. Believe it. Instead of calling it apathy, though, let's go ahead and call it pride. I'm okay with that.

Arm wrestling with Olympian Rowdy Gaines.

That's all that needs saying, am I right? The results speak for themselves, after all.

Morning fodder.

Here's one that is good to chew on for a spell. I think that, personally, I've overcome the fear that is outlined below, but what about boredom? Can creativity and boredom coexist? Maybe it's simply a matter of being overly creative until boredom gets cancels out.

Chew, chew, mull, mull.

“In order to be open to creativity, one must have the capacity for constructive use of solitude. One must overcome the fear of being alone.” — Rollo May

Phone home.

Every time I receive a phone call while at home, the callers inevitably say the same things. First, a question — "Where are you?" — followed by a statement — "It sounds like you're at a concert!" It's true, too. When you don't own a television set (I don't) and you rely on the kindness of neighbors to sometimes share the Internet, you're drawn towards, what's that? Playing music to fill up that empty space. And, yes, it does sound like there's some sort of performance going down in here a lot of the time, something I tend to enjoy. It's not even all that loud, I promise. Everything just tends to bounce off that concrete ceiling and semi-wooden flooring in just the right way and it all goes down real nice.

Right now, the bossa nova is on. In the absence of a jacuzzi in this place (that'd make it completely and impossibly perfect), this is what will calm and buoy up and turn this Saturday night into a quietly tropical soiree.

she also considers me World's Most Laid Back Man.

When she says something like the following — "I don't think I could ever be mad at you" — it's likely meant as an off-the-cuff remark, surely not as definitive as it rests inside my mind. She's said it more than once, too, and instead of my wanting to prove her wrong or trying to find some way to correct her, I allow it with a smile. That's a statement not meant to make me happy, even, but it does. And, though we aren't dating or lovers or even wanting to toy with either, each having gone down that road and preferring solitude — we're far too old to live out that dream — I ought to scoop her up. I ought to surround myself with a life free of arguments, for her sake and mine. That'd be one of those slices of bliss. We won't, you know, but she'll say it again. Maybe on Sunday afternoon. And it'll mean a jolt and a surge. I'll say thank you with a smile. Maybe two.

It's good to be Adrien Brody.

And doing that all in a day? He's got to be exhausted.

Wordlesss Wednesday.

And now, a word from our sponsor.

No room for commercials on my blog? Don't make me laugh. The company that allows me to pay my bills by writing for them launched this lil reveal video today; it's for a shot size of our flagship product and we just unleashed to the world. I wish I could say I'm sharing this to help them out. Really? Honestly? I just think it's pretty cool. That's about the long and short of it.

(for the full effect, go watch this one in HD, m'kay?)

19th.