Reverend Lowell's Secret Blog

In the Spring - Looking Out

2011-08-09T04:15:00.001-04:00

Small Steps

7:22 light, sure

She steps out

a shadow detaching

itself from the

woods leaving

the trees behind

she steps ginger footed

down the lawn

between Murphy’s house

and the driveway of Lefrancois.

She enters my eye

while watching Dr. Who

dreaming of Rose

and magic travel time

this doe slightly built

young tender footed

from the Arcacia Club herd

bobs her head

and tail walks her way

down to the road

and sniffs the tar

rank with smells of a

new foreign world

turning in fear and confusion

she runs for mama.

She’ll be back

This one-

I'm Still Out Here

2011-07-21T15:56:00.001-04:00

Hello -

Since I last posted, I have been hospitalized 3 times. All for a nasty, life threatening Bone infection.
I'm back on Home IV Therapy. "But i'm sure if anyone is reading this, you don't wanna hear aboutit. I wouldn't. Back to posting when I feel better.
Bob

Back in Circulation

2011-01-26T01:05:00.000-05:00

Had my 8th annual check-up on my leg grafts last week.
The absolute good news, is that my circulation is the same at my ankles, as it is on my arm. They do blood pressure tests at both sites and see how they measure up. What this means practically, is that any surgery I may need as a result of diabetes and/ or infections, can be done mostly safely. As in, healing can happen because I can get oxygen down to my feet and back.

I know, most people take that for granted, but middle aged men really shouldn't. There seems to be psa's on tv now, for PAD. Peripheral Artery Disease. If you get pain and cramps after walking a short distance, but the pain subsides upon resting; you have Intermittent Claudication. Get it checked out!

And stop smoking!!!!!!! There is a genetic component to this disease; smoking cigarettes is like holding a gun to your head.

So, at the moment, all is pretty good in the health department.

Besides the pneumonia I had last month and the two unhealed wounds I have on my feet.

But, i'm certainly mentally happier!

A Quick Winter Poem

2011-01-15T01:13:00.002-05:00

" After that, what else?"

A small boat, with a cover for shade.

A small but powerful steady engine.

Have a copy of "A week on the Concord & the Merrimack" by Henry David.

A slow burn up from the Pawtucket Falls.

Slowly glassing the Shore.

Looking through the undercut roots.

Peering back through the centuries.

Looking for the clues, tell tale glints,

Campfire spirits materializing in the haze.

Ears alert for the baying of the camp dogs,

alerting my distant cousins that another one,

more white than red has come calling.

Eager to find the flints, the cuttings the pottery.

Mic Macs - masters of the small boats and the

little places where the Salmon Go.

Wanna Buy A guitar?

2011-01-08T01:35:00.000-05:00

Hey, it's happening!
I'm losing feelings in places that i didn't even know I had!
If you are familiar with the guitars I own and/or are interested in purchasing them. ( Or, just one! ) don't be afraid to inquire.

I'm going to keep a Les Paul, a Strat or two, a Tele my 135, and not much else. I'm going to make the switch to slide. I already have an Asher, a Chandler and an old Fender clone. But i'd consider trades.

More to follow. ( All my photos are on another computer.)

I Have Been Unable To Post!

2010-12-27T00:26:00.000-05:00

Because I lost my way!
My Dashboard disappeared from me!
A woman whom I have never met, showed up
when I googled Reverend Lowell!
I am not dead; yet.
I will resume posting later.

October Red

2010-10-28T02:13:00.000-04:00

... or lack of it.
As of today, the foot doc has cut me loose. My amputation is healed.
No more open areas. No more infections. No more PICT lines. No more vancomycin twice a day.
Of course, I have no idea what will come tomorrow. I'll just have to trust that the world will be awaiting me when I nudge the eyelids open.

The home rebuilding is done. I need to put up an "After" little film. I need to edit the last one, as it is massively unwatchable.

Not to be seen as searching for pity; but the first thought I had upon seeing the room : " What a great room to die in!"

I have a Kindle (sorry Beckett). As I was culling books for a scaled down library, I discovered I had six copies of Moby Dick. I still have 1965 copies of "Peanuts". I have every "Doonebury" book. I have amazingly huge color cartoon books of "Calvin and Hobbes". Pynchon and Helprin, of course.

I'll go out tomorrow and pick up a repaired guitar amp. A 1962 Epiphone Devon Tremelo. I'll see if John Harrington is there and drop hints about jamming with him up at the studio. Look up Little John and the Sherwoods; to get a sense, a touch, a taste of what 1960's Lowell was like.\

I'll , at last, see if Tom and Ness and another Derry guy want to get together and play some CSN&Y.

I'll hire some hot shot secretary/typist to help me assemble all my poems and get them out to UMass Lowell and be done with it.

I'm still working on "Radio Plays - Drama, Doom and Comedic Ditties (Rhymes with Kitties). Except I'll learn how to blogcast? them.

In other words, I'm Back!

2010-10-05T02:21:00.000-04:00

Perhaps I spoke too soon.

Indeed.

After behaving quite nicely in the Healing Department, my left foot began hurting the other night. I got my usual 100.4 temp and severe pains in my joints. Although there was no redness in the leg; it was clear that the leg was not right and would be shortly going bad.

So we didn't fool around. On wednesday, we drove out to see the Doctors' Assistant and she advised going right into the hospital. Which we did. Or, I did. We saw the Emergency room staff and they presented me with the Steak Knife premium from the Gift Catalogue. We had vancomycin flooding into my arm about 16 hours from the first twinge of betrayal. Spent two nights there thinking we had reacted quickly (we had) enough to stop this from advancing. We are now not so sure. One of my Doctors thinks it's not too bad and the anti-biotics should kill it. One another, a friend of Maureens spoke to her and suggested more dire endings. He thought I should accept my fate and have a Below Knee amputation.

This week I will see a Foot guy and an ankle guy. They will order some pictures and read the results of my blood tests. Get the lab reports on what' exactly is brewing down there. They will make their recommendations and on thursday I will meet with my Primary Care guy and we will make a decision. I'll probably write about it here; rather than the FDP, because I don't want it to be a distraction. I think i'll put a notice in Moe's, sending the interested here.

Also; i'll be putting the 'Bird up for sale at the FDP.

WHITE COTTON - WOODEN DESIRE

2010-08-23T20:01:00.000-04:00

New bandage - a small hidden moth -
and a beautiful piece of wood.

CAST REMOVED! FOOT FREED, TOES MISSING !

2010-08-13T18:29:00.000-04:00

Things went as well as they could. The wound was closed, the foot shape was well rounded and strong. This was the cast this morning.

This is the view out of my Doctors waiting room. He is the Foot and Ankle guy for the Patriots. If I keep letting him cut away on me; I might be able to get some Patriot's tickets!

This is the poster that greets you when you wheel in:

The after demolition movie.

2010-08-08T05:39:00.000-04:00

Self explaining -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gx1tEuL35ek

I MISSED THE SUMMER !

2010-08-08T03:09:00.000-04:00

I told you I was sick, back in Feb- March, or whenever. I went into the Emergency room on the 4th of July. I got out treatment IV for the weekend and got admitted to the Hospital in Lowell.
I went home with Vancomycin which my wife and I were administering. When all my "Pictures" came back, the left side of my foot looked wonky. My foot surgeon made an appointment for me with Dr. Chiodo of Boston's Bringham and Womans. I saw him out in Foxboro, at Patriot Place, home of Gillette Stadium. He's now the Foot and Ankle guy for the Patriots. He is a very forthright guy. As he was debriding the left side of ny foot, at the little toe, he was hitting bone. Osteomyolitis. So I had to have an amputation. Either a Transmetatarsal or Below Knee; depending on how far the infection had progressed.

So we pushed an operation up to july 30th. When I came out of the OR, I had the best possible outcome. I was left with half a foot, which will give me much more stability than a BK. So , i've been home for 4 days, getting a little better each day. I'll see Dr. Ciodo on auguat 13 to get the partial cast off and we'll peek at the stump. I'm still non weightbearing and I hope that changes to partial weight bearing.
......................................................................

Look for me to be selling about 10 guitars and a few amps. I need to downsize! I am probably never going to go out playing much, if at all.
......................................................................
Ask me about the Ammo re-loading stuff I have... useful for when the disaster strikes.
.......................................................................................................
I'll be selling about a thousand of my books - and getting a Kindle.
......................................................................................................
It's getting to be about that time in my life. No regrets .......

Before the DESTRUCTION

2010-07-14T16:07:00.001-04:00

Banks are giving us .25% on our savings accounts.
Which means they are now Losing Accounts.
So, being disabled, I choose to put my "money"
into solid, touch 'em assets. Such as home improvement.
We are staying here, so we are making the place
wheelchair friendly.

COME PLAY

2010-07-11T02:09:00.000-04:00

NEW OLD NEWS

2010-07-11T01:55:00.000-04:00

Got home saturday at 2:00 from the Hospital.
I only spent three nights in the largest hospital room in the Universe.
It was once a 4 - Bed birthing Unit. The vibe is angry woman cursing every masculine molecule in view or not; begging for drugs and sharp scissors.
So, yeah, it was pleasant. It was on the fifth floor with windows festooned with Monster Spider Webs spun by prehistoric monster spider beings. When the windows need to be washed; they hire Blackwater.

But I bitedress; my old everpresent friend Mr. MRSA, made an appearance that went bad, quickly, This means I need to get myself into Room 506 promptly. My team is my Primary Doc, a Vascular Doc, A Foot Surgeon, and the Infectious Control Doc. While they confer, I renew old acquaintince's with the Nurse's and Aides.

What happened was I got new, orthopaedic shoes, snappy little boot leather, and instead of gradually breaking them in, I put them on and went to work in the woods for 5 hours. ( It's a big, final deal! Really, I mean it! ) I developed a bit of a wearing away of a few layers of skin at the base of the little toe. To make a boring story less boring, it got infected. So now I need to take Vanco ( look it up ) twice a day for a few weeks at least. If its in the bone to any degree, i'll be losing some weight quickly, and you can call me shorty.

THE END

Good news - I have heard from Tom Thibodeau and it looks like we will be jamming. With Ness Patenaude - Piano, harp and vocals. This could be much fun. Turn on the Tascam and hook up 8 Shures and Mic the entire room .........

ES-330, Me playing an old man...

2010-06-19T01:25:00.001-04:00

O.K.

How does this work?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poBOfW1f6yo

On Bums, Hippies and Other Nostalgia Acts

2010-06-19T01:21:00.000-04:00

There should be no borders, man; and, like, no personal property! No one needs three bedrooms and two baths, man. Like my parents, man. They should just have the government, man, put up these group homes where, man, you could just go sleep when you're tired. You wouldn't be bothering nobody, man. Like my grandfather, man, he's in this, like group home with other old dudes and ladies, man. They feed them and everything. Give them drugs, man. That's the way everything should be man. Everything should like just be free, man , from the people to the people.

signed,

Lumpy ..............

Under the First Tree

on the Right

as you come into

People's Park.

man

after the rain

2010-04-11T03:03:00.000-04:00

The BIG poem down below - about the English - is part of a larger poem. The next installment could be "Passaconaway".
But for the time being; here's a smaller poem about heartbreak, booze and wild geese.

4-24-00

after the rain

the enemy

comes not

down

in the bottom

of the bottle

- it sneaks

into the soul

soundless in

the Dead

of night-

just when

you let

love

slip out.

........................

when you

no longer hear

the breaking

of another

heart

when the wild

beating

of the wing

goes un-noticed.

Then

.........................

III.

you begin -

to hear the secret

language

of the heart.

A Poem about the English

2010-03-25T02:52:00.000-04:00

some scattered notes

on the settling

of the colonies

by the english

of the English

it was Gosnald-

was one of the first

-report on habits

disposition of the native

and mostly- products

-what products to be had

Pring was in it

traded for sassafras and fur

Waymouth on his ship

Archangel mapped

explored the Maine coast

taking back five -

five Indians back

back to England where...

well,

it was

that they should speak of riches -

riches to be had

this

so money might be raised -

money to be used

to build the colonies.

Capt Challons made the mistake

took the southern route

his ship, taken by Spanish

never reached Virginia

Jamestown was holding

but Sagadahoc less than a year

lasted -

the death of George Popham

fire in the storehouse

no gold found

for hope

or inspiration

.......................

Harlow had it in mind

did it -

kidnapped five natives

off Martha’s Vineyard

brought them back to England

and Hunt

he took 24 to Malago

and there

sold them

one of them Squanto

the Wampanoag

who was in later years

valuable help to the Puritans

until going too far

Massasoit asked for his head

Jamestown still held

but there was

of course

growing hostility towards

and mistrust

of course

the English -

the plague was there

in 1616 - 1617

making it easier for English

interpreted by Puritan

as God

making room for His people

...................................

Wampanoag

unseen

silent at Plymouth

when Puritan came

watching

listening

seeing the English at work

Nauset

set ambush to English

in December

with no success

in December

it was found -

English settlement

built on the site

of Pawtuxet -

old Wampanoag village

decimated during the plague

English named this as Plymouth

by 1628

300 at Salem

( Naumkeag then in name

white at Charlestown

more and more into Watertown,

Boston,

Boston growing fast -

fast because of harbor

expansion inland

in forms of trading post

trade at Matianuck ( now as Windsor

settlement at Pyquag -

the start of Dorchester

Saukiog became as Hartford for the white men

.............................

what started it was -

was Stone and the seven of his crew

the ones the Pequot killed

many

including Puritan

said he deserved it -

this death

but not the seven -

the dead being English

was enough

and it was revenge

that was wanted

scattered raids

as, like at Saybrook

or, say, at Wethersfield

where

after the ambush

Pequot paddled

up to Fort Saybrook

hoisting the shirts

and skirts

of the dead

as if they were English sails -

raids gave way to war

war between Pequot and English

Mohegan in it

in it for the English

to prove loyalty

came to Saybrook

with four Pequot heads

and one -

living warrior

for him

living warrior

it was for one leg to be tied to the post

to the other, rope -

and like this

to be torn apart -

by English

Capt Underhill says the body

was roasted and eaten by Mohegan

in a half hour

Mason’s army killed

six hundred

Pequot men women and children

- this at Fort

on Mystic River

Mason

in Puritan fashion

took not the credit

played it down

putting it -

the credit

to his god

this -

for judging the heathen

and filling the place with their bodies

Stoughten landed at Pequot Harbor

rounded up natives that remained

thirty-three women and children

given to the Narragansetts

three went to the Massachusetts

fifty-four kept for the Bay Colony itself

- the twenty - two warriors -

executed

.......................

Quinnipiac ( New Haven

was site of battle

women children and old men

allowed to leave the swamp

warriors tried

in vain

to escape

lay huddled together to die

....................................

muskets loaded with ten to twelve balls

fired at close range

Sassacus and forty warriors

later

found by Mohegan

their heads and hands

arrived at Hartford

presentd for the English

Sassacus

sachem was dead.

STILL NOT DEAD YET

2010-02-28T02:31:00.000-05:00

So, once again i'm fighting MRSA.
Once more my immune system has decided
it couldn't care less about me. Foreign bodies,
assorted virus', and unlimited vaguely threatening
entities? Come on in!!! We've just about got
this guy set up for the kill!

So, I get to go to the hospital for 7-10 days
to sit in a chair and get a bunch of Vancomycin
pumped into my poor little veins.
But, and this is the Good Part, I get to come home
every night! That's right ... spend three hours
with the wretched ugly mob of sick people
who insist on some kind of emergency care
when they crack up their Camaros and Hummers!

Why, just today, a fine strapping young man was parading
around the IV area showing of his smacked up fist,
gaily recounting how he had gotten likkered up
and punched a Wall!!!! And Guess What!!!!
The Wall won!!!! Jesus, Mary and Mailer, help me.

Winter Sick - Tired

2010-02-15T03:04:00.000-05:00

Not writing much.
I've been getting terrible joint pain and chills and temperatures up to 102.5.
Maybe once a week - or two weeks. I can't remember - I remember from my past ( and from a glimpse into the future ) having MRSA; a very, very bad thing to have had. Isolated Hospital rooms and gowned up Candy Stripers pushing bad trayed-up hospital food at me as if i'd wolf it down like some bedraggled old, well, wolf.

I'm seeing a Foot Doc who is trying to close the last of my wounds; a stubborn open thing on the bottom of my foot. I've had plastic surgery twice on this thing; semi-successful in that the procedures managed to get ass graft skin to stick and grow. Last summer I managed my wood lots in person. On the ground, on my own two feet. The wound re-opened and somewhere, had a boogaloo party with something rank and rotten. (Maybe a back room Health Care boondoggle! )

So the Good Doc took a culture and sure enough, MRSA is back. That's what we expected. It's like walking around with a sinus infection, chill popping head cold while being beaten by little Mark McQuires. So i'm trying to hang on and will be probably getting wired up for in home IV therapy. TIED to the MACHINES again! Little buzzy intrusive things..... Five times a day, I get to have an IV Liquid Diet through a PICT line. This is not a great way to live.

Town, Gown and Remorse in equal Measure

2010-01-14T01:58:00.003-05:00

I'm guessing that what the individual wants out of life, how he wishes to spend his working hours and leisure hours counts for a lot. Without getting in to DOB land, i'd say that the people who have been educated at Elite schools and move in rarefied social circles, have an existential moment or two, where they realize, that indeed, "Is that All Their Is" is more than a Peggy Lee song.

After careful rumination, some of them go back to school at their Local Community College and study Beatnik Lit. Or Buddhism.
In other words, some realize they have taken the wrong path for them; and gotten lost on that Path to Boot. Others will never feel that heart pounding in the middle of the night I've wasted my life I should have joined Barbara Seagull in the tree house moment. They'll just go to work in the morning and summer at the Lake House with Cousin Edwards family. They'll ski at Vail. He'll die never knowing how much his wife actually, really did love him and what beautiful wonderful children he has left behind.

Others will be American cowboys; fiercely independent and proud, quite willing to sacrifice and delay satisfaction. He'll change his own oil and do his own brakes on his 6 year old American car. He'll be proud his wife holds an important job at the Hardware Store, even though she only went to the Community College for Upholstery. He'll attend his son's ball games and laugh and cry at all his heroics and miscues. He'll vote in every election and do his own taxes (wrong) explaining the importance of both actions to his disinterested family.

They'll spend a week down at the lake, the south side, with the slightly weedy, muddy and rocky beach. They'll ski on Fridays at the Kenwood Ski Tow.

He'll work overtime and his son will get into Boston University, a Jewel of a school, nestled in the Arms of Boston, surrounded by constant reminders of what made America, America. He'll hear 40 languages and find his love at an Abbott and Costello Revival at a small, bum laden theatre.

He'll go; probably the damn cigarettes his wife yelled at him about. He will be attended to by friends and family and possibly a shadow outline of Michael; a saintly presence during his entire
life.

But - who knows - such is the fate of those of us who pursue pieces of paper.......

ah .....sunshine ....

... you Jewels, you.

VINYL ALBUMS

2010-01-12T00:22:00.003-05:00

Back in the '60's you learned when Harvey was getting the new Beatles album in. You'd get in line on Central Street outside of Harvey's Book Land and wait for him to open. When he did, you'd enter and pay his daughter. He preferred that you pay with 3 singles as the price was $2.50 + .15 for tax. Teresa was standing on the right, with a stack of dimes and quarters, accepting the folding stock and handing you back your change. She'd have a five on the counter, close to the edge, in case some rich kid from Chelmsford had rolled in to town. She'd say "Thank you" and you'd shuffle ahead and when it was your turn, you'd spy Harvey half hidden amongst the plain brown boxes. You'd hold out your hand and Harvey would hand over the sacramental vinyl and you'd make a left turn and walk out into the grit and chop of Central Street, Lowell, Mass not knowing Kerouac, the great Beat Angel himself would right then, be up Back Central at Nicky's Bar regaling the regulars with stories of Old Angel Midnight.

It would take years of friendship with Harvey, before he would acknowledge the times Jack would slip in the back way and watch his flock running their hands over the spines and edges of the holy goof book classics stacked in haphazard order. How they'd sip from a bottle of wine and marvel at the will of the people to read, desire, consume.

That's gone. Harvey now running with Jack and Poe; chasing Lucy down Merrimack Street, threatening to dip her pig tails into the universal ink.

Old Hippy & Young Mr. Wards Poster Art

2010-01-02T01:49:00.001-05:00

Just got the "Ballad of John & Yoko from Sean Ward of Toronto (and the World), and hung it on the Far Wall of my Barking Dogs Recording Studio and Secret Hide Out. It's the first thing you see when you walk through the (open) door. It's colorful and Witty and draws attention. I want him to do a pencil sketch of me sitting next to Harry with both of us looking down at the floor and noticing it needs sweeping. Done in the style of that famous B.B. King-Eric Clapton, sitting on the Fender Amps photograph.

Check out seanward.net for Beatles art, comics and general all around nice guy stuff.

Mot & Mat Play Guitars Very Nicely

2009-12-29T02:38:00.000-05:00

And sing , too.
If you are into New Hampshire and acoustic guitars and Bluesy electric snapping and popping; check these guys out!!!!!!

http://file313.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html

LILLY

2009-12-16T00:48:00.000-05:00

I guess it's time to introduce the Boss of the family

Lilly is now about ten. No one knows how old she is, or where she is from. But about ten years ago, Kate, then eight, needed someone to talk to. After school, and at night. Someone to confide in. And since Maureen was getting pretty tired of walking me after dinner, a dog seemed natural.

We have a great facility near us, in Methuen, Ma. named Nevin's Farm. They not only shelter cat's and dog's; but big old worn out farm horses and dairy cows all milked out who's owners couldn't stand to hamburger them up. Pigs and chickens who managed to lie, cheat or steal their way off the disassembly line. All living out at the farm.

We drove up there one bone chilling night and popped inside and down the narrow hall to the "puppies". Which of course, consisted of a dozen Bull Terriers, Dobermans and various attack assault dog-machines.

..... and Lilly. Fifteen pounds of terrified little mixed breed terrier, herself. We went back up to the Big Desk, and since we were repeat customers and had been checked out previously, we busted her out of there. And we're all still running.

Lilly had been running loose in some of the worst neighborhoods in the area when she caught the eye of an Animal Control Officer. She stalked "Bella", as she called her and brought her to her own home, kicking, snarling and biting. Said she had "Trust" issues. She kept her there and worked with her and by the time we got her, two weeks later. (The dog, not the Nice Animal Control Woman), she was in much calmer waters.

Lilly wouldn't come near us for three days, just sit on the couch and eye us warily. But she never bit or nipped us and slowly allowed us to spoil her over the next week. Now, as you can imagine, she's put on weight and lays about as much as any terrier until we walk. Then, she puts it in overdrive and terrorizes the mousie, voles and chipmonk tribes out back! It's just amazing how the little Hellions get to you!

'79 Ibanez LEE RITENOUR

2009-11-14T05:18:00.001-05:00

One of my favorites.

Acoustic Tile Arrived and Deployed

2009-10-28T02:39:00.002-04:00

On your left as you enter the room. The guitars i'll be using most.

Back wall with the new AuraLex Ported Acoustic Tile. It's supposed to be a Diffuser and an absorber etc. Sounds pretty good even though it's not finished yet. All the tile will be done tomorrow. (Wednsday). Then it'll be time to put up photo's and posters.

These are the six amp setups I will be using. I'll list them, but will wait to give an overview of each one.

On the top, left is a 1962 Epiphone Devon Tremelo.

In the Middle, top is a Marshall Valvestate 20.

On the top right is my Reverend KingSnake (No it's not for sale.)

Bottom left is a Sleeper Amp: a much modified Vox Reverb Twin.

A Mad in the USA Crate 16 sits on a Cab extention

containing a Weber Blue Pup 12" Speaker.

Far right is a Koch Studiotone 20 Head

sitting on top of a Reverend "Cowboy" Cabinet

containing a Jenson Neo 12" Speaker.

This wall is on your right, as you enter the room. You can seethe Synth.
The bookcase is there to control paperwork and sheet music, as well
as magazines and books of general interest. There is just a little bit of tile up there, but a short session with a PRS McCarty and the Fender Bassman run throughthe Marshall Cab with 2x12 Celestion Speakers sounded just great I ran it very crunchy on the Bridge Pup and the Ice-Picky Death Treble and the top end zingyness was gone. Very close to being completely done now!

Finished Studio

2009-10-24T02:17:00.001-04:00

Just a couple of photos of the painted walls and a shelf or two.
My Synth, which I love Already! I am going to bring back Disco!
Donna Summer is back home in Somerville; I'll look her up.
I'm loading my stuff in tomorrow. Saturday - maybe I'll get help.
My acoustic foamy tile thingies are due to arrive tomorrow or Monday.
Great job Sweetwater! I'll need to "tune" the room to make it sound
great for recording live. I'll be recording live to tape and digital.
Where do you get extra digitals? I got lots of tape left over from the '60's.

The window on the far wall is blocked in, and locked up.

No security risk there! ( I hope )

A few guitars already in there.
The digital recorder is there. I'll get the monitors up and away to get them in the best "hearing" position. Right now, the room is not usable, as the sound needs to be tamed. Diffusers and absorbers will be put up soon.

IF THIS IS OCTOBER - IT MUST BE JACK KEROUAC

2009-10-10T01:56:00.004-04:00

I read this poem, among others, at a few bars tonight. A final Beat wrap-up of the few remaining hipsters still in Lowell. A lot of Jack's fans don't understand the depth of Jack's feelings for Catholicism. There are reasons why some hipsters were beat. It had to do with a lot of things, but they truly wept for their brothers and sisters. They had come off WWII, and knew what man was capable of doing and of tolerating. They wept because, they too, were human beings. I can see Saint Michael sharpening his sword, aware of the deed he must perform. This year, see Jack as that Catholic School Boy; not the man consumed by his demons.

WHY ANGELS CRY

... for Jack Kerouac

No one cries

as long

or as hard-

As a wounded Angel.

No one bleeds

as deep

or so red-

As a wounded Angel.

so:

St. Michael

Waits.

Listening to his brothers

Sing.

STUDIO UPDATE !

2009-10-06T02:08:00.000-04:00

Almost there! The garage has been divided into two rooms, a small shed to store the John Deere and snow shovels etc. And a 12x14 Music Room! All the wood work has been done as well as the painting. Tomorrow, I but the olde fashioned cork board acoustic tiles. Wednesday, is Carpet Remnent Day. A Beigy, light grey, something neutral . I can literally throw a throw rug under the Mastering Area. Then we can begin moving all my stuff out there; thereby reclaiming our Formal Living Room. Of course, once we do this, we will have no use for the living room! Last year we added a Family Room with Jotul wood stove and a biggish flatish TV. Of course, 1/3 of our family is now living on her own, plotting a future that could include: Fashion Designer, Marine Biologist, Politician, First Female Ranger or Pro Wrestler.

One Day at a Time.

LOCAL VARIATIONS - small town timeless poems - little poems

2009-09-26T05:31:00.001-04:00

In 1958, my small town started a Little League. Four teams; one each from the very different parts of town. The farm boys from Kenwood, the farm boys from Collinsville, the Public Servants from Dracut Center, and the tough Irish kids from the Navy Yard. Feuds were started in that long ago summer that last 'till today. (I'm truly sorry Tom Molton)

The adult volunteers worked long nights after work, whipping fields into shape so their sons could experience the combat of hardball without the pleasures of cow pies and random rocks placed Murphy like, in just the right karmic position.

Little did we know, we were to be a small part of a larger saga. A story that continues today on the same, vastly improved ball fields. But in 1958, the men ran out of money and in Hovey Square Park, local ground rules had to be established. There was no fence in left field.

Local Variations

Louisville Slugger War Club

held

Ground Rule Birch Tree

double-

no fence-

all you can get

to the left

-in the puddles

tadpoles relentless.

Beaver brook

falls dam

tops worn Kids Ked

smooth-

How many horn-pout

pulled-

breathless.

Soft sighing of

the wind blow

south from the mountains

flow over

pushing

the Merrimack River

towns built

on sites

indian war whoops

chasing Mohawk away

behind Bob Garipy’s

Auto Parts Store

JUST NEEDS PAINT AND SOUND MAGIC

2009-09-25T18:47:00.012-04:00

Front door. All I ned to do is walk out the sliding door onto the deck; down a few steps, and stumble to this door.

Right hand wall when you enter. The entrance to the attic where all the cardboard boxes will be staying.

The new window. I'm getting a combo storm/screen window to go on the outside. I'll make up a baffle to cover the inside when i'm recording.

Eight feet of heat. That'll be plenty when the amp tubes get cooking!

Lastly, out the door and back up to the deck and civilization. Television and computers.

Coming Along

2009-09-24T02:47:00.004-04:00

Three guys working six hours and we're half done. About. In picture one; you can see the two areas inside the garage. To the left of the studs is the storage area for the bird seeds and the mowers. I'll put some pegboard on the side walls so I can hang tools. Stick a few shelves up to get the tool boxes off the floor. If you look to the right of the studs, out the new door, you'll see the deck. Just down a few steps and I can stumble into the studio.

Second photo is standing on the deck, looking down into the garage and the floor before insulation. We put in double insulation because concrete slabs in New England are murderously frigid.

Third photo shows Carl putting wires and outlets and other blue stuff. The Floor has been covered over with particle board.

The fourth photo shows some cotton candy.

OUT DAMN SERPENT!

2009-09-21T03:41:00.002-04:00

What you are looking at is the South End of a North Bound Eastern Hognose Snake. An adult Hognose. About 24" to 30". This guy eats mice and toads. Now, a little explanation is necessary, here. Maureen and I like birds. So we feed them during the winter and we have stored bucketsfull of sunflower seeds and niger in the garage.We have done this for 35 + years at this location. The mice and chipmunks know this. And apparently the Eastern Hognose Snakes do, also. We've had to rescue mice who have fallen in the sunflower bucket and have been unable to escape their delicious predicament due to their massive holy Buddah Belly impediments. Our solution was a piece of wooden strapping, one end in the bucket to allow them to escape. ( we thought ).

The last time I had the garage cleaned out, I had a leftover ratty Coleman sleeping bag that had accumulated much too much campfire kiddy grunge. So I folded it neatly and placed it in the far back corner as a Base of Operations for all the little Chip and Dales and Minnies and Mickeys. What we did not know was that the Hognose ( Herbert ) had snuggled in the folds of the Coleman waiting for the little rodents to stumble homeward in Marital Mice Mania, stuffed and sated, eager to increase their tribe. Ouch - What a trip. The Ultimate Disney Mickey Rat Trap. And I set it in motion.

1/2 DONE OR MORE!

2009-09-21T02:58:00.001-04:00

This is saturday evening. I have done most of this clearing away, since Maureen had to work today. You know, the Healing Gig. Those Damn Sick People!!!

You will notice, four Gibson Amps in the middle left. Three are solid state and one is tube. I've had them for like, three years. As soon as the music room is done, i'll get to them. Refurbish them, clean them. I have actually finished one, a G50. It is surprisingly quiet at idle and sweet and clean at low volumes.

Sunday Night! See the darkness creeping in on little Cass' feet. Little Cass lives down the ......... oh not really. It's fog like little milks eyes. No -but the fabled Music Room is empty except for the window on the floor that will replace the window all ready in the wall. Because the window on the floor to be soon in the wall opens and closes. Whereas, the window in the wall, now, merely sits nailed in place affording only a view but no cool breezes. Simple, right?

The "floating floor" flew out the open door on little big money dollars wings. We are going to hang 2 x 10's on the tops of the cement blocks and level that all up and put plywood down. The fact is, if I don't, i'll never be able to keep this room warm. In that 10" space we will put in insulation. Over the plywood, we will put a carpet pad. ( or two ).

But tomorrow is Electric Day! Power! More Power!! Carl will be over to spend money. I'm going underground from the cellar to the front side of the garage. I've explained to Carl what I need. He commented that that was more than just the one light bulb, eh? So if the East Coast goes down briefly tomorrow; that'd be me. Sorry.

NO, REALLY. THIS TIME I MEAN IT

2009-09-16T02:34:00.004-04:00

Last year at this time, I had my single car garage (14' x 20' ) cleared out and cleaned up. Mouse turd free, oil splatters sucked up with WeSuckOilDry , and ready to go. This modest little structure was to be my disability/retirement present to myself. A neat little private music room. I wasn't going to call it a recording studio, as I had, over the years, actually recorded in real studios. Let me assure you, this is a garage. It will be have a floating floor, soft, absorbent walls. Bass traps and comfortable stools. There will be heat. There will be surveillance cameras and hefty, armbendingly ruinous locking mechanisms. There will be gun safes, guitar safes and safe safes. There will be about three tape recorders and one digital recorder. (Tascam).

There will be a door cut into the side wall, right where the window is now. I took this photo from my new deck. The reason the music room didn't get built last year. Last year we put a new room onto the house and installed a new gas furnace and a wood burning stove in the addition. We were able to tell OPEC where to go last year.

What we see here is mostly clutter. Old cardboard boxes saved back for when the goods fail and need to be repackaged and sent home to a warehouse in New Jersey to die. A quivering quaking pile of electric guts. This will be mostly tossed, as I don't expect to outlive my monitors. A functional window will replace the nailed in static air leak that is imitating a window at present. Pink Panther will be liberally applied between the studs and above the ceiling. The walls will be plywood, as i'm not about to spend gold for lead. A good quiet flat room will be fine.

This will sit nice on the hill, under maple trees and easy to get to. A new door will be going in and will be locked down tight. I should be able to play fairly loud. Loud enough for my needs.

I hope to also write and produce radio plays (20 mins). Record them here with vocal actors from UMass-Lowell and play them on student radio. Construction starts one week from today.

INITIAL MINI-SHAKEDOWN OF BASHO

2009-09-08T01:34:00.007-04:00

A short trip for Basho. ( 88 ) miles. I've had it inspected, the brakes checked out and made sure the gas lines were ok and high pressure. Passed the inspections with flying colors.

Started up first turn of the key (as it should ) and we drove through Lowell; passing by Kerouac's Birthplace, and saying a short prayer, we continued on to rte 495. We only stayed on the highway long enough to run it up to 70 mph and checked out the stability. Perfect smoothness on all counts. Got off at rte 2 , to buy apples, peaches, and sweet corn. (Just to say we had a purpose. Also to let Lilly, the Terrior pee.) She was nervous as all get out; much more than she usually is, driving to known destinations around town. We got off rte 2, and drove back roads for the next few hours through rural mid-state Mass. Saw two cows in someone's front yard, not ten feet from the road. Took a picture of an old, unihabited house on Fred Smith Street. (true fact)

We also passed a horse breeding farm. A rich Dallas Type Rich Hoss Ranch. Some lake front homes from opulent to shed like.

Took a picture of a typical small New England town square.

If all of our forthcoming trips go this smooth, the VW will be proven to to be a great deal, financial and emotional.

THE HIPPIE VAN

2009-09-06T02:26:00.004-04:00

Because these bloggie thingees are set up to post the last post first; if you have not read the post below this, yet you have no idea that my hands are not satisfied to plague me with numbness and nerve damage and leaking damaging information to the White House Fishy Smelling Web Site where Obama spends minutes a day chortling at my misfortune. If you have, indeed, wasted precious time reading the hairy little post, you'll know that my hands hate me.

So........ Maureen and I are retiring early. Thanks to my shrewd real escape powers, and a few winning Lotto winnings, and her admittedly wicked high salary, we no longer care about money. (HA) Seriously, I have no clue how much time I have left on this colorful little ball of stuff. But I have about 4-5 fatal, chronic diseases dogging my every move. Our daughter, who is turning 19 early next year, has foolishly chosen to leave our hearth and home to pursue Higher Education in Some Other State. So, we got her baby sitting covered.

Not too many things or responsibilities holding us back. Unfortunately, Maureen's Mom passed away a few months ago at the age of 84. As a result, Maureen feels a bit adrift, losing her mom, Kate leaving the nest, and me; looming over her demanding care. So we are going to wing it. I'm selling all my land up north and most of my real estate here and donating the proceeds to the Heather Locklear Home for Wayward Weasels. I'll be selling most of my firearms, keeping only about six. (snicker). Most of my books will be going to a Special Collections Section in my local Library. (Hey! I was A Friend of the Library and raised thousands of bucks for the new building). Most of my guitars will be sold or stored because my Right Hand Sucks! It has betrayed me. My cousin Gerry, the ex Marine with the Navy Cross and whom still has a hole in his back, and shrapnel falling like tiny deadly metal music has agreed to house sit. It wouldn't surprise me to come home to find a Stephen King Movie being filmed in my new GraveYard out back. More on this as it gets closer, the move, not the movie. We have a year to plan this.

BAD HANDS

2009-08-15T03:00:00.001-04:00

The reason you are looking at my hands, is because I wanted to point out the fact that I have something very wrong with one of them. The left one. The one that is most important in playing guitar. As you can see, the left pinkie is off a little bit. It has decided it wants to go to the left. Which is wonderful for it; the finger itself. But I would wish that it would be able to close back up and rejoin it's fellows. But it won't. It stubbornly insists on being inflexible, stiff and never calls it's mother. This means that I have lost, oh, say, 25% of my tools, guitar wise. I can no longer use it to fret (Press down) . I can't do 7th, or 6th chords. I can not do major chords up the neck like: E,F,G,A etc. Barre chords.They come out E7,G7 etc. Same with minor barred chords. I need to re-learn all the positions over again. Sort of like a blind person learning to listen o Liberace all over again. So, if you see a guitar you fancy, send an email or leave a comment. Who Knows?

LOG PICK UP LINE

2009-08-15T02:40:00.003-04:00

you cut five

maybe six

cords

of wood

sweating in july

to keep the chill away

in february.

you cut so much

you start to see

oh say, Bob Hope

in a top hat smiling.

you forget the amazing

until it pops up

into your hand

a laugh riot in March.

"Hey, haven't I seen you

someplace before?".

A POEM ABOUT WWII,LOSS,ARROGANCE, AND ALZHEIMER'S

2009-07-24T00:28:00.006-04:00

All the Bright Mornings

I. On Saturdays

this life no smoke

lifted off the tarmac

heavy headed to Ploesti

dodging black flack downwind

the wind blows blue smoke

small engine repair

mornings so cold

you can your breath

catching fire watching

the bombs drop

silently framed in his

eyes sweeping the row

of tools spread out

useless now half or

more fogotten in

the haze oil smoke-

blowing now he stands

as always at his post

waiting for the engines

to warm

before he can tell

if anything is wrong

on saturday morning

when St. Paul came

his tools too dangerous

now for him who once

flew with the Eagles

over Italy

II.

All gone now

the memories flooding

together the ditch

run off water gathered

Gone Now the Bright Son

of father’s day

confused,

bent fingers

he stands

middle of the driveway

the robins

Charlie Mike,

as always

the young ones

feeding

as always he could

work longer harder

his generation

Old Lions showing

the young cats

how its done

the Youngest Son

stands watching

shaking his head

wondering if he too

Someday would.

III.

The Children

now scattered

the Angels have come

so bright the Son

when it started.

FDP THREAD : How many of you are old enough to have grown up with Good Humor and other roaming food companies?

2009-07-23T04:05:00.002-04:00

When I was about 3-4, we were living on Grand Street in Lowell. I can remember a bakery guy coming like every other day, but the desert guy from another bakery came every day! I imagine great cream puff fights, running pie fights down to the Lincoln school!

I can remember Tom, the insurance guy, coming into our kitchen looking like the immortal salesman plodding house to house, cadging dimes out of the housewives for cheap insurance policies redeemable who knows when.

It was a cold water flat, heated by coal, the entire building bleeding off small gallons to use for dishes. Baths were Saturday night heated on the stove water, reused until the dog got tossed in about midnight.

We had an ice-box. Not bad in the winter, when the cold Montreal air aided in keeping our eggs fresh.
Both kinds.
In the summer, the ice man would come down the street glancing up at the front windows of the triple deckers, looking for the signs the wives, bored in the warmth of their sun dresses, had marked down 5, or 10, meaning pounds. He'd chip off an appropriate chunk and carry it up the long dark stairways, to the third floor. Then he'd repeat the exercise for the second floor.

We knew he spent a little more time with Mrs. Monty. The young women on the third floor back apartment. That's when we made our move; boosting someone brave like my brother John, up into the chill darkness of the truck bed. He'd scoop up the smaller chips rapidly melting into uselessness, and toss them down to the littlest of the street kids. Lowell Popsycles. (To go with the hot tar we would chew as gum. Until we learned the secret pleasures of larceny).

One day Mrs. Monty must have had a heat headache because the ice man came down the stairs early and caught John in the forehead with the heavy leather carry strap. At the first sound of John's wail, my father dashed out of our old apartment and quickly sussed the situation and he punched and elbowed and bit and kicked the ice man until he looked like the Cherry Ice they sold on the South Common on the 4 Th of July.

We met in Saint John's Emergency room. John got his four stitches first. My father had his dislocated knuckle wrestled back to the same approximate place just as the Police walked in looking for the narrowback Irishman who had wailed the tar out of some poor immigrant iceman hauling relief across the city.
The Policeman looked from the iceman to my dad and dad pointed to his first born son and the Irish Police just nodded as we gathered our few things and left.
We could hear the squealing all the way across the bridge that separated the city from the town.

2009-07-14T00:52:00.000-04:00

I remember being outside in my back yard for the first time with my daughter. First week of April and finally warm enough to bring the little St. Patricks Day Baby out.
We had forgotten that the Blue Angels were to perform at Hanscom Air Base that weekend. Do you remember when two jets pass each other right in front of the grandstand and roar away? Only to come streaking back at the culmination of a manuever done by the other four. Well, the outbound terminus of one guys trip was 20 miles away from the airstrip, 100 feet shy of my house and about 200 feet high.
He had slowed, you could hear the engine rumbling, just about spinning over when he made his turn. I swear to god, for an instant, it looked like he stopped in mid air. Then he pushed the Go stick and, man, it was like the WHO times ten!
Eighteen years later and my wife and I still talk about it. I have never felt anything as powerful as that in my life. And I used to own a V8 Ford!

THE STRATS

2009-07-09T21:08:00.002-04:00

I pulled these guitars up out of the Fender pile because I recently inherited a house that has a near empty two car garage. By moving my "stuff" to this storage area, it will allow us all down here at this house to move about easier. After all, not many people have a Music Store stored in their garage, basement, bedroom and family room.

1996 Fender American Standard with a Malmsteen pickup set by Dimarzio. (all the notes come out in Swedish, ya?) I got it used and just loved the sound of it and used it until the neck needed re-fretting. Since Electron, from the FDP was always talking up his Robert Cray Model Strat, I took a chance and bought a near mint neck off of eBay. I took off the old neck and sold it and put on the Cray neck. I also changed the pic-guard screws to black, as well as the input jack plate. It looks nice, sounds nice, has a comfy neck. It's a keeper.
This is not really a Stratocaster as nothing on it is made by Fender. It was put together in spurts. Spurts is a local Gentleman's club down by .........Never mind..... The body is by someone who makes big, heavy strat like objects. The pickups are mini humbuckers from Lollar. The neck is a beauty, a solid rosewood neck with an ebony fretboard made by Warmoth accessories. (A great company) It is part of their Boogie Board editions of necks from the late '70's - early 80's. This is heavy, but balances well and sounds like a Strat on 'roids.
This is one of the best bang for the buck Fenders you can get. Many players modify their guitars because they want to get everything as close to perfect for them as they can. This guitar has done a lot of that for a lot of players: specially wound pickups, a thick neck, an innovative pickup wiring scheme, and a very thin layer of nitrocellulose lacqer. To me, this is a guitar I took out of the box, tuned it up and let it rip. It needed nothing to be a gig ready pro level instrument.
A guitar I have always coveted on looks alone. Daphne Blue. I just love the color; all those '50's pastels. I still need to get a Pink Strat. This Daphne is a '97 American Standard, completley stock except for the addition of a set of Lace Gold sensors, which I hated until I spent the time to properly dial it in. Now, I love the sounds I can get out of it. That's it, a quick run down of my strats. What have you got?

ME, These Days....

2009-06-21T02:10:00.003-04:00

SPECIAL FORCES CHANGES MOTTO......

2009-06-20T16:18:00.004-04:00

http://images.military.com/ImageLibrary/SFGROUPINS.GIF
At the order of President Obama, Special Forces spokesman said: Our mission apparently has changed and our motto has been updated to reflect that change. It is no longer "Free the Oppressed" It is now, "Here's Looking At You". "

HOW POEMS FAIL

2009-06-16T01:45:00.003-04:00

Some years ago, Ford Motor company stopped shipping new cars destined for New England by railroad. There was a huge train yard across the Merrimac River, just over the Lowell city line in Billerica, Mass. (home of Future Hall of Famer, Tom Glavine. One night, unable to sleep, I heard the sound of a single switching locomotive, moving box cars around and forming up trains of empty car carriers. I could hear the sharp bang every time the engineer would add a car to the tree. All the windows in my house were open on a warm spring night.

My dad was a Boston & Maine employee who worked around the yards, doing maintenence. He spoke to me once of how he would occasionally get lonely and a bit melancholy being out there at night. He explained how he would miss his wife and two small sons, but he knew he needed to be out there making money.

I remembered that conversation some 30 years later and I tried to imagine the loneliness felt by the men who work away from their families, often alone and isolated.

Open Windows in the Spring

May 15, '00

3:37 am

sleep - my eye

The

lonesome cold

sound of

a switcher

banging empty

boxcars

in the dead

of night-

oh sight

in the distance

folded back

my father walking

home with midnite

empty

lunch bucket.

-cold swept

iron tracks

leading

away

one

way.

my eye

empty now.

...............................................................................

The poem is not universal enough.

No one else can see my dad.

Since my dad died young, my seeing

him disappearing down the tracks, uncommunicative;

I've made him up; but haven't

felt his pain or explained his loneliness.

I got no further than conjuring up a vision

of him that is sterile. No dirt, sweat or grime.

No slack muscles. No exhaustion. He's a ghost;

and the poem is not that interesting.

A BEAUTIFUL GUITAR

2009-06-15T00:39:00.002-04:00

This is probably the most beautiful guitar I have ever owned. I still own it; I just can't play it. The neck is too thin for me. It makes my hands cramp up. It's a Gibson ES-137. But this one was made in their Custom Shop. ( it has a piece of paper that says so! ). If you'll notice, on the top and the back, you cannot see where two pieces of maple were joined. That's because this baby has a one piece top. (and back) . The thinking goes beyond just beauty. It's supposed to sound better because the top vibrates better. Sounds reasonable to me.

THE KNIGHTKRAWLERS - 1964 OR '65.

2009-06-12T03:20:00.004-04:00

http://www.katrinrocks.com/listen.shtml

Which is a link to Katrin and her web page where you can hear some of her lovely folk songs and folk-rock. Nature Spirit is a nice CD and i'm sure she'd love it if you bought a copy. But i'm really pumped because I found out that John Harrington plays in her live band. ( when she's not playing alone ). There was a small, mostly old news new news story in the Merrimack Journal about John and how he and "Little John and the Sherwoods" dominated the Garage Band scene here in Greater Lowell and Southern New Hampshire. They went on to New York and came "this" close to opening for the Beach Boys". The band broke up and John joined Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels for a time. He played for years for money for "Mac's Mob", a great, highly popular show band. And then I lost touch.

Over the years, their single "Long Hair" became a classic, must have example of Garage Rock. (it's worth looking up a mp3 or whatever they are called ). This endearing popularity led to a Sherwoods Re-union about a year and a half ago. Unlike most events, this one was a smashing success and I expected to hear more from John. I heard he was teaching. I heard he was doing ok. And now I find that he is back out there, still playing! He will be performing at theLowell Folk Festival this July with Katrin. Try and be there... you'll have to fight a few thousand Little John Regulars from the Commodore Ballroom days.

Oh yeah...... I'm the skinny dude, second from the right.

GIBSON ES-5

2009-06-11T02:38:00.002-04:00

This is a favorite of mine.

First built by Gibson in 1734, in their Boston factory.

Three P-90 Pick-ups. Each has it's own individual Volume control to keep them from quarreling. There is one Master Tone control way up there on the lower treble bout. This arrangement allows the player a wide variety of tonal options. This guitar, besides having wonderful action and a fine, comfortable neck, can sound like the Jazziest Box in the neighborhood or the funkiest dirt machine in the Delta.

Thank you, Gibson.

WORRIED ABOUT LANGUAGE

2009-06-11T02:21:00.002-04:00

As I wander around the internet seeking out nubile young women who seek meaningful relationships with old arthritic, lung-busted, limp, smelly old men; I cannot help but notice the appalling lack of standards applied to what we jokingly refer to as the English language. It seems that whilst I was indulging in a post luncheon nap, down in the side Garden of the Manor, the youngsters picked up on the ancient ritual of enforced mis-information directed towards the elder, more staid and stable segment of society. Their parents. It's as if they are attempting to hide from us, the facts of their lives. It's as if their generation is the first to have discovered the pleasures of sex. ( of course, the Baby Boomers invented sex. ). It's as if they watched "Animal House" and mistook it for a drug hazed National Geographic documentary gone horribly bad. Binge drinking is so Last Century. And why is everyone either bald or tomahawked? The guys, I mean. They can't all be ex-Rangers, can they?

The dog is wrinkling her nose at my pathetic lump of flesh and attempting to kick dirt over me. I'll have to dig out and pour out some Devil Dog Chow for the little mutt.

LIGHTEN UP

2009-06-10T01:37:00.003-04:00

Welcome old friends and old readers. Welcome perfect strangers. It's the beginning of summer and I'm in the back stretch of life. On the inside pole, gaining on the nags, perspiring mightily, my lungs close to bursting, spewing the accumulated noxious solid phlegm shot of epic proportions.

"Out! Damn Snot!" William Shakespeare

Right -well I need to make changes in my life. I need to simplify. I need to get rid of things. Material possessions that are chocking me. Death by Knick Knack. Cause of Death: Colorful Vacation Thimbles. ( Ski Famous Death Valley Amusement Park )

I have already culled my book collection twice. I have brought donkey cart loads to the local 1/2 Price Used Book Store. ( I can buy $473.00 of used paperback novels. But Not If The Cover Has Been Removed.)

I have a complete Black and White Photographic Lab in my basement. Thirty-five years ago, I decided I wanted to be an Artist. I figured paint was messy. Film almost never tries to kill you. So I learned how to do it with Single Lens Reflex Cameras. And one day I stopped. The laundry room fuzz bunnies mutated and claim the Enlarger. I gathered it all up and placed it gently in a trash bag and put that on the work bench and there it waits.

I've been into guns for maybe 50 years. Any shooter knows you need to reload if you are serious about getting accurate. Just Google Reloading and check out the 600 pounds of gear that is absolutely necessary to begin this hobby/vocation. Find out why old wheel weights are worth their weight in, well, wheel weights. Guess where this stuff is stored.

Vinyl. A word that stirs something deep in all old hippy hearts. Records. Long Players. As in, boxes and boxes of Records. From the Beatles to the Grateful Dead and Glen Campbell. Stacks of them covering 20 feet by 20 feet of valuable basement floor space.

Dead lamps, horribly Carradine corded into uselessness. Christmas gift boxes and coal fired Christmas Tree Lights twisted into impossible contours. Bike parts and mildewed Mouse nest material, still clinging to the false promise of one more camping trip.

All this and more is complicating my life. I am the King of Rejectamenta.

No more, I swear as God is my witness, i'll never be storage deprived again!