“Never more loneliness than in the teeming crowd, the lonely man of the city surrounded by his inventions, the lost seeker drowning in the common identity”.

To me, Miller’s writing is–among other things–about transcendence through creativity and self-knowledge. He ends “Megalopolitan Maniac” with these words:

“Tomorrow you may bring about the destruction of your world. Tomorrow you may sing in Paradise above the smoking ruins of your world-cities. But tonight I would like to think of one man, a lone individual, a man without name or country, a man whom I respect because he has absolutely nothing in common with you—MYSELF. Tonight I shall meditate upon that which I am.”

Word.

These are the things that swirled through my head yesterday as I played around in the studio (I was pleasantly surprised I could play the instruments with only minor discomfort). I’ve also been thinking a lot about creativity, and how much I enjoy exploring a particular moment in time through music or writing. And my shoulder hurts like bloody hell, and it’s impossible to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Here’s what I recorded last night before fading out:

I was only 34 years old
when I thought I played my final show
But who was I to think I’d know when it was all over
I went away for 4 long years
and thought I conquered all my fears
But man you saw me shed those tears when it was all over
I got back up and hit the scene
to find out what it really means
The sleep ain’t always worth the dream when it’s all over
So many times the same old thing
I think I’m out but then I’m in
I thought I’d lost but I just might win

We watched it go under the bridge
There ain’t no sense denying it
And who’ll be left to give a shit when it’s all over
and said and done but I was never one to jump right in
but I might not see your face again
We can say goodbye or just say when

I’m trying to recall how many “last shows” I’ve played now. I’m pretty sure tomorrow will be my fourth. I remember like it was last month (it was actually two months ago) when I played my last last show. It was a Friday night at The Cave in Chapel Hill. We opened for Transportation (one of my all-time favorite local bands), who I’m sure were in fine form that night. Well, actually I’m not 100% sure, because I didn’t stick around for their set. Aside from being worn out from a draining work week, I was just not up for all the boozy-breath-stankin’ questions about why I was leaving the band. So I hitched a ride home, stuck my bass in the closet, and figured I might never again see the inside of a dive bar. Two months later, I’m getting ready to play another show, at a place actually called DIVEbar.

My wife has a job interview today. If they offer her the job, two months from now we’ll be moving to a town in Oregon 2842 miles away. If not, depending on other job offers, we might instead be heading to Pennsylvania, or Ohio, or West Virginia, or Tennessee, or Mexico. Of course, no job offers means we stay put for a while longer. Anything could happen. Who knows.

Come to think of it, the first rock concert I ever saw was on HBO in 1982. It was The Who’s “Farewell Tour,” and it was my introduction to rock and roll. To this day I still rock Who covers on the acoustic on a regular basis. Seven years after The Who’s last hurrah in ’82, I found myself at Giants Stadium in New Jersey cheering for my favorite rock band of all time — you guessed it, The Who. Funny how stuff like that happens. Anybody see the halftime show for this year’s Super Bowl? 28 freakin’ years after the old, washed-up geezers sang their supposed swan song, not only are they still alive (Okay, so only two of them are still alive) but they’re still performing as The Who. WTF?

So, after my last show tomorrow, I won’t be putting the bass in the closet. Minor Stars will be recorded and interviewed by a local TV station in early June. Technically that’s not a show, so I don’t think it will qualify as “Last Show #5.” But it might be the last time I play with Eric and Matt. It might be the last hurrah, the final farewell. Who knows…

I watched it with the volume muted, to keep up the appearance that I was working on the monthly accounting report. Eventually I did get to working on the report, and the day passed in an uneventful haze. A coworker gave me a ride home, which added about forty-five minutes of precious me-time to my evening. Once home, I decided to finally tackle the job of dismantling my condenser mic to figure out why it was no longer working properly. I was ready to give up more than once, but persisted in taking the mic apart then putting it back together, a process which miraculously resulted in the mic working once more like a charm. Relieved and self-satisfied, I headed off to bed, albeit a bit later than I would have liked.

As often happens, I popped awake at about 2am feeling restless and stiff. I fell into a meditative trance while loosening up my muscles with gentle, subtle micro-movements. After about twenty minutes of this, it happened. Again. A sense of clarity dawned on me so intensely that the last several months of waking life seemed like a coma by comparison. All the life issues I’ve been struggling with felt either completely resolved or else utterly unproblematic. I knew without a doubt what I needed to be doing with my life, how to refocus and realize my full potential and destiny. Part of this crystal clear life plan involved re-immersing myself in my study of Somatics and Integral Psychology, so I ran downstairs to look up a few books online. Flipping open my laptop I noticed a new email. It was from my father-in-law. He had written the obituary for his father, who has just passed away at the age of 94. I knew his father and felt a profound admiration for the man. When I married his granddaughter he gave me the honor of wearing and owning the wedding band he had worn on his finger throughout his more than fifty-year marriage to his wife, who had passed away a few years prior. Reading about the man’s long, full life made me feel even more intensely awake and committed to living my life full-throttle. I could hardly go back to bed at this point, so I picked up my guitar and began to strum a few chords. Within about thirty seconds a song idea came to me that promised to be my best ever creation. I quickly recorded the basic idea then jumped back in bed. It was about 3am by this time. Only an hour had passed, an hour I would normally spend dreaming and drooling.

This was not the first time I’ve caught a glimpse of crystal clear consciousness and I hope it won’t be the last. I knew it would fade. I knew the alarm clock would ring with cruel precision at 6am. I knew I’d have to drag myself through the day in a relative fog, and I knew that by the time I got home I’d barely have the presence of mind left to tap out a hasty blog post about the whole thing.

For whatever reason, I felt the need to post something on Twitter last night before I surrendered to unconsciousness:

I just woke up, as if from a coma of 10 years. Suddenly, everything is possible. Books, albums, written in my head. 3am. Back to sleep?

135 characters — five to spare… Life!

There’s a girl who lived on my block
She wore pigtails and bright purple socks
She could sing before she could talk
She had wings but she’d rather walk

A ghost of a prayer still floats in the air
Keeping me longing from the depths of my despair
I don’t expect a kiss or that you’ll stay the night
or that you wave your hands and make everything alright
I just want you to know when you’re going out that door
I don’t regret a thing

This week’s studio noodling combines a section of The Who classic Naked Eye (off Odds & Sods) with some heavy riffing/experimenting with guitar effects. As always, it is what it is, which is how I like my Sunday sessions at Green Desk Studios. Enjoy:

Naked Eye/Brainstorm(mp3)

Gotta love Vermont in the Fall.

My wife and I rendezvoused with her family at her Dad’s cabin in East Burke, a little town known for skiing and its world-class trail system for mountain-biking. We were only there for a couple of days, but it was an awesome time. I hit the bike trails for the first time and was ejected from my vehicle only a few times and without incident. Now I know what a black diamond means when posted on a trail sign.

I don’t think I’ve exerted myself so much since high school. I was beyond ready to throw in the towel several times, my legs bursting with lactic acid from hip to toe, but my 61 year-old father-in-law kept riding—and with a smile on his face—so I couldn’t let on I was so exhausted. Before the trip I jokingly asked him if he’d packed a defibrillator. It never occurred to me that I’d be the one needing it.

I can still taste that crisp, clean mountain air. Here are a few photos: East Burke, VT – October 2009.

I should’ve learned from the previous year in Mexico not to expect life to go according to plan. There, I had planned to play soccer every day and get into the best physical shape of my life. Instead, I blew out my knee two minutes into the first scrimmage, and spent much of the year trying to get back to walking without a limp.

So we moved from Lexington to Carrboro. Then my wife was offered a teaching job in Lexington, which was too good an opportunity to pass up. Then she won a dissertation-writing fellowship (another great opportunity) that required Kentucky residence. I’ve been going it alone here in Carrboro for most of the year. The job market has been slim pickins, and my best chance at a solid job in the addiction field was a post at the university counseling center. After a several-months-long courtship and multiple interviews, the position was cancelled due to lack of funds. So here I am a year later, still working as an office temp with no benefits.

A coworker snapped this photo of me on Thursday, to use as part of a staff meeting slideshow. This is how I’ve spent my days for the past twelve months — clicking a mouse and answering the phone.

Looking closely at the photo it strikes me — as it has again and again, through all the ups and downs — that I’m right where I need to be. Maybe it’s pure rationalization, or maybe I’m just making the most out of the situation. What else can anyone do?

I’ve enjoyed an almost stress-free work environment for the past year. This after years working in a psychiatric hospital, breaking up fist fights and dodging pieces of broken furniture being hurled at me. I’m even getting paid more — significantly more — for clicking that mouse than I have for any past mental health job. I’ve rejoined forces with my buddies from the old rock band and enjoyed performing again after a six year layoff. My knee is almost fully rehabilitated.

Life is good, although nothing has gone according to plan. Life isn’t always good. Sometimes it sucks. And sometimes it’s weird. And while through it all I’ve been feeling like I’m right where I need to be, I don’t believe in any of that fatalistic, law of attraction, “Secret” nonsense. I’m going to work my ass off to make the shit happen that I want to happen this coming year.

I suppose I’m just at peace with life for the time being. Simple as that. It’s nice, really nice, and I wouldn’t mind staying this way for a while. Sounds like a plan.