Bob's Blah Blah Blog

One

It’s only ink on paper
A momentary thought
A letter to myself
Something to remind me

In a flash, there’s nothing more
That ink on paper
You can see right through it
It’s not a memory
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come

A photograph
A flash of light
A slice of time
Something to remind me

In a blink, there’s nothing more
That photograph
You can see right through it
It’s not a memory
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come

Two

We make our ghosts along the way
Then hide them in a cardboard box
Away from today
Bound for tomorrow

This box is filled with
Promises lost
Promises found
Promises kept
Promises bound
And a promise for tomorrow

This box is filled with dust
Only ink on paper
Only a photograph
These aren’t memories
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come

Open it wide and let them out
The promises of tomorrow are buried deep
Beneath the dust that clouds our memories
Robs us of our celebration
Of ghosts we’ve never known
And those who’ve yet to come

Three

These ghosts are mine
These ghosts are yours
We’ve known them for a moment
And we’ve known them for a lifetime

They make us who we are
And who we will become
Together

Our ghosts
They dance among us
They point us down a dusty path
To the left from which we came
And to the right for which we’ll go

Our ghosts are all we’ve been
And all that’s yet to come
Dance with joy
Keep them near
To remind us

To help us with our tears
And our smiles
But mostly with the life we have before us
These ghosts are mine
And yours
And ours
Open the box and let them free

A word
A picture
A card
These are not our memories

Let out ghosts run free
So we can be among them

And dance
And cry
And sing
And explore the world in front of us

Together.

Here’s the video I produced for The Crystal Method’s new song, “Slipstream” ft. Jason Lytle. Thanks to my brother, Mike for the SFX and my good friend, Bruce for his video and photo contributions. The second leg of their “Divided by Night” tour begins July 31. Check out The Crystal Method Fan Site for more videos, photos and tour information.

If I could draw a picture of my feelings, it would connect the stars in the heavens.

If I could sing a song to remind you, it would be a first for such a melody.

If I could put into words the depth you have impacted my heart, they would echo throughout the night.

If I could be next to you now, these pictures, melodies and words would just be.

For so many years,
I looked under the Christmas tree
For something I was certain would complete me.
I searched the bottom of the stocking
That hung near the fireplace
For something I was certain would bring me joy.

Over the years, It became clear to me
That the wrapping paper revealed nothing more than additional questions
And the gifts I found only lead me further away from what I was seeking.

Until I met you.

Even then, I had no idea just how precious your gift was to me.
How the gift of you revealed the gift I had been searching for all my life.

The gift of me.

And now, after so many years I realize what I have been missing,
What I have been searching for.

Your gift is my soul.

Complete in every way,
You have given me what it has taken to complete me.

You.

Now that I realize the sacrifices you have made,
The love you have unselfishly presented me,
The unwavering honor you have bestowed upon me.

On this day, and as my gift to you,
I once again dedicate myself fully to you,
In every word, in every deed, in every thought.

My love is yours forever.
And beyond.
In these words,
And in those that can never be spoken,

Merry Christmas, Sandy.

It happened again. A friend said, “you should blog that,” during a recent conversation.

While the aforementioned conversation is not the purpose of this post, the fact that three people have recently suggested I should contribute to my personal blog more often is. A few weeks ago, I actually received an email from an anonymous reader who wanted to know if everything is alright. The concern from someone I never met touched me.

Everything is alright. I’ve just been busy trying to answer a couple of questions:

The first is, “What do I want to write about?” Most of the bloggers I read love to bitch, I guess we all do. But quite frankly, I’m sick of it — which of course is, in and of itself bitching. See how easy that was? After consulting my old vinyl copy of Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, I have decided I want to concentrate on sharing some of the good stuff in life. Not the obvious kind of good stuff like Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, mind you — but the good stuff that goes on around us all the time we are simply too busy to notice. I hope I can share a smile or ah-ha with you now and again. And if not, at least I want to show things a little differently than we usually see them. Maybe remind us all, including myself, there are perspectives other than the ones we are saddled with most of the time.

The second answer I’ve been seeking is to the question, “Who cares?” For resolution on this I turned Sandy’s encouragement to do it for myself. And for now, I think that’s good enough.

So, since they say three times is a charm, I’m ready to give this another go in the hopes I will learn something, have some fun and share a smile with someone who might need it along the way.

November, you’ve changed. And there are times I don’t like the month you’ve become. What ever happened to your sense of humor, waking me up by tickling my toes as they stuck out the bottom of my down blanket. Remember when you used to sneak up on me and slap me in the face when I walked out the door? Remember when you played that trick on us by making it look like the creek was frozen? Remember when I fell in up to my hips? That was a good one, November.

I also remember you had a warm side too, the roaring bonfire up at that farmhouse we used to hang out at. The blankets we all used to wrap ourselves up in as we sat on the hill overlooking the golf course. Remember fleece-lined, leather-sleeved Pirate jacket that you made me wear? That was one of my favorite Christmas presents by the way.

Oh man November, we really had some fun too. We hunted, played army, hiked in the mountains and played football on Sunday mornings. Heck, sometimes we even got to ski together! Those were the days, November.

Speaking of football, what have you done to my Steelers? You used to be their best friend. Now you sit back and do nothing. If you have a little nostalgia in you Nov, give ‘em a little kick in the rear would ya?

Remember how you used to make fun of the Penguins? I guess things have really changed with you. I know, I know, it’s still early and your cousin December probably has some tricks up her sleeve.

So this is what it’s come to, November. I am sitting on my back deck in shorts and t-shirt, grilling apple sausages, staring at the color in the trees October left behind. (Thanks October, you know you’ve always been my favorite.) I guess as I sit here and smell the fresh, cool air infused with the scent of grilled apples and sage; as I think about the holiday past and our plans for the weekend; as I see my children growing up before my eyes; as I learn of my sister’s wedding plans — you’re really not so bad November.

And honestly, November… change looks good on you.

Thanks to those of you who have sent emails encouraging me in these early days of this blog.

This is my third post, and already this feels a bit too laborious. But just like my red pique cotton t-shirt, it shouldn’t take more than a few washings before I look forward to wearing it.

Speaking of fiber, there is a selection of fabric scraps upstairs I intend on fashioning my first quilt from. They’ve been hibernating in the darkness of a plastic bag for months but they are now on my short list of things to explore in the weeks before the holidays. For now, I will immerse myself in The Quilts of Gees Bend again for inspiration.

Until then, here’s the result of my late-night hammering. Not exactly a sonic masterpiece but I have plans for this. As such, please consider Down Below (2,190k mp3) a work-in-progress.

It’s been awhile since I’ve listened to Barry Andrews. My affair with his music began in high school when I discovered Gang of Four. He made some big noise with Robert Fripp in the League of Gentlemen, but really shook my core when I first heard Shriekback.

Listening to his “Haunted Box of Switches” inspired me to the keyboard today and I made some interesting sounds — if only in my own mind. There was enough satisfaction that I have promised myself more time to indulge in the days ahead.