Tick Tock Shock

I can’t wait for the weekend. I can’t wait for this day to be over. I wish it was next week. These are things we all think and say from time to time. Personally, when I’m stuck on the phone with a customer who is clueless about what he wants, angry about how much it’s going to cost and unable to speak with out sounding like he’s got a mouthful of shit I would gladly give up 2 or 3 days just to be done with him. Later, however, I always feel guilty and slightly paranoid about wishing away time.

There was a point in my life when I wasn’t really bothered by impending death around every corner but now I’m fully content with living forever. With my renewed interest in life I have discovered that the rate at which time seems to be passing is increasing at an alarming rate. I feel as though I’m in a car with no brakes heading downhill on a winding road. I just know that up ahead there is a curve that is just a little too sharp and I will be going a little too fast and with the screams of the tires, the twisting metal of the crashed through guardrail and my own horrified voice all joining together in one last a cappella exclamation of dismay, I will go sailing off into a ravine.

So, I suppose I will deal with the confused and confrontational occasionally and enjoy the time I have here whilst I still have control of the wheel.

Low Tide Flush

Sometimes I am reminded of the time I spend wandering through the forest of my memories. As you hike through the swirls of the cerebellum you are surrounded with all sorts of woodland creatures in the form of memories. Some of them are warm and fuzzy, some are brief glimpses of bright color that flitter away without solid imagery, others are the rough bark of a tree you stumbled against, and at some point you discover a cave. Partially grown over with brush you have to work a bit to gain access ans as soon as you do you realize there may have been a reason this cave was abandoned. The images etched in mud, blood , and root dye depict a scene of chaos and pain and in the midst of this revelation a splash of cold bitterness floods the world and I become aware of the fact that I need a refill and that maybe it's time to stop daydreaming and find something to provide some good memories which will hopefully help the vines regrow over the den they once were shading.

Brooding action Man

While speaking with a co-worker I mentioned my lack of interest in movies that feature Steven Segal due to the fact that they all seem to have the same character with a different name and very shallow plots. My co-worker made the point that one should not expect much from an actor whose movie titles can be strung together to form a sentence that describes the majority of his movie plots.

I asked, “What do you mean?”

And he said;

“Glimmer Man, Steven Sagal thinking he was Above the Law was Out for Justice even though he was Marked for Death for building his house On Deadly Ground only to find that it had come Under Siege and his garage Under Siege too.”

Point taken.

Discovery

When I first stared playing guitar I was frustrated with the fact that the sound coming out of the amplifier was not like the sound I heard on the song. I twisted knobs, I switched cords, I even tried to figure out if I was using the pick wrong. Nothing I did created that crunchy, heavy metal sound I so desperately was trying to reproduce. I wasn’t taking any lessons and this was 1988 or so and the internet didn’t exist in a way that was useful to me.

I was then asked by a friend if I was going to see a buddy of mine and when I said I was he asked be to take a distortion pedal to him that he was borrowing. I said sure but what is a “Distortion Pedal”? My friend asked if I was an idiot and then said it’s what you plug your guitar into to play with distortion. He said you run a cord from the guitar to the pedal and from the pedal to the amp and when you step on the pedal it turn the sound on and off.

I couldn’t wait to get this thing home and try it out before I handed it off to my buddy. When I finally got home from school, I dumped my book bag, raced downstairs, plugged everything in and turned on my amp. I turned up the volume on my guitar and played the chords to “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath.

The goose bumps I got all over me and the grin that formed on my face were so strong that I’m sure my folks would have thought I was on drugs at the time. Just remembering that moment to capture it here is enough to have me grinning like an idiot. I suppose the adrenaline rush I got at finally playing a Sabbath tune that sounded (somewhat) like a Sabbath tune was healthy fix. Needless to say, the very next thing I was earning money for was my own distortion pedal which was a D.O.D. Thrashmaster and turned out to be a piece of junk. But while it worked I enjoyed many hours of grinding away trying to play like Slayer, Megadeth, Anthrax , Metallica and Black Sabbath.

My parents, however, did not.

In Memory

I am spending this day in a moment of silence in memory of my dear friend Katie Wendorf who left this world five years ago today.