Grapevine, Free Wine
On and off the wagon.
I can’t remember how, why, or when I wrote Grapevine, Free Wine.
It’s odd listening to it now. Almost like it had nothing to do with me. Some songs are like that.
Clearly it’s a tale of someone with a drink problem. I’ve had an up and down ride myself with alcohol over the years. Never an alcoholic but still with times when it was definitely a problem. So that was probably the background to this breakup song. (It’s not autobiographical in that respect).
At the moment I’m not drinking at all when I’m at home. Saving it for times when I’m away. I have often had it at the back of my mind to stop altogether. But I’d prefer not to. And so far I’ve managed to keep off the wagon on a fairly regular basis. Go me!
This sounds like a man writing a personal and private diary, doesn’t it?
Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself, taking a peek into my deepest confessions, like you are. Honestly! ;-)
Cover Me
Wishing you well.
We’d protect each other, wouldn’t we? If I could do something to stop you suffering, I would. And I think you’d do the same for me. If I said “Cover Me” you would. If you could.
Life’s not as simple as that of course. But why shouldn’t we send out those good wish vibes to those we know. And even to those we don’t know.
Maybe just doing that can make a difference. Who knows? We don’t know very much really, when it comes down to it.
I’m sending some good vibes your way now. Some of your faces I know. Others not. But you’re getting them anyway. Why not send me some back.
The whole world can be cynical and vindictive if it must. Doesn’t mean we have to follow suit.
Cleaning Out The Shed
Or perhaps not.
There is SO much junk in there!
I thought it’d just be a few minutes of my time.
But it turns out that Cleaning Out The Shed is a lifetimes work. No time for anything else really, once you start.
It does make you wonder whether there is actually any “cleaning out” to do at all. Perhaps it’s not necessary. Perhaps it never was.
Perhaps The Shed and its contents are the whole point of it all.
Perhaps it sorts itself out. In its own time.
Now that would be a relief.
Is that what they call “acceptance”?
Life Is Difficult
Thinking our way into trouble.
Everything is easy for a robot. Just follow the programming man! No thinking means no suffering.
Life Is Difficult for a human though. We can’t stop thinking. And those thoughts are at the root of all our pain.
But here’s a thing. If you know what you’re going to think next, you’re a god. And a better man than me. And if we don’t know what we’re going to think next, then perhaps it’s time to stop treating those unpredictable thoughts as though they matter. Matter in the sense that they change anything. In the sense that we should hang the way we feel, and who we are, upon every last one that emerges.
That also is difficult, of course. Because who am I if not my thoughts? And if I want to BE someone, surely I need to keep whirring those thoughts around, allow them to fester, play them on repeat, and treat them with very great seriousness. Otherwise I might disappear.
Who wants to disappear?
On the other hand, maybe the payoff might be worth it.
Crossing The Wild Lands
They’re wild to me.
One person’s “wild lands” are always another’s home turf.
Someone, some creature, some living thing is always at home in the places and situations where we feel all at sea.
It’s worth remembering that when we are Crossing The Wild Lands.
It’s possible that we can learn to be at home here, too.
Sometimes I Cry
A reminder.
The song Sometimes I Cry is a reference point for me.
A flag placed firmly in a valley through which I travelled for too long.
It’s a reminder that nothing lasts. But particularly in this case, the Badlands don’t last.
And I know that those sought of sentiments can seem meaningless when a person is in the trough of despair. But I hope that anyone who is in that place will realise, on hearing this song, that somebody knows how they feel.
That knowledge, if nothing else, should give hope. Because you can’t write this kind of song when you’re smack bang in the middle of the trough. You can’t write it unless you’ve been there, and come through.
Which means that it’s possible to come through.
Tartan And Lace
Courage and Grace.
Tartan And Lace were my metaphor for courage and grace, represented in a woman. And in this song, the woman represented the best of the land where I live. Scotland.
But neither a man or a woman or a nation are the rightful bearers of goodness. Courage and grace are just regular qualities, available to all of us. Demonstrated, naturally, by people we admire.
It’s possible to be brave and graceless. Also graceful and cowardly.
But, in truth, courage and grace complete each other.
And they already exist within us, waiting to be released. Like all the best qualities, we don’t have to will them into being. We just stop getting in their way.
Hurt So Good
Suffering for the art…
Hurt So Good was written for all the martyrs out there.
Of which I have been one, for sure.
I speak not of literal martyr’s dying for literal causes. No. I’m referring to the tenuous and, to be honest, tiresome pursuit of suffering more than everybody else in regard to the creation of one’s art.
M-art-yrs in our own heids.
Not that any of this is necessarily pretentious, though it can ferment an attitude which always teeters on the edge of such a tendency. But it also can be a very genuine and sincere attempt to do things in the right way.
Like the song I wrote about it, in which I am solemnly trying to give myself a break.
”Today you be kind to yourself”.
The present me holds all of this creative stuff a lot more lightly. Less angst more … perchance to dream. Or something.
Here’s to the death of dying for our artistic endeavours.
Old England
The Waterboys.
Today’s Sunday song comes courtesy of Dom Joly in his book The Hezbollah Hiking Club. It tells of his mini pilgrimage involving a walk through Lebanon with two friends. Today he is passing through the town of Baalbek, which was the home of Hezbollah there. And then he hears a song from out of nowhere -
“One of my favourite songs of all time … the lyrics stopped me dead in my tracks … God, what a song”.
I’ve never listened to Old England by The Waterboys before. But when such a whole hearted recommendation is heard, it would be daft not to put that oversight to bed. So I did. A powerful tune.
ps. I once had a practise session for a gig in a rehearsal room at The Barrowlands in Glasgow. The Waterboys were just up the hall rehearsing for theirs at the same time. Aah, those small, sweet, slightly sad claims to fame… :-)
Frequent Disapproval
Deadly! (Not).
I frequently disapprove of things. Like you I don’t intend to. It just pops up on a regular basis. Something I’m not keen on. A preference for that thing not to be a thing. Very occasionally, it’s not a mere thing. It’s an actual person. But let’s not go there.
So yes, I’m a fully paid up frequent disapprover. And who knows? If I know you I may have even disapproved of something you have done or said at some point. Sorry.
We can’t choose our preferences. But at the end of the day, those preferences make absolutely no difference to the fabric of reality. Because the reality is that even when one thing I disapprove off disappears - and every single one of them will, soon or later - another will pop up to replace it.
It won’t be my disapproval that displaces anything though. Because all “The Disapproved” have an independent existence and cannot be touched by my preferences. They disappear, because that is the nature of life.
What do I learn from this?
One thing is that I can’t kill off anything by not liking it.
But also … and this is a useful tip for all of us who happen to make ourselves vulnerable and put something of ourselves “out there” in the wider world for everyone to see:
- Disapproval, even Frequent Disapproval , cannot kill us either. It just can’t. Despite the message of the accompanying tune.
All I Wanna Do (Wanna Dance)
Along to some Sapolsky
“All I Wanna Do (Wanna Dance)”.
No not really. Still recuperating. But I’m looking forward to that moment when I hear a beat … and the old foot starts tappin’, the hips start wigglin’, and I’m boppin’ and a jivin’ like a mad thing in a bull ring.
Obviously none of that will be happening where anyone can see. It’ll just be me. In the front room.
Feel free to imagine that moment.
In the meantime, let me leave you with a quote from Robert Sapolsky, who studied baboons for twenty years. As you do. I found it very uplifting to the soul for some odd reason. My foot twitched.
And yours may too. Or it may not. It’s damn hard to know sometimes.
”For a male baboon, attaining high rank is all about muscles, sharp canines, and winning the right fight. But maintaining high rank is about avoiding fights, having the self control to ignore provocations, avoiding fighting by being psychologically intimidating, being a sufficiently self-disciplined, stable coalition partner to always have someone watching your back. An alpha male who is constantly fighting won’t be in the corner office long; successful alphaship is a minimalist art of nonwar.”
Angels For Today
What or who are yours?
I been ill these last few days. First day of surfacing properly. So that’s why.
Energy is low though.
I’m on go slow.
So … my Angels For Today are:
- Eating an orange in the almost springtime sun without rushing.
- Enjoying having some energy instead of almost none.
- Being grateful that I’m able to rest. Not everybody gets the chance.
Be Still (My Beating Heart)
Still on the journey.
I will move, the world will move. Nothing will stay the same.
But in the midst of it all … Be Still (My Beating Heart).
Stillness in the midst of Life. That’s a destination which can potentially, and paradoxically, travel with me.
If I let it.
Devotion
To the experience.
“To the sky, to the ocean”.
To Aberdeen.
I like travelling, and it’s lucky that I need to do it fairly often.
Even the most predictable journey has its surprises.
My Devotion is not to the destination.
It’s to the experience.
But is has to be said, that today’s destination is one of very favourite.
I’m meeting a new grandson for the first time. Swoon.
But still, there’s a journey to enjoy.
Table Mountain
A Mouse Tale.
The wee mouse had snuck in.
The cat was not on the mat. Or anywhere else.
And that wee mouse knew exactly where she was heading.
She was heading to the very top
Of Table Mountain.
They were a messy family, The Frees.
Apart from Mrs. Free of course. But she was away.
And Mandy Mouse knew
That upon that wooden summit
Would lie a feast fit for a queen.
Crumbs, and rice grains, and who knew what other sumptuous offerings?
And so she began.
First springing easily up the two wooden steps
That led to base camp.
Then the hard part.
She dug in with her wee claws to those old table legs
And slowly pulled herself up the necessary foot and a half
Hanging on when one or other leg lost it’s grip
Until she reached the dangling corner of the table cloth.
This bit was very awkward.
She had to make a little leap out and backwards
From her precarious position on the leg
To grab hold of the hanging cotton.
But she managed it skilfully.
And then it was fairly easy to get to the table top itself
By clever use of toes slightly nipping into the old cloth.
And thus she reached, without too much fuss, her Nirvana. She’d made it.
Peaking over the top she looked to see what joys awaited her.
But …. oh no!
There appeared to be no initial sign of food at all.
Surely not?
She quickly clambered over
And looked around in desperation.
Then she explored the whole table top in its entirety.
Every inch of the summit.
And she found, to her horror, not a single sign of anything remotely edible.
Slowly, tragically, the terrible truth dawned upon her.
Her planned ascent to Heaven
Had led instead to a fiery Hellish knowledge.
It was a disaster. The worm had turned!
Mr Free, she realised with certainty, was no longer free.
He had finally succumbed to….
…..Domestication!
Big Dream, Little Dream
Giein it laldy
A Haiku
Big Dream, Little Dream
Foetus and Human Being
Giein it Laldy.
nb. “Giein it Laldy” def. Scots - “Doing a thing with exceedingly great enthusiasm”
Premier Man
Major Tom meets Elon.
My Fourth of the Month released today is called Premier Man.
If you listen to the songs, btw, or in fact read this blog, you can get both direct to your inbox. It doesn’t cost anything and it is a way of showing support for what I do.
The song today is, in my head, an imaginary journey that Elon Musk takes to the planet Mars. On the journey he discovers his limitations and becomes a mere humble human being.
Alpha One to earth
I’m not getting through
Not getting through
To you or my destination
Alpha One to earth
There’s a butterfly on my screen
A butterfly on my screen
It’s a revelation.
Well, I’m the Premier Man
With my heart rate low
And a golden glow
Nothing gonna stop me now
They say I’m the Premier Man
It’s getting hard to bear
This thinner air
And nothing gonna stop me
Nothing gonna stop me now
Alpha one to earth
I’m a little beaten
Just a little beaten
Like a third world nation
Alpha one to earth
There’s a lump in my throat
A frickin’ lump in my throat
It’s a situation
Well, I’m the Premier Man
With my heart rate low
And a golden glow
There’s nothing gonna stop me now
They say I’m the Premier Man
Well it’s hard to bear
This thinner air
Nothing gonna stop me
Nothing gonna stop me
Nothing gonna stop me
Nothing gonna sto.
Eight
All I’ve got.
The truth is unpleasant to behold. My default mental state is to want to be somewhere else.
Even my present desire to be present “in the moment” is a part of that restlessness. I am restless here. So I want to be over there where I’m not restless.
You can see how this could drive a fella crazy. You can see why moving from one distraction to the next can seem so appealing.
But why fight it. Because only in accepting the Eight I have in my open hand, which includes the very restlessness I would like to be rid of, is it possible for any lasting peace or new horizons to appear.
Or maybe not.
Because accepting that “Eight” includes the not accepting it as well.
The figure eight is all I have.
Nine.
I didn’t see that coming.
Don’t Dream It’s Over
Hey now!
Now here’s one sweet Sunday song.
It take particular skills to build a thing. But somethings just need to be torn down. No particular skills required for the tearing down of those walls between us. Just our intention and our willingness.
And even better if we can stop them being built in the first place.
”They come, they come to build a wall between us
We know they won't win”