A Companion Always

These are days of blues.
The melancholy has been fed.
It has grown unattended.
In a general sense.
A companion always.
The canvas of my life.
Colors of playfulness and joy.
Occupiers of attention for a moment.
Like a dream almost.

The Music Lovers Remained

Pylons and barriers everywhere.
Orange was the color.
The runners must be safe.
The traffic must be directed.
Get through to the circle drive and drop it all off.
Beat up and used.
Clear and clean is the air.
A beautiful short fall begining again in Texas.
Catch it quick.
The plug in woes.
Turning dials and checking connections.
A reboot of the reboot.
And the noise was amplified.
Grateful Dead jam to start.

Then P57MONK with the house set.
Incredible sounding winds and robot voices behind a layered array of riffs, rhythms, and other interesting sounds, repeating perfectly and transitioning with fades and DJ engineering.

Nantucket was next.
As always loud and rocking like the ocean, deep waves and crashing downs, prepared for survival in a solid boat before heading off to laramie with a masterpiece.

Popped an Oktoberfest and checked in on the Horns.
The Okies thirsty revenge.
Dodged a choo choo train.
High fives to the silver and bronze.
Gold was too quick.

Then New Sounds arrived.
Tight strat, bass, drum trio, missing their lyricist forth, but not needing her this day.  Clear lead, precise drums, and bass lines carrying the audience through it all like a magic carpet ride.  Only family can get that kind of sound.

The dunking booth was busy.
Everyone wanted a shot.
Went 1 for 3 serving as a mercenary.
.333 average ain't bad.
A brew for MONK as the headliners arrived.

The BoomBachs will play high noon next year.
Dual keys delivered a full sound, these 7 Denton dudes brought the whole show, the bearded lyricist and the drums of rose.  Words with multiple syllables sharply finished off then another, and others followed, all coming together to define the mood.

The music lovers remained.
Strollers strolled off.
Runners ran off.
And the fish were biting.

Conditions Are Perfect For A Masterpiece

...the storms only last for awhile my babe.
...destruction is always followed by peace.
...and the worst day is followed by the best.
...plugged everything in and got sound.
...resting in nantucket til the early morning.
...the give-up is only a temporary solution.
...forgiveness and love will always remain.
...the hope that the vision will be seen again.
...like it was imagined in the kissing days.
...so sad is the sight of insecurity and fear.
...active eyes keeping watch on all the backs.
...emotions and moods are seperate indeed.
...like splashes of color on a solid canvas.
...conditions are perfect for a masterpiece.
...merely an announcement of the band.
...no audience interactions or witty remarks.
...songs with no names play in succession.
...polite nods and appreciation to close.

Forgot To Forget

The unrest.
For whatever reason.
Angst or something.

A measure.
Everything stacked up.
And multiplied.

Only silliness.
Nonsense my lady.
Free the will.

Holy forgiveness.
Forgot to forget.
Like God does.

Peace talkers.
Only words to say.
Actions are real.

Motivated

A perfectly comfortable day.
If you are motivated by relaxation.
A chance to gain knowledge.
If you enjoy thinking.
A musical time of your life.
If fun is your thing.
A thousand cliffs to climb.
If you need the rush.
A brand new European car.
If you want some prestige.
A moment of celebration.
If the bell is rang.
A challenge to guide them through.
If we need find our way out of a cave.
A spotlight and a microphone.
If you are an american idol.
A corner office in the C suite.
If that's who you want to be.
A moonlight candle lit dinner for two.
If love is in the air.
A tape recorder and tablet.
If documentation is required.
A lifestyle of adjusting routines.
If energy is to be maintained.

gcdg
gcdd7

The Greaser Middle

The talkers talked last night.
Talked about the elimination of class.

The understanding that few things are more important than posture.

Much is written as opinions are formed.  More is written before opinions are formed.  No opinions changed.  A discussion of woe.  Why we must change instead of what change will harvest.

The liquidation of the greaser middle.  The slick profession.  Where the lube is heavy indeed.  Where the rippers and cheaters live.  The back room and its smoke.  Deals cut.  The art of it all.  Only a few get in.  Almost impossible to get out.

A collection of the people will decide.  The machines must be monitored.  Glitches, hacks, and hackers all around.  Our underbelly no longer invisible.  Our system crumbled in an awful mess.  Moving parts will freeze up, lock up, and rust up, pouting and screeching.

Truth just lingers.  The Truth predicted.  Truth is vindicated.  As always, eventually.

Double Fault Worries

     Elevated almost.  Like a new man.  A new tennis man.  Old burdens gone.  The knowledge of futility is eliminated.  It is no longer true.  An ascension to a higher tennis plane.  Planned long ago, a better game developed.  Intentional and deliberate, recurring and recurring.  Overcoming breaks and strains.  Catching breaths and hydrating constantly.  The pace is important.  Anxious hurries and double fault worries are fatal.  Incredible the interior games within the match.  Nerves lit and sweat pouring into pools.  The heat and the winds drying it quickly.  Too much tennis charity from my opponent.  Too many mistakes.  Comebacks and advantages.  No cross court power today.  Unusual.  Standing back unleashes the pop.  The pronation gives the serve another look.  From the top of the swing, after the butt muscles have launched and as the shoulder turn has snapped back.  Chin up. Tournagrips are needed, in abundent supply.  Headbands and bandanas.  The net was giving.  Shots of destiny, games of inexplicable victory.  Ronnie Wood can sing.  Bound For Glory with Neil Young and Waylon and Willie.  Music is a fabulous addition to Isner Scoring Method culture.  A Kazenian improvement made possible and pracical by Bluetooth.  Evolution of the glowface era.  The future shines bright indeed.  The light!  The light!  It is truth.  The classic match victory over The Lion Duke Joe Vita, my first in 32 years of regular tennis, was a moment of exaltation.  The page can turn, although now, I want to be a Duke too.  KOtC8 is two months from now.  Preparations continue.  Mahut!