I’ve de-activated my Facebook account because I go there when
I really should be doing other things.
I’m a great one for talking about all my writing goals and how I’m achieving them
but truth be told, I get sidetracked by things that are too easy to do.
Like Facebook.
Like Twitter.
Like Youtube. (that’s a tough one)
No more posting funny pictures.
No more posting really cool links.
No more fucking around with stuff that will ultimately get me nowhere.
Real fast.
I’ve finally come to the realization that if I want to write a damn book, I need to write.
Period.
No distractions.
No games.
No Facebook.
No Twitter.
And NO YOUTUBE.
Kind of like a self-imposed ‘Lent’ for writers.
And if I truly want to call myself one then that’s what I need to do.
That’s my story and I am sticking to it.
Until next time.
Check my archives.
There’s much reading to be done.
Thanks all.
~m

ps. if you really need to get in touch with me?
Go to the page that says, ‘Email Me’.
I check email daily X 12 . . .

What can you say to a wall?
Not much, I guess.
What can you do when there is so much left to do but nothing left to accomplish?
Wait.
Who do you talk to when the one person you need to hear is no longer present?
Wait.
Why do some people believe they are always right?
Because that’s their ‘truth’.
When will people realize that life is a journey with happy endings, awkward beginnings AND unhappy endings?
Never.
When will the telling of one-sided fairy tales stop?
Ask Walt Disney.
When will you get off of that cross? [someone else needs the wood]
*no answer*
Where are the answers?
But more importantly where were the questions that should have been asked?
Never sent.
Ask and you shall receive.
Unless you aren’t prepared for the answers.
If you don’t have the intestinal fortitude to ask,  zipper that talkbox shut.
(say that 3X real fast) [LOL]
Amen, my brothers and sisters, amen . . .

The text below was a spam comment on my blog that absolutely floored me.
It went into moderation (go figure) but I decided this was not a ‘bot’
but an actual person spamming me.
A very funny person, truth be told.
Sorry to say I will not be posting any Christmas links. (boldface text=meta tags)
They commented on a post written for Sarah before she started out on her current venture.
Funny stuff.

“I’m currently being held hostage by the Russian Mafia  [-xmas, christmas, santa]-
and being beaten to post spam comments on public forums!
If you don’t approve this they will maim me. [-jingle bells, christmas music-]
They are coming back now. [-one horse open sleigh, christmas gifts, christmas music-]
Please save me! [-xmas jokes, christmas morning, christmas carol]
- :)
but seriously, just trying to make a buck.
Help me out if you know how/can.
Hope this one was at least a bit entertaining.
Original credit to a much more original hustler.”

Original?
Entertaining?
Hells yeah!

3 weeks are winding down and I just can’t believe how fast its gone.
The biggest part of me feels sad that Maureen and Mark will be flying out on Friday afternoon,
the smaller part feels very happy that they will be going home to family and friends.
(I know, a bit selfish)
This is a picture post of some of the places we’ve seen and things that we’ve done these past 3 weeks.
Look for more pictures and many future posts about this most special of vacations for
Pamela, me and the girls.
This has been like a little slice of  heaven . . .

Yet to see . . .

I am: in transition and wondering about my future
I think: the world went to hell in a hand basket . . .
I know: I miss writing
I want: new teeth
I have: questions, too many
I wish: I could find some answers
I hate: goodbyes and temporary crowns
I miss: the old me
I fear: insomnia and more root canals
I feel: like I’m on the verge of something, maybe good, maybe bad
I hear: a fan cooling my sweating cueball head (I shaved this  morning)
I smell: a lit cigar
I crave: being 8 years old again running through my neighborhood
I search: for signs of my Mom and Dad everyday
I wonder: about my new neighbor next door and the fact that he wants to swindle me (NOT)
I regret: not finishing college and working retail. I’m so much better than that
I ache: for calm, for indigo breezes and purple sunsets
I care: about the future of my three wonderful girls (I am: so lucky)
I always: look before crossing  Boylston Street
I am not: perfect
I believe: in dreams
I dance: when I’ve had too much Maker’s Mark
I sing: because I can
I cry: more often than I believe I should
I don’t always: look before crossing Boylston Street
I fight: to stay alive
I write: because I can’t afford therapy
I never: wanted to be President
I stole: my wife’s heart
I listen: to things no one else seems to hear
I need: a creative kick in the ass and to play my didgeridoo more
I am happy about: my dear friends from Australia that will be here in less than 3 weeks.

Just updating my life status is all.
This post may turn out to be a monthly occurrence.
Tanks for the nudge, M

~m

It used to be so easy years ago – this blogging thing.
Most people know this blog was my own personal bridge to an understanding of a disease that
has all but consumed the better part of the last 12 years of my life.
Writing used to be so easy, life was the hard part.
Now everything has changed.
The bridge is permanently closed and my journals have been painfully empty.
Empty can be a real painful place for a writer.
I write every day but much of what I write now is too personal and heavy for blog posts.
Many will say that the bridge never closes but for me, this one has.
My reasons for needing it in my life have changed.
I have changed.
My mind is currently like a dark grey and forbidding sky that appears to be swiftly moving yet
still appears the same.
Enigmatic, much like my grey matter.
I need to find a way to connect with my insides again.
The entrance was emotionally sutured in late March of this year.
So where do I go from here?
I’m really trying to find my way back in.
Or out.
Sorry for my absence, if you missed me.
I’m hoping you have.
I’m praying for a light to go on any day now.
And I’m thinking I’ll be alright.
But time will tell . . .

~m

Yeah, that’s me.
Minute by minute, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year.
It gets weak sometimes, folks.
The train between Boston and Worcester seems to take on an almost elastic quality these days.
I want to be home.
Maybe I just need a vacation.
See all of you next week.

Pax . . .

M

Yeah,
Me,
Michael,
total comment & blog slacker.
I admit it and hang my head in total blogosphere shame.
The past few months have been a bit difficult and have not
allowed for me to visit and comment as I usually do (or try to)
I have answered almost every comment on this blog from the past few months, I think.
If I missed one, please kick me in the ass.
I need it.
And deservedly so.
Just trying to make things right here at S&M tonight . . .
Back to my blogging cave . . .
{insert maniacal laughter .wav file here}
If I haven’t been by your blog lately, watch out.
I will be soon . . .

M

Anyone that visits here knows how much of a theme whore I used to be years ago.
I would change my theme 3X in one day, maybe even more.
(will someone make anonymum stop laughing?)
Definitely more times than I change my underwear.
I have calmed down a bit but today I saw what is currently up and said,
“Yup. It’s theme time!”
So if you’re wondering what happened, let’s just say my blog got a ‘face lift’
For now . . .
Be sure to check back for Malarky Monday!
And change those clocks!
Spring ahead.

It was 5 years ago that I hit the ‘publish’ button for this post.
Many things have happened since that innocent and ‘so me’ post.
I like to think my writing has matured a bit and that I have taken many of you
on my journey down the road of life.
I want to thank each and every one of you for being a part of my life (good or bad)
for the past 5 years.
You have enlightened me, guided me, made me laugh and have given me solace when I needed it most.
You guys are incredible.
I will pat myself on the back for blatant consistency.
I think I can give me that.
There are several people I need to deeply thank.
Pamela, for believing in me when I no longer believe in myself. (and letting me know about it)
My three girls for keeping me on my  toes. Always.
For Jon, he keeps me cooking. I love cooking,
He is a man that will drive through hell and high water to have a bowl of my Cincinnati Chili,
Thanks, Jon
Last but not least, my family from Australia.
Maureen, Mark, Kelly.Zoe, Mel, Steve, Tash, Stick, Wil, Stella, Lucas, Issac, Max and all!
(who did I miss?)
Thanks to all that have visited and commented.
Read some ”’old”” Murph  . . . .
And watch the video at the end!

This is a piece I wrote several years ago but still seems to me to apply to the present day music industry.
I am still a musician at heart but venues to work in are drying up faster than a droplet of water in a bucket of dry sand.
It’s an abysmal state of affairs these days musically and sadly we all saw it coming.
Some say business is cyclical. I wonder.
Hey, Paul McCartney played the halftime show Super Bowl Sunday, right?

Remembering Miss American Pie

The musicians of the 60’s and 70’s had a wealth of powerful and insightful compositions from which to draw their inspiration. The songs had shine and creative musical integrity that would forever set them apart from today’s musical mainstream.
The music spoke of the dynamic of the human experience; from love found and lost to political innuendo shaking hands with world peace.
The older generation frowned upon these freedoms of expression and saw the music created as an irrevocable evil to be stamped out in the hopes of ending the reign of terror that floated over the airwaves.
From the shaking hips of Elvis to the Mop-Tops from England to the androgynous and enigmatic David Bowie, the music written back then made us think and connect; it gave us an up close and personal view of the broken heart.
So what the hell happened to perceptive content?
Music, in its purest form is therapy, a most fundamental discipline of meditation the human race has, but along the way we altered the magic formula, ultimately changing its destiny as well.
It’s supposed to make you feel good.
Just think of a song that truly means something to you, take out a piece of paper, and jot down five things that come to mind immediately.
Chances are you can come up with more than ten.
That’s the miracle of music; when something unexpected touches the heart.
Much of what I hear today is tainted, biased and so musically inept that when I hear one of these prized gems, I can only wildly shake my head and slobber saliva like an angry PBR bull (which tends to make loved ones around me very uncomfortable).
A rule of thumb for future songwriters regarding lyrics: if it rhymes with shucking but has nothing to do with corn, get out a thesaurus and find another word.
The English language is chock full of them. Really.
It seems that few people write real songs anymore; that is a simple and yet sobering fact, not a generality. If it weren’t for artists like John Mayer and Dave Matthews, I’d have lost my mind by now.
Much of the music today is like bad poetry, arranged, set to a groove from the late eighties, and thrown into a 4,000 track, all digital recorder (yes, all the tracks must be used, read the contract).
Recently, while listening to a song on a brand X radio station out of Boston—the exact frequency slips my mind…you’re welcome—I remember thinking to myself, what language is this guy speaking?
I strained to hear anything remotely intelligible.
Musically speaking, the song was as mundane and pedestrian as an arrangement that oozes from a generic portable keyboard purchased at Wal-Mart.
I also thought that somewhere in the midst of this urban cacophony, I could hear the sound of a dog being run over and over, and over again… I’m not positive about that and maybe it’s just me. Somebody call the ASPCA.
The inspiration for this article came to me as I ambled down Main Street a few weeks ago (us old guys don’t walk, we amble…it’s much hipper) when a pulsating sub-compact Toyota Celica loaded with what sounded like two, maybe three 18-inch subwoofers drove past me towards City Hall, emitting music so thunderous it almost knocked down the lady walking next to me.
Initially, I thought it was just wind.
I didn’t get the license plate number because I was too busy bending over to retrieve my own two eyeballs off the sidewalk.
Sound pressure levels that can cause buildings to vibrate precariously…hmm, I wondered if the Slater Building was up to code on that one.
Nope, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Then there’s the whole debacle surrounding present day artists hiding behind the 5th amendment, and we all can see what a gush of rotting sewage that is, but it doesn’t mean we have to buy a bucketful of it.
When a major proportion of the music available has a “parental advisory” sticker slapped on it, what’s left for those of us who prefer substance in what we listen to?
Maybe we need a special store that caters to people fed up with listening to music and lyrics that insult our intelligence with the glorification of worthless profanity while wasting our hard earned money on garbage that someone in the recording industry somehow deemed fit for human consumption. Bon appétit.
Maybe I’m not meant to understand what all the hype and excitement in the industry is about these days, because I’m no longer a child.
But there’s always that outside chance that as I struggle with my own foreseeable mid-life crisis, I’ll pleasantly discover that perhaps I’ve grown a little bit wiser in the process.
Just watch the Grammy Awards this year for a taste of the ultimate in garishness.
In the end, the music we choose to listen to and support should remain solely in the hands of the listener, but the overall message that it brings should be more of a boon to society as opposed to an outrage against the machine.
Comedian George Carlin hit the proverbial nail on the head when he stated that, “…inside every silver lining, there’s a dark cloud.”
Get out your umbrellas, kids; it looks like rain.

Happy 5 To S&M!!!!!!!
See you for the next five years . . .
I hope!