Shawn Mullins
On Friday, I finally had the chance to see Shawn Mullins live. 
It was great to get the chance to see him in person. There is a satisfying moment to hear your favorite songs played live. But one I only get from small concert venues.
A guy named Eddie Elliot opened and I enjoyed him as well.
I spent the early part of this week in Kerrville and Houston. A small trip for work and to take in a small portion of the HOV II Tour ( Susan, Walt, Brandon). The show in Houston was at the Mucky Duck. It's a great venue for live music. It makes the top of my list of great listening places to see music in Texas. I will get pictures up as soon as I am done renovating the website.
While in Houston, I did try for a few hours to locate my brother but that's another story. I also took a trip down memory lane and went by the old house. I always feel the need when I am there...just to make sure the place is still where we left it I guess. The house is currently for sale.
My parents built in 1976 for $17,000. Almost 3000 square feet and what was once almost 2 acres of land. I thought about what it might be like to buy it. If Houston wasn't the armpit of Texas, I might even think about it seriously. It takes days to get the petroleum smell out of my hair and clothes. But the nostalgia of it, to have the house I grew up in again and walk the same hall; flush the same weak toilet; feel the cool brown ceramic tile under my feet; brush my hands over the ridges of spanish stucco and stand under the archways. And, to have the garage apartment with the orange cone wood burning fire place and kitchenette where I used to image I'd live one day when I was older. That apartment is where we lived until the house was finished and where my mother tumbled down the stairs while pregnant with my brother. It has been my running joke for years about what wrong with him. If I weren't cranky I'd feel whimsical.
Tonight I go to a musical...
anne bancroft
Mrs. Robison has passed away.
Anne Bancroft 1931-2005
I have always thought she was incredibly brave and interesting in the parts she played. Let us not forget the sense of humor she must have had married to Mel Brooks.
I will miss her lovely voice.
maybe you've been wondering where i've been
today is the first day since New years that I've felt I could breathe without the pressure of work bearing down on me. Work's been good but busier than ever before.
I got an email today. A little voice from the past tapping on the screen door. Pictures from a life in progress and though we haven't spoken in some time, I took a peek. I couldn't help myself. Not at all. I'd almost forgotten us. Well, the emotion of us.
As I was clicking through the various series of pictures, I thought about how much it actually looked like the life we always spoke about when we were together. Probably one we'd have never had together. And that sort of implies that everything works out for the best in the end. Though at the end of that relationship there was never really any doubt what was best was the end.
There will always be someone who loves you better and there will always be someone who loves better than you.
God bless the broken road that lead me straight to you.
or something like that.
the season of giving
I am thinking about you. I am thinking about me. It's that time of year. The time when the ghosts of christmas' past resurrect themselves and quietly take up residence in my empty spaces.
Thankfully, there are too many to fill.
At least I don't flinch at the phone ringing anymore. I think I finally understand what is meant by "I have nothing to give". I've spent years reflecting on that statement. The conclusion I always came to was ..."just to me, you have nothing to give." I know better what that looks like now. And, maybe, I also understand that everyone can get to a place where there is nothing left inside to share. I really do understand now. Thank you.
I don't think it’s any being less of a real person but I see how it might look from the outside. Inside, is brimming with feelings, ideas and possibility. There's never been much that showed on the outside anyway, except the anger. Temper one emotion and they all get censored I suspect.
I don't know what else to do with myself. There's no way to be more than I am and no way to give what is not there to give. It’s no secret that emotions are often confusing and there seems to be no getting around it ever.
Protected: seeds of doubt
sometimes someone else says it better
Alabama on Soul Gravy by Cross Canadian Ragweed
Then the telephone rings.
Maybe I miss your lovin'.
Maybe I miss your kiss.
Just a little bit.
Maybe I miss your body lyin' right next to mine.
Maybe I miss your touch.
A little too much.
I just realized that I didn't think about Feb. 19th until just now. Getting gone and coming back again. I'm solid today and it comes back again easier.
There's a bit of exposed flesh present to bring me around. The biting and tearing settles the crazy parts of my mind. My words come faster, my tongue is sharper. My skin is soft and my heart is beating effortlessly. I'm not mired in the usual muck. At least not today.
ghosts
I was surrounded by the ghosts of relationships past tonight. I walked smack into D. Literally. What a cruel and uninvited trip down memory lane. Then day proceeded to play the "L game" (which I am convinced will find its way to a web site near you soon), and mapped out how closely connected we are to each other. I was embarrassed but amazed at the multiple connections we shared. I can't believe that we've never had this conversation before and the amount of embarrassment it caused me to do so in front of others was excruciating. It is a small world indeed. No matter how I try and avoid it it's seems painfully inevitable. The drama of it all is disgusting.
We went to dinner and I know that we will be reaching that point soon when what is going on will have to be defined, discussed, deconstructed and all the other d's. At dinner, I dropped your name so casually like it was something casual. And so the game begins. I treated you like a blip on the screen and then quickly moved to something else. And this is how it will have to be played I guess.
In my therapy yesterday, Dr. No said the same thing to me that you said only a few short months ago. Who knew your words would be so prophetic. Who knew the same issue would reappear. Who knew I'd need those same words to help me with you. So, I am repeating to myself that it doesn't matter what someone else feels. What I feel is real and I shouldn't distrust my own feelings. This is my mantra. This will be my mantra.
All the way home all I could think was resting my head next to yours on the pillow and the soft hollow place on your chest where I used to rub my finger tips and press with my palm. I can still feel the roundness of your back against my chest and the weight of your head on my arm. Though there are many, tonight these are the things I miss about you.
You can talk about love as if it were passing fancy but it doesn't erase love from your heart as easy. I have filled it up with you and I am just not ready to pull the pin and let the air rush out.
spin after spin today…
So I dropped Night Flight on the old phonograph and am tripping down yet another memory lane.
Paul Davis's Cool Night started playing and I remembered. We were twelve or thirteen. I can't even remember her real name. She wanted to be called Zazatapill and now that's all I can remember about her identity. We were laying on the floor in that one bedroom thing my mom rented after her third escape from marriage. We made up the whole crazy romantic scenario with an fire and snow capped mountain in the distance. None of which were true in Southeast Texas. Me, being the man of the house (a theme that was often present in much of my pretend times), and her pretending to be my girlfriend. We made fake kissing noises into the air and laid next to each other in our pretend cabin bed. I don't think we ever thought it was even weird to pretend this way.
Then, Quincy Jones came on to remind of the first time I watched a cable movie without permission. Last American Virgin. Every time I hear the song I think of that movie which now I doubt would even qualify for a pg-13 rating. But at the time it was my first real true attempt at teen rebellion. It was all about the sneaking that made it for me. It took me a few more years to realize it wasn't necessary and she probably would have watched it with me.
There I was in the late hours of a Friday night. The house was quite. My hand rested carefully on the clicker in case I needed to make a sudden channel change to say, Fraggle Rock. I was watching teenagers having sex and other taboo themes like abortion. But the thing I remember most about that movie was the cruelty of the girl. The loser guy who loves her so deeply and the way he was there for her in this crucial time only to watch her go back to the real loser who knocked her up. I remember the last scene as him driving alone in a convertible down the street crying and the music is the only thing with him. One time a few years ago, I was in the video store and saw it on the rack in the comedy section. I don't think so.
I can't believe I have a record that combines, Juice Newton, Al Jarreau, Eddie Rabbit, Smoky Robison, the Pointer Sisters and Air Supply on the same record. I am off to change to Honeymoon Suite and Frozen Ghost. I'm saving the Corey Hart series for some late night. Welcome the 80's time warp.
I was just standing there looking.
You stood and waved.
I took a deep breath to calm myself and to steady the nervous shake that racked my body. I shook my hands out loosening the final quiver. I was happy to see you and scared all at the same time without any explaination for any of it.
I could tell you were nervous but I defined it in the way most people are nervous meeting new people. I had defined that the same for myself as I walked to your table. It may have been just that but now it seems so much more.
And that's my first memory of you in full detail.