Since the Birds

Quarter after seven.

I ran my little errand to the book share, placing the Austen volumes plus one of Ibsen. I thought, if I were going to teach something, what would I want people to know? I added A Doll’s House for the message of personal freedom and feminism. From there I marched off to the store and bought food and a one liter of Coke. It only cost me $9.04, and I still have $53 in food stamps. The sun had cleared the rim of the land as I executed my task… The email from my friend was nice this morning. The next event is Aesop’s breakfast, followed by my cottage cheese and then bass guitar practice. I hear Roger’s Ford idling across the street, revving here and there. There he goes. My brain is playing an old song by Yes, from their commercial phase with Trevor Rabin. “I’m Running” is one of my favorites. I wonder where they got the idea for the Jacaranda Room? A species of tropical tree. Saddening to remember that Chris Squire passed away a few years ago. For a lot of fans, he embodied the essence of Yes. His old Rickenbacker ought to be in a museum. I read that the instrument was an American export called the 1999 bass, not the 4001 or the 4002. Paul McCartney had the same model. The common practice was to refinish those guitars with a maple color. They came with no binding and no shell inlays on the neck.

Eight thirty. It is a blessing not to be paranoid. People are calling the tenets of cognitive therapy “classic” now, so does that mean that they are dated? I know some people who are still unfamiliar with CBT. If something new became available, Oregonians would be the last to know… The first therapist I had was a mean sort of person. I fired her because I didn’t like her, and I was within my rights as a client. My favorite primer on cognitive therapy is still Feeling Good by David D. Burns. A lot more are available, however. You don’t have to go to a therapist to learn about cognitive therapy, but it helps to have someone to practice with.

Reply to Mr Brewster

Based on your concluding sentence, your precepts are something like John Calvin, who said that our salvation or perdition is preordained by God, and nothing you can do will ever change your fate. All the good works you do won’t make a bit of difference.

If any part of you is still interested in happiness, then you might want to change or rearrange your basic assumptions. Off the top of my head I can only recommend listening to a Yes song titled “I’m Running.” If nothing else, just read the lyric. Even if you can’t be happy, remember that the future is about our children’s lives.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4KnMgNVISw

Wotan’s Day

Nine thirty five.

The sky is leaden with blue and pale sunlight caresses the ground. Roger is tapping on something, making a sound like timbales out of rhythm. There’s a wicked red spider on the back doorway. Finally I called Library of America and learned the fate of Elizabeth Bishop: it got sent to the Residence Inn by my mistake. So I called the hotel and Shelley located the package, which she will attempt to forward to me. Aesop and I then returned to bed, but I still didn’t sleep much. Just now I left a message for Shasta at my insurance office. At around two in the morning I listened to Close to the Edge, which made me ponder evangelicalism.

Quarter after eleven. I made my run to the store, stopping by the salon for a donut. Angela is engaged to be married, but she’s known the guy for 11 years. The salon has a new floor now, sort of a beige wood grain color. On my way back from the store, I stopped and had a conversation with Derek outside his house. He has sold his fifth wheeler in favor of tent camping. I noticed its absence because I walk past it every day. He has two little daughters, Claire and Natalie, who are always outdoors playing. We chatted for maybe 20 minutes, as it was 11 o’clock when I got home. People are talking about the heat wave coming next week. I hope it doesn’t get too much above 90 degrees. Today is partly sunny and cool. I asked Roger about help finishing my J Bass and he declined, saying my best bet was to call a professional luthier for an estimate. It might not be worth it, for the kit cost less than the luthier would… For some reason the old Yes song “Survival” is playing in my head. I could go to Bi Mart today or tomorrow, but I have no purpose for going except to get out for a while. Aesop is resting at my feet. I hope Shelley is able to forward the book to my address. I’ll just keep an eye on the mail every day for it.

Globalism: a Letter

I made a post about “God” before going to bed earlier tonight. It was unorthodox but honest, and a few people liked it. Another thought, rather new for me, is to realize that the world still acknowledges America as the greatest country on Earth. For many years I have espoused quite a reverse patriotism. Indeed I rejected the whole thing called nationalism and refused to watch the Olympics and such that fosters pride in your country. Neil Peart: “Better the pride that resides in a citizen of the world / Than the pride that divides when a colorful rag is unfurled.” I don’t know when I started feeling this way. Perhaps as early as junior high school, when Mom introduced me to The Beatles and helped me write a paper on the United Kingdom. And then in high school there was a musical phenomenon called New Wave, a second British Invasion. I grew totally enthused with Yes and a lot of other music that was not American. However, I remember now that even my old friend Kate had idealistic notions about America. But what really gives me a lump in my throat is to hear Yes do the song “America” by Simon and Garfunkel! And to think that the band came from across the Atlantic to live in California. “We’ve all come to look for America.” I’m crying right now because it’s only right for America to be reunited with the motherland. I’m not talking about burning American flags and that kind of immaturity, but something much more profound and all embracing. It begins with Europe and America, then expands outward to the rest of the world, this spirit of globalism. This is my big political dream, to see world peace and harmony with no patriotism and no nationalism, no divisions, no borders. Yes performs “America” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JiAdSUViGlU
…as I say, brilliantly.
So I think I’m still back where I started from. I’m not a xenophobe, a person who hates foreign people and things. To me, there is nothing foreign. And I wish for a day when the world comes together as one.

“Here We Can Be”

Last night I felt annoyed by the popular notion that God controls our lives if we just let go. I haven’t seen any evidence for this claim, so I find it very unscientific. When you step off the edge of a high cliff, you fall to your death. No big gust of wind will break your fall, no act of providence great or small, no guardian angel trying to earn his wings, no reason to believe any of those things. It used to make me sad to listen to the Yes song “To Be Over.” The songwriter was so complacent about the afterlife, but I could not share his confidence. It’s a wonderful song, as “Awaken” is too. Beautiful beyond your wildest dreams; but is it true?

Maybe we can do better as a race if we act as if religion were the truth, regardless of its factuality. And if we’re very fortunate, the dreams we work so hard to realize will by some grace be materialized. Maybe like Blake we can aspire to build Jerusalem on our green and pleasant land— if we do not cease from mental fight. The structure of “Awaken” is like a Keats poem. It begins on earth, then in a dream transports you to a celestial place nothing short of heaven. At last it places you back down on the ground to wake up from the awakening. If music and poetry can do this, then surely you and I can follow by just listening?

Ode on a Sanyo

Midnight hour. The same song, “The Remembering,” transports me back to winter 1983, when my parents took me with them on a holiday to the Driftwood Shores in Florence Oregon. They booked a suite with an adjoining room for me. While they drank, watched television, and gazed at the breakers on the ocean, I read The Swords Trilogy by Michael Moorcock. I had taken along my Sanyo cassette player with the Yes music copied from the vinyl to tape. It was something everybody in my high school did, and this way we could share music with each other. The little Sanyo was metallic gray with blue trim around the door, and was encased in imitation leather. Each earphone had a spongy orange cover. It ran on AA batteries. I carried my Walkman clone everywhere with me, including on the Band Tour to California that year, and on to summer Band Camp at the University. Just a few years ago I found this museum piece in a cabinet and examined it: it was ruined by battery leakage. Otherwise I would’ve tried to play with it and restore the past to the present— and thereby resurrect my parents, if only in my sottish state of mind. Something about “love’s bitter mystery.” It would’ve been like holding a seashell to my ear and hearing the ocean all those years ago…

Day in Review

This could be a good day, despite the inscrutable gray sky. Inside, it’s nice and warm by the grace of electricity if nothing else. I hope for no intrusions by construction workers. I’d like to pick a day and go buy Aesop the tennis balls I promised him. I regret that he’s so bored every day. After Tuesday I should have WiFi again, hence I’ll be able to use my tablet and any computer I choose to set up. It’ll feel good to be so connected once more. There’s a song by Yes in my head, “The Remembering: High the Memory.” It’s on the Topographic Oceans album, which I heard two weeks ago. The words seem unintelligible at first, yet in a poetic way they make sense, and moreover sound beautiful. They say things like, “The strength regains us in between our time,” and, “Stand on hills of long forgotten yesterdays,” and, “We walk around the story.” The influence on Yes is definitely Romanticism, probably Blake in particular. When I first listened to Topographic Oceans, I had no idea where such lyrics came from. I didn’t have access to poetry of any quality. The bookstores in Eugene didn’t stock much poetry, except for the University one. My date with poetry was to come years later… The silence now is loud. Enter a few Canada geese overhead. A passing car. Aesop listens. My sister said she would call me this afternoon regarding a possible lunch tomorrow. I told her I was through with adapting my life to the contractors’ schedules; let’s go ahead and have lunch.

Utopia

Quarter of three o’clock 🕒. Dreams not far from reality, of construction on the house, the bass I built, the dumpster in the front yard, and the trailer in the driveway. Dreams of growing pains like the mallet blow to my ring finger, which turned to plum but soon healed. My soul grinds the problem of transformation waking and asleep. My dog looks depressed, so I take him out walking a little. I tell him in words how we’ll get our house back in a matter of time. I don’t know if he comprehends. Meanwhile I don’t want to hear from anyone who is faithless or hopeless, because too much of that could drive me over the edge. “Rejoice rejoice, we have no choice but to carry on… Love is coming, love is coming to us all.” Whatever happened to songs like this? Graham Nash’s voice so high that he actually overshot the notes into sharpness. That’s how strongly they felt about reforming the human condition. It was a creative impulse I can trace back to Shelley’s poetry, this booming voice proclaiming that humanity is perfectible. And why not? If we can imagine perfection, surely we can realize it? What will it take for all of humanity to take this step together? “Hear this voice now and forever, it’s time, brothers in time, is it hard to take this choice, as it kicks so hard… There in the heart of millions, seen as a godsend to us, there stands our future. There can be no denying, simple as ABCD, there stands our children’s lives.” This song by Yes is about the best that rock music has to offer, and its utopian message is timeless and simple: there’s no reason why we can’t live in perfect harmony with each other and with nature. People can dismiss it as poetic sentiments, which would be very sad when poets have always known best.

An Old Yes Album

Quarter of midnight 🕛. Slept for four hours. Aesop is giving me the eye 👁. He probably wants to go outside, but I’m putting him off for a while. With the pressure off me a little, the terrible schizophrenic thoughts have died down. I had been thinking that doomsday was near, my own demise imminent. I don’t feel very creative with words right now. I was validated for my music today, and that’s what I’m inclined to keep doing. Playing music with someone else who is good feels a lot better than one hand tapping a smartphone. For a bass player, drummers are the best to jam with…

Accomplishing something today was worth a little pain of anxiety. Of course the world didn’t come to an end. Fear is unreasoning, but the heart says stick it out, and the original word for courage also means heart ❤️. It seems to me the heart is more rational than the mind. When the mind fails me, I ignore it and listen to my heartbeat. If the heart alone did the thinking, good things would get done. It would be our first step toward a better way of living. “As long as we see there’s only us who can change it, only us to rearrange it at the start of a new kind of day.” “Soon we’ll be as he proclaimed in a new way of living. Take the things you need in life but remember the giving.” Both of these songs are on Time and a Word, one of my favorite Yes albums. Listen to it to be eternally young!