REPAIRMAN NARROWLY ESCAPES SATANIC CULT

A small SUV pulled into the driveway as we sat at the supper table with our guest for the evening, Chris La Tray. I had been waiting for a repair person, who was scheduled to arrive between 5 and 7 that evening to fix our washing machine. Having 3 boys in the house can create a massive pile-up of laundry if not dealt with as it occurs. So, the odd hour of service was something I could tolerate if I could get the thing fixed without delay. It was approaching 8 PM when he finally arrived. I asked Chris to excuse me while I showed the repairman to the laundry room.
I went through the garage and opened the side door to allow the repairman entry so we wouldn't have to go through the main part of the house. In the dark I saw a wiry little man with gnome-like features. He was wearing a baseball cap. He looked to be around fifty years of age or so, and carried his toolbox over his shoulder. As we entered the garage in the light, he gestured toward my hoodie and made a curious remark. "You know what that symbol is, dontcha?" "Which?" I replied. "That one there, on yer shirt". I looked down at the yellow icon printed on my black Obey hoodie, a gear with a five-pointed star depicting the face of Andre the Giant in its center. " Yes, All City Posse", I told him, "It's a brand, you know, the name of the line, a brand". "It's the sign of the devil", he said, with utter conviction. "It's a pentagram, the sign of the devil!" "Well, no, that would be if it were upside down, with the two points on top instead of one". "That, is a pentagram! The sign of the DEVIL". He paused, and mulled over the predicament he was facing. He could shortly be on his knees, with his face close to Satan's washing machine, which could have dire implications. Did he really want to be the devil's humble servant, on his knees, kissing the backside of his clothes washer? He shook his head, and stiffened. "Naw, I don't work for people who don't love God", he declared. He wheeled about and veered out of the door, back to his SUV replacing the toolbox in the hatch and getting in to drive himself out of harms way.
I returned to the supper table and our guest. Everyone was finishing the fine spaghetti my wife had prepared. "Everything ok?" Angela asked. "Damn", I said, "I almost got one, but he must have caught a glimpse of my horns or my barbed tail when he came in the door, cuz he got all bent and started carrying on about the damn hoodie with Andre the Giant's puss on it".

I could not believe it, it was so unreal when it was happening. I didn't see how any of it mattered. The guy must have felt completely overcome by the sight of the Giant, Andre. But then it's weird because people really loved Andre the Giant. He was like a big picked on baby. He probably never heard of Andre, and was just scared by his face, and thought it was the devil. So, I ask, what are you going to do? We may have come a long way, but we still have a longer way to go. BWAH ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.........

Huh???

Sorry, but I just have to write something about a couple of comments I received on the Ron Asheston blog recently. I like the comment feature just because if you have something to say about my work, then it's no problem to listen to whatever. But.......,why is it that when the "comment" made is purely an emotional entry of hate and name calling, it is always made by Anonymous?
I will tell you why. First, the commenter is either a coward or ashamed. A coward cannot bear to be responsible for what they do and say. So they won't admit to it. They hide away behind a cloak of invisibility. They throw a rock and then hide behind a tree. Secondly, a Neanderthal rampage of hatred is so inappropriate. They reveal themselves in their true state. You can decide for yourself what that state is. Hilariously, their identity usually is not a mystery at all. So, why play the stupid game? Sign your name, let's go!

FAREWELL MY BROTHER

This morning at 6 AM, my wife awoke me with the news of Ron Asheton's death. I haven't seen Ron, except on stage, since 1984, and had spoken on the phone with him only once, briefly in 1989. But all those years ago when we were impetuous young dudes in a primal rock scene in the Detroit/Ann Arbor area, we had the greatest of times being who we were and exploring our brand new world of living fantasy. We were boldly going where no men had gone before, and soaking up the craziest times ever. Ron impressed me as possibly the only down to earth character on the scene at the time. He was the only person I knew who actually was not carried away with all the experimentation, yet searched for a way of life that made common sense with a pioneering approach. While everyone was running around blowing out old values with reckless behavior, Ron quietly was investigating real-time approaches to the way he lived. We became friends simply because we felt comfortable together and independent from the scene stealers. Ron and I could hang out, drink our beer, and chat up without feeling pressured by anything or anyone. Ron was conservative, modest, and had a gleeful smile. He wasn't trying to be anyone else or to be an earth-shaker. He just loved what he was doing, that's all. During the period when we all signed our recording contracts with Electra, the Stooges were developing their persona on stage and preparing for the recording of their first album. I remember watching them during a performance at the Grande and thinking how they were achieving a remarkable effect in a most simple way. Without flash, without incredible soloing, without scads of lights or costume, they were creating a mystical atmosphere in the rawest of terms. They lived in our shadow, the shadow of the MC5, but as I watched and listened, I saw and heard them beating us! Ron and his boys, humble, independent, unique, doing it as well as they could, and making it on their own terms. I was thinking to myself, "Jesus Christ, I like them better than I like us!"

In 1977, after spending a year in prison and finding myself in the dubious position of returning to Ann Abor with no prospects, Ron appeared at my door with an invitation to be a part of a new band he was thinking of being in. For the next 7 years we blasted away as Destroy All Monsters, and stumbled through another chapter of rock and roll. During these years, I was always aware of how disappointed Ron was at the outcome of his former band, The Stooges. I don't think DAM was in any way, a viable replacement for what he felt was his ultimate achievement. And I have to admit that during our years in Destroy All Monsters, Ron and I lost the friendship we had once carried due to many thoughtless episodes, that, in retrospect, we could have, and should have healed. I regret that we never found the opportunity to mend our differences. Even so, I am grateful that Ron was able to heal and mend those rifts that had plagued him from his Stooges days. It is fitting and right, that he finally realized his original dream. Right on!

Was I shocked by the news of Ron's death? Yes, I was. But I am learning how easily our friends and colleagues slip away while we drift apart and go our separate ways. I tell myself that Ron did it all. He was his own man. He got to the top of the stairway. He will be mourned, missed, and honored. And he left a huge legacy, more than we realize. He left a huge impression on me, and I carry that impression constantly. I even find myself doing little imitations of Ron's humor all the time. It makes me smile. Farewell, my brother.

URGENT!

I cannot wait to write this blog. I have been given a gift! How many times has it happened that one is given the thread to tie all the loose ends of one's life together and see how it all fits? That, in a nutshell is what I have been given. Last night a fabulous 90 minute show aired on Sundance Channel. It was titled "Who Gets To Say It's Art". It was a show primarily about Henry Geltzahler, the curator for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, who in 1969 mounted a show at the Met called "New York Painting 1940-1970". As it told about Henry Geltzahler's career as a curator and art critic/historian, it told the story of how American artists of the post war era struggled to find an identity through abstract expressionism by way of Jackson Pollack and William DeKooning, into the new order of pop art of Jasper Johns, Roy Liechtenstein, Larry Rivers, and Andy Warhol. What a story! It connected the post war art underground to the beatniks of mid-century intellectualism, and on to the 60's pop art culture from which sprang Dylan, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, hippies, and the end of art in the punk rock world of anarchy. What it has to do with me, is that I was an art student at precisely this time, from 1960-1964, the stretch point of an incredible phase in the history of the current culture. While I could draw fairly well, I couldn't fathom how one could make a living from hanging paintings in a gallery for sale when no one gave a rats ass about art or what value anything had in a suburban society that cared only about gadgets, cars, and electrical appliances. In short, a culture devoid of culture. It was a discouraging predicament. As I withdrew from the conveyor belt of university life to pursue a life of vagabond hedonism, I embraced drinking and drug use partly because it was an accepted behavior among the artist community. All at once, habits of dubious merit became the dominant feature in my life. Of course, I will admit that there are other substantial reasons that might explain the whys of my substance abuse, but let's leave that one for another blog. For now, this one fits the story. With the outward appearance of an artist, but lacking the working end of it, I bounced through a series of events that landed me at the doorstep of rock and roll. I joined a rock and roll band as an extension of art, a different format of an emerging cultural expression that propelled the individual into the center of the painting as the artist and the subject of the painting. I might call it an existential slight of hand; posing both the painter and the painting simultaneously. Ah, but I feel like a poseur even saying it. Even so, that is how I saw it. The band that I had the good fortune of joining was the MC5, as you might know. While we figured into the political upheaval of the late 60's, it was not the launching point of the band. As young ruffians and provocateurs of the day, we were interested in enlightening our audiences to the possibilities beyond the mundane suburban drift that everyone was annoyed with. It all fit so well at the time, and unlike art it was accessed by millions. But that is a longer story and gets too complicated for todays purposes.

What I wish to say here is that having made the connection with how art seeped its way into pop culture, and consequently into the way the decades have played out in terms of my life, I have gained the tools to pull it back together at the point where it makes sense to me personally. I now know what I want to do. I see the work of Paul Klee and Wassily Kandinsky as the bridges between the older European forms that moved painting from the breakthroughs of Cezanne, Matisse, and Picasso into the new order of spiritual introspection that leads to the door of those New York painters.

This is but one thread in a great story of art. Many threads exist in a fabric that runs through our time, through all time. It's funny, the older I get, the more curious I am about how everything is woven together in our history, the history of all mankind. Being a part of it is such a happy thing. We are blessed to have this world as our canvas. We can create whatever we like to decorate it and express our joy at being here. If this is a new years resolution of sorts, then I will say that I resolve to create as much art as I can in the coming year. I will try to find my connection to this world through art, it's what I was meant to do.

One more thing: While I'm thinking of it, I wish to thank Steven Streight, one of followers of this blog, who has so generously and thoughtfully put the Music Is Revolution badge up on his blog. You can link to Steven's blog instantly by clicking on his icon at the top of this page. Thank you Steven, and thank you for your comments and views. We have a great deal in common, I can see that. I wish you all the very best in all your efforts. Right on, my brother, and Happy New Year!

A Sure Sign Of Spring!

I looked out my window today and saw a curious sight. Across the street in the play area of the Christian school a flock of about 20 to 30 birds were flittering about in the grass, landing, taking off again, doing what birds do in their bird world. The snow had melted away from the week long coverage, and a wet ground was finally visible. I looked at what appeared to be an orange color on the fronts of these small creatures with some dismay. Wow, these guys are robin red breasts! What in the world are they doing here in Eugene, Oregon? It was always my belief that robins migrated to warmer climates in the winter and returned to the buds of Michigan springtime. Here in Eugene, and now, a day before the Winter Solstice, a small group of Robins are playing outside my window in my yard. How can this be? Not able to answer that question, I could only feel the tugging of my memory of living in Detroit and being alerted by the annual prevailing robins that spring was just around the corner. How can that be? We have only just begun to stiffen to the winds and rain, and in the recent week, a formidable snow storm that paralyzed the area for several days. I thought of my brethren in Detroit, remembering now the harshest winters that seemed to last for eternity, plodding against slush and bulk snow through all manner of inconvenient weather. The dark skies and bitter cold air, stinging fingertips and frostbitten ears, going to necessary appointments through the massive traffic chaos that somehow Detroiters take for granted as territorial characteristics. Another winter, another half year of trudging through Hell. So what, a Detroiter might say, it's something we all have in common.
This past week or two, the nation has been exposed to the people of Detroit in desperate need at the feet of our nation's administrators. They are begging for assistance in a crises for survival. They show footage of ordinary people installing parts and systems into assemblies of vehicles. They imply that these ordinary people are somehow aiding in the corrupt practices of their employers to defraud other people by making inferior automobiles. But my heart goes out to these ordinary people who await to first robins of spring to relieve them from their five months of torment called the Michigan winter. And now, in addition to winter, the harshest of realities, that they will no longer have an income. My dad was a Ford Motor Company employee. He worked there for 40 years, and supported his family while his employer made and developed the styles that made our country proud. There were ridiculous creations during periods of dubious inspiration it's true. Yet, beyond the many head shaking designs and outlandish power quests, a fierce national pride came with the territory. Across the planet, people in every country admired American initiative and style. The American automobile, scoffed at by some, ridiculed by many, but the absolute all-out apple of everyones eye when it comes to the individual statement. It is what is symbolic of what our nation is all about, the uniqueness of the individual.
Let us be objective when judging our fellow individuals. The people who assemble Detroit's products are trained to perform a specific task. It is tedious and repetitive. It requires focus and attention, and it requires an appreciation for doing correct application in a multiple task process that culminates in a worthy product. I don't by any stretch of my imagination deem what these people create as inferior. It is what it is, and for the most part, it has created a national identity for this country, not to mention the building of tanks and aircraft that got us through the second world war. Let's give some points to our brethren in Detroit who have endured decades of suffering from drug culture and urban decay that has left the city in a dilapidated state. On a visit a couple of years ago, I was reminded of how the people of Detroit possess a quality of soulfulness that makes them some of the warmest, down to earth people one can ever meet. There is a charm about Detroit that is so remarkable that one is amazed that such humility can exist in such an environment. They are part of our people, people,....an important part.

I don't have an opinion about the bailout. The problem that caused this consequence is much bigger than Detroit or the auto industry. I do know that many people are in desperate shape. I do know that more people than those who live and work in Detroit are facing unimaginable alternatives. As a nation we must take care of our family. And all honest, hardworking people deserve a robin or two to remind them that spring is just around the corner.

ART NEWS

So, todays subject is art. What qualifies something as art? Well, I'm not sure. Do you recognize art at first glance? Is it immediately a different breed from say, craft or design, or even scribbling? Does art always make a universal statement about the world, people, philosophy, god? An exhibit at Wayne State University (my alma mater) some many years ago titled "Anything Is Art", seemed to qualify art as anything one cared to examine. Thereby assuming that the entire universe as well as everything in it, was art, if you chose to see it as such. Ironically, the MC5 was represented in the exhibit as something quaintly significant in this regard. The primitive 8mm film by Leni Sinclair, showing a collage of footage of the band during performances, and with an accompanying soundtrack of the song "Kick Out The Jams", also the title of the film, was screened to the gallery as a performance, and received with an exhilarating ovation. So then, does that qualify it as art? Is the art the band, the film, the event, or the event in which it is being seen? Hell if I know. Maybe the real question is how to recognize art from sham. I'm sure that both art and sham come very close to overlapping into each others territory from time to time. That by being accepted, anything has an equal chance of prevailing.

I have been trying these last months to reinvent my career as an artist. My paintings are oil portraits of some of my friends from the music profession who bring a sense of "Christ-ness" to the stage. As if Christ were the ultimate performer, inspiring all sorts of ecstasy, revelation, horror, and predicament to all. That in any other time and place, might well put them on trial and be executed for their audacity, for their power to influence, for their lack of restraint, for being emboldened, for creating disorder, for being a danger to society, for their beauty. I paint their likenesses because I like their faces. As the artist, I decide how to represent them as I see them. So, in that way, what I do is my art. How to distinguish that from 22,000 other paintings on eBay that claim to be art, I do not know. For me, it is all a learning process. I don't suppose that it ever becomes a routine mechanical method. There is always something there that you didn't see the first time through. But each attempt to define your vision is a step closer to reaching the goal of being what you see. Maybe it's not a whole lot different from music.

NYC PUNK

This is from my buddies at NYC Punk Rock. Thanks - this is awesome.

http://nycpunkrock.blogspot.com/2008/11/michael-davis-mc5-evolutionist-of-month.html

Thanksgiving Weekend Is Here

Two straight days of Thanksgiving dinners, first with family and friends on Thursday, and then again on Friday with some new friends here in Eugene at their home. We be feeling good, and very welcome here in our new ‘hood.

It was great to see Pixie pay a visit to the blog and read how she passed Hep C, and, in addition, learn how she met her husband, who is getting through his own treatment. Power to those who hang through tough times. Here is a link to their group blog: www.hepcnomads.co.uk

Yesterday was the birthday of my favorite composer and musician, Jean Baptiste Lully, born November 28, 1632. Monsieur Lully is regarded as the father of French opera, and indeed, as the master of French Baroque music. The musical guiding light of the court of Louie XIV, although originally an Italian by birth, he adopted French lifestyle and became a French citizen, changing his name from Giovanni Battista Lulli, to the French form, Jean Baptiste Lully. I cannot describe in words the immensity and power of his music. It is beyond limits for passion, grace and pure tonal complexity. For me, it is the absolute zenith of musical perfection. I can't get enough.
It is disturbing that the state of our popular music has turned into a grid of superficial blandness.
Jean Baptiste Lully was 376 years old yesterday. His music is largely unknown to most people, mainly because he is associated with a time of extravagance and excess, the monarchy and pre-revolutionary France. French culture deemed that such respect for the former days was unwarranted. Fiercely proud of it's revolution, the French people have voluntarily suppressed the attention to it's own that other national cultures have embraced, such as that given to Bach and Handel, Vivaldi and Purcell, Telemann and Albinoni. Recently though, a more relaxed atmosphere has replaced the prejudicial one that had been in force. Lully has taken on the spotlight as the all important master that he was, and is, for this grandest of music.

My affair with rock and roll is over. As a teenager, there was nothing to compare with the excitement I felt from hearing Johnny Cash on the radio, Otis Williams and The Charms, Franky Lymon and The Teenagers, Dale Hawkins, and countless other discoveries that occurred every day while I searched the dial for the sound of inspiration. Still, the timeless music of other ages grabs my heart and mind. I'm proud to have been a part of a great band. It doesn't really matter that MC5 wasn't a commercial success. What matters is how I feel about what I accomplished and where I am today. For that I am eternally thankful.

Last night my son and I were scanning the guide for something to watch on TV, when we happened on "The Temptations", a biographical drama about the Motown singing group The Temptations. We watch it for a few minutes and I asked him if he would rather see what else was on, to which he replied, "I want to watch this". So we settled in to watch the whole story. My son is 13 years old, a huge fan of Lil' Wayne, and pretty much all rap type music. He watches all those shows on MTV about hip-hop culture and anything revolving around pimping, rappers, and street cult. So, when the "Temps" story came on, I thought it would be too old school for him to get into. I was wrong. After a half hour or so, I went to bed. He stayed up, and not only did he watch the whole thing through, in the morning he told me how all the members died, what happened to them in their career, and who were his favorite "Temps".
I recalled that back in 1971 or so, Toward the end of our career, my band, The MC5, was playing a gig in Detroit at a place called The Latin Quarter. It was a show club down in the inner city of Detroit, that in the past was host to classy entertainment acts more in the vein of cabaret and regular show business performers. Rock and roll, the MC5 and "underground" music was a rarity in a place like this, but oooh how the times were changing. So, there we were loading our gear into a van on the street out front of The Latin Quarter, when a bronze colored Cadillac pulls over to the curb and a fellow jumps out of the car. As he approaches me in the darkness, I can see he is rather well dressed and has a familiar face. "Hey brother, I'm in a bit of a jam. Could you possibly hit me with a twenty or something, I need to get high and I'm flat broke? I'm David Ruffin and I would be so grateful to you." I was in a small state of shock at hearing that, but I dug into my pocket without hesitation and handed him a twenty dollar bill. He shook my hand and turned and walked away back to his car, and drove off down the street. I turned to Wayne and said "damn, that was David Ruffin!" I recognized him. As a matter of fact, The Latin Quarter was quite close to "Hitsville U.S.A.", the famous recording studio of the Motown Sound on West Grand Boulevard.
This morning as we discussed the "Temps", Gabby, my son, mentioned something about Otis, the founder of the Temptations. It brought back another memory. "I remember Otis quite well," I told Gabby. He was Otis Williams. When I was 13 years old myself, I bought my first rock and roll record. It was a song called "That's your mistake" by Otis Williams and the Charms. Otis Williams and the Charms were my favorite group and my very first record, and I still have it! I told Gabby that later today we would go get the record and clean it up and give it a listen on the old turntable.
What does it all mean? For now, it means that me and my 13 year old son can share something I never would have though was possible. That in two and a half minutes of recorded song we can vanquish 52 years of time. I can focus on a time when I was his age and draw that moment into the present. For a brief few moments his world will be channeled into my past, but have some meaning for his today. Beyond sentimentality, the importance of music is that we share our inspirations.

Greetings folks. How times have changed and so has this blog. I have decided to reveal some fresh word sculpture to the web of Our Lady Svengirly. Do feel free to drop me a note of comment if you are so inclined. I always enjoy getting a response, be it affirming or perhaps utter disgust. No problem, heh heh. Well, I'll try to remain calm and peaceful. Much has gone down the gulch since I logged in with an update. I'll get us up to speed soon, but I guess for now, I want to start by saying everything is cool, or cooler, and with our new saviour President-Elect Obama appointed to lead us out of Purgatory and on to the promised land. I do feel a sense of happiness and hope in my being for a change, no pun intended. Actually, I can't wait for the current president's removal, as in toxic waste, so we can revive the sense of oneness we once carried as our banner. At last the population came through -- came through and did the right thing by confirming that we have suffered disgrace much too long to be subjected to the ignorant policies of those who seek to repress free expression. Everywhere in the coverage of the election I saw the faces of youth, not only young, but those youthful in spirit, gleaming with joy, an outpouring of relief, and even many tears of jubilation, in the coming of real intelligent decision.
The result of the election has also opened my eyes to a number of things I had taken much for granted. Seeing such a breakthrough as happened November 4th, I realized how racism is an across-the-board enemy of truth. The world has some big changing to do, and I think we are ready for it at last. So, we put our hope in our new leader. I see him as "up for the task". He is all we got right now, and it has to be right now, not later.
Finally, while we feel euphoria and celebration, keep in mind that the task ahead is not Barack Obama's alone. Everyone must do their part to get our house in order. The world could be a sane place if we'd just do what we know in our hearts is right. I look forward to sharing my thoughts and experiences with you. Come on everybody, let the good times roll.

THE LORDS OF ALTAMONT

Greetings; it has been a summer of fun, sun, and surf for us here in the land of pain and pleasure. It's 12.5 weeks since my surgery. My titanium upgrade is fine, and all things considered, my progress is excellent. If you haven't caught it on the Svengirly news report, the latest development is that I have joined The Lords Of Altamont. They are a hardy bunch of biker/greaser rocker boys from out here in California, that have a special affection for the spirit and juice of balls out hard stuff mean streets rock that sends the wimps into hiding. Lead singer Jake Cavaliere is a legend in his own right, having played in great bands the likes of The Bomboras, The Fuzztones, The Finks, and currently The Lords Of Altamont. The Lords sports the original lineup, with me, of course as the new kid on the block. If you have not heard the Lords music, there are two fine albums out; "To Hell With The Lords", and "Lords Have Mercy". By all means, get ahold of these records/cd's, available here at Svengirly.com store or from Gearhead Records. This is real drivin' hard core rock and roll as you want it and like it. I couldn't have asked for a better fitting band to play with, and I'm going down the pike with these guys for another charge into the flames. My real pleasure comes from being on a stage with the kick ass jams, so without waiting another minute, I grabbed the chance to be tearin it up again. We'll be touring in the west mostly, but after the next record comes out, maybe we can get around the big ol' country and brings the real deal to everybody. The Lords have a great fan base in Europe from touring recently, and I expect to be busy, busy, busy in the coming times. Check out The Lords Of Altamont on myspace, and the net website for more details.

Well that's it for now. I'm back up, and got my motor running. This week I'm flying out to Spain for the Azkena Rock Festival. I'll try to bring you more regular reports in the future. Sorry about the layoff, but shit happens, right? Ok, love and lust, Mad Dog

THIS REVOLUTION IS ARMED WITH A PIANO

I have an announcement to make. Music Is Revolution has presented a middle school in Glendora California with a piano. Some while ago, a wonderful and incredibly hip family, after realizing their purchase of a fine upright piano was for all practical purposes being largely unused, sought out The Music Is Revolution Foundation and bequethed said piano to be forwarded to a needy public school. After securing the piano in our living room for a month, Music Is Revolution/Svengirly staffer Dan King, and our new friend and intern, Jenifer Ho, located the school to receive the gift. This week the movers arrived to take the instrument to its new home. Live long and prosper. We are so proud to make this gift. It is our eternal hope that the good vibes and enormous possibilities of music do their magical healing for all the children and teachers and parents alike that come into the life of this instrument. Yea for MUSIC IS REVOLUTION, yea for Sandberg Middle School in Glendora California, and yea for all the kids!

On another healing note. After an excruciating week of post surgery recovery, a trip to the emergency room, and a hematoma that set in, making my right leg a throbbing melon about to explode, things have somewhat released their grip of constant torment. In the last two days, I have resorted to using the crutches given to me by the Italians after the surgery I received there, and I have proceeded with something that resembles walking. Thanks are in order to all the people who wished me well on this latest trauma, and a huge shrug of "Excuuuuuse Me" to those who are getting the feeling that Davis may be "accident prone" or seeking attention. In less than a month I will be in France gracing the stage with my brothers, pulverizing the crowd with the music of the MC5. So there.

As I think of the four decades that have passed during this crazy life, I feel good, and I feel annointed to have been a part of a great passing in our culture. Each new generation adopts the music of the MC5 in a spirit I could hardly have predicted or imagined carried such import. Even as a new chapter unfolds, I don't feel an ebbing of energy or respect.

MEMORIAL DAY '07

Buon Giorno. A shift of events has placed me in need of repairs again. This week I'm going in for a surgery to replace the neck of my right femur. What does this mean? In Italy it was my misfortune to fall to the ground resulting in a nasty fracture to my femur neck. That is the part of the very top of the leg that attaches to the joint in the pelvis where the leg rotates. The Italians performed a valiant surgery by inserting three titanium screws to stabilize the area. After one week in the hospital, I made the voyage home by the help of some Italian friends who assisted my arrival to the nearest airport in Turin. The entire medical experience in Italy was covered by Italian medical coverage which is a function of the state. When I asked how to pay for my care, I was shocked to hear that I needn't worry about it. And I must say, that care was unconditionally splendid. Since then I have struggled with mobility, and now having had a new x-ray of the injury, it appears that for whatever progress has occurred, the neck must be replaced with a prosthetic element. So that's how it goes. I'm anxious about it, but I also believe it will be ultimately the most efficient way to get my body back to good working order. Believe me, these last three years have been grueling, and I have serious doubts of the satisfaction of my ordeals, but I can't imagine not trying to correct the obvious defects when I had the opportunity to make the corrections. So for this end, I march on and hope once and for all, to be at optimum performance and continue on the road to Valhalla/Nirvana/Paradiso.
Two weeks ago I was in NYC. That was a difficult journey also, but I had the best time ever in that great city, thanks to my super friends, Adam and Mindy Williams, Dave Marsh, and John Sinclair. I mustn't forget my incomparable wife, Angela, who took great care to make certain I was comfortable and happy every single moment. What an awesome weekend! We ferried between the hotel and the Carnegie Deli via wheelchair. The sumptuous pastrami, stacked so thick, it was impossible to bite the whole sandwich at once, I shall never forget. But wait, I'm making myself hungry! We did Dave Marsh's Sirius Radio Show, "Kick Out The Jams" with John Sinclair. We talked for an hour about Music Is Revolution, and managed to recruit Dave to become a "Bored Member". Later, John and I, did an hour long TV interview, where we discussed our history as artists and the experience of the MC5 and it's history and ramifications. What a tremendous uplifting event that was, each of us recalling and detailing our lives together in the past and present. Finally, as a grand finish, I was invited to perform with John and his quartet of excellent musicians, that included two sax players and drummer, Dee Pop of the Gun Club and Bush Tetras, in a recitation of John's poetry, at Jimmy's in the Bowery for a great audience. I cannot tell you how thrilling it was for me to get to do this. I played with such peace in my heart and soul that it has to be one of my all time favorite performances in my entire career as an artist. So, folks let me tell you; it isn't the size of a venue, or the size of an audience, or the size of a paycheck that has value. It's the size of the feeling in the doing of what ever it is your doing. I was scared to even try to play at all. So scared that I was at first unwilling to make my way down the 15 stairs to the sub-sidewalk entrance of the club. I hadn't played the bass in 6 months, and I had never played this particular bass, But in the end, I did it, and it was so damn good.
So, there it is. If I haven't bored everyone to death by now, I should wrap up this segment of my story. Should everything go well in surgery, and a decent mending take place, I may appear somewhere in France in mid-summer doing what I love; playing bass guitar in a rock and roll band.
Ciao, MD

A Long Absense Makes The Heartbeat Wander

Since I haven't written in ? I wonder if anyone ever checks this gallery anymore. With no sorry health issues to reveal I can let time slip by and care not in the least. That's how health is I guess. Nothing's wrong so you forget about it altogether. Some call that taking it for granted. I'm guilty,...but only to a point. I don't really ever forget what it feels like to be not hungover, drunk or miserable. And I haven't forgotten the many people who checked this blog routinely to get an update on my story, whether it was me or someone other than me that they cared about and were concerned what they could do to help that person return to a comfortable, peaceful life.

A lot has happened. We(DKT) toured during the month of December '06. Spain, France. Holland. Belgium, England, & Northern Ireland saw the brief, but inflamatory blitz of nations. To tell about each country visit one at a time would take too long. I'll just say, wherever and whenever we play, people are wound into ecstatic states each and every time. Lisa Kekaula, Handsome Dick Manitoba, Mark Arm, Adam Pearson our bandmates on this lap. Funny, it always takes on magical properties, and this time was completely special.... maybe my FAVORITE go round. Due to a cancelation in Ireland, we had several extra days to layabout in Belfast, during which we wrote several new songs as a group. It was holy and cool to work with the talents of all of us in a concentrated session that lasted several days. But don't expect hearing about a new DKT record in the near future, no matter what the "Barman" on I-94 Bar tells you. The truth is only coincidental. Many great things happened, like performing with John Sinclair in Amsterdam, seeing Iggy Pop and the boys open for us once again at ATP in Sommerset, England, and on the same show, seeing my old friend, John Brannon and the fabulous Negative Approach from Detroit. I got back home a week before Christmas.

The holidays were great fun. This year was super special, because I was totally clean and recovered from all the bullshit stuff that has been dragging me down these many years. We made it a point to let the whole holiday thing last as long as possible in our attitude.... well into the new year.

That said, here's what the new year is all about for me/us. I am studying painting at The Armory For The Arts; a Pasadena institution dedicated to arts culture and studies. Most evenings I'm home painting in our living room that's been converted to a makeshift studio. A nice little stereo keeps me company while I kick out the colors and shapes. Man, does it feel good to be once again honing the old craft. On the musical side of things, we have launched our non-profit foundation. It is called Music Is Revolution. www.musicisrevolution.org. Also accessable on www.myspace.com/musicisrevolution. Please check us out; we have a killer roster of "Bored" members. The response has been phenomenal. I think we have a chance; music and art, hope, and funding in the streets! Be a part of the solution!

Well, that's an update of sorts. Before I start boring myself, I'll let it be for now. Life is good brothers and sisters. Ciao, MD

THE BEST IS YET TO COME

THE BEST IS YET TO COME, AND BABE, WON’T IT BE FINE

MUSIC IS REVOLUTION has begun with a generous outpouring of goodwill,
rock and roll, and funding in the streets, ha, ha. On October 19, in
San Francisco, Thunder Watso and friends, The Lords of Altamont, The
Corruptors, and White Barons, played the inaugural MIR event raising
enough money to create the very first MIR mini-grant. Great day in the
morning, the Foundation rears up for battle. Charge on, my little pony,
we got a world of kids to lay the musical mystery tour on. Immeasurable
thanks to all those who donated their time, talent, and gas, driving
hundreds of miles, or pushing their way through traffic to make it
happen. I’m very proud to have such a great family of friends who care
enough to stand up for the cause. Applications for mini-grants have
started to pour in. These are really exciting when you read what the
teachers have proposed for their students. The imagination and value of
their ideas are beyond anything I might have though of and show
tremendous affection and respect for their pupils. When we
bequeath the first grant later this month we will describe the details of these
wonderful programs. Stay up on it.

As for Interferon Funny Guy, he, …I mean I, am getting a blood re-test
today and will have the results before I leave for the UK and
European dates end of this month. I’ve started back to the Rose Bowl,
as was my routine a year and a half ago before the treatment and a
motorcycle accident interrupted everything. I don’t regret either of those things though. The treatment, although a hell of a long one, and brutal at times, was
monumental in changing my perspective, not to mention my health. The
bike wreck was also a big positive, believe it or not. In that critical
moment when fate put out its hand, I learned the value of every other
moment. I’ve had to bide my time for cycling until my back was strong
enough, and my body healed enough to do a few miles. The bicycle feels
great and although I’m weaker than I ought to be, it’s a start. I’ve
said that before. I have a nice little hybrid Trek on which to get back up and
running. On this type of bike, I sit more upright in the saddle than
leaning forward like on the road bike. I can’t let it go now, because at
my age, it’s important to keep active before the body does its downhill
slide. Angela is preparing excellent meals and helping the boys and me make good food choices every day. She is finding some great new recipes in Men’s Health magazine (the boys and I like being fed “muscle-chow” as the magazine calls it, so she has found a good balance). Check it out, lots of cool stuff and fragrance samples too.
While I’m on the subject, INTERFERON FUNNY GUY is going to undergo a
Make-over. Barring an unforeseen positive viral finding in the re-test,
the trials of The Funny Guy and his Interferon Fun days are but a
memory. I shall return to being Michael Davis, bass man, showman, and
human, located in present day Solar System, kicking out many jams man.
The new version of Interferon Funny Guy will be known as "ON THE GUEST LIST w/ Michael Davis". Interferon Funny Guy won’t go away entirely, I don’t want to abandon that, but I do want to be able to discuss a more diverse range of topics and have the blog easier to access. Well, we’ll see what happens. In the meanwhile, those are the notes of the day. I am pleased to say; soon we will see the light at the end of a long dark hallway. We have waited, and this time
the freedom bell will chime.

Michael Davis

FRIDAY THE 13TH

FRIDAY 13, 2006

Here we are again with a new entry and a fresh start. While some things
are as yet not cleared up in the continuing saga of all things MC5, a
portal opens for those of us bent on creating something out of nothing,
and to hell with those who can’t tolerate it. I remember a time when I
was in a federal lock-up and I told my counselor that I thought
getting busted and going through the worst of times was actually a good
thing because I was going to come through it a wiser person. He said
to me "you mean you are turning your mistakes into success?" I said,
"yeah, that’s it." So I came out a wiser person, but 10 years later, I
got addicted again, and that’s when I think I contracted Hep C. Like
Yogi Berra says, "It ain’t over ‘til it’s over." I don’t think it’s
ever over. One just has to always stay strong and that ain’t always
easy.
Those of you who followed my treatment in the blog, INTERFERON FUNNY
GUY, know the hardships that were placed on my family while I struggled
with anemia, lethargy, grouchy-ness, sullen attitude, and apathy
brought about by the chemo. At the end of a year, I emerged from the
doldrums a happier character, with a new reality. Then, as I was about to
end chemo, I had a near-death experience in a motorcycle accident on
a Pasadena freeway. That was a one-two punch to last a lifetime.
Since that time life has been in a state of continuous improvement.
Every single day provides enormous satisfaction. Not only did I resolve
my fascinations with drugs and alcohol, I learned the value of each and
every moment that I have been granted in this life. Why couldn’t I have
seen it in the beginning? Well, that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?
It’s how you get there that tells the story and makes it valuable.

On Saturday, October 21, I will be appearing on a telethon that is
being held to create funding and awareness for Hepatitis C sufferers. I
will be special guesting with a blues band called Kelly’s Lot, and doing an on the air interview during the telecast, which will be streamed on the internet and
televised on a local channel here in Los Angeles. My friend and musical
comrade, Wayne Kramer is also appearing with his solo band to support the cause. Please go to HYPERLINK "http://www.hepcaware.org/telethon06.html"http://www.hepcaware.org/telethon06.html for more information about this.

Music Is Revolution is real, real, real. Launched this week,
HYPERLINK "http://www.musicisrevolution.org"www.musicisrevolution.org hit the net and we couldn’t be prouder. The
mini-grants are immediately accessible to all public school teachers
who desire to provide a musical experience for their students. We’ll
see what happens, but whatever it is, you know that can’t be bad, yeah,
yeah, yeah. I am really hopeful that through our efforts and way cool
people who make up "The Bored," it will catch on and grow to outrageous
proportions.

The story goes like this: when I was in the hospital after my motorcycle wreck, a biker buddy from the Bay Area named Thunder Watso offered to create a benefit gig for my medical expenses. I felt compelled to decline the offer since I wasn’t desperate financially. That’s when it came to me; if the benefit was inevitable, how about raising money for a cause of our choosing other than for me? Angela and I worked out the details of creating a non-profit foundation dedicated to music education in public schools, and asked Thunder if he would like to promote the first benefit for Music Is Revolution. Angela has years of experience in working with non-profits that support public education, and we have had an amazing group of professionals come forward to support the cause and work with us. Re. the benefit, four great bands will be playing at Annie’s Social Club in San Francisco on October 19. It’s going to be a great inaugural event for MIR. We are also collecting musical instruments and having them repaired, lubed and tuned, and distributed to schools around the country, and are currently accepting mini-grant applications to submit to our review board. Check the website for details. When the first mini-grant application came in from a sixth grade teacher here in Pasadena, the description of her class and their needs, and her obvious dedication to her students as she described her plans for the grant money, brought tears to my eyes.

DKT is getting back on the road soon. For the first time in 35 years,
we will be performing with the Stooges at Thurston Moores’ All
Tomorrows Parties Festival in Somerset, England. In addition, we will
do a brief tour, playing in Spain, Belgium, Holland, France, England,
Ireland, and Northern Ireland. I’m really excited about getting back
with my mates and KickingOutTheJams one more time… Lord knows, we need
it!

Check out the News section at HYPERLINK "http://www.svengirly.com" www.svengirly.com for more info on that.

Well, that’s it from milepost 69.
Hope everyone is doing fine.
Because you’re mine,
I walk the line.
MD

MUSIC IS REVOLUTION

MUSIC IS REVOLUTION

Greetings friends. It is the 30th day of August 2006. I’ve described as
best I could my experience with the Hepatitis virus and the treatment
that I undertook in June of 2005. With a single additional visit in
December, the book should be closed on that episode of my life.

Together with my wife, Angela, I have created a non-profit
organization called "Music Is Revolution." When I look at this world,
and at our society, I see a strange mutating blob that feeds off of and
regurgitates the bilge that keeps things all fucked up, as usual. When
we want to help people realize a better life, what do we do? We attack
them and force our values down their throat. Or worse, just keep them
in chaos until we’ve established "order". Then leave them to sort out
the mess, so they can continue supplying us with what we need from
them. Sounds like a science fiction master race theme? Everyone wants
to go to Heaven, right? Yet we grind out weekend box office hits that
super-size violence, brutality, arrogance, and vulgarity like vitamins
for the masses, with no regrets.
Power and wealth are without a doubt the most valuable and worthwhile
pursuits in life, it would seem. WE are number 1. Hell no. WE aren’t
number anything. We’re hypocrites.
What we need to do is focus our attention on our greatest resource, our
children. The way to change, the way to revolution, is education, music
education.
When I think of music, I realize that throughout my life, music of one
sort or another is a milepost on the long road. From earliest memories
of Peter and The Wolf, Captain Kid’s Cats, Swan Lake, The Nutcracker,
patriotic music, popular music of my parents time, incidental radio
airplay, teenage ballads, classical favorites and discovered music of
other cultures, all of it represent glimpses of my past. In fact all
cultures represent themselves musically. It honors each culture and
speaks of its uniqueness. Music in the raw is the purest expression of our
souls. Music speaks it’s own language, understood by all, because it is
produced by the soul. How great it would be if every single human being
could experience the exhilaration of sharing musical moments with
another person? To play in an ensemble is an enriching process that
teaches us the basis of community. When you think of the fact that all
of us exist in concert as the human race, it becomes obvious that music
is a parallel by which we could learn how to be better humans. Music
comes from a place inside that can only be described by music. Art and
poetry also come from places that can only be described in those terms.
But music has an imaginary life of its own. It is the mojo of mojos.
When I was in the 5th grade at Dossin Elementary School in Detroit, We
were offered the chance to take stringed instrument lessons as an
elective a few days per week. They had violins, violas, and a couple of
cellos. I thought I would like to try the cello, and I did. Though the
course lasted merely one semester, it was enough to set me in a
direction that would eventually be a lifelong career in the music
profession. With virtually no formal training, I was able to find a
situation to pursue and create a legacy of music and performance that
has made lasting impacts on the world of popular music, and affected
many people’s lives. By way of the fortunate attention and
recommendations by those early music teachers, I gained the
confidence and curiosity it took to make a career of it.
In the late 60’s, my band, the MC5, adopted a stance that challenged
the status quo of our social system. While we strove to make people
aware of the need for reform, we were not tuned in to the correct
method of reaching our goals. We chose to make confrontations with the
old order and got blown out of the water. Now I realize that
the police and the government are merely doing their jobs, and the real
issues can only be dealt with by the next generation. This is our
greatest resource and our closest ally.
"Music Is Revolution" seeks to provide funding for pubic school
teachers throughout the United States. They can apply for mini- grants to set up
musical experiences that are empowering, enjoyable, and meaningful to
children from grades 1-12 in school environments that are lacking
public funding to provide such experiences. Situations can be as
varied as imaginable, giving students an awareness of the value of
music. Listening and describing musical genres might be a good way to
provide children with an understanding of music history and how it
molds the human experience. Musical instrument training, no matter how simple
or informal, is another possibility. For example, a group of 2nd
graders playing kazoos with section parts is a viable way to teach
ensemble experience. The idea is not to produce Mozarts and Yo Yo Ma’s
in 12 weeks time, but merely to give students inspirational
experiences, and a sense of participation. The exhilaration of
participating in a musical experience is like an invisible blessing
that has a lifelong effect. I know from personal experience. My brief
lessons on cello, piano, recorder, and later guitar, were crucial in the direction of
my life. Discovering the many composers who have left incredible works
has been a cornerstone in my positive attitude and pleasures. What
could be more valuable?
There are no limits on what music is, either. Current styles and ancient chants have equality in our view. I have no doubt as to the positive effect music has on an individual. These children are the future voters of our society, and it is our
responsibility to give them everything we can muster to affect real change in this society and ultimately the world. By placing greater emphasis on music as a true value in our society, not just a tool of profit, we can provide an invaluable service to the future of every human being.

I have many friends in music, both famous and those who are not famous
but are wonderful musicians and creative people. I know bluegrass
mandolin players, free jazz horn players, storytellers who use music,
rock and rollers of all sorts and styles, punks, and percussionists who are
concerned about the direction of the planet. As I have recently been
touring the world with DKT, I have met people everywhere who are concerned
with the direction of the planet and the state of human affairs. Could
it be possible that we can shape the destiny of society by offering our
children better access to the thing we have treasured all of our lives;
our music? It really is time to become part of the solution!
Be a part of the solution: Music Is Revolution.

I will post on this blog the details and developments of Music Is
Revolution. I will also answer questions and give information on how
to take part in M.I.R. activities in your area. I have some good stories
to share with you concerning the reasons why we chose to create our own
foundation. Be sure to check the web-site: http://www.svengirly.com, for updates;
new people on-board, events, fund drives, skate4MIR, merchswapmeets,
auctions, benefit gigs, etc. The MusicIsRevolution.Org site will launch soon too.
I feel good about this. So, let’s get down with it and kick up a little
Music Is Revolution out there. Brothers and Sisters, the time has come for
each and every one of you to be a part of the solution, MUSIC IS
REVOLUTION.

I SAID GOODBYE

I SAID GOODBYE

I said goodbye to an old friend today. He was my friend and sole
companion for difficult years, and all through the rebuilding of my
torn and tattered self. We were together for 9 terrific years. In the
fateful year of 1997 I was preparing for a solitude I expected to last
for some time. On a whim I stopped by the dog-pound just outside of
Tucson. I thought I should have a look and see if they might have a
boxer in the kennel. My folks had had boxers throughout my
childhood years and the thought had always been persistent to find a
little boxer dog of my own. As if by grace of God there he was,
shivering from the flea-dip tank, and looking for all the world like
life’s loneliest creature. I snatched his 3x5 card that was above the
cage door and went to the front desk to ask about adoption. Three days
later I picked him up from the Humane Society, where he had received his
shots, rabies vaccine and mandatory neutering. I put him in the front
seat of my truck, where he calmly rode shotgun, and gazed at me down
his suspicious snout. It was like, who are you and where are we going?
I talked to him a little to try easing his suspicion. I was told he was
approximately 1.5 years old, but his actual birth date was unknown, as
were his previous owners. The name on his card read "Rooster." I
decided that it was as good as any name I might think of, and since I
always have trouble deciding new names, it would stay Rooster. When we
arrived back at the homestead, the people who were there but leaving
shortly and without notice, acted mildly taken with him for a moment.
They were "animal lovers" as such, maintaining a small herd of dogs of
various sizes and breeds, and several horses. So, he was largely
ignored. A kind of sick Cinderella story set in the desert, it was.
Soon, like a nest of thieves, the people were gone, and Rooster and I
were given all the space in an empty house, miles from anything.
I sold the house after a fashion, and Rooster and I moved closer to
town, in a smaller place. He never wanted to be left behind. He loved
to ride in the truck or the car. He would lie down on the seat and wait
with such patience, while I went into wherever we had gone. At home he had
to have a piece of furniture to make his resting spot. Eventually, I
bought him a couch, but he still was in my chair whenever I left and
came back. He slept in the bed with me, and was notorious for taking
3/4 of the space by morning. He never had "accidents" in the house. He
was seriously in control of that part of his life. He would disappear
down the wash that ran alongside our property and come back after a
fashion like a seasoned trooper. He was a rough customer toward other
dogs. He was completely fearless, regardless of another animal’s size
or aggressiveness. His turf was not negotiable. Towards people, he was
the gentlest, most loving dog I have ever seen. When he saw me again
after any separation, he danced about like a crazed puppy. Anyone who
met him was enchanted by his aura. He was courageous and had a
mesmerizing telepathy in his eyes. He seemed to know what you were
thinking. Ok, he was just a dog.
Then, in 2001, we met our family. The night we first went to their house for supper, Rooster came along. I told him as we pulled up to the house, "Rooster, someone is cooking dinner for
us." He paid attention to everything I said. Both he and I were greeted
with such love that we stayed forever. Rooster even gained a new friend
named Scotty. Scotty is a Dalmatian about the same size as Rooster, but
was in need of a wiser friend. That night was 5 years ago. Now we all
live in California and enjoy a happy life together. We have become
one.
Today I said goodbye to Rooster. We all said our good byes to Rooster
in the last week. This month (July) we began to notice Rooster was
changing. He was coughing and seemed to be losing weight and energy. I
took him to the vet in the first week. He was given medication for his
cough and antibiotics for any other infections that might be. One week
ago he looked not the same dog that I have known for these past 9
years. He was given a blood test and X-rays. That afternoon, the vet
gave me the diagnosis. Rooster had a large tumor on his liver, and it
had spread to his lung. The condition was inoperable. I brought him
home so we could have him a little while longer, and love him as much
as we could for as long as we could have him around. By the weekend, he
was skeletal and breathing uncomfortably. He still was eating, but less
and less. I noticed he was trembling as he lay on the floor. He was
having difficulty standing, and I knew our time was up. We are all
holding our grief in our own way. Angela and I are embracing as the day
marches to an end. The children are containing their misery and loss
with courage. We said goodbye to our pal today. I really can’t describe
what it is like, because it is unlike anything. We said goodbye to an
old friend today.

Update>Chi-town

> Been a while…
>
> About a month, I reckon since the last post. Formerly known as
> Interferon Funny Guy, past the Gates of Hell, into the sublime of Non:
> a rose speckled garden of non-description and tangent variety, I have
> traveled - made a trip or two down the Lovers Lane, brimming with
> white
> foam beach scenes and noiseless wave pounding surf shows, I gaze and I
> gaze and I gaze. It’s hardly a memory now, that time of endlessness.
> This body was wracked on the freeway within death's grip and the
> moment
> yielded fresh life. But now have I seen my death and fear it no more.
> In addition, or as a bonus, I saw through the veils of the past (my
> back pages), beyond the next menu attraction, at the character
> known as
> Me. So, with a newer resolve than ever before, I plot to capture the
> untainted aspects of the things that I lost long ago. Music, art,
> writing, all of it, all at once, now is my last and best choice.
> For anyone who might be interested, I have some back problems that
> need
> more than mere time to correct. I went to board a plane from an
> outside
> gangway, took the first step on the stair, and…nothing happened,
> except I
> fell to the ground. My leg just sort of took a break from reality
> and put
> my ass down. That sucked, but no one saw the mishap, because I was the
> last one boarding the plane. Well, except for the airline guy who was
> directing the group to the gangway. I’m sure he was confounded at the
> sight of me falling down for no apparent reason. Then when I went
> to get
> off the shuttle bus, I fell again on the first step. This time, a
> lot of
> people saw the fall, some of whom were my family. I was pissed or just
> plain humiliated. So, that’s what’s happenin’. Something having to
> do with
> the fucked vertebrae and the leg isn’t making the grade. I’ll work
> on it.
> Other than that, I’m having a positive influence on me. I’ve got a
> bunch of paint and canvas, and a cool place to get it together. As
> usual, life goes on and new people come into the picture, and I feel
> great. It is immensely satisfying to be rid of the virus. It was
> crappy
> at first, but once I fixed my mind to win, I got used to it.
> I’ll try to post every once in a while, like when I have
> something to
> say, or if someone asks, as happened this time. So, if you post a
> comment, I have to reply with a posting. It’s not a bad deal. I
> kind of
> like it this way. Hang in there folks, "it ain’t over ‘til it’s over",
> and then you never know, it might come back to haunt you.

WEEK ? / LIFE IS WONDERFUL AFTER ALL

WEEK ? / LIFE IS WONDERFUL AFTER ALL


Having just returned from Tokyo, still jet-lagged, settling in, now
looking ahead to the coming days and weeks, I’m all about the new
lease on life I’ve been granted through patience and the support of
lots of people who must give a hoot about me. It’s a couple of weeks
since the meds ended, and already I feel a tweek of normality in
general. That is, in addition to not loading my body with strange
medications, distancing myself from beer and drink has me feeling more
myself than I have in ages. Even though I’m depleted of muscle and
flexibility, I feel the better aspects of body returning. It’s the mind
one has to watch out for. It’s the mind that takes control of your path
and chooses how you live. One can be clean as the holiest of water and
dedicated to maintaining the course, but if the mind wants to change,
"IT" has all the options and the rest of you follows like a zombie.
It’s the same old story of mind over mind… well, in my case anyway.
Some times we are weak and we find any way to do what we want
regardless of what we know is right. Having the right partner is what
can keep your ship from getting off course. Not that one can’t do it
alone, it’s just a whole lot more challenging. I could be wrong.

My recovery from the motorcycle accident is going very well. I
get up
and down much easier. Normal activity is manageable for reasonable
amounts of time. When I feel over-done, I know I had better sit back and
chill. I take a pain med, usually at the end of the day, although I do
see a danger there. I’m walking the line with that. I don’t need to
make another habit for myself, but on the other hand I know that
denial is a prescription for a binge down the road. If it’s about pain,
then it’s ok to get rid of it, but if it’s about merely taking
something to relax, then it can bite you later on. That’s how stuff
gets started. By the time you get around to asking for help, you’re in
deep and it can get REAL bad from there. All in all, I have a feeling
that everything will be optimum with a little time. Thanks for asking
about me, and thanks to all of those who emailed and sent cards,
wishes, and good words for the hobbled old dude.
It looks to me like the two foregoing paragraphs are really about
the
same thing. So, safe to say, I’m in a period of real transition. Things
are brighter, and physically, mentally, spiritually, I will get where I
want to go, if I’m not there already.

Later….MD