It Starts on Waking

The first thing is checking for notifications, how's the blog doing, and do I have to do anything with that sort of thing.  Unless there's something which really needs to be addressed such as the opportunity after some years for talking with my most incredible niece, the song starts percolating almost immediately.

(Ed:  she's your grand-niece, Rip van Winkle)

Details, details.  She's cuter'n a bug's ear!

(Ed:  what the hell does that mean?)

It's a Yank thing.


As much as possible, this day is going for dry runs of "The Sanctuary Song" because the thing I got out of it yesterday was don't get radical, just log some time practicing it.  My way for some years has been the opposite in which it's been a drive for Impressionism and just play it however it comes.  That's fine but this song needs a whole different treatment and it's dayum sure been getting it.

Today does not hold the objective to finish the song but rather it's following the logic of how do you get to Carnegie Hall?  Practice, practice, practice.  That joke probably goes back to before there even was a Carnegie Hall.


There's doctoring in the mix today as well because Doctor Sam wants me to come back for the follow-up to the biopsies a month ago.  The surgical sites are still not completely healed but one looks as if there was never a problem.  Doctor Sam said there are two options:  do nothing then observe or additional surgery to eliminate altogether any chance of remaining malignancy.  That decision will come today.

Thanks again to Pink for contacting his doctor friend as the situation was prime time scary until that knowledge came into it.


Blog reading dropped off in the last few days and unknown why that should happen except possibly there's a reduced emphasis on politics in favor of focusing on things which are real.

(Ed:  some stupid pop song is more real than the future of America?)

There is no future for America coming from people who scare the hell out of the people for political purpose.  Scared people never lead anywhere and never have.  You can see the future of America going down the toilet with each new gun sale screaming a silent whimper.

(Ed:  how will you sell CDs when gunners, even blood relatives, will kill you to keep their guns?)

It's not possible to do much of anything with people who live with such fear.  I'm afraid of gunners and quite rightly based on their documented behavior but that won't stop me from speaking nor will it stop my music.  That won't matter to them because they would not buy it anyway because there's no chance to inspire people when they are afraid.  Fear is the mindkiller.


The song is very much hoped to give some inspiration to those whose minds have not yet frozen because it shows what one brokedown old geezer can do if there's enough passion in your heart to do it.  There's no interest in touring around doing some song I wrote forty years ago and "The Sanctuary Song" is right now about right now things and it's dayum sure not about brokedown things or ain't it a bitch getting old.  It's not a bitch if you get off yer ass and live it.

(Ed:  it's just a song for old fuckers)

Not really, Lazarus Long.  Old Fuckers only want to hear Adele or some dinosaur song they heard when they were twenty.

Mystery Lady jumps up and says, hey, I don't!  That's because there are Cool Old Fuckers and then there are yer Dumpy Old Fuckers.  The Dumpy ones have lost heart and spirit.  Unless they turned into gunners, they're not lost, tho.

(Ed:  you seriously think you can inspire anyone with the song?)

Yes, in fact, I do.  If anyone is open to the things it says, it does have the potential for inspiration.

Now I've been up for an hour so time to get on with it.