With each new year there are decisions that need to be made.
And I have thought long and hard about this one.
I have decided that I am saying my final goodbye to Facebook.
It’s not that I don’t like it or have security issues regarding weirdos that follow me wanting my social security number or my sexual preference to animals vs people.
It eats such a shitload of my time that I hardly write anymore.
Facebook makes me write fluff, meaningless shit that friends will undoubtedly comment on.
And I have loved that, please don’t get me wrong.
Videos, jokes and funny pictures are great but in the scheme of things the site is killing my creative life.
I love my friends (all of you that follow me) but it’s time for me to go.
There’s stuff on the 2012 agenda that will never get done as long as I keep dragging my sorry ass on Facebook.
I felt that there should be some kind of explanation before I hit that always dreaded ‘deactivate’ button.
With Facebook, Google +, Twitter and Linkedin, I am about ready to shit a social network all by myself.
My FB deactivation should happen sometime next week.
There will be no more posts from me on Facebook after this.
Sorry . . .  {some of you may even be breathing a sigh of relief}
Anyone that is the least bit concerned about my whereabouts should bookmark my blog.
If you want to contact me, you know where I am, folks.
FaceBooking has been a real blast but it’s time for me to hit the books, so to speak.
To all my friends, know that you will always be a part of my life just not on Facebook.
Feel free to drop me a line or visit my blog when you’re surfing the web.
Writer’s write and this writer is too damn far from doing anything remotely close to writing.
Be safe, be well and be happy my friends.
Stop by and see me at Smoke and Mirrors
Until then . . .

~m

After we arrived in Brisbane we needed to get ourselves over to the domestic terminal for our final flight to Townsville.
We were tired. We were stinky. (well, I was stinky anyway)
We needed some food.
We needed to brush our teeth.
All was accomplished when we finally got to our last boarding gate.
We both fell into the chairs nearest the gate and looked around the terminal, in awe of where we were.
“Hey,” I said to Pamela, “we’re in Australia.”
She smiled.
After 5 minutes, Pamela had crazy legs and red ants in her pants and couldn’t sit still so she was up and went to check out the few gift shops near the gate.
I just sat and looked around the busy terminal with people flitting about like so many fleas on a used and abused mattress.
It was then that I noticed a smell, a very nasty smell, the smell of something ripe and obviously gone bad.
Maybe even a badly soiled mattress smell.
It didn’t take long to realize the source of the smell.
It was yours truly.
I must have been too tired to engage my gag reflex.
A shower would be the first thing on my agenda when we got to Chateau Harrod.

On the short flight to Townsville we looked out the little oval bubble of a window at the alien terrain below us knowing that there were people we knew down there.
It was at once a bit strange but oddly comforting.
After we landed, we grabbed our bags from the overhead compartment
(giving me yet another nice big whiff of my seriously stinky underarms).
We came through the gate to see six smiling Aussie faces; Moe, Mark, Mel, Steve, Caleb and Lucas.
[Mel being Moe’s daughter]
Moe came running up to me and threw her arms around my neck before issuing a bear hug of leviathan proportions.
She had tears in her eyes and I was wondering if they were there because she was
#1)  happy to see me and relieved we were both finally there or
#2) the natural repellant that was partying all over my body made her spring tears like she was cutting 100 onions.
Turns out she was just relieved and happy.
We all hugged and got hugged which is a really nice way to enter a country you’ve never been to before.
It was our first (and not the last!) time meeting Mel, Steve, Caleb and Lucas.
They were as warm and welcoming as we thought they’d be.
No surprises there.
It was like we’d already met but hadn’t seen each other in a long time.
It was very comfortable.
As me and Mark loaded our bags in the car, I looked at Pamela and said,
“Guess where we are? We’re in Australia!”
(a reoccurring theme, btw, right Kel?)

We pulled into the driveway of Chateau Harrod and both me and Pamela just stared at a house and its surroundings that we’d only seen via Google Earth and weekly Skype calls.
After a guided tour of the house and our simply amazing bedroom we felt like we were ‘home’ in a particular way.
We both forgot about how tired we were (second wind, thank you) and immediately started unpacking while laughing and telling stories about our multiple flights.
I stepped out the backdoor in the kitchen and into the brilliant Australian sunshine and stretched, both arms over my head.
Good God, it was time for a shower.
I was attracting flies.

There were oh, so many little things we enjoyed while in Oz, some we expected and others that caught us off guard.
The shower at Chateau Harrod was one of those surprises.
The bathroom was small and modest, sporting a toilet with a power that could flush away the body of Elvis in the wink of an eye.
The shower/bathtub had two tallish windows that opened out onto the sideyard but still allowed for privacy.
The sun poured in through the window and seemed to illuminate every single droplet of water coming from the showerhead.
It was not unlike bathing in a sea of shooting stars.
And those stars can get you clean as a bastard, let me tell you.
I could have stayed in the shower all afternoon but where’s the fun in that?
We still had our first real Australian Barbie to attend at Mel and Steve’s and the bus would be leaving soon.
I looked into the mist-covered bathroom mirror and said, “Holy shit, we’re in Australia.”

To be continued . . .

Ps. the post pic?  It made me belly laugh but the ‘Danni Minogue’ thing simply killed me . . .

With hundreds of red-winged blackbirds falling dead out of the sky in Louisiana,
more tornadoes than the NOAA can count,
earthquakes the magnitudes of which the world has never seen,
tropical cyclones that can only be classified as deadly and a massive oil spill that was the worst
environmental disaster of all time, I thought it was high time for some good news.
Some funny news.
Maybe even some fake and made up news.
Anything but the bullshit the media gives us.
Just scanning the web I found a number of interesting stories.
Thank you Google.

Like THIS one.
Heartwarming and true.

Or THIS one.
Not so heartwarming but probably true.

Or THIS one.
Not heartwarming at all but damn funny in a very dark and Pan’s Labyrinth kind of way.

There, you feel better already, yes?
And no, I am not getting up at 3AM to watch the Royal Wedding.
I need my beauty sleep, for God’s sake . . .

~m

It’s very difficult to stay away from my little place of comfort but I wanted to
update the blog a bit.
I’m tired of looking at the ‘Closed for Winter’ picture in my previous post.
Since I last posted many things have happened
I got a 3G Kindle for my birthday (thanks to all that conspired on the Amazon gift cards!)
and I haven’t stopped reading.
I looooove it.
(‘love’ just didn’t have enough ‘O’s in it)
Can you read too much?
I don’t think so.
I have been writing but still not enough for me.
Gotta work on that.
And I am.
I am also now a member of a writing group in Boston.
We write, critique, laugh, talk about writing and drink funky smoothies in Davis Square, Cambridge.
It’s taken me a long, long time to join a writer’s group and this one is looking very promising.
I will hopefully get some honest opinions on my writing which is ultimately the reason I joined a group.
I posted tonight because I had close to 20 spam comments that went into moderation when they should
have been clobbered by Akismet.
Turns out my plugins needed some serious updating.
It’s all good now but I wanted to check in anyway.
God, I miss this place.
Thanks for still visiting me and I promise to at least post an update or two from time to time.
Until the next time,
Be safe, be well, be happy . . .

~m

7 words:
Coolness.
Alternative.
Period.
Amen.
Phoenix.
Headphones.
Required . . .

~m

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 . . .

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 . . .

When I started this blog over 5 years ago,
I had no clue as to just how much it would transform my life; the many people I’ve met, to the
relationships I’ve formed have amazed, humbled and yes, inspired me.
Maybe it was my heart splashed on the pages here that have brought some my way.
Many having been caught up in the same labyrinth I somehow made it through.
I’ve gained friends and lost some.
Made people cry and made them laugh.
What amazes me most is the unexpected things, the deep friendships that just ‘happened’.
Next week, Pamela and I will drive to Logan airport (read: Arrivals!)
to pick up two people that have not only forever changed our lives but have
found their way into the heart of this family.
They understand us as we understand them.
(although they both can still take the piss out of me at will. I guess I’m an easy target)
They will spend the better part of three weeks with us as we make our way
through a list of ‘to do’s’ that has been building since last August.
There will be music, food, drink, cigars, music, didgeridoo, laughter, jokes, sightseeing,
a long-awaited 4 day trip to the North Country and some very special conversations at midnight.
And I just aquired a nice CharBroil  ‘No-Oil’ infrared Turkey fryer.
The boys are going to have us some fun!
Mark has taken notes on several notable Boston eateries that he wants to visit. (no worries, she’ll be right mate)
Maureen just wants good cheeseburgers and pink lemonade. (after your Cincinnati Chili!)
I ask that you say a prayer for their safe arrival here.
This year we will have connectivity (unlike last year!)
Watch for some funny blog fluff.
Pamela, the girls and me are jumping like maggots on a barbie as we wait.
Our trip to Logan will be complete only after we see 3 Australian Akubras.
I will definitely be wearing mine.
There’s one Akubra 

~m

ps. I will personally be happy when Maureen and Mark see the gorgeous skyline below . . .

I’ve played piano for 40+ years and one thing that’s always
pissed me up the wall is the size of my hands.
They’re incredibly small and very unlike Sergei Rachmaninoff, Dave Brubeck, Ray Garland,
McCoy Tyner, Bill Evans, George Gershwin and Charles Ives. (and I love them all)
These guys have gorilla sized hands.

Palm a basketball?
No problem.
Palm a watermelon?
Easy.
Hand me that piano?
No worries.
Play a chord with more notes than the fingers on two hands?
Got more ivory?

To try and play a Garland or Gershwin tune you need about 800mgs of ibuprofen an hour
before playing so you don’t cramp up too much.
I’m serious.
Chopin?
Small and fast hands, the little bastard.
He was a magician and quite the sex fiend from what I hear.
Russian hands and Roman fingers.

I saw this video a while back and forgot all about it.
Tonight I am tickled pink to post it.
Interesting though that to play the Charles Ives ‘Concord Sonata’ you need several pieces of wood
cut to specific sizes and weights in order to play the piece.
I guess his hands weren’t big enough.
Enjoy this amazing and funny video.
I love it from a musical standpoint as well as a comedic statement.
This is Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C-sharp minor with much added levity.

“Small hands. But only hands small.”
I like this guy.
Alot.

I recently began teaching piano to someone that’s been asking me about some lessons for several years.
This ‘student’ of mine is currently working on many things but mainly pop tunes.
She takes on these artist tribute gigs like it’s her job and generally has 30-40 tunes on her plate.
She comes to me with the ones she’s having issues with and we go from there.
A bit avant-garde but it seems to work.
Although many things I say are met with that ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ stare,
there are moments when the light goes on and the aha moment presents itself.
This week we were going through several songs: I’m in you by Peter Frampton,
Yesterday Once More by the Carpenters and
Mandy by Barry Manilow.
No cheap-shot Manilow comments, okay?
Jeepers.
(and my student kind of gags when she plays these)
She generally goes to the web and finds a chord chart for a given song
and prints it out hoping to get a head start before she has her lesson.
I easily figured out why she’s been having so much trouble.
The chord charts suck.
Bad, appalling, ridiculous, shitty, WRONG are all adjectives that describe these
toilet paper-like charts that I wouldn’t even wipe a strangers ass with never mind my own keester.
These charts were written by someone that #1, has no ears (literally & figuratively),
#2, has little to no natural musical talent and #3, wouldn’t know what a minor seven flat five chord was unless it bit them is the ass.
I could not believe what I was seeing.
They should come with a *disclaimer:

“These chord charts are guaranteed to raise your suck factor
to levels beyond your wildest dreams.
They’re so poorly written you won’t even be able to play the song!”

Or

“Musically illogical chord charts. Yeah, they do sound like shit, don’t they?
Hell, we don’t think we got one chord right!”

Jesus Krispies.

Figuring out chord changes to a song is not brain surgery
but for the bonehead that put some of this crap on the web I really have to wonder.
Bottom line?
It you’re trying to learn a song, stay the hell away from the web.
It will musically scare the hell out of you.
I am still shaking my head.

For your edification, THIS is one of the URL’s in question.

And not to totally diss this site (which I have done) this is a chord chart from someone
that doesn’t have their head up their ass.
Deacon Blues