I am Lazarus resurrecting himself

Ugh.
Bad journalist.

I am setting myself up to succeed.

This counts.

It's Tuesday, February 9, 2016.

I'll see you in a week...
...with something worth writing about. Leave suggestions in the meantime for what you think is worth discussing.

I'm trying to love you, world.

Love me back a little.

back into the swing

I only have a few minutes before I have to get ready and leave for my day job.  As much as I despise having to say that, (for reasons I'd rather not yet again enumerate) it's an important lesson for me today.  I have had my new computer for almost two weeks now, and the old habits with workflow are more difficult to reacquire than I had hoped-- I need to manage my time better, and retrain my mind to stay on task now that the means of accomplishment is accessible again.

I listened on Spotify to a talk given by Robert Fripp about making the transition from only being good to being "great", and the very first point he made was that one must get out of bed and go to the work.  When there is no work, practice.  I've been in a one year practice cycle, and now it is time for me to accomplish work.  On the horizon there is much to do and learn and that his how I likes it.

I will be blogging daily, and this is planned to be no more than a note.  Back from the dead.  Back in black.  Back in the saddle.

--G

o the rapture

Children cannot spell.

The political decisions of the country are being worked out by elected representatives who still move their lips while reading.

Children can't expect help on homework from parents, as parents have no facility with the material.

And the most easily led of the Christian sector are secretly praying to themselves that they be allowed to leave it all behind when the rapture comes.

These are all symptoms.  Symptoms of the disease of refusing to think.  Being unwilling to do any mental heavy-lifting when it comes to accountability or decision-making.  Can we admit this?  Ok.  Let's move on assuming you're at least able to privately acknowledge to yourself that you, just like everyone else are NOT a fan of exercising free will.  No?

If I ask you what you want for dinner, you'll say, "I don't know. What do you want?"
You seek the approval or guidance of others with anything more formidable than dressing yourself.

You see, we're moving on.

Your kids are your responsibility.  Collectively, you voted to make it illegal for me to discipline them appropriately for the way you've taught them to behave in public-- so you should be held responsible for the damage they do.

Your actions are the product of your decisions.  If you joined the military, you made a decision.  If you are unemployed, a chain of decisions led you there.  Stop me if you know this stuff.  I'd like to feel I'm not the only sane person around, but I work with the public.

There are a staggering number of fully-grown adults (driver's license and all) who need their hands held in order to find things with signs on them.  I'm tired of this in ways you apparently cannot imagine.  My proof?  If you could, you would have written about it first.  I held off.  I wait.  I listen and watch and I just can't understand it.  I am surrounded by the undereducated.

Are you looking at the ground?  Are you looking at the backs of your eyelids?  The world is very obviously LABELED!!!!!

Things have names, and those names are not their only identifiers.

Street signs, road signs, labels on shelves, labels on items, inscriptions on watchfaces-- everything is for the most part easily identifiable to anyone who supposedly made it through the public highschool system...  and yet no one is looking.

I'm afraid of the implications-- as it's clearly an advantage to be unconcerned with asking for help finding my way around and finding things I need, I'm forced to ask why people are now tending to avert their gaze and sort of soft-focus the world.

So...

Why are people refusing to see what is in front of them with any resolution?

secret identity and superheros

So here's my idea:

I want to have a band that is two bands.  I don't want absolute control of behavior, I just want rules.  But only important rules.  The only rules worth making are the ones that make more money for everyone who works.

Band 1: Secret Identity
Top40, Rock40 event band-- weddings, pr, conventions, bars and bats, confirmations, corporate parties, etc.
Required pieces: Lead Singer, Lead Guitar, Bass, Rhythm Guitar/Keys, Drums.
Optional with rehearsal: Horns, Backing Singers.
Matching suits, shiny instruments, polished sound-- ninja deadly.

Band 2: Superheros
Originals only.
No official appearances.
Same members, unleashed from the work songs.
Guerrilla performances: roll up with PA and stage (rent flatbed, or borrow?), rock and bail.
No charge for performances, merch and recordings sold at shows will be what they are.

Secret Identity becomes dayjob if events roll in, and Superheros becomes the payoff, and the main reason to keep rehearsing.

Needs:
PA,
Members.
3 hours of memorized music, arranged
proper management skills
prewritten ironclad contracts for events.
licensing documents and fees paid for performance for profit.

What I Am Really Good At

The Music Thing.

Just turn me loose and watch and play along.

Artichokes

simple:

1. Prep artichokes by slicing off the top, then using scissors to trim the tops of all leaves below the top-cut.  Finish by lopping off the end of the stem so there's a fresh cross-section exposed.
2. Boil water in a pot with 3 cloves of garlic, add steamer basket, place prepped 'chokes, along with a stick of butter in a small pyrex dish with a matching lid.
3. Set timer for 30 minutes, keep fire just hot enough for a boil that doesn't sound too angry.
4. Transfer 'chokes and butter dish to platter, take to table.

recovery

Yesterday, I had ureteroscopic lasertripsy of a 12 mm calculus of my right kidney/ureter.

In other words, a lasergun was jammed up my johnson and then used to destroy and remove a large asteroid from the place where it has been excruciating me for some time.

My current status is uncomfortable and irritable, with a side of don't f*** with me.  There's a stent running from my kidney to my bladder, and a string tied to the stent which hangs out of my meatus and is taped to the side of my penis.  This little detail sucks unimaginably.  Morning wood feels like a cheese slicer is being used on my genitals until it goes away-- and the only time urinating doesn't hurt like broken glass is when I'm in the shower under hot water.

But I'm told everything went as planned and I should feel better in a week or two.

Anything is better than kidney pain every time I eat meat.