Molly was a hooker,

and a damn good one it’s said,
for in her prime she was the wildest thing in bed.
Innovative and pleasing to all her johns she’d do
whatever they could imagine, and make them feel anew.

For years she had a cliental that included all the best,
the richest politicians, the bankers and the rest
would pay a handsome fee to be in her embrace;
they would give their all to her, they loved her ways and grace.

But there came a day when she couldn’t ask the fee that
she once had.
She noticed with greater frequency she had an empty bed.
So employment was in order, she needed something new.
A fresh start, another job, a finer life she could pursue.

She considered what she knew as an expert in her craft,
for what she was best qualified, to use her fore and aft.
She knew customer relations, and how to look her best.
To this the city fathers surely could attest.

Real estate or insurance would not be fun she thought,
but she needed something, a place where she could start.
She looked at all her attributes and what she did so well,
and wondered what profession could use the tricks she knew.

She’d used her tricks for money, not caring who would pay,
to be secretive and cunning any night or day.
She’d had to cheat and lie a bit, that is of course the way,
then she’d just plead ignorance, and do what er she may.

She’d take bribes, if need be, to keep her secrets true,
and if some guy screwed her over, she’d make of him a fool.
And if she would do something wrong, she’d just change the rules,
change the wrong to right, she’d always keep her cool.

She thought long and hard, then made the best decision,
searching every job there was preceding her transition .
Of all the jobs that fit her well, she knew with great conviction,
is the take-the-loot and screw-em-all job of the politician.

Sleazy Motel Blues

I got these damn four walls, and it smells like last week’s cigarettes,
the carpets got these burn marks and the bed ain’t been made quite yet.
Outside a diesel’s running, because it’s so damn cold,
I haven’t slept the last four nights, and its getting mighty old.

The whisky’s on the night-stand, with a pot of coffee too,
What a way to start a day, with the sleazy motel blues.
I know I’m spending too much time, drinkin’ and being drunk,
but what else is a man to do when he’s down on his luck.

The TV’s on the blink again, it’s the wind they say.
And if I do not pay the bill, I’ll be out today.
I got enough, to get by now, for this room and cheap whiskey,
but I wish the hell there was something on the black and white TV.

I got the heavy shades pulled shut , it’s too damn bright outside
And when I look at the broken mirror it looks like I just died.
I get to feeling queasy with the shakes every now and then,
but that’s right where the whisky and the Lucky Strikes come in.

It always feels like winter here, the sun don’t come in much.
And when I’m feeling lonely, I miss a woman’s touch.
Can’t say where I’ll go from here, maybe the streets or jail,
but I just can’t yet leave this place, life’s got me on the rail.

Valentine Blues

Sorry to hear it didn’t work out for you,
and now you’re asking what to do.
Ya say he’s left you with bills and blues.
ya look in the mirror with them valentine blues.

Sorry to hear it turned out that way.
You had your times, you got to play.
Ain’t gonna be no flowers or candy,
you got the blues on valentine’s day.

(Refrain:)
Now you be askin, what to do,
when we both got dem valentines blues.

Sorry he won’t be around no more,
won’t be knocking on your door.
and with them bills, you gonna be poor.
On valentines day your heart’s all tore.

Now you telling me this and that,
And asking if I’ll come back,
I wish I could, but I just can’t,
you left me for him, that be a fact.

(Refrain)

You said he was the one for you,
that I couldn’t offer nothin’ new.
So now you asking what to do?
I ain’t gonna play the fool.

Woke up alone, with nothin’ to do,
knowing V day’s here, and I’m feeling blue.
Now to hear you’re blue too,
Tearing at my heart,
we both got,

the Valentines blues.

Lullaby

Before you run off to bed, my sweet sleepy head,
come sing this song with me.
Of dragons in flight on wings of pure light,
Over the calmest and bluest of seas.

To islands with trees, green waving leaves,
sending cinnamon smells on the breeze.
Where toy monkeys play through out the long day,
and smile, when they see you and me.

Where the fruit is so sweet, like candy we eat
Oh, what a treat, this just can’t be beat
Then we run and play, with monkeys all day.
‘till sunset where sleep calls us away.

The sea rolls away, and asks us to stay.
But, try as we may, sleep calls us away.
You can’t disguise the sleep in your eyes.
Magic covers the skies, we’ll return bye and bye.

Bad Girl Blues

I got this girl who’s oh, so bad,
But she be the best gal I ever had.
She scream when she happy, she scream when she sad,
But lawd when she good, she oh, so bad.

(Chorus):
That gal think she misunderstood,
But when she bad, she oh, so good.

I come home from work and I walk in the door,
she got her toys all over the floor.
I act like I mad, all mean and hard-core
So we plays around till we can’t play no more.

(Chorus)

Sometime she nice, as a girl can be,
And when she nice, she do anything fo me,
But gots to be careful, don’t make her mad.
She can be oh, so good, and then oh, so bad.

(Chorus)

She a nasty little girl, she do what she do
She get what she want, and that’s so true
When she bad, gets a spankin’, that’s what I do.
Make her scream just a little, but it never make her blue.

(Chorus)

When she wanna have some fun she ride me like a sled
An when she wanna do some spendin’, she take all my bread
But sometime she be just plain bad,
So I spank her just a little, then send her off to bed.

My life was not supposed to turn out this way.

He was never a very popular boy.
Let me rephrase: I was never a very popular boy. There, I said it. To use the third person pronoun is to evade the subject. I am trying to avoid all that denial and those euphemistic phrases to describe myself… to avoid years of glossing over the facts, to face my reality, to accept my destiny.

Always the last to be picked for any team.
I realized this early, I was not an asset to any team, actually I was a slow, stumbling, fumbling liability. It was not hard to see, when I ran I could not keep up with the others, I could neither kick or hit or throw a ball with either force or accuracy. Although not ostracized by the kids, I chose to not participate, and began to stand by myself or wander with no true direction during the recesses. This caught the attention of the teachers who had me tested, the typical Stanford-Binet, I learned later. The test found me to be well above average and bright in some respects. Thank God! No one could understand why I did not get good grades and why I was such a loner. “He daydreams too much,” I once overheard a teacher say. I could not argue with that.

High school was not much different.
I hung with the troublemakers, “underachievers”, did not participate in extra curricular activities, did a bit of drinking, smoked pot, dabbled in psychedelics, which I really did not like because they made me look at myself. I did not like the view. I felt alienated in high school and took an option to attend tech school, which provided me with focus and a creative outlet through photography, video and music. Unlike most guys, I did not have any girlfriends in high school. There were girls I’d consider to be friends, but no girlfriends. Once here was one gal who acted like she was my girlfriend for a short time. I later learned she was using me to get to another guy. Ouch!

After high school, I moved to the wilds of eastern Montana. Continuing the wandering I worked, made friends enjoyed the freedom that a boy feels being on his own for the first time. Did a little college, met a few gals, had brief flings enjoyed discovering sex and girlfriends. Some happy, some disappointing. I got serious with one gal, thought she was serious too. But when I found her in bed with a guy I thought was a friend….Oh Well, Ouch! Again.

Moving on.
Drifting about Montana, Othello, Washington then landing in Sequim, WA at age 24. Fun time, new job, made friends, always social, very busy, many dates, many love interests. Fell head over heals love-at-first-sight for one who didn’t want me. Continued that pursuit for years. She’d relent, we’d be lovers for a while, then not, we both moved in different directions. Back and forth for a dozen years. It should have, but did not work out in the long run. Too bad.

Life in Western Montana.
Fine, built the house, settled in for nearly 25 years now… seems like a big number when I see it in print. Off and on new loves, love lost, had a gal move in while I built the house, thought we were going someplace together… She was pretty, smart, funny, sharp, but drank more than was healthy. Some times she would not come home. When she got pregnant and it wasn’t by me…
Ouch! big Ouch! Good Bye. She was not my destiny….Good thing looking back. That took a while to get over.

Life as a town drunk
After that, I kept looking for another spark. Took a bit too much to drink myself, tried to pick up the bar gals. That met with little or no success… another good thing in the long run. I must have come across as a pathetic and lonely man.. Drifting drunk from bar to bar, town to town, weekend after weekend never finding what I needed or wanted. Met some gals outside the bars, some married (that never works out), some who said they were not married, but were. Some who cared, some who didn’t. some who thought I was someone else, some who wanted me to be someone else. Some wanted to use me, and a few wanted to be abused. No clicks, no spark. During that time I met one, who could have been the right one, alas I would not move to the city, she would not move to the country. My fault, bad decisions, bad luck, too much immaturity on my part. My Bad.

The Internet.
A few years later desperate, and lonely, I sough refuge in the land of America’s most desperate.

There is a reason we are single.
Many reasons, actually. And it is not just a matter of luck. Over the years faces reappear on the match websites. I am one of those and can say I have had dozens of first dates. A few second dates. One has bloomed into a non-sexual friendship. But in the search for love….nada.
Some of interest, some with bad habits (if you have a habit at 40 you will likely have it for life.) Some too old, not always in chronological years. Some too young. Some who have lost the ability to find fun… too sad. Some looking for the perfect man. Some immature, such as myself, The boy who never grew up.
Some I like but no like me, some like me, I no like.
Reoccurring pattern, like a bad habit.

Falling in Love
There was one, non-internet love that I thought was real, one of those that love novels could be written about. I pursued her for years. When she said yes, she became my morning light and evening dreams, my fantasy. I was her stars and moon she would say. She announced to her family she was moving in with me, I could not have been happier, giddy was I, like being in love for the first time, maybe it was the first time.

Thing change fast.
One morning it was over. She said she had to break up. I didn’t think she was serious, I thought it was a phase of questioning, she’d get over. A low spot in her dysthymia. For a year I did not give up, we stayed in contact, talking several times a week. Then once a week, then every other week. Then she found someone else, he moved in with her right away. I guess she was serious.
That’s an ouch that does not quickly heal.

Over time, have met and dated more, been fortunate to meet one who have become good friends, I am really lucky in friends.

The Internet again.
Two years of searching off an on, one week in a frenzy of hope I had a meeting every day. Exhausting. I am too hard to please. My Bad.

Manifesto
After discovering I am just fooling myself to think I am going to find what I am looking for. I have decided from this point further to no longer disappoint myself or others.
Time to give in and face the truth…Sometime hope has no place in the truth.
Hell, I’m over 50 now, (another big number when seen in print).

It just ain’t gonna happen.
This last week I went through all the e-mails from all the once potential dates. Dropped a “hello, how are ya doin’” e-mail to all those who at one time displayed an interest that was mutual. Now, 10 days later, only one has written back. She to say she is happy with her boyfriend living in Vermont. My next step was to delete names and messages from all those past connections. Erase any trace of my activity. End the past.

Batting “0”
Some friends think I don’t care about being single, that I handle being alone so well, that I maintain a good positive attitude. Truth is being alone is no great picnic. Actually it gets very lonely.

Really.

The Bachelor Boys Blues Band

> I am starting a blues band, "Blind White Willie and the Bachelor Boys"
> Maybe a progressive/ regressive blues jazz style. I'm the only member so
> far. I plan to start the marketing campaign, with tee shirts, tour
> schedules, bumper stickers and some web based stuff first, then learn to
> play the guitar later; that way I will be forced to learn.
>
> "Ma Baby she done left me,
> Don't know what to do.
> I's been drinking all day
> I got them drinkin' blues.
>
> I'm a gonna git a gun
> And a little ski mask too.
> Go rob myself a big ol bank
> That's what I's gonna do.
>
> Don't care if they shoot me
> And lay me in the ground.
> Cause I can't live no way
> With my baby runnin round.
>
> But if they don't a shoot me
> And I run off with the dough.
> I'll git myself a hooker
> An we'll do an ounce of blow."
>
> It needs a little work, but I think it gits the idea across.
>

Another Great Recording: Aire Latino

If you are a fan of classical guitar, or even if you are not, there is a wonderful recording by David Russell you should listen too. Not just listen, but buy and keep and listen over and over again for it has all the elements of a great solo guitar recording.
The performer, David Russell has many recordings available, including a Bach album which has also met with great critical acclaim. In “Aire Latino” Mr. Russell has a delicacy of touch when needed, and a smoothness and flow that makes one unable to stop the music in mid song; it mesmerizes the listener to cherish each song from first note to the last. The delicate and precise touch blends with an uncanny rubato in some pieces to entice the listener to wonder if this is truly only one guitar.
Mr. Russell has selected a number of Latin American pieces from a variety of composers. Favorites like Jorge Cardoso and Hector Villa-Lobos as well as less recorded composers like Guido Santorsola and Dilermando Reis. Unlike many compilations, this album has a continuity of purpose and one could even imagine a story being told. The works combine to offer a picture of the best of 20th century South American guitar compositions. Each of which stand as great pieces on their own, but when combined together, they elicit the listener to contrast and compare the brilliant ideas of these solos. There are largo and moving pieces like “Se ela Perguntar”, by Reis and “Milonga” by Cardoso as well as quick paced pieces like “Xodo da Baiana” by Reis and even the Jazzy “Rebolico” by Pernambuco. The combination keeps the entire album fresh and never boring.
A word about the engineering; this is part of what makes this recording great, one is able to hear all the nuances of the guitar from plucks to overtones and harmonics, from the deepest bass E to the highest A sharp with an evenness of tone seldom found only in the best recording. No wonder this album won the Grammy for best instrumental soloist for 2005.

Close Encounter of the Real Kind

As one travels west and north of Gillette, the landscape changes from the rolling dry grassland prairies to rugged, almost mountainous land of ponderosa pine, juniper and shrub oak. This is the western edge of the Black Hills. Several miles into this landscape one begins to catch glimpses of unusual rock outcroppings. Several sheer rock cliffs rise to the east of a dramatic 1200 foot rock outcropping known as Devils Tower. The name is terribly awkward, for this monolith would only be devilish to the superstitious and those who fear the nature of geology. The Indians call it “Bear Lodge” a much better name to go with the Kiowa legend of the five girls, while being chased by a giant bear, took refuge on the hill which began to rise from the land. As the hill rose higher the great bear clawed to get to the girls. The hill is said to have saved the girls, but it rose high, all the way to heaven, so they could not climb down; they are now immortalized in the five stars of the Pleiades.

The Routine

There has not been much to write about lately, for I am in a routine of work and return to the hotel, six days a week. High points would be the sunrise and sunsets on the 40 mile drive to and from work, the bison, antelope, deer and eagles seen daily, the walk I take on the lunch hour, and the music coming in on the XM.

A Billion Below Zero

I did not want to make this blog a weather report, but the weather here dominates what we do. Today the crew was out skirting the mobile homes, I drove out to check on them this afternoon and had to dodge a couple cardboard boxes that were blowing about in the wind. The weather report was saying 37 mph with gusts to 44. Not much snow to blow about in Wright, but the 40 mile drive back to Gill was a different story. The wind was out of the north, so we hit it head on and it whistled so loudly I thought the doors were ajar. There was just a skiff of snow blowing across the road and we thought we’d have clear sailing all the way, but about 10 miles into the drive, we had to slow for blowing snow and the occasional white out. At times we were blinded by the lights of the oncoming traffic. About halfway, the pickup ahead of us spun out on an icy hill, it crossed the other lane and ended in the borrow pit. We squirreled a bit too, but regained before far, then dropped it down to about 40 for the rest of the way in. It was difficult to determine where we were since all hills and landmarks were all obscured by the blowing snow. We passed a couple trucks pulled over, and when we finally got to town there were occasional flashing cop lights to let us know some drivers were not very lucky. Got to the hotel and my room was 55 degrees because I did not leave the heat on when I left. Out the window it looks fuzzy, like a weak TV station. The temperature says 20 degrees, but it feels like a billion below zero.

Carmina Burana by Carl Orff

Dear Reader,
This is one piece of music you must listen to before you die, really! Most of us will find the opening and closing pieces, “O Fortuna” quite familiar; it has been used for various triumphant processionals and dramatic announcements through the years. Most recently I heard a form of in advertisement for a Canadian beer. As familiar as “O Fortuna”, is, it is just a beginning of a rich and inspired cantata encompassing songs of good and bad fortune, medieval mythology, nature, love, lust, drinking, foolishness, gambling, fortune and death.
Orff’s cantata is based upon a collection of thirteenth century goliardic songs found in the Benediktbeurn Monastery in southern Germany. Carmina means “songs,” and Burana is short for the monastery where the manuscript was found in 1803. The primary textual theme of the cantata is spring with love, hope and pleasure contrasted with the indifference of fortune and the temptations of the flesh. Don’t expect to understand a word as it is performed; it is sung in low Latin and low German.

For a full transcription visit: www.buckschoral.org/programs/carmina.pdf

What makes this work so fascinating is its ability to combine the ancient and the modern in an accessible and gloriously melodic work, with some extraordinarily colorful instrumentation and richness of vocal texture.

Unlike many 20th century works, Burana does not encumber us with complex counterpoint and dissonance, nor is it filled with strange and unusual harmonies. There are some fantastic rhythms and an active percussion section that creates a flow keeping the listener involved and entertained throughout.
Although there are several recordings out there, each with their own merits, I prefer the Riccardo Muti recording with the Philharmonia Chorus and Orchestra.

The Wright Weather

I didn’t want this to be the rural weather report, but the weather seems to predominate conversations here. I guess when it is well below zero with a stiff wind it does affect what we do. Our crew skirting the mobile homes took the day off. They are having a time of it anyway. The bid was put-in in November, before the ground froze and now they have to scrape and hammer down the high points on the ground. They also are pounding stakes in, all the more difficult on the frozen ground. They thought they could do four a day, but are hard pressed to get one done. With progress going so slow they sent the big boss in from Florida to get them to work harder, but after he saw the conditions they are working under, he decided to send in another crew who should arrive today. The boss spent about 20 hours in state before jamming back south.
Had pipes freeze in about 10 of the 53 units, also some problems with insulation and hot water heaters. The crews are getting-er-done though.

Snow Day

Looks like we will be starting work a bit late today. About 6:00 this morning a storm blew in with 45mph winds making quite a howl outside my motel window. While eating breakfast, Deb at the front desk announced they’d closed the interstate and we all figured highway 59 to Wright would be closed too. I could see that the oil rig workers had started out and come back. If the weather is too rough for a well-digger, it’s too rough for me. Walked out to take some photos and find it is not all that cold, but wind and snow reduces visibility to about a hundred feet at times.

Big Trucks and Antelope

Had a short day at work yesterday and got off at 1:00. CT took me on a tour of the backroads between Wright and Gillette. Lots of wildlife out there, hawks and bald eagles, jackrabbits, deer and more antelope per mile than I’ve ever seen. This is coal country and they mine with big equipment, miles of trains and some building that look like the aliens on “War of the Worlds”. CT says the trucks they use are the biggest in the world, certainly they are the biggest trucks I’ve ever seen. Word is they have an access cover in the rear differential where a person can climb inside for maintenance.

Prairie Life

It is a good thing we have weather here so we have something to talk about. Not quite winter, but you could fool me, 8 degrees and a 20 mph wind this morning. People say since it is low humidity you don’t feel it so much, but has to be low humidity, moisture can not exist in these temperatures. Fortunately, it is sunny and warmed to the 20’s today, so I was able to take an hour walk during the lunch break. I notice nobody else walks for exercise here, so I have all the trails to myself.

View From The Office

This is wonderful country for those who enjoy wind.

My arrival in Paris

Just to let you all know I arrived in Paris safely via SLC and DEN. Accommodations are fine but the 40 mile commute to the office is a bit grueling. This morning a couple inches of snow and wind gusts to 30 mph blew my sub-compact car around a bit, tomorrow I will be getting a big ol’ SUV. I hope it will have snow tires.

Paris on the Prairie

Looks like the Hermit will be on another winter adventure. This time to the “Paris on the Prairie”, not exactly Pasadena or Pensacola. Will be leaving sometime today and get in late tonight. Was hoping to avoid the snow, but no such luck. Will write more from the destination. The wind chill in Gillette this AM is 7 below.

Infinite Blue

“I think a movement in jazz is beginning away from conventional string of chords and a return to emphasis on melodic rather than harmonic variations. There will be fewer chords, but infinite possibilities as to what to do with them.”
Miles Davis 1958

If you have a chance this winter, take another listen to the 1959 recording “Kind of Blue”; some say it is the greatest improvisational jazz album ever recorded. Follow it up with “Sketches of Spain” for a listening experience that is said to contain the full range of human emotion.