She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain...

Carl Sandburg and his accompaniment, piano player Jenkins, play "She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain" so he can put the song on paper for the first time. 

(Jenkins plays)

Sandburg: (singing) She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes...she'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes...she'll be coming 'round the mountain, she'll be coming 'round the mountain, she'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes...

She'll be riding six white horses when she comes...

(Jenkins stops playing)

Sandburg: What's the matter? We're going to the next verse but it's the same key...

Jenkins: No, I got it. It's not that.

Sandburg: What is it?

Jenkins: Well, how does a person ride six horses? The verse doesn't mention a carriage. Is she on some special platform that is connected to all six, or is she in constant motion from the back of one horse to the next for the whole trip...

Sandburg: Um...

Jenkins: ...because that's impressive...wasteful and careless, but impressive.

Sandburg: It's just a symbol of how big of a deal it is when the "she" in the song arrives, that's all.

Jenkins: I see. Well, if you really want to make it a big deal, you should have her be coming over the mountain. Hell, I can come around the mountain on a three legged donkey.

Sandburg: Can we continue, please?

Jenkins: I'm just sayin'.

(Jenkins plays)

Sandburg: (sings) Oh we'll all go out to meet her when she comes...

(Jenkins stops)

Jenkins: Oh, how? Does the person singing have a watchtower with a guard waiting for his chick and her horses? I'm sure the whole town is just dying to meet her.  "Oh, yeah, I'd love to leave work and go out to the edge of town in the hot sun just because today's the day you might get laid. Sign me up."

Sandburg: Look, I don't know the "why" of every verse. This used to be an old plantation Spiritual that has been adapted to be...you know...

Jenkins: More white?

Sandburg: What?

Jenkins: Nothing. Okay, forget my playing. What are the other verses?

Sandburg: Well, there's "she'll be wearing pink pajamas when she comes"...

Jenkins: Well, that's disturbing. Crazy lady hopping from horse to horse in her undies in broad daylight being met by the whole damn town...

Sandburg: UNDER her clothes! She'll be wearing fancy pajamas signifying the event!

Jenkins: It's ridiculous. The writer here is delusional. The next verse should be, "And we'll have unrealistic expectations when she comes."

Sandburg: (sigh) Jenkins...

Jenkins: Don't stop now.

Sandburg: Fine. The next verse is "And we'll kill the old red rooster when she comes".

Jenkins: What...the...fuck...

Sandburg: For a big feast, I imagine!

Jenkins: No way! If you celebrate, you slaughter the cow or a big pig...or at least several chickens! You don't go kill the rooster who's been around for so many years breeding he's probably worn out and skinny as hell! I mean, if this is such a big deal, you don't go, "Hey, gang, my girl will be here soon with way too many horses and bright-ass pink jammies..."

Sandburg: Okay, that's enough...

Jenkins: "Let's fix her a nice platter of old stringy rooster meat..."

Sandburg: Stop it!

Jenkins: Or maybe the rooster is so damn old that it's just hideous, all broken down and covered in growths on its beak and neck and shit. "Well, I can't have my girl dry heaving at the sight of that fucking thing. Kill the old red rooster now!"

Sandburg: You're fired!

Jenkins: Good. I'd rather go play jazz anyway. Enjoy your repetitive bullshit.


The song appeared anyway in Sandburg's "The American Songbag" (1927).

Meditation

"Meditation is concentrating the front mind on a mundane task so that the rest of the mind can find peace." -- from "Layer Cake"

Ever since my stint at Lifetime Recovery, I've meditated on and off...I don't know why it has been difficult to do it on a consistent basis. You're basically sitting and fucking breathing. It's not like putting off laundry or some shit. But there you are...sleeping too late that you can't take the 10-20 minutes to just relax.

Eh, it happens. The thing about it is, some of you may meditate in your own way without you realizing it. The Vimalakirti Sutra introduced that anybody can be "enlightened"...meditation during every day life. Monks used to do walking meditation. I believe that if you have ever had a day where you were not stressed about something and you were at work...and you suddenly discover that an hour passed without you realizing it...you were working without really thinking about it...that was a form of meditation.

I still need to make myself sit the fuck down and do it. However, my mind is the most at ease every day I'm at work between 6pm and 8pm, roughly. In the dishpit, the first half hour I'm figuring out my game plan...but after doing so, I set to the "mundane task" of washing pots and pans...and my mind just wanders...and apparently finds the temporary peace it needs.

Traditional meditation is fairly difficult because you attempt to clear your mind and focus on breathing. This is especially difficult for normal people...and it's hard when you are a recovering junkie, barely sane and have regular conversations with yourself. "Okay, crazy voices and sounds in my head...let's shut up for a second. I'm introducing my mantra. No, really...shut the fuck up!"

I loved the part in the Beatles Anthology where Paul McCartney talked about meditating with the Maharishi...and not being able to focus on his mantra.

I've often had an issue with focus. My brain likes to work overtime. But something weird happened recently.

For once, my brain was blank. I sat completely still. Deep breaths. No random thoughts. It was a peaceful, relaxing moment. Then...I heard something.

I think the best way to explain what I heard is through YouTube:




I'm gonna work on that.



Fucking Outfield.

John F***ing Rabon Analyzes Country Lyrics: Alone With You

Alone With You, by Jake Owen



I don't see you laugh
You don't call me back
But you kiss me when you're drunk

Well, Jake, I gotta say...yeah, that's not a good sign.

I don't know your friends
Don't know where you've been
Why are you the one I want

Probably because you don't know shit about her and she's good in bed. Get to know her and you'll find out she's married...or just a really boring person when she's not downing tequila shooters.

Don't put your lips up to my mouth and tell me you can't stay

She won't. She can't talk with her tongue in your mouth. Duh.

Don't slip your hand under my shirt and tell me it's okay

But it probably is okay...you know...to her. And to every other guy she does that to.

Don't say it doesn't matter cause it's gonna matter to me

I think you don't understand the concept of the "fuck buddy", Jake.

I can't be alone with
You've got me out on the edge every time you call
And i know it would kill me if I fall
I can't be alone with you

I'm not understanding the issue. If you don't want the booty call, don't answer the phone and go back to masturbating.
Man...you ever think to just flat out ask her where you stand instead of singing whiney lyrics?

Please don't chain that door

Literally chain the door, like in a hotel room? Or is that a metaphor for the door on her heart? Can you spell "metaphor"?

I can't win this war
Your body's like a pill I shouldn't take

What...like Midol?

Don't say you love me cause you know you're gonna love me and leave

Wait a second. You know what? After rereading these lyrics...this sounds a girl singing about a douchebag guy who is using her. Yeah...completely. Jake Owen singing about some chick doing it to him while he battles with it emotionally inside his head...creeps me the fuck out, I'll be honest.

Oh shit. He's...singing about a dude. There's no pronouns in the song. Ahhhh...okay...Hey Jake, my bad...good luck with that guy.

In retrospect, I should have figured this out from the V-neck T-shirt and Fabio hair.

Inspiration

There are few people that truly inspire me. Louis CK is one of those people...and so is a guy named Ze Frank.

From March 2006 to March 2007, Ze created a daily video blog that was creative, intelligent and fucking funny. He was ahead of his time...and now he's back. Here's the first video of his return, "A Show With Ze Frank":



"This is an invocation for anyone who hasn’t begun, Who’s stuck in a terrible place between 0 and 1. Let me realize that my past failures that follow through are no indication of my future performance – they’re just healthy little fires that are gonna warm up my ass."

Amen to that. I needed a jolt from someone I respect and admire...who isn't afraid to put it all out there because they can...and that's not dead. I gots a lot of dead heroes. Feh.

What have I been inspired to do is the real question. For now, I know I need to write...here...in my comedy notebook...fuck, even on Twitter. Facebook status updates and Twitter are frustrating because they appeal to our lack of attention span, and seriously, I am so much better in long form. 15-45 minute comedy set trumps 5-7 every day in my mind. It's why I hate comedy contests.

Ah yes...stand-up. It would be nice to do that again regularly. I've used the understandable excuse of, "I work nights...I can't really do that right now." But I can make an effort can't I? This past year had a really important purpose: stability. Get back into the world as a functional member of society and not as a junkie. Yay, me. It's has its ups and downs, but here I am.

And there's one thing that I know. I am not like a lot of you. I see your pics and updates on Facebook...you and your kids...your career...your house...all that. I will probably be broke the rest of my life...401K can suck it. I don't think I'm ever going to settle down like that. In my head, I'm a fucking artist and a lost soul that wanders, restlessly. I don't think it's better than suburbia...just different.

So what now? Well, I'm gonna blog regularly, that's for sure. I'm going to get back on stage soon as shit. Time to quit putting off other things too, like finding a job during the day so I don't stay up so late and sleep all day.

Oh yeah...I need to quit fucking smoking, man.

Anyway...thank you, Ze Frank. Like you said, "life isn’t just a sequence of waiting for things to be done."

Onward through the fog, yeah?


UPDATE: Btw, I don't necessarily think I'm a GOOD artist, but I technically consider the bullshit that churns in my head and that is occasionally spit out into the world to be art.

That Moment

I get off work at night, and I skate home (on a skateboard...so stop the mental image of me on rollerblades). There are a few blocks that are a bit shady at night, and I wouldn't recommend most people walking around there alone. I, however, am completely comfortable traveling through them.

And I know why. It's the same reason I had no problem living on the west side of S.A. for a while. It's because I used to go to dark, horrible spots in Austin to score. In retrospect, I really put myself in questionable situations...but I didn't care, because I needed junk.

There was a moment that I'd like to share. One night, I contacted my guy to meet later than usual. He had me meet him at these stairs that lead from the I-35 overpass to the edge of Town Lake. I got there, and as I expected I had to wait a bit for him to show up.

It was creepy and pitch black there. I kept looking to make sure there wasn't anyone around. I started thinking about what I was taught as a kid...don't talk to strangers...don't go to certain places in the big city at night...watch out for "bad guys"...the ones in the shadows looking for an easy target or a score...

And I looked at myself. I was unshaven, dirty, strung-out, wearing a hoodie, and carrying a knife and a skateboard. I was standing in the dark, waiting to get drugs. I thought, holy shit, I'm that guy. Nobody wants to rob a sick, desperate and armed junkie. I can even imagine thugs in a car I skated or walked by saying, "Lock your door, holmes..."

It's just something I was thinking about recently that makes me appreciate where I am right now and what I have that much more. I intend to start performing again, by the way...but I'm no rush. I still have a long way to go to get back on track.

Ask Uncle Cranky: Yes, I'm Back

Uncle Cranky is not a professional therapist, nor does he have a doctorate in ANYTHING. He is a divorced alcoholic felon border-lining on bankruptcy, which means he has the life experience to tell you the truth without bullshitting you.
The following letters originally sent to Dear Abby.

DEAR ABBY: I recently started dating a wonderful man, but there's one problem: On several of our dates he was dressed like he was staying home to watch TV -- wearing dirty pajama-type shorts, ripped T-shirts, stuff I'd barely wear even if I were home sick.

I have gently tried to suggest he wear something else, but he has no concerns about his appearance. Any ideas? -- BAFFLED IN BALTIMORE

Dear "Baffled":
You live in Baltimore. I believe ironed shirts are like fucking kryptonite to guys there who would actually date you. Be happy with what you have, or get the hell out of that horrible city.
Uncle Cranky

DEAR ABBY: Before I met my boyfriend, "Cory," he had a married female friend he'd go out with -- dancing, dinner, movies, etc. He says there was no sex involved, and I believe him. He has asked me to be friends with her and her husband, and I have tried.
However, whenever she's around Cory, they ignore everyone else. She even tried to go on vacation with us! What really upset me was when Cory thought it was OK to ask if "we" could go out with her! It's like she has always been in our relationship.
I have told him they are (and have been) having a non-sexual affair. He's a wonderful man otherwise, and I know he loves me. How can I get her out of our lives? -- FEELING LIKE A THIRD WHEEL

Dear "Third Wheel":
He's banging her. Deal accordingly.
Uncle Cranky

DEAR ABBY: My mother and I had a debate about who should pay for dates. She thinks the man should pay, especially if sex is involved because "you don't want to give it away for free."
I disagree. I say the man should pay for the first, and maybe the second date. After that, they can agree to alternate.
I have been seeing a wonderful guy for about six months. I'm pretty sure I make more money than he does, but even if I didn't, I don't feel the need to be supported. I don't agree the guy should always have to pay. Times have changed since my mother dated. What's the general consensus on the subject these days? -- INDEPENDENT WOMAN IN MARYLAND

Dear "Woman":
Is this really the biggest problem you have right now? Why don't you turn on the news and see the turmoil, pain and death happening around the world and then go fuck yourself. You can pay for your self-copulation if that makes you feel better. It shouldn't.
Uncle Cranky

You Know What Sucks?

What you are "supposed to do" is not necessarily the right thing or best thing for you. Everybody is different. That's not what sucks.

It is very easy for me to be told to do something and then immediately react with, "Hey, suck me, I'm going to do it anyway."

Things I'm not supposed to do because "they might or will be bad for me" immediately appeals to me. I think in a lot of cases, the majority is full of shit and my opinions and decisions rule.

Here's "What Sucks": I have proof on file in multiple Counties in Texas that...I should of just did what I was supposed to.

Once again, like everything else, it's a balance. I have to find a balance between what will help me grow and evolve and what will turn me into a fucking brain-dead waste of space. What good is being clean and sober if you're a clean and sober boring zombie prick?

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." The Serenity Prayer.

I'd rather it say, "God, or whoever...grant me the clarity to figure out how to take the things I cannot change and use it to my advantage so that I am in power of my own life and I don't have to come begging to you or someone else for every little fucking thing. But if it's out of my hands, let me accept that shit and let it go. Otherwise, empower my ass so I don't have to whine in a fucking meeting every day for the rest of my life."

Addicts/alcoholics are powerless, we're told. I, however, think no one is powerless if you have knowledge, will, and determination to get out of your hole. It's unfortunately very easy to just climb back into that hole and lay down for a while longer.

Find a balance. Still working on that.

That was me venting. I think more people struggling with recovery should be honest completely and do the same. Or shit, find your own recovery path.

Yes...I am still going to meetings. And I get something from each one. I'm off to bed now. Gotta hit one of those tomorrow.

"Honesty like this makes me grow a big rubbery one."