Christopher and Dana Reeves Foundation

The Christopher and Dana Reeves Foundation

Some people noticed and commented on the Superman dog tags I wearing in the photo on the left here.  No, I don't think I am Superman.  No, wait...uh...yeah, sometimes I do, especially when I slip into rescue mode.  Lately though, I have had more of the Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor vibe going, hahahaha, but that is okay.

I picked up the dog tags at WonderCon in San Francisco a few years back - 100% of the proceeds go to the Dana and Christopher Reeves Foundation.  This is a charitable organization that supports research into spinal injuries through grants, funding, communication, and coordination.

http://www.christopherreeve.org/site/c.geIMLPOpGjF/b.899265/

I think you might find it a worthwhile cause.  I am a huge advocate of the power of small donations to make large differences when leveraged with many other small donations.  If this charity does not interest you, then I would certainly encourage you to take the time to donate to the charity of your choice, in whatever way you can.  There are many worthwhile organizations out there doing the good work - almost whatever your definition of the good work might be.

In the spirit of charitable giving, if you would like, send me the name of your favorite charity at roderckdhu@aol.com and I would be happy to make a small donation.

Tags: Spinal Research, Spinal Injury, Dana and Christopher Reeves Foundation

Last Entry Of The Day

At dinner, waiting for a table, sitting on a bench outside. Two young women ask if they can join me.  They are wearing collars.  Connected to each other by a chain.  California.  I love this place.

Tags: California

Crash Cart!

Whew.

So, the day started good. I got a good night sleep.  I woke up, ran through the shower, make a pot of coffee, fired up the stereo, listened to a couple of CD's, chatted with friends online, took a couple of work phone calls, took a couple of personal phone calls, then went to breakfast with a friend.

Crash.

I made the mistake of having breakfast with a friend who is going through a stressful time.  We got to talking.  My stressful time and his started this feedback loop.  We both vented, which is a good thing, but we also both fed each others stress beasties.

So, I had to come home and restart the day.  Almost the same way I started it earlier - music, coffee, chatting with friends.  It took about two hours to pull it back under control.  In the interim the sun came out, so it is crisp but blue outside and in moments I am going to head back out and pick back up where I left off. 

Going to get the car washed, then pop up to the Triton Art Museum in Santa Clara.  Walk the grounds, see some of the exhibits, savor the eternal and enjoy a bit of that California sun.  Then, probably circle home for a while - and after that maybe dinner and a movie.*  But, I will be careful about who I have dinner with.

Hahahaha - my friend meant no harm.  He is on his journey, I am on mine - we just happened to bump into each other and create that pretty wicked feedback loop.  Weird how that happens.

*Never happened.  I got dressed, walked out and checked the mail. Brought the mail back into the apartment, was sorting it and contemplating just how many times I had used the word "exhausted" in conversation with people today.  So, I took a quick swim, came back inside, curled up with "Odd Hours", read for a while and then fell asleep.  I slept for about three hours.  I am up again and contemplating dinner, but tonight - I am just going to stay home, maybe watch a movie on DVD, maybe read some more, maybe just sleep some more.
Tags: Stress, Feedback Loops, Life In General

The Place Where The Bright Lights End

The Place Where The Bright Lights End

I came home from the day
Just kind of battered and bruised
Life doesn't have to be this way
But sometimes it just is...

I drink a fresh cup of coffee
I pull on my old blue jeans
Button up my favorite shirt
I need to find a little bliss...

I go down to the old cafe
A bite of dinner with friends
I walk down the city street
To the place when the bright lights end...

I slip through that old door
Find my way to the bar
Order a bottle of beer
And wait for the night to send...

Send me a voice that cries to be heard
Send me a sound that touches me
Send me a good guitar
Send me a song that needs to be...

The bottle is cold on my finger tips
The taste is so sweet on my lips
I can feel the furrows falling away
Then I hear fingers on the strings...

I close my eyes and I find my self
I guess I was always waiting there
I breathe in the cold night air
And let go of the useless things...

Half of my life has gone by
Another half lays somewhere ahead
Now I have known some better days
But I have known other days as well...

The times that I trembled and wept
The times that I shook with rage
The times that I was lost and found
Somewhere within this heavenly hell...

Send me a voice that cries to be heard
Send me a sound that touches me
Send me a good guitar
Send me a song that needs to be...

Send me a voice that cries to be heard
Send me a sound that touches me
Send me a good guitar
Send me a song that needs to be...

Tags: Guitar, Sound,

25 Most Infamous Guitar Riffs

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/listoftheday/49237/the-25-most-infamous-guitar-riffs

Just happened to be looking at Yahoo and saw this...read it..and consider...if you agree.

I do.

Tags: Infamous Guitar Riffs

After The Fetal Position

So, after I recovered from lying on the floor in the darkness in the fetal position, I climbed into bed and took a nap.  After the nap, a shower, dinner, and relaxation.  Ever have one of those days where the best you can do at the end of the day is curl up in the fetal position on the floor?  Uh, me neither. 

Well, okay, sometimes.  All of the above is true - except for the fetal position part.  It was one of those days where every action seems to be a rather pointless struggle and at the end of the day all I could do was take a nap, hit the reboot button, and hope to salvage something from the evening.  Fortunately, it worked.

So, refueled with sleep, shower and dinner I settled in and watched a movie with the nephew (the second half of the TV special- the Scott Free remake of Andromeda Strain).  Now, I am sitting here in the living room with the patio doors open, watching the sky turn to a darker shade of blue, feeling the cool breeze blowing through.

One of the interesting things about us, as people, I think is our ability to recover, to recuperate, to bounce back and start again. Tomorrow will be another challenging day at work but I am braced and ready for the challenge. 

I've got assorted thoughts swirling around, so rather then write about them extensively, I think I will just lay the bare bones of them out.

-When in times of trouble or turmoil the best compass we possess is that still small voice that resides inside of us.  We can lose it sometimes in the signal to noise ratio of modern life, but if we stop, if we find a place of stillness and listen, it is still there.

-Perspective gets us through so many things.  I am in a high stress work cycle right now, exhausting and brutal, but nothing...absolutely nothing...in comparison to what other people I know are going through right now and so minor compared to other stressful times I have been through.

-It helps to count your blessings.  Literally.  Sit down and write them out - all of the good things you have, whatever they are.  All of the things that bring you happiness, all of the things that bring you meaning.  You will find, inevitably, that the list of good things far outnumbers the list of bad things.  The bad things might seem more significant, but they aren't. It just seems that way.

So, the still small voice inside of me is telling me to keep my perspective and count my blessings, which I did over dinner with a friend of mine and you know what?  At the end of an exhausting day, where it seemed the flying monkeys were winning, after a nap and a shower and dinner with a friend - life is pretty damn good.

I highly recommend that simple act - a nice dinner with a good friend, someone who doesn't want anything from you, someone who doesn't expect anything from you, someone who is just...your friend. 

Something's getting in the way.
Something's just about to break.
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane.
As I burn another page,
As I look the other way.
I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane.
So tell me how it should be.

Desperate, I will crawl
Waiting for so long
No love, there is no love.
Die for anyone
What have I become?

"The Diary Of Jane" - Breaking Benjamin

 

Tags: , Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin, Friendship, Flying Monkeys, The Fetal Position

The Dream of the Flying Chair

I can add another weird dream to the mix.  Last night, I dream it was late at night, I was in my bedroom, and for some reason I went to the window to look outside.  I did it just in time to see someone I knew (the sense of knowing them) flying by in a big, old fashioned, wooden chair, almost throne like.  I did not get a clear look at who it was.  They seemed to be very happy as they were flying around the dream world on their chair. 

Of to work now, wishing I had a flying chair to save on gas money and avoid the commute.

Tags: Dream, Flying Chair

The Dream of the Whirlwind

I had a strange dream last night - I dreamt of a whirlwind.  I had fallen asleep and about three AM woke up from the dream.  I dreamt that I was someplace very green, a place of lush vegetation, deep in the trees.  There were many people there and they were all talking at once in the center of a huge whirlwind that was spinning around them, gusting through the trees.  They did not seem concerned about the whirlwind even as it spun them around in and out of the trees.  Snippets of conversation were carried about on the wind and flowed over me, around me, and through me.  I do not remember any specific conversational subject, though I knew there were conversations that I was interested in and people that I was interested in hearing.

I strained to hear those that interested me, but only portions of their conversations swept by me.  There was no sense of unease, no sense of anxiety.  It was as if being inside of the whirlwind and having a conversation with may people in the midst of a lush green forest was a very natural thing.  Within the whirlwind I sensed a certain glee, a certain gladness. 

I did wake with the feeling that there was a conversation that I was not quite conscious of, but that it was a good conversation.  All it all, it was an unusual dream.

Tags: Dreams, Whirlwind, Conversations

The Secret Language Of Crows

The Language Of Crows

Have you ever wondered if the mood you are in is your's?  Or if you are catching the cross-currents from someone elses journey? 

I woke up this morning bright and clean.  I had nothing that had to be done, so I took a leisurely pace into the morning. I went out and took a quick walk around the neighborhood, made some oatmeal, made a pot of coffee, turned the stereo on (I've been in a classical binge all day, mostly Mozart), and settled in to read e-mail and chat.

That occupied most of the morning  - at times I was engaged in chat, at times I was a spectator, at times I was both.  The morning slowly unfolded cold and gray, one small piece at a time.  I drank coffee.  I thought, I laughed, I joked, I teased, I encouraged, I nutured thoughts and I surpressed thoughts.

And I felt the currents of the world flowing over me like a giant river.  There were parts that were bright and clear and cold.  There were parts that were deep and still and hinted at hidden lights somewhere in the darkness.  In its own voice the river told stories - some clear, some not, some shouted, some echoed.  There were rapids.  There were backwaters.  There were currents and cross currents and I felt them all swirling around me.

It was exhausting. After enough coffee that I was twitching, I rose up and started for the shower. I never made it to the shower.  I made is as far as the bed, where I stripped down and climbed back under the covers for an hour and napped.  It was a good nap - I closed my eyes and I fell asleep for an hour or so.  Then, I woke up and took a shower and essentially started the day all over.

Except it is a different day.  The sun is shining.  I have a few errands to run.  Mozart has run his course.  I am...brighter. On a personal level I have been working to be more aware of myself and my environment in a particular moment or set of moments.  I am not sure if that is altering my moods, or making more aware of them. 

One of the things I have certainly become aware of is one of the things that rippled through me today - I seem to catch other peoples moods, seem to be more susceptible to them, almost on a visceral level.  That has been an interesting ride - and this morning - with its wide variety of ripples, has been an interesting day on that ride.

I am trying to tease some sort of meaning out of it.  At the surface of course is our wonderful human ability to connect to other people - to be empathic - to feel them, their hopes, their joys, their sorrows, their stories. 

For me the act of writing is the act of deliberately placing myself into an empathic state.  I start with a character or characters and the barest bones of a notion - a journey, an end point, a transitional moment, a brilliant vignette.  The character may be entirely fictional or the character may be a real person or the character (most common of all) is a fictional person with the traits of a real person or real people.

What inspires a tale can be something very simple - a word, a phrase, a half-told tale.  The hint at something that the imagination and the muse seizes.  Whether you are aware of it or not you are all muses to me and to other people.  You inspire us in the stories we tell, whether we tell them as fiction or as poetry or as music or as art or as essay.

The things you do ripple.  Today they rippled through my morning.  They are still rippling through me and I will carry them through the day and some into the next day and some into the day after that and on and on and on. I often wish I could follow you through your days, like a crow, with sharp eyes, at the edge of your world, watching. I wish I could see more of the tale.  Gather them up. Fly them back to my nest.  Then take pen in hand and write the stories on parchment in the secret langauge of crows, a language of ripples and currents.

Tags: Moods, Weird, Crows, Language, Stories, Tales, Empathy

Echoes of the Boneshakers

Let me get the bad part of the weekend out of the way quickly.  It was gray, cold, and spit rain off and on. I doubt the temperature ever got above sixty and there was an almost continuous biting wind.  Not enough to ruin the weekend, but enough to make it uncomfortable.

Okay, lets go to the good part.  Saturdays lineup was Bonnie Raitt, Legends of the Blues (featuring Pinetop Perkins, Hubert Smith, and Willie "Big Eyes" Smith with the Mike Schermer Allstar), Coco Montoya, Jimmy Thackery, and JJ Grey and Mofro.   Because I was running late, I saw Legends and Bonnie Raitt.

Sundays line up was Al Green, the Subdudes, and the Boneshakers (Randy Jacobs, Sweetpea Atkins, Malford Milligan, Stephen Bruton & the Texicali Horns), and Trombone Shorty & Orleans Ave.

My favorite was the Boneshakers.  I am sorry I missed Jimmy Thackery - Jimmy is an incredible guitarist, a future legend himself.  Here are a pair of links...

The Boneshakers at JWMF...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anYFEpJqCWk

Jimmy Thackery...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Klm15AqPsKs&feature=related

It was a very good weekend, all in all. By Sunday afternoon the weather had opened enough that there was some sunshine - not a classic California spring day, but enough of an experience of the sun to remind you that you were in California.

Late Sunday afternoon we made the decision to go get dinner rather than watch Al Green - get an early jump out so we could skip the traffic getting back into San Jose.  We ate at Riva's on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.  Riva's is a nice little place.  I had the Texas Tilapia - which was - flavorful.

Translate that as so spicy that I only ate about half of it before I realized I was loading my stomach with a potential lethal mix of spice and seafood.  I'll write some more about the weekend once I've let it percolate for a while.

It was nice to just get out for a pair of days and indulge in my favorite minor motel fetish and spend time with some friends I haven't spent a lot of time with.  One of the strange curves was the original group of friends I had planned on going with gradually bailed out for a variety of reasons.  On Saturday, I got texted by some other friends that I had not seen in a while, but who knew I had planned to go to the festival and wanted to try and get together.  That turned it into an excellent weekend - around the festival we spent a lot of time eating, drinking, laughing, dancing, and talking into the wee hours and catching up.

Tags: Santa Cruz Blues Festival 2008