Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Monday, December 09, 2013
Sunday, December 08, 2013
Saturday, December 07, 2013
Friday, December 06, 2013
Resurgence
June Star acoustic next week at Joe Squared... North Ave 6-8. I am emerging from a fog. Surprised that I can have an emotional connection, anywhere.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Denny's outside of Detroit
Detroit, smashed and staggering. The city in both free fall and rebound. Rock city.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Super Blogging
So I got that blogging app in an attempt to blog more... I know, I know most folks are on the edge of your seats wondering what I'm thinking and whether or not I'll update you...
Last night I saw the original wailers at rams head in Annapolis. Not very good... The original wailer was Al Anderson who played on the natty dread sessions and the Live! album... Don't go thinking that I'm some sort of Rasta scholar... I got my info from Wikipedia. So there.
Anyhow, there only about 75 people there... Maybe more... But, watching the band I couldn't help but wonder why it is that reggae bands have such broke down keyboard horn sounds.., it's like they've never moved beyond small Casio keyboard synths of 1982.
Anyone?
Oh and June Star is starting to get songs together for another record...
Yay
I selected the songs... Most folks haven't heard these at all... The idea will be to record a few ep's. I'm producing one, Timmy Bracken will produce one, and we're talking with Jason Rubal who produced Lower Your Arms... For the third one... Neat.
Grimm
Last night I saw the original wailers at rams head in Annapolis. Not very good... The original wailer was Al Anderson who played on the natty dread sessions and the Live! album... Don't go thinking that I'm some sort of Rasta scholar... I got my info from Wikipedia. So there.
Anyhow, there only about 75 people there... Maybe more... But, watching the band I couldn't help but wonder why it is that reggae bands have such broke down keyboard horn sounds.., it's like they've never moved beyond small Casio keyboard synths of 1982.
Anyone?
Oh and June Star is starting to get songs together for another record...
Yay
I selected the songs... Most folks haven't heard these at all... The idea will be to record a few ep's. I'm producing one, Timmy Bracken will produce one, and we're talking with Jason Rubal who produced Lower Your Arms... For the third one... Neat.
Grimm
Friday, June 08, 2012
Going mobile...
Hi.
Dusty dust. Clean lifted. Never
Regretted the offline subscription.
How is it we're just now reconnecting?
Why haven't you called or written to
Me? Me. Me!
New drummer. Kurt from the Glenmont popes. New bassist. Mark tuminello from Neptune. Oceanic goodness.
Downloaded the Blogger app... Now I'll really stay in touch.
Or at least have one fewer excuse.
Dusty dust. Clean lifted. Never
Regretted the offline subscription.
How is it we're just now reconnecting?
Why haven't you called or written to
Me? Me. Me!
New drummer. Kurt from the Glenmont popes. New bassist. Mark tuminello from Neptune. Oceanic goodness.
Downloaded the Blogger app... Now I'll really stay in touch.
Or at least have one fewer excuse.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
the natives
an all natural, sleek look.
shimmy and shined thoroughly.
no loose ends.
all tied together.
all tied up.
until
the sun
becomes an ember
sinking into
the sea...
grimm
shimmy and shined thoroughly.
no loose ends.
all tied together.
all tied up.
until
the sun
becomes an ember
sinking into
the sea...
grimm
Monday, January 02, 2012
making it to the clearing
happy new year. right? that's the gig. i've found reason to believe, vision, clarity, and spark. to drive without the crash. how anything happens seems like such a simple thing; just make a plan for yourself.
my plans will be quiet and private. blogger's irony. but, i will put forth my cyber foot and analog heart. i had a most frightening dream last night and my immediate reflection led me to these conclusions:
1. i am out of control
2. there are no reasons why i shouldn't be in control
3. even if i can't control my immediate situation, i should take deep breaths and try again.
what great dream did i have?
it was not my dead mother coming to give me advice in some sage like yoda moment... no... infrequently i will meet her again in my dreams, but it is never in a space where i exclaim, "MOM! I miss you; I love you!" Those episodes are almost always second hand or incidental where she talks to me just as she did when she was alive. i don't know why that is, but i suppose that's the deal, right?
the dream was the out of control classroom dream... for years i had the same basic dream the day before school starts... the class is out of control, kids talking... not sitting in their assigned seats... and me raising my voice, raising my voice, to the point of screaming. then, i will ask one student, "Why won't they listen to me?" the student replies, "Because you're you."
Ugh.
the dream last night though... the same premise but slightly different. every hooligan i've taught seemed to be there. i wasn't afraid; i knew the job ahead of me; i knew the job would require great energy; i knew it would take focus; i understood the demands of my time.
so here i am.
how consistent can i be? i can tell you this much, i started with the damn blog i've been ignoring.
grimm
my plans will be quiet and private. blogger's irony. but, i will put forth my cyber foot and analog heart. i had a most frightening dream last night and my immediate reflection led me to these conclusions:
1. i am out of control
2. there are no reasons why i shouldn't be in control
3. even if i can't control my immediate situation, i should take deep breaths and try again.
what great dream did i have?
it was not my dead mother coming to give me advice in some sage like yoda moment... no... infrequently i will meet her again in my dreams, but it is never in a space where i exclaim, "MOM! I miss you; I love you!" Those episodes are almost always second hand or incidental where she talks to me just as she did when she was alive. i don't know why that is, but i suppose that's the deal, right?
the dream was the out of control classroom dream... for years i had the same basic dream the day before school starts... the class is out of control, kids talking... not sitting in their assigned seats... and me raising my voice, raising my voice, to the point of screaming. then, i will ask one student, "Why won't they listen to me?" the student replies, "Because you're you."
Ugh.
the dream last night though... the same premise but slightly different. every hooligan i've taught seemed to be there. i wasn't afraid; i knew the job ahead of me; i knew the job would require great energy; i knew it would take focus; i understood the demands of my time.
so here i am.
how consistent can i be? i can tell you this much, i started with the damn blog i've been ignoring.
grimm
Friday, September 09, 2011
somewhere in the east
it figures.
right?
the long slow
damaging ride pulls
into the driveway.
what once sang of will
and then pride
and then defiance
and then wash out
metered out only
in vague passion
not unlike denial,
tired and incapable.
T.S. Elliot was right.
James Joyce was right.
Lou Reed was right.
my guidance counselor was right.
even if there was time,
well lit boundaries and
phone calls answered right away.
even if there were you.
"will" is no longer
an engine. no more propulsion.
hardly a sputter. froze up
and quiet.
Walt Whitman was wrong.
he is very understood
and he was never beneath my feet,
waiting somewhere vainly.
right?
the long slow
damaging ride pulls
into the driveway.
what once sang of will
and then pride
and then defiance
and then wash out
metered out only
in vague passion
not unlike denial,
tired and incapable.
T.S. Elliot was right.
James Joyce was right.
Lou Reed was right.
my guidance counselor was right.
even if there was time,
well lit boundaries and
phone calls answered right away.
even if there were you.
"will" is no longer
an engine. no more propulsion.
hardly a sputter. froze up
and quiet.
Walt Whitman was wrong.
he is very understood
and he was never beneath my feet,
waiting somewhere vainly.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
it's the money you see
the exact money i do not have.
david and i were doing a late recording
session in my basement
last
night.
good times. working on a solo
album... or duo... sorry dave.
i suppose.
you don't
mind
right?
attempting to record live...
here are the mics we're using
Shure SM 86
Shure SM 57
AKG 214
AKG 212
Sennheisser 421
excitement. we may have gotten two, "in
the
can."
so to
spea
k
that was not a metaphor.
blush
grimm
david and i were doing a late recording
session in my basement
last
night.
good times. working on a solo
album... or duo... sorry dave.
i suppose.
you don't
mind
right?
attempting to record live...
here are the mics we're using
Shure SM 86
Shure SM 57
AKG 214
AKG 212
Sennheisser 421
excitement. we may have gotten two, "in
the
can."
so to
spea
k
that was not a metaphor.
blush
grimm
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
tyrant... tired.
take me to the mountain
slip me into the sea
let go, let sink
loose of anyone
loose of anything
no new wonder met
every sigh breathed
just as, just is
sad to say
sad to see
with feet heels down
stretched out toes
spread far, spread late
swing open
swing close
slip me into the sea
let go, let sink
loose of anyone
loose of anything
no new wonder met
every sigh breathed
just as, just is
sad to say
sad to see
with feet heels down
stretched out toes
spread far, spread late
swing open
swing close
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Monsters INC
Monster Recognition
With little doubt, the first step in getting well, clearing a path back to the pond, is learning to recognize a few truths. The first truth, no matter what any one adult has ever told you, is that monsters do indeed exist; they live and work in your mind, your energy, your demeanor, your touch, your sleep, your anger, and most warmly in your denial of monsters.
The term, monsters, really came to me when a friend was talking about how he steers clear from cocaine. He said, "It became something dangerous, with a voice I couldn't ignore. It was inside me." Frightening. To be sure, I'm not talking about cocaine in this blog. I've never snorted cocaine, never had the desire... seemed to me, as far as I could tell, that cocaine was really expensive and I rather spend my money elsewhere.
When the word monster is spoken, it becomes real to me. This living being that careens and swerves with deliberate wanton severity. Not so much human, no lungs but a capacity to scream and to shake. I suppose it would be amorphous... the only form that comes to mind is the large hairy orange monster from Bugs Bunny, you know the one that's wearing high tops? Humorous digression aside, these monsters start small and grow... not some deformed grotesque abomination... that description would be more apt in describing our own likeness after giving in to the monster within... no, all monsters start out as small fetal things... defenseless, however...
Suckling on your disappointment in yourself and those around you, these monsters can grow almost as big as you, any larger, as in some cases it has been reported, a person's personality ceases to be recognizable. They become someone else, entirely. The monsters' nest, your brain or maybe your heart, certainly your liver with all that bile sloshing around, cannot be removed by conventional means. Fire. I guess self immolation would work... but that would be extreme. The first step in ridding yourself of emotional monsters is to stop feeding it. Yes it will be angry and start knocking at your door... sending you chain letters... sending you updates from Farmville on Facebook... undermining your trust in humanity... allow you space to question your friendships, your loves.
Those are the actions of a desperate monster.
But to be clear, and back on point, the less you feed the monster(s), the better you feel, the easier to communicate, the easier it is to sleep, pay attention to traffic at 70 miles an hour, cooking dinner, reading a book, volunteering at a local library... happiness should be free... monster-free.
The second truth: The people you love may be the people who cannot recognize a monster from granola bar.
Grimm
With little doubt, the first step in getting well, clearing a path back to the pond, is learning to recognize a few truths. The first truth, no matter what any one adult has ever told you, is that monsters do indeed exist; they live and work in your mind, your energy, your demeanor, your touch, your sleep, your anger, and most warmly in your denial of monsters.
The term, monsters, really came to me when a friend was talking about how he steers clear from cocaine. He said, "It became something dangerous, with a voice I couldn't ignore. It was inside me." Frightening. To be sure, I'm not talking about cocaine in this blog. I've never snorted cocaine, never had the desire... seemed to me, as far as I could tell, that cocaine was really expensive and I rather spend my money elsewhere.
When the word monster is spoken, it becomes real to me. This living being that careens and swerves with deliberate wanton severity. Not so much human, no lungs but a capacity to scream and to shake. I suppose it would be amorphous... the only form that comes to mind is the large hairy orange monster from Bugs Bunny, you know the one that's wearing high tops? Humorous digression aside, these monsters start small and grow... not some deformed grotesque abomination... that description would be more apt in describing our own likeness after giving in to the monster within... no, all monsters start out as small fetal things... defenseless, however...
Suckling on your disappointment in yourself and those around you, these monsters can grow almost as big as you, any larger, as in some cases it has been reported, a person's personality ceases to be recognizable. They become someone else, entirely. The monsters' nest, your brain or maybe your heart, certainly your liver with all that bile sloshing around, cannot be removed by conventional means. Fire. I guess self immolation would work... but that would be extreme. The first step in ridding yourself of emotional monsters is to stop feeding it. Yes it will be angry and start knocking at your door... sending you chain letters... sending you updates from Farmville on Facebook... undermining your trust in humanity... allow you space to question your friendships, your loves.
Those are the actions of a desperate monster.
But to be clear, and back on point, the less you feed the monster(s), the better you feel, the easier to communicate, the easier it is to sleep, pay attention to traffic at 70 miles an hour, cooking dinner, reading a book, volunteering at a local library... happiness should be free... monster-free.
The second truth: The people you love may be the people who cannot recognize a monster from granola bar.
Grimm
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