Hey There, It's Me!

Photo by https://pixabay.com/en/crocus-garden-end-of-winter-670378/.

Black Sabbath's Paranoid starts spinning. I just finished my own somewhat extended jam session, and now I am chilling and listening, looking out my windows. All is right with the world again; the birds are singing and there is a soft glow, but, I imagine, the backyard kinda smells like dog shit.

A lot has taken place in my life in the time since my last posting. Maybe that is the reason for the slight bitterness. Maybe I should just clean up the yard.

Getting a job was nice. The job is pretty fun too. There is a lot of typing involved, which, I realize, is what is improving my guitar playing. Finger strength is half the battle, apparently. Having a guitar and place to go jam with my friends was basically how I made it through grad school.

It's the spring thaw! We are old and lazy now, and it is too cold to jam in the garage in the winter. We could, but we're all cold babies. That, and it's hard on the instruments. Trust me, we cannot afford to have those cymbals get any worse. The way they are is okay, though. We can just market it as "low-fi." We are the biggest fans of our music, and that sort of thing totally appeals to us.

Wait, wait a second. I just totally forgot about a key piece of information that, unless you have checked out my ABOUT page lately, or my social media, you might not have noticed. I write for a magazine now! The Devil Strip!

It's a lot of fun. I like getting to interview people who are doing what they love for a living, or who are chasing doing what they love for a living. It's really inspiring, and it gives me a chance to get outside of myself and think about all of the cool stuff that other people are doing in my community,. Plus, I think, a little humility is good for me.

Sometimes, I get nervous about how my stories are going to turn out, but then I just buckle doing and work harder, and they seem to turn out okay. Not just okay, though. Maybe even... Good? I don't know. I guess that's for the readers to decide.

I really hope that people dig my story about The Funny Stop, which will be in April's Devil Strip. I had a lot of fun doing those interviews, and Pete at The Funny Stop was a big help in putting me in contact with the two comedians who I interviewed. He was also very happy to answer my questions.

For my other story, I  interviewed the guitarist of Puscifer, which is fronted by (Tool and A Perfect Circle's) Maynard James Keenan . The guitarist's name is Mat Mitchell, and he was very nice to speak with me the night before the current leg of the tour got under way.

Also, if you haven't checked it out already, last month I interviewed Neil Zaza, an Akron native who just happens to travel the world and play guitar for a living.

My goal now, is to get settled into my new routine and stay busy! I hope to still write these blog posts every Saturday, or, rather, I hope that I get back into writing these blog posts every Saturday. It is a good excuse to get to Nervous Dog and drink dark roast coffee all morning.

Hell, I do that anyways. It is nice to be productive, though.

It's also nice to be busy enough and productive enough that I can really justify just enjoying my weekends. Life is too short not to enjoy them. So long as I enjoy it, I will continue doing it, and that goes for everything I just mentioned--except the job. Yeah, that is kind of necessary.

New Flash Fiction:

Being Present

Photo by https://pixabay.com/en/wet-glass-rain-drops-thunderstorm-350235/.

Rain hammered the tin roof of the garden shed. Larry sat there, expressionless, cradling his backpack, waiting for it to let up. Ghosts from his past haunted him as he rested his chin on the top of his pack and stared vacantly at the floor in front of him. He had spent his entire life reaching for his potential, but he wasn’t ever able to really grasp it, and one day, he realized that maybe he never would, that some people just didn’t.

Clenching his jaw, he became even more determined never to go back, silently thanking the owner of his shelter, hoping that the unconsciously kind person didn’t discover him squeezed between the push mower and the rakes, shovels, and other implements. His back was pressed against the small shelves where the potting supplies and other tools lived when they were not in use, and he knew that he would be feeling the kinks from being crammed into that space—but it was better than being soaked and cold. He sighed, realized that he was tapping his foot against the floor and stopped—although, it would start again as soon as he stopped thinking about it.

His stomach reminded him that he had not eaten all day, so he felt around in his pack until his fingers crinkled the brown paper bag with the last of the sandwiches he had found in a dumpster behind a gas station. The use-through dates had expired, but as far as he could tell, the sandwiches were still edible. He hadn’t died.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked in quick succession, so close that Larry nearly choked on his mouthful. Resuming chewing, he peered up to the small, semi-transparent window: the landscape was still blurred out of existence by the pounding H2O.  He swallowed, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, the half-finished sandwich trembling in his hand as he sat, hypnotized by the nearly continuous flashing of indigo and rumbling of nature’s artillery.

After finishing the sandwich in a few more bites, he twisted himself into a fetal position. Using his bag as a lumpy pillow, he tried to catch a bit of sleep, which eluded him for a time, but the flashing and booming subsided, leaving him with the steady droning of the rain…

His eyes opened; the rain had stopped and the sky was clearing. With a little effort he stood and kicked open the door, knocking over the tools and quickly fixing them, then closed the door and sat the lock on the handle—like he had found it.

Stopping a moment to stretch the kinks out, he felt more refreshed than he expected.

A chorus of birds heralded the sun as it broke through the clouds, which dissipated before his eyes. He took in deep breath and smiled, then started on his way, jumping over the puddles that had taken over the now muddy path. He didn’t know where he was going, but at the moment, he wasn’t going to worry about it.