You know I have always wanted to have the time where I could just sit and record music. All styles and genres. To have a large library of music at my disposal on the computer and thanks to YouTube and being stuck in this frigging nursing home I am able to do just that.
I have spent the entire day listening to strange music. From King Crimson to Uriah Heep to Les Baxter. At this moment I am listening to Fantastica - Russ Garcia Full Album LP Sci-Fi Space Age Exotica Lounge. Some wonderful stuff.
I like this music because as a kid we would hear this kind of stuff on movie soundtracks and a lot of television programs had their own bands that played this kind of music. My mother also had some of these on forty-fives. It's the beginning of the preparation for the dramatic change that was about to take place in music.
The Beatles became the legends that they will always be because they understood orchestration. Actually George Martin understood that and that made the Beatles legends.
My first selection in the lounge category tonight was called Breeze from the East by Cal Tajder. Man what a great album this was. Very light and beautiful.
I have to keep finding reasons for this little stint in the gulag. Today it was because I could record all of this great music for my own station one day.
Yea the weeks just drag on while the days go by so quickly. I don't understand this movement of time. This desperate movement of my mind.
Listening to PFM. They had a song called Celebration that I heard on our local radio station in the early seventies. I feel in love with the song and went and bought the album. A brilliant piece of work for stoners to listen to. Intense music resembling all the big bands but they had a musicianship that was unbelievable. Every instrument known to man was on this album and they were all played impeccably. Listening to it now I realize that I never gave the entire work the credit it deserved.
Listening to music for the buzz or more precise to enhance your buzz meant that many songs got overlooked because they did not initiate that first buzz. Styx for awhile was the best there was at this with songs that just entered your pores and just feed off of your spirit and feed your soul. Grand Illusion is probably the greatest stoner album ever recorded. Every song just continues to take you higher and higher. Abby Road is tied with Grand Illusion but Abby Road is different in that it lights up the emotional side of the listener along with the high feeling. You will be sobbing listening to Abby Road.
My daughter just texted me. She will be over this morning with Wyeth. My life has been given a new breath. I can continue for another week. I'm not joking. When they don't come over like last week I am thrown into a deep funk of loneliness, hopelessness and desperation.
Recording songs off of the internet has one unbelievably annoying aspect to it. The commercials that are randomly put into the albums. I have to go back and edit all of these recordings because of that. It's important to me that these recordings are clean and can be listened to without the occasional fucking commercial coming up in them.
I have been sick three times today. Twice when I was taking my meds. Being occasionally sick goes with the territory. I like to think it's my body cleaning itself out. I have to think of it in those terms.
I watched a little handicapped dog run in a dog race. He came in last but his determination was truly unbelievable. It made me weep like a small child.
MY brother texted me pictures of him fly fishing in Michigan at the same time that I was watching the little handicapped dog and that made me cry even more. Here I am in this room with a curtain and three hundred busy little killers on the other side of the curtain. My brother and I used to fly fish together. We used to fish with his boys. Nothing will ever be the same.
I feel myself slipping today. Everyone is struggling here right now and I can't let their struggle affect my own battle to win. They haven't got me yet. I don't eat the food. Even when I try my spirit removes it from my being. I throw up. Oh how I throw up the red bile.
I don't really thing there is something in the food. It wold be a good thing for the repubes to believe in. There's the way to describe them. The rebooblicans.
Get it? They are pubic hairs or they are boobs. Idiots, goofs, morons and well whatever else you choose to call them. Oh I know, fuckwits.
I have lost focus and the conversation is drifting off into politics and that is never a good sign. You have to keep it under control here Michael. You have to keep it under control.
The dog lady brought me in more bottles to paint. What a strange and lovely woman.
Her mother had been here at Heartland and I don't think dog lady shows up because she things this place always did her mother right. I think it's more that she knows how important it is to take few hours out of her day and let all of us see a smiling face with a dog and some gifts that is saying in her own way, “I love you all”.
What happens here with time is a terrible criminal thing. You lose a part of your soul. It takes pushing yourself each and every day to know that you will get free from this. There is a positive end to all of this and in all honesty there just isn't even if I get free and have my life back the damage that has been done will affect the rest of my life and I will spend the rest of my life trying everything possible to stay out of places like this.
When you get to this place in life everything becomes a race to the end and you are actually running backwards and the the finish line is trying to catch up with you.
Kat is gone. She talk and talk about going home for two weeks and kept getting setbacks and finally out of nowhere her daughter was there loading up her things and taking her out of here. Kat's daughter's partner was with them but she didn't seem all that thrilled in the picking up of the mother.
I'll miss Kat. She was a vivacious woman full of life and was actually very kind hearted. She was needy and in being needy it was a positive side of her. She reminded me so much of my first wife. Even resembling her looks. I enjoyed getting her hot water in the morning and her kool-aid in the afternoon and I enjoyed giggling and goofing off with her. I will miss Kat.
It's the way of this type of life. One day we are here and the next day we are gone and the lucky ones get out of here without it being in a body bag.
And so it all continues. I ask my dear brother for help getting me out of here and he is concerned why I am picking him and it's really quite simple. He is good at doing things like that. I understand both my daughter's and dear brothers concerns over me sometimes. My track record is not a good one. I don't even know how to respond to it anymore. It makes me feel very ashamed of myself at times.
Time moves on in a blink of an eye here. Kat is gone and it's as if she was never hear. I feel for her daughter. She's going to have a lot of work ahead of her with her partner and her mother. They will be ok. They will be what they are going to be. I have no control over it.
I ask my roommate what he was going to do once I was gone, or when I left and he simply said cry. He has no desire to get out of here except when he thinks he might get another bad roommate. I have been his best roommate, so he says.
I painted one of the nurse's trays that she left in my room the other day. I gave it to her today. She said something interesting. She didn't know that I painted jars and bottles and such. She would bring me some.
I thought how in the hell do you walk into this room and not know what I paint and I thought, they loose touch with what is in front of them and they only see what is the immediate need. They are conditioned not to see what is in front of them anymore. They can change a shitty diaper over and over and over again and not see what is in front of them and they can walk into a room full of psychedelic colors everywhere and not see it. They only see that they re giving Mr. Cheeseman his meds, or bringing in Mr. Cheeseman's dinner which Mr. Cheeseman won't eat and doesn't want. It never fails that they bring it in and I look at it and say, no, and they take it back and it completely disrupts their image of what is in front of them.
There are a few who have been able to hang on to their humanity but it's only a few. The woman ironically that I gave the tray to is one that has held on pretty good.
Enough said. It's time for sleep and I should give in and give up and pull the curtain around so that I have my tent in place and I can sleep, dream and prepare for my escape.
cool peace
hippy mike
love
spirit
cool uber groovy cool