Short and Sweet

This blog was supposed to be short and sweet. But I set some sort of a thing with the first post and now it's been, like, a burden to try and make sense of stuff. But NO MORE!

It is hot in my apartment. It seems that all around me, my friend's lives are totally going on while I am in my apartment with a terrific cat (don't get me wrong) but without much else. The cat is terrific, did I mention that?

I have a new job (sort of) like all my other jobs it comes with no guarantee. Didn't it used to be that, at least, when you worked a job, you got hired, they took a chance on you? These folks have been terrific to me (like the cat!) and I have nothing but amazingly sincere thank you's for them. I get to go sit in an office and work and it's neat. There's puzzles and stuff to work out and it's, so far, pretty relaxed and rewarding. ReWARDing!

My friends are everywhere, all over the country and the world, having kids, breaking up, getting married, moving. They are doing all sorts of stuff. The drama in their lives is real, and serious, and worthwhile. But I am up here in the apartment with the cat (did I mention how terrific he's been. Hey, seriously).

Calls have been going out to my folks. My dad and mom are back in the nursing home while my dad recuperates from another operation. He sounds weak on the phone, but somewhat reasonable. It is a time contest. Will he be able to keep his cool in there long enough to heal? Time will tell. Hearing him weak on the phone is unnerving.

My friend Sonny lives downstairs, but I don't know why. I thought it would be cool, but I went and knocked on his door, but he wasn't around. Being that it's Friday, I thought we could totally hang and shoot the breeze and eat nuts. But, I ate the nuts myself.

Here's the thing. If I go boogie boarding next week, I promise to never complain again.

I promise to try not to.

And that's all I got to say about trees.

Wait. Hold it. I got more to say. Let's talk about the Bhagavad Gita and the Tao te Ching, just for a second. I've read the Tao, and I'm knee-deep in the Gita at the moment. And, they're all about, this detachment stuff. I used to kind of buy it, but no more. Who wants to attain a detachment level? I would rather be attached. Hate and love stuff, feel terrible pain and happiness. Cry and laugh. Cry and laugh.

Now, really, go talk amongst yourselves...

Part One

Let me update you.

The last half of my life starts with a death. My move from Boston in 1989 or 90 was prompted by a death. My move to San Francisco: same death. And my little trip to Boston last week (Cambridge, to be fair) still revolves around this one death.

Wait. I should say life, right? All of this revolves around this one guy's life, who he happened to die. Life and death. I do not want to write about them.

I wanted to see old friends, that's all. Have a reason to go out there, to Boston. Have everybody say how great I am. So I got together a party with some bands and cds. It was no big deal. But it was too much. Too many people, too little time. Even if we were all just sitting in a bar for four hours, there would not have been enough time. Forget that there was a show going on, and forget that I felt responsible for everything that was going on with the show. I had to choose between little teeny minute to minute whispery chat sessions with people or watching the show. Plus, I didn't want to get all choked up and misty-eyed, thank you. I did not think I could take it, not when I had to go sing a song. I chose the chat sessions, skipped the show, then I skipped the chat sessions, sat at the merch table.

This misty-eyed thing is weird, too. I can't ever tell if it's just because I miss someone, or how great everyone is and we're all full of love, or if it's just how great and warm and loving I am. That does not seem right.

I got this feeling on this trip that I've missed out on all sorts of stuff. I always feel that way, but this trip brought it home. Everybody, it seems has taken the last 25 years and made a life for themselves. I don't know. I came out to San Francisco for weird reasons. And I've mostly stayed out here to play music (or, to have the possibility of playing music) and because I live in a rent controlled apartment. Quite frankly, I find this town is a little too "successful" for me. Everyone in San Francisco is great and I have kind of floundered. I find myself to be kind of old, and alone, with a cat.

Cat is nice. I am happy. He does his business outdoors, most of the time.

I had difficulties during this trip. I have to work all the time but it's online stuff. So, I carried my laptop all around. I had a strict schedule and that was nerve-wracking. My mom was in the other room and I had to be in this other room working instead of spending time with her. This is nothing to complain about, I suppose, having to work. How about: I am happy I have a job. I hope I just didn't mess up my job karma by complaining. Because I've got stuff in my past that makes me extra nervous about not doing a good enough job at a job. It doesn't, however, make me do a better job.

I have secret stuff in my past, and the thing is, I can't know how secret it is, because it is unspoken. The one time, on my trip, that I had a chance to spend some real time with someone, they dredged up the secret-secrets in my past. I did not think that it could be used to help someone. I have not been able to keep score too well during this trip. It was way too complicated. But here's the first official score of this blog. My awful past used to help somebody else. Take that: Ray 1, World 0.

I was looking for a new life out in New England. I was hoping something amazing was going to open up for me, pull me along in some sort of whirlwind of energy and good fortune. It did not. I could see no openings out there for me. Not that anything was closed off out there. I was just hoping for, I don't know.

My mom is 82 and is as cute as a button. She had just gotten back from the hospital when I got there. She had some complications. That last Sunday the ambulance had to come out once but she wouldn't go. Me and my dad stayed up with her most of the night to keep an eye on her. She's got this cough and I went in and gave her a cough drop. I knew not to leave her alone with a cough drop. I wouldn't want to be left alone with one. Especially cherry. So, I got a little Johnnie Walker Red (to emulate her cherry cough drop) and we got to talk a little bit. She has some trouble expressing herself. But it was a good bunch of moments strung together. It felt like a gift, and that made me worry. I cannot take anything good without an equal amount of worry. Isn't that Newton through Murphy?