When All You Need Is A Shot In The Arm (Wilco)

There are times in life when music transcends everything else. On a large scale or small, music is capable of triggering all sorts of crazy emotions.

For me, there are some specific examples: when I want to relax or concentrate, I will put on certain tunes from Tangerine Dream. When I play Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon", I think of my Uncle Ron.

But Wilco has defined my life in the 2000s. In 2002, when I celebrated life after cancer, my friends Jon and Sue came to a party at my mom's house. Sue gave me a CD she burned. A song on that CD was "I am trying to break your heart" - by Wilco.

For my birthday in 2005, Sheryl bought us tickets to see Wilco at Meadowbrook Music Theatre. I loved that show, and eventually bought a poster specific to the show. For months afterwards, Sheryl and I played "A Ghost is Born" over and over and over and over. My favorite recollection of that time is the song "Hummingbird". We used to be silly, singing along with the lyrics, adding our own echo (echo).

In 2007, when I was barely working at Advance America, I was still listening to Wilco. I was attracted to the song "A Shot in the Arm", which included the lyrics "Maybe all I need is a shot in the arm", and "what you once were isn't what you want to be anymore". It rang true, man... it rang true.

And so last night, I went to bed with a heavy heart... I wasn't exactly sure why. I had hoped that my attitude would change by morning. It didn't. I was a bear at work... the unfriendliest mofo in the building. And when I came home, I wasn't sure I wanted to go to tonight's Wilco concert. After all, I would be going by myself - and what fun is that?

Well, the show started at 9pm, and lasted til 11:40pm. So at least I'd get my money's worth...

But after the opening songs - "Wilco (the song)" and "Bull Black Nova", Wilco began tearing away at the veil that clouded my mind. "I am trying to break your heart" was followed by "Shot in the Arm". Holy crap!

By the time they played "I'm the man who loves you" (which also makes me think of when Sheryl and I were dating), I was laughing and smiling... and realizing that I was having a BLAST!

And soon, I realized that although I had been standing all night, and was getting a little tired, I wanted them to keep playing! "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" was killer - like all the rest of their songs. But when they played "Kingpin", it struck a nerve... "I wanna be your kingpin... livin' in (pause) MICHIGAN." What the hell? Is that a little pride I feel coursing through me?

There's a website called Wilcobase.com, which shows the setlists and allows you to compare Wilco shows. I can't wait for the setlist to be posted. I'll probably put the setlist on my iPod, and relive the show often.

When Wilco walked offstage at 11:40, I made my way home in 15 minutes. It was before midnight when I was babbling to Sheryl like a kid fresh home from the carnival, telling his folks all about it.

So now, an hour later, my ears are still buzzing, and guitar riffs and lyrics ramble through my short term memory.

I am SO gonna pay for this tomorrow... but I am loving it today. And when my alarm goes off, maybe all I'll need is a shot in the arm...

Hi-Res

Have you ever been overseas?
Have you ever plugged an electrical device into a socket that wasn't the proper type for the device?

When I was in Germany, I would plug my electric razor into the electrical sockets, and my razor would buzz frantically. Not surprisingly, that poor razor died shortly after I came home.

Well, I feel like that razor. I have so much going on in my head these days that I keep waiting for it to overload.

So here it is... 1:45am Sunday, and I finally feel relaxed and calm. I feel as if I can catch up with my thoughts.

I've got a good grasp on life. I know how I am, and I know how I tend to react to situations. As a result, I also understand why I feel the way I feel. It sounds crazy, but get this:

Something triggers my mind (this particular trigger happened while in Waynesville, NC), and at that point, my mind begins to alter my life - before I am even aware of the alteration.

Then, I spend a number of days/weeks/months catching up to the reality that my mind began creating days/weeks/months ago.

My only problem is that because it is a change, I feel antsy, anxious and uncomfortable. I am totally not enjoying the journey like I should. After all, life is simply a series of moments strung together in a row, and we should strive to enjoy and make the best of each moment.

Well, knowing the situation is the first step to fixing my perception, I hope.

I wonder if any of this makes sense to anyone aside from myself. I'll try to imagine everyone understanding. :)

We've got the last week of the Tour de France coming up. I sense fireworks coming...

Peace out, my peeps!

Sweet Sexy Smoker

Well, today is the day that we finally received our sweet sexy Orion smoker! Man, I can wait to stoke that sucker up!

Sheryl and I went to Nashville and Asheville over July 4 weekend, and we stopped at a number of stores along the way, looking for that dang smoker. So once we got home, I just ordered it online. And today, we are proud smoker parents! Whoo-hoo!

Anyhow, our trip was great. We stopped and took pictures at Col. Sanders gravesite, stopped at the Hillerich and Bradsby company - makers of the Louisville slugger, and stopped at a replica Stonehenge in Ky.

Nashville may end up being where Sheryl and I relocate. It was awesome! I am not a fan of Country and Western music, but I opened myself up for the experience, and it really made the trip great. I can't even begin to explain how rewarding it was to be in a true music city - without even liking C&W.

And heck yeah, we had BBQ!

Anyhow, my attention is being split right now between this blog and the Tour de France. The latter is winning out, so I gonna end for now. Hopefully I'll come up with something intelligent (for a change) next time!

Turning A Silent Vow

The quiet of night cradles my thoughts.
My heart gently taps time with the tide.
Smiling moon, comfort my dreams as they wash upon the milky way.
Here, in the misty ballroom of silence,
I forget the trappings of day, and sink with deep, deep breaths toward the mossy depths of nocturnal delight.

My fingertips sing with the humid harmonies of the heavens.
Stars twinkle in mystic morse code.
For minutes or millenia, I watch the message materialize.
Briefly, so incredibly brief, John Lennon pops into my head.
He sings to me:
I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together...

I laugh from the depths of my cells.
And it radiates as I do,
Drawing deeply from the dense sense of destiny.

There is no yesterday, the is no tomorrow.
There is right now.
And I am here.

I get a lot of information these days through Twitter. People make a note about something, and if I care to investigate, I’ve got the entire internet to research it.

A lot of people are reeling as a result of yesterday’s celebrity deaths. First, every boy’s 70s dreamgirl, Farrah dies, then Michael Jackson. The other day, Ed McMahon died. Another musician died yesterday, as well – Andy Hughes, from The Orb. He was only 44.

Death brings people together – something I noticed reading tweets. There are cries for love and family, patience and understanding.

It’s a strange time to be alive in this world. A lot of times, I don’t see how anyone could bring a child into this world – as messed up as the world can appear. But other times, I have the utmost respect for the parents of those children who will one day be running our governments.

We need to find how media is going to dictate life. We receive information so much faster now than before. There is a saying that bad news travels fast – but heck, look how fast it travels through the media these days!

I suppose I ought to apologize to you right now. I try to tie all of my random thoughts together into a nice little blog-package. But it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen today. Let’s call today “Random Thought Friday”, and I propose we all go home and play the Talking Heads album “Stop Making Sense”!

Viva Devolution!

My wife is amazing.

Anyone find an Orion smoker yet?? Me neither.

Final thought: Let’s think about how our actions affect others. When we’re lying in the earth, or having our ashes spread, how do we want to be remembered?

Have we done enough to justify being remembered in that way?

I'm exhausted. Totally. Freakin'. Exhausted.

The messed up thing is that I have done NOTHING to feel so wiped out. It pisses me off that this may be my life with SHOW-GRINZ.

So I get this e-mail tonight from the President. OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Talking about volunteering.

When I volunteered, I learned a lot, and networked pretty heavily. I had a lot of fun, and met a lot of people. I tried things that I never tried before, and learned things that I never knew.

I met my wife while volunteering.

And yet when I suggest that people who have been laid off in this crappy economy volunteer, I get looks like I have three eyes!

When you volunteer, you have a chance to sharpen your skills. You can network. You can do something good for someone else. Don't think that karma won't go unnoticed!

Volunteering provided me so many positive things. I am a better person because of volunteering. And I hope that people who are looking to enhance their skillsets will look at volunteering. Yes, it's true you don't get paid.

But how much did you earn today?

Try it, Mikey...

I need to sleep for a good 7 or 8 hours...

Imp (77)


The long range game of change played out as arranged.
With fingernails nibbled to nubs
And glasses smeared with ashes,
He waited for the bait, which appeared to be late.
He checked his watch while water sloshed
Anonymity his name unknown.


His breath the depth of red red death
Sugar sweetened tears bled across his beard and gear
He testified at the alter of summer swelter
1977 his heaven unleavened and burned
Wherefore lies his pleasure? His treasure?


Eyesight causes slight fright at the sight of might
He sees himself as cherub-like, for the god of dis-like
Irate blood pulses, convulses
A wretched gargoyle who spoils daylight toils.
Watching in silence, the violence.
The life behind his eyes.

View from Four-Three

Sorry folks. I haven't posted in a while, because nothing has really inspired me. I've been feeling out of sorts lately, and can't seem to put my finger on it.

This weekend, I celebrated my 43rd birthday - my 7th post-cancer.

I am tickled to death that despite feeling so out of touch, many birthday wishes and blessings rained down upon me. In fact, the only thing that would have possibly made this weekend perfect, was finding a damned Orion Smoker!

Seriously. Sheryl and I stopped at 5 freaking stores looking for this elusive cooking apparatus with no avail. If you find one in a store and not online, let me know... there may be a finders fee for you!

So what is with this summer? I know it really started today, but criminey, could it have taken any longer to get here????

The beautiful thing, though, is that I think I've had a miraculous breakthrough with my back! I have found that if careful, I can ride Shtiya almost like I used to! Next to being alive and having an angel as my wife, and such an amazing family, I couldn't ask for a better blessing!

This morning, I rode just over 12 miles. For the first half of the ride, there was NO SOUND except for the wind whistling through my helmet and my own breathing. Wow. Freaking WOW!

Anyway, I am searching for inspiration again, and summer usually lends me its' powers. Now that Sheryl is going back to school, I am going to have to keep busy... idle hands are the devil's playground...

Welcome summer. Unpack your bags, and feel free to stay as long as you like. Please wipe your feet before you enter.

WWMD?

It's weird to me how things in life seem to spin on their axes. There are times when you think you know everything there is to know, and a little wrinkle appears, leading to an uninvestigated cavern.

I used to think I understood my relationship with my family. With a large family of uncles, aunts and cousins, it's really easy to become estranged.

For many years, I have lived in my own little world, and kept touch with only the closest family members.

Did you ever have the feeling that the world is preparing you - leading you up to something? It's almost like you suspect that karma is setting you up for a surprise birthday party.

I feel that way about my family now. I am realizing that I miss them. A lot.

I ran into a long unseen cousin at the store the other day, and he told me that aside from his dad's family, I was the only relative to meet his wife. I thought - she seems like a great girl, how sad that no one else has met her! Of course, the devil on my shoulder thought - NaNANaNaNAH-Na! I was the first to meet her! LOL!

But the reality is, only a handful of my family has met Sheryl. And she just seemed to understand that I had a large family that I never saw. I suppose I'm realizing how unfair it is to her and my relatives that they have never met.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what will develop from this. It seems like the semi-trailer is heading downhill towards Interestingville without brakes.

Hmmmm... what would MacGyver do?

Today marks two years that I've been married to an angel. Thank you god, for letting me borrow her for the rest of my life. It is just a blink of your eye, but for me, it's forever.

Every time I look at Facebook and Twitter, I start thinking in simple sentences.

When I lived in Germany, I knew I was comfortable with the language when I started dreaming in German.

God, I hope my dreams don't turn into simple sentences...

Day. Time.

Today looks to be a truly beautiful day.

On truly beautiful days, I realize how much time I wish away, looking forward to a truly beautiful day.

And then on those truly beautiful days, I find myself wishing away the time, looking back on summer memories.

Well, I think it's time to stop wishing time away.

Apparently, I've allowed myself that leisure for too long. It has become comfortable - too comfortable.

I need to remember that sitting still is not necessarily wasting time.

It's also a chance to enjoy every moment.

The (Real) Italian Job

I was wandering Europe. It was Spring. The Giro d'Italia was in full swing. I wanted to sing.

'Cause I was blotto.
Blotto on gelato.
That sweet frozen treat
Beautiful gelato.

Trudging over mountains. I wandered. He heat had me wonder. I fell asunder.

'Cause I was blotto.
Blotto on gelato.
That sweet frozen treat
Beautiful gelato.

On their bikes. Racers rode by me. They had me stymied. I fell to one knee.

'Cause I was blotto.
Blotto on gelato.
I cried to the skies.
For beautiful gelato.

And when the sun deflated. And the night grew cold. I wasn't as bold. No gelato to hold.

Key Lime
Graham Cracker
Cinnamon
Ginger.

Malted Milk Ball
Mango
Rum Raisin
Mocha Chip.

Every pore screamed. Every hole. Every mole. Jumped for joy as I stole...

Gelato.

Beautiful gelato.

Bang Bang

So the CFO of Freddie Mac has committed suicide. Does he know something we don't? Why am I suddenly very angry at him?

I don't know if the guy had problems. That sucks if he did, and I feel for him. However, if he just took the easy way out, I would totally kick him in the nuts.

Four, Five, Six Corners (Hot Plate Heaven)

I’m sittin’ here thinkin’,
Searchin’ for a sign.
I’m wondrin’ and a’waitin’,
Searchin’ for a sign.

When the days are short,
An’ me an’ my baby are blue,
We look for some comfort,
We shiver an’ shake.

When the days grow longer,
An’ me and my baby feel twice as nice,
We look for the days to last forever,
And rarely – like never – they do.

I’m sittin’ here thinkin’,
Searchin’ for a sign.
I’m prayin’ and a’hollerin’,
Searchin’ for a sign.

There’s a diff’rent climate here these days,
We’re lookin’ fer a little more.
We have all that we want,
We’re jes’ lookin’ fer a little more.

I’m sittin’ here prayin’,
For want of a sign.
I’m wondrin’ and a’waitin’,
Searchin’ for a sign.

Blame It On...

It's pissing rain outside, but that's not going to receive the blame for my being sad. My depression this morning is caused by someone else's depression - Tyler Hamilton's.

Tyler Hamilton will always be one of my favorite professional cyclists. He was a lieutenant for Lance Armstrong for many years, and was involved in many exciting cycling moments.

And he is one tough sonuvabitch, too. In 2003, Tyler cracked his collarbone in one of the first stages of the Tour de France - and hung in there to finish the 3-week long race... he even won a stage!

A couple of days ago, Tyler admitted to taking a banned substance. This is his second occurrance, and instead of fighting the eventual ban he will receive, he has decided to retire.

Now, I have written about dopers and doping in the past. In this case, I felt that Tyler had paid his price for his previous indiscretions - a two year ban. I was shocked to hear about the current one.

But there is a story behind this - Tyler took this intentionally, as part of a natural vitamin that helps depression. Tyler was diagnosed in 2003 with depression. His family suffers from it. His grandmother, in fact, committed suicide as a result of it.

Earlier this year, Tyler stopped taking the medication that he was prescribed because it wasn't helping - and it was producing side effects that he didn't like. So he decided to try a natural vitamin that contained a banned substance.

Tyler knew he was playing with fire - I mean, if you are banned from cycling for two years for allegedly doping, you are going to be totally aware of what goes into your body. And he was caught.

I am sad that Tyler will no longer race. But I hope that he really takes the time to get himself mentally healthy. He will see that there are opportunities out there ripe for picking.

We have all gone through bouts of depression, but I can't imagine living with depression 24/7. It would be like living in Michigan, getting 70 days of sunshine per year...

Oh. Nevermind.

Tyler, you're tha bomb! Take care of yourself, and thanks for the fantastic memories!!

The Low Flow Below

Number two, number three
You can take it from me,
There’s a line in the sand
Where you must stand
To your back, step back, attack
Paint it bright black
Ahead of you, it’s true
A lesson like school, fool
Where do you lie?
On which side of the line?
Decide, don’t hide,
Where do you reside?
It’s easy, cheesy, and a little sleazy,
Take a breath and drink some tea-sy
Decide where you are
How far in the car
Take a stand, beat the band
Declare your land
And clap your hands
Clap your hands
Clap your hands
Slap your glands

Sweet Torture

When I was training to ride across Montana, I was maintaining a blistering pace of 200+ miles per week, but I struggled to recover on many days.

I would change my diet, drink protein shakes, swallow snot-consistency power gels, and oftentimes nothing worked. I would lay in bed the next day having a difficult time getting up.

"Getting old," I'd say to no one in particular.

So I tried to rest more. Which was fine. I never thought a lot about it.

Knowing what I know now, I can look at those moments as potential Sjogren's episodes. And the reason I say that is because I feel the same way these days - after my workouts at the Y - particularly after a strong cardio session.

My legs feel like worn out rubber bands held together with plaster of paris.

"Getting old?" I ask to no one in particular.

I dunno. In my mind, I don't work any harder than anyone else who isn't as exhausted as I am. Am I a sissy? In the back of my mind, I think so. But at the same time, there is still enough doubt to where I can attribute it to Sjogren's - without feeling guilty.

I try not to let it get the best of me, period. Today, I still plan to hit the weights at the Y. I'll probably do less cardio (if any) because my legs are wasted. I can then recover (aside from painting our bathroom and generally putzing around) for three days before our next swim class.

The thing that really sucks though, is always wondering if I am using my ailments as a crutch. If I am, how do I really know whether I need a break, or whether I need to suck it up?

And to make it worse, I am a cyclist at heart, which to a degree makes me yearn for physical discomfort.

So many questions. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to get definitive answers on our healthcare questions like athletes and stars do?

Oy, that is another egg to crack... not for today, though.

Have no fear, my friends, that whining sound you hear tonight will just be lil' ol' me. Have a laugh on my behalf, because I will certainly deserve it!

You Gotta Have Hart...

The other day, Sheryl and I went to see Jill Jack at the Hartland Music Hall. It was the last of Sheryl's birthday presents (yes, her birthday was in January, and no, I do not spoil her!), and we had a blast!

Mine and Sheryl's musical tastes differ greatly, but we agree on a few things: We like Los Lobos, and we like local musicians Stewart Francke, Liz Larin, and we are particularly fond of Jill Jack.

So this weekend, Jill had decided to record a couple of live shows, performing new music. Sheryl and I went to the first (Friday) show, thinking that it would be more raw and electrifying than the second (Saturday) show.

There were a few glitches in the beginning, and we could sense the nerves. But it was cool. And as the night went on, the performance got stronger and stronger.

After the break, Jill and her band played a couple of the strongest songs of the night. At that point, I realized how in tune the band was with each other, and how amazing the evening was.

In my life, I have never been able to accept comfort for too long. I had always needed change and growth. This is a quality that Jill sings about - the hunger for challenge and suckiness of normality. Other people can let moss grow under their feet.

It's been this need that has drawn me to Americana music. Music of the road, and stories along the road.

Jill's band seethed Americana Friday night, and it tweaked my wanderlust. In a good way, of course! :)

In the end, Sheryl really enjoyed herself - which was the goal of my evening - and I enjoyed myself, too. We can't wait to hear the album when it comes out. In fact, we were joking before the show that we would be a part of history - especially when Jill would say "I was reading in Rolling Stone the other day that Dee-troit audiences are the best audiences in the world! (We would cheer and holler) And Jill would continue by saying: "I thought to myself, sh*t, I've known that for ten years!"

Or maybe that was Bob Seger who said that.

State of the Art (Lather. Rinse. Repeat)

Over the last couple of years, I have become very proud of being a technical writer. I used to think that my mad tech writing skillz would lead me into a full-fledged world of engineering. And while I lingered on the fringe of engineering, I learned that not only would that world not have me, but I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted it.

As I get more comfortable in my own skin (if you will), I have begun thinking about the state of writing.

Even now, I am writing on a computer - a far cry from the pen and paper I used to write with. Technology is blowing up all around us, and it would seem ideal to be a technical writer during this explosion. The problem is, however, that along with technology comes globalization. And globalization means that you have to accept the fact that your audience may not speak your native language.

I saw this first hand when I lived in Germany. Road and safety signs are perfect examples of globalization. As writers, we need to recognize that pictures cross language barriers. Successful companies have taken heed - have you tried reading directions for an iPod lately?

Another change we face as writers is slang. Slang became very obvious in the 80s with the dawn of "ebonics". It seemed as if people within our own country spoke different languages. America, however, being the true melting pot that it is, embraced language changes and incorporated many of the differences into general understanding - Holla!

The electronic age is bringing its' own slang. I am still struggling to learn the lingo of text messaging (aka, wrtng wtht vwls), but again, it is something that we will - and must - embrace.

Gone R dyz of Lather. Rinse. Repeat. In the coming age, my art - my skill - will be less desirable, and I will have to adapt in order to survive. Yes, it is just like everything else - adapt to survive.

A dear friend of mine has amazing drawing skills. But he hasn't embraced the technology that would allow him be creative on a daily basis. On the other hand, I work with illustrators who are constantly seeking new tools to allow them to work more efficiently.

In the Detroit Institute of Arts, they house a lot of carvings, paintings and sculptures. But they also house digital art, and cutting edge media. Libraries house books, but you can also obtain books online and on CD.

I wouldn't be surprised that in the near future, we will be learning and training much like they did in "The Matrix". Just download programs into our brains. After all, when my parents went to school, they used slide rules in chemistry and physics classes. I used a calculator. And today, kids are going to class with laptop computers.

We have developed that far in 50 years. This is evident even in our country's space program. Engineers used slide rules to calculate Apollo 11 going to the moon. Today, we wouldn't even think to not incorporate computers!

So where do we stand here and now?

We're like Alice stepping into the mirror and into Wonderland.

Adapt to survive.

Goodbye Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Hello moto.

Once again, I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

For some reason, I had a really bad feeling going to see my pulmonologist today to get the results of this weeks' CT scan.

To be honest, I am getting tired of seeing the doctor and being told that although I feel fine, that something is wrong with me.

Fortunately, today's news was good, and I can breathe again.

Nothing abnormal showed up on the scan, and the last loose end is tied up...

I think we know everything that is wrong with me for now, and I can focus on the future once again.

Whew!

When I was old...

Every once in a while, I wonder if I have lived up to the potential I had as a kid.

The thought popped into my head again this morning.

As kids, we are often asked what we want to be when we grow up. I, for one, never thought about being a technical writer until my junior year in college.

But I had skills!

In 2nd and 3rd grade, I used to write stories for extra credit. I would compete with my classmates to see who could write the longest report. I was a freak.

I still am!

But as a kid, I wanted to be a baseball player. I lived and loved baseball. And I was good at it, too.

I ended up throwing my arm out by high school, though, and never liked the idea of getting hit by pitches. So I ended up sucking at baseball.

I was always thinking, though, and was often included in classes to promote intelligence and creativity. I never understood why I was in the same classes with all of the smart kids. I did okay in school, but never truly exerted myself. It’s true that I may have blown an opportunity or two, but as I get older, I wonder if I was bored, or was borderline ADD.

As a kid, we could be anything we wanted. It’s so strange to hear stories of people I grew up with becoming an alcoholic, or work at a gas station their whole lives.

Most of the kids in my “special” classes became engineers, politicians or economists.

What have I done with my life? Have I achieved everything I could with what I had to work with?

Oddly enough, that question haunts me daily. I think that as we get older, and are faced with the back side of our lifetime, we start thinking about that. As a cancer survivor, I started thinking about it earlier than most people.

And so as I wonder about all of the things little 8-year-old Matthew could have achieved in his life, I have to admit that he could have accomplished a whole lot more if he tried harder and wasn’t so lazy.

Then again, is it really fair to ask? After all, who is to say that this is not the most rewarding path Matthew could have taken in his life?

Bringing joy to people, being remembered for good nature and good heart helps determine whether we have lived a good life in the long run. If Matthew had become a doctor, could he have saved many lives? Sure, but would he inspire others by writing about his experiences? That’s possible, too.

We just don’t know what we don’t know. And if thinking about these things makes us strive to become a better person, then what’s the harm?

I think that although Matthew might have strived for more, he would think his 42-year-old self was pretty darn cool – and certainly worth looking up to and forward to.

So get this...

A couple of days ago, I was invited to a roundtable discussion held today with my congressman regarding healthcare reform.

Are you part of the problem or part of the solution?

It was really cool, and although we didn't get into as much detail as all of us may have hoped, it was very exciting to be involved in discussions that will change our healthcare system.

Of course, it was pretty cool that my congressman now has a copy of my book, too! :)

So when I got the call the other night, I did a little research, by calling and talking to others who have had a lot of experience in the realm of healthcare. I wanted to go into this meeting well informed and prepared.

As a result of those discussions, I decided that my biggest concerns regarding healthcare were making insurance available to everyone (maybe on a universal-type level), and patient advocacy.

Part of my problem with the healthcare system as it is is that when I was being treated for Hodgkin's, the insurance company and finances dictated some of the decisions I had to make. Given the choices, though, I made my choices and I accept them. Nonetheless, it would have been nice to have more choices to choose from.

Another problem I had was that I had lost my job, and lost my COBRA coverage, and therefore, once I signed up for insurance again, I had a pre-existing condition which would allow the insurance company to not cover me.

Everyone should be able to make their choices by having plenty of options. No one should be dropped from insurance because they miss a payment by one day.

Unfortunately, there are so many sub-issues to this huge problem, that it's tough to figure out where to even start.

But start we did. And I was a part of it.

Am I part of the problem or part of the solution?

Well, I was willing to do something about it - so right or wrong, that's all that matters - I tried.

Ye Olde Sombrero

This week has been crazy nuts. As I sit here tonight, I am trying to filter all of the emotions, thoughts and feelings from the week.

Tomorrow is a huge day for me and my quest for excellence. Yet Sheryl and I attended a funeral today, and although I attended for moral support, I find that it is impossible to squeak through without feeling heavy emotion. And yes, I can be emotional even if I can't cry... I think! :)

Nonetheless, I am sitting, thinking, and being. In the old days, I would be wasted by now, thinking I'm having a moment of existentialism. Today, that would be completely wrong to attempt.

I hope to post this weekend and tell you about my big day tomorrow. I'm really excited to be a part of something important.

Good night my friend(s)... may your dreams in sleep give flight to dreams in real life...

Take Your Shot

Well, life threw me another curve. This time, I've been diagnosed with Sjogren's Syndrome. I can't help but wonder how Rasputin and/or Hitler felt after the many attempts on their lives. I mean, I've been fortunate now to survive an accident, cancer, and now a freaking syndrome!

I almost don't care. I very well realize that when I die, it will be my turn. However I die, I cannot control. A good friend of mine used to say that you can't drown a man born to hang. I used to joke that it would be my luck that on the last day of my cancer treatments, I would walk outside and get hit by a bus.

Hilarious, huh?

So while spending all of this time in the healthcare system, I wanted to do something positive about it. When I was a kid, I always felt like I could save the world (without saving a cheerleader - although that coulda been fun), but I still feel like I haven't made my mark yet. Still haven't accomplished saving the world. I thought my book was my mark, but apparently it wasn't.

So how do you achieve greatness? How do you become a hero?

I have no idea.

However, when I saw that President Obama began discussions regarding healthcare reformation, I said, "Hey, I have some experience to share!"

So I wrote both the White House and my congressman.

Hello, Mr. President, I am here to help, and I happen to be looking for greatness.

In the 60's, there used to be a saying: "Are you part of the problem, or part of the solution?"

Sometimes, if you simply do whatever you can, you can avoid being the former.

I'm trying to do my best, to be part of the solution - god knows I could also use a little good karma!

What do you have to give?

Take your best shot.

While You See a Chance...

When you have a blog, it is important to keep it up. After all, you never know who is going to be reading it.

Just the other day, I learned that music icon Steve Winwood read my blog!

Pretty exciting, huh?!

Yeah, I made that part up. As far as I know, Steve Winwood doesn't give a rat's ass about my blog. However, the three or four of you who do read it, have been looking at the same blog since early last month.

LOOK! Something NEW! :)

The thing is, not a lot has been going on in my life. I have no thoughts, no ideas, nothing. Instead, I have been trying to keep from freezing my gonads, suffering through this terrible cold weather.

As you may recall, I had blogged about Americana, and how there is something about it that fascinates me. In my freezer block noggin haze lately, I have been dreaming about taking a drive along Route 66 though California, Arizona and New Mexico.

I don't know why, but I am strangely attracted to that idea. And the colder I get, the more I get to thinking about cruising the American desert.

Yesterday, Sheryl and I placed an order for new windows in the back of our house. Now, understand that although the thermostat in our house read 70 degrees this morning, when I got out of bed, it was flipping 59 flipping degrees in our room!

Since Sheryl is my hot piece of Ferndale sunshine, the only other reason for the cold could be my frozen heart. Or the crappy-ass 1950s windows we have in our bedroom. I'm not sure exactly which...

In any case, our blue toes tainted our decision for windows yesterday. And I'm thinking that the rest of 2009 will be dedicated to my paraphrase of Stephen King via Jack Nicholson in Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of "The Shining":

"All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners." "All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners." "All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners.""All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners.""All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners.""All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners.""All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners.""All Work and No Play Makes Matt and Sheryl Warm Window Owners."

So while the rest of the world gets their 2009 kicks on Route 66, I will be relishing the melting of my toes, my nose, my fingers, my brain.

And maybe - just maybe - my heart, too.

Make no mistake, I recognize that my wife and I are incredibly blessed to be weathering this economy - no matter how cold it may be. And as long as the literal road is not traveled, it will still be there for the experience to be had.

It's been my experience that everything happens as it should, whether I/we like it or not. So although I may whine and piss and moan, I understand and recognize how amazing life is.

And I realize that it's about the journey -

And I freakin' LOVE that!

Happy square root day! Pi for everyone!

Ummm, pizza, ummm, chicken, ummm, pudding...

Food for thought.

Good god, I've got a lot on my mind these days!

First of all, Sheryl and I don't celebrate Hallmark holidays. That doesn't stop me, though, from realizing how much I am in love.

I never thought I would be blogging, let alone blogging all gaga about some chick - let alone my wife!

But I was thumbing through Cancerboy today, and I realized that I love my story. I love the underdog survivalship, and the "when good things finally happen to good people" story.

I realized, too, that Cancerboy was only the first part of my life. The second part of my life begins and continues with Sheryl.

These days, though, it seems like everyone is struggling somehow. And a lot of us are looking for a voice - a beacon of hope and encouragement.

Having a new president helps immensely. It's still too early to tell for sure, but he seems like he's doing all of the right things. Oddly enough, I feel the tide is turning. America is getting overthe shock of the financial punch in the mouth, and we are shaking it off, stepping back into our corner to catch our breath, and develop new tactics.

People have been saying that Michiganians and Americans in general are resilient, and I'm truly beginning to see that.

This country was founded on the dreams and hopes of people once ostracized. Our forefathers rallied together during tough times and built a country that so many are proud to be a part of.

For how many years now have we children of the 70s bitched about today's generation, and their lack of responsibility? Everything being handed to them on a platter, and they don't even recognize and appreciate it?

Were those the same things told about us as we grew up?

I'm not so sure.

Yes, we had it better than our parents. And grandparents. But we still earned, learned, respected and appreciated what we had.

So look what happened. Kids are having to pitch in now and earn their lot. Kind of a karmic happenstance, eh?

But what I'm excite about is that we are approaching a time of great and unique ideas. Our world is going to change, and it's up to us to decide whether the change will be for good... or for evil.

I'm thinking it'll be the former.

I stood in the white field of snow,
Wind howling at my back,
Bare trees shivering against the cold.

The sun refused to shine.

My frozen hands pulled my coat tight against me.
My body numb as I wondered which direction would help me get home.
I was motionless in distress.

My head spinning, my heart sick.

On the horizon of the white canvas,
I noticed a speck of hope.

I walked until I couldn’t walk anymore.
I crawled until my extremities were raw.

I carried on, towards that beacon of hope.

Lost, we sent our cries into the wind,
Brave, we continued, refusing to give up.

When I saw your eyes, there was a fulfillment of hope.
Your smile warmed my heart.
My smile warmed yours.

Together, we broke through the clouds,
The sun curing our ills.

Hand in hand, we looked in every direction.
And we continued – forward –
Forging our own direction home,
Daisies nipping at our heels.

Happy birthday, my not drunken punkin'! Thanks for helping me find my way!

History and Beyond...

On the eve of the singlemost important day in many peoples' lives, I thought I'd jump on the "Making History" bandwagon.

As overwhelming (and sometimes claustrophobic) as the Barack Obama media blitz is, I am finding more and more how much I like Mr. Obama.

Having battled my way through numerous crises in my life, I have always relied on hope. On days when I didn't have hope, I knew that it would come back the next day.

Frankly, if it wasn't for hope, I would not be alive right now.

These are the crappiest and darkest days that our country has seen in my lifetime. Yet people all over the country are smiling and happy - because they now have hope. Hope - the flickering candle in the dark; a mothers' calming voice in the middle of a storm.

I am thrilled that our country's new leader can instill that comfort in this scourge of unease.

But here's something else that I am finding great interest in thanks to our 44th president: History.

Obama came from the great state of Lincoln, and found his passion and dreams in great leaders of our past. And Obama has a way to bring those ideals to life for everyday people. I admire that.

A great man learns from the mistakes of the past - and the successes as well.

Now, I understand that the heavens aren't going to shine gold down upon us in the moments of Obama's inauguration. I also know that it is too early to put the man on a pedestal. I am eager to see what he can do. I am excited to bask in the hope that he stirs within us.

And I am happy for the history lessons that I am being given through this one extraordinary event.

Noodles

Alright, let me throw this out there and see if it sticks...

In 2002, when I was sick, I began undergoing a mid-life crisis - at 35 years old. I learned and gained an understanding of a lot of things at that time, and one of the most important was to take advantage of the time you have.

Yes, having my personality means that I have taken this to the extreme. Simply, I hate having down time. I hate wasting time - unless it's planned, like sitting on the beach and drinking fruity drinks with umbrellas.

So here's my thought: Maybe I hate winter so much because I feel like I'm cooped up. I don't like being cold, so it's not likely that I'll be going outside for a walk or a bike ride, or to water the plants, whatever.

By being cooped up inside, I have options: watch TV, eat, clean or fix something.

Some choices, huh?

So perhaps my inate hatred of winter doesn't come from simply being cold, but also because I feel like I'm stuck and wasting time.

Hmmmm...

Hibernation Spacin'

It's cold here in the Metro Detroit area... and it's fixin' to be colder later this week!

As I get older, I realize one thing more and more: I HATE WINTER.

Given the chance, I will certainly become a snowbird - warm weather in winter, warm weather in summer. The operative word being...?

Today I can't seem to shake off the malaise. I feel like I want to hibernate. We got an assload (I think that's the official AWS term...) of snow this weekend, and I had my bronchoscopy, so we were limited to what we could do. Granted, the house needed a good cleaning, so at least something was accomplished...

The bottom line, though, is that after a couple of days of laying around, I dread the thought of going outside. And I dread the thought of doing nothing.

But I love the idea of being undercovers and asleep!

But I also love the idea of seeing and feeling the sun, brewing up some Vitamin D and breathing fresh air.

What's a man to do? Aside from whining, I mean!

My poor, amazing wife. I wonder if she's ever seen a grown man cry?

New Year, New Focus

Wow... the last month has been crazy. A flurry of activity in my head, while my body got sloppy.

Sheryl and I took a much-desired trip to Florida just before Christmas, and paid the obligatory dues via getting sick. This time it was Sheryl. Was it worth it? Methinks hell yes! The sunset on Mallory Square wipes away all negative things in the world. Give it a whirl, you won't be disappointed...

So now that it's 2009, what's on tap for Matt and Sheryl?

Well, Sheryl started a new and exciting job... new opportunities for another Nightingale award... and I have decided to focus on improving myself on the job front.

There is a balance in life that we all juggle: personal life, work life, spiritual life... and right now, my work life needs some attention. Spirit and arts are next, I bet, so Leonard, you better be ready to wax ecstatic at the DIA within the next month or so.

Another area that I am really struggling in is keeping up with friends and relatives. With my new commitment to work, I am taking online classes, and between that, and the YMCA, free time seems so limited...

My beloved oncologist has me in an uproar again, so I feel like everything is on hold until after tomorrow, when I get a bronchoscopy done. I have been spending so much time at doctors over the last year, I can't wait to get these damn appointments out of the way!

It's a new year, and a new focus. I just need to clean up a few of last years' messes first!

Who to Blame?

Just looking at things, it seems pretty safe to say that we're f***ed.

I understand that the American way of life needs to readjust itself, and readjustment is painful. It's like a piece of chewing gum that you blow into a bubble. Quality of life, like the bubble, gets bigger, and bigger until it pops. Then what do you do?

You chew the gum to get the proper consistency to blow another bubble.

Hopefully, whoever is chewing this piece of bubble gum doesn't get tired of the taste and spits it out!

So we bail out Wall Street, but no bailout for the auto industry. Unfortunately for me, I have opinions about this, and unfortunately for my wife, she's gotta hear me spout off on them.

First of all, I am not a fan of the auto companies. I was employed by GM for nearly 4 years, and saw first-hand the elitist snob attitudes that are created and nurtured there. I felt since day one that the company needed to be brought down a peg or two, and took some perverted enjoyment out of seeing Rick Wagoner groveling at the hands of the senate.

Today we wonder where our kids got the attitude of entitlement, and looking back on my time at GM, I saw where it started. The UAW, too, needs to take responsibility, but again, somewhere, we have lost the concept of taking responsibility.

So this morning, we have a lot of self-indulging victims whining that there is no Washington bailout for some of the largest companies in America. I totally see why congress would do this, and why America is so split on this. The auto companies and the UAW made their beds, and they need to sleep in them.

Rick Wagoner spent too much time bilking Americans with his higher margin of earnings trucks and SUVs and not enough time envisioning, developing, and planning for the future.

Now, I often suck at planning for the future. Is that a fault? Yeah, sometimes, but then again, Rick Wagoner is the CEO of the formerly largest company in the world. Is it a fault for him to not plan for the future? HELL YES IT IS.

I can only talk about GM, because I have seen it in action. I have also seen the UAW in action. Everybody here in Michigan knows someone who abused their safety in the union. The union used to be a great thing, but those people - the abusers of the system - have made it a farce.

But again, the UAW found a way to work within the system. The Big 3 had systems that made it easy to abuse.

It seems that the world now needs to readjust. There is a lot of change that needs to happen, and change can be plain ugly.

I can see why congress would vote down the bailout of the auto companies. The thing is, I don't know if they properly thought out the outcome of their decision. It seems that this issue dealt more with emotions instead of cold, hard facts.

Failure of one or more auto companies will put a lot more people out of work. Our social services, such as unemployment insurance is already being pushed to its max. I think there was a middle ground that could have been met, but there were too many people with too much power flexing their muscles and butting heads.

Failure of one or more auto companies will be devastating to our country. Michigan has been in this recession longer than many of our states. In theory, then, it will help us start the move out of recession earlier.

We need to encourage people to think outside the box. Give our dreamers a chance to make it big. We are going to have to rely on visionaries and revisionaries.

It is possible that America will come out of this no longer as the number one country in the world, and we are going to have to prepare for that.

So who is to blame for this? I can't tell you how much I'd love to blame President Bush. However, I think it just might be the natural ebb and flow of economics.

I do think, however, that someone could have helped make this crash a little softer. But I can't blame anyone, unfortunately, because I hadn't given it enough future thought...

Eras

When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2002, I never wondered "Why me?" until my treatments were over. My doctor suggested that I give back to the community, planting the seed of "the obligation of the cured". As such, I started volunteering at Gilda's Club.

Gilda's Club saved my life in many, many ways. It gave me a positive environment to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. It gave me an opportunity to explore projects on a large scale focusing on helping others. It introduced me to many angels in disguise - including my wife.

When I was out of work for nearly two years, Gilda's Club inspired hope in me, even when things were bleak.

For six years (today), I have given thanks for surviving Hodgkin's disease by being of service to my cancer brethren at Gilda's.

Today I submitted my resignation as a member of Gilda's Member Advisory Committee, which was my last official link to Gilda's Club. Sure, I have personal relationships with members, but no official affiliation anymore, and I find it very sad...

...but necessary.

I needed to be a volunteer and member at Gilda's. There were things I needed to do and learn. And people to meet - and in one case, marry.

But by making this decision to resign from the committee, I am - in a sense - taking back my life.

I will always be a cancer survivor. I will always have a passion for cancer issues - particularly survivor healthcare issues.

But I had to step out from under that umbrella. I owe it to myself, my wife and family.

Although I am very sad to be stepping away from Gilda's Club, I am happy to focus on my future - in many cases, using the tools that I learned to use while in service to Gilda's Club.

The Sink

In this life, there are times when things are so incredibly in sync, that you feel like the world turns just for you.

Sometimes, the exact opposite happens.

Sheryl and I joined the YMCA last month, and we've been very good, going to workout regularly. Late last week, I felt everything start to go South. I had over-trained, and refused to stop. I paid the price... I've felt like a crash test dummy for two days.

Of course, this doesn't help the beautiful symphony of marriage. The entire horn section has been out of tune, and I'm the blowhard.

Getting past this is simple - as long as you realize that it is only temporary.

So tonight we went to see Jill Jack and Billy Brandt at a "Comfy Couch Concert". Held at a furniture company, the audience was invited to sit on couches, chairs and beds, and make themselves comfy. It was a great concept, it was great seeing Jill, and it was great seeing my wife enjoy herself.

During the second half of the show, I found my mind wander. Part of the show's appeal was that Jill and Billy talked about the origins of some of their songs. I began to feel that the performers and audience were closing in on the same vibe - a warehouse-wide syncing of the universe. It was a beautiful feeling.

It helped me realize that although we may occasionally fall out of sync with our lives, we can - if we pay attention - be reminded that there is a universal vibe that we can all tune into.

I hope tomorrow brings me back in sync with my life and wife, but until then, I know it will come sooner or later, and when it does, I need to take complete advantage of it.

At what point does one cease re-charging batteries and start becoming selfish?

In order to affect the world around us, we need to have the energy to give. When you burn out - or have no remaining energy stores, it's obvious that you need to re-fuel.

But where is the "full" line?

I constantly struggle with this question.

Have I moved on to other things, or am I just being selfish?

And if I'm just being selfish, how long can I get away with it before becoming a mockery of all the good I have accomplished?

Ugh... so few answers to so many questions.

There's one fool-proof cure - a good, old-fashioned nap!

Wake me in an hour.

"I'd Love to Change the World...

... but I don't know what to do."

Or so sang Alvin Lee.

Yesterday marked the six year anniversary of my last cancer treatment - and I never realized it until I received an e-mail from my cousin in Florida. Strange.

At that moment, I felt a karmic swing. I had had a rough day at work, and wasn't very happy. But suddenly, at 10pm, I found myself looking back on the day's events, realizing how everything fell into place.

It was a great feeling, and as I went to bed and said my prayers, I could only hope that today would bring the same vision of karma at work.

It didn't start off that way... I woke up at 3:30am, and couldn't get back to sleep. So I got up and got ready for work.

Because it was so early, I had a little time to kill. So I turned on my favorite Canadian TV show, and caught a segment featuring Dr. Julio Montaner - President of the International AIDS Society.

The Q&A was naturally thought-provoking, and much of what Dr. Montaner said hit me hard.

He said that if the leaders of the G8 countries focused on HIV/AIDS, then 90% of the WORLD'S infection could be controlled. He said that the drugs we have available (or capable of) today can eliminate much of the scourge now, and in the future.

He said that most people are looking for the magic cure, but he doesn't believe we need one, since through vaccines and therapies and knowledge, we can control HIV/AIDS.

HOW FUCKING POWERFUL IS THAT?!?!

And so I started thinking back to 1999, 2000, and 2001... and my bike rides, and raising $9,000 for AIDS vaccine research, and actually allowed myself to wonder...

Could one man change the world?

Like they say, the fluttering of a butterfly's wings could cause a hurricane.

With many single people affecting change in their own way, the world CAN change. Unfortunately, most of the decision-makers have too many decisions to make.

Why not take some of those decisions out of their hands, and uncork that bottleneck?

Sheryl and I contribute much time, money and effort to the cancer cause these days. Sometimes, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and even get selfish because we recognize that we will never get that time back to ourselves.

But sometimes, it's amazing to see practice work. To see effort prevail. To see hope conquer fear.

I'd love to change the world, and I sure as hell don't know what to do...

But I'm going to do something.

No, check that...

I'm COMPELLED to do something...

Strangely Coherent

Did you ever have one of those days when you felt like you had a lot to say, but every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out?

Yeah, me neither.

However, I do feel like I've got something to say, but yet, a cohesive thought eludes me.

So I suppose I'll sit here and ponder... think about everything and nothing in general.

Hopefully, as a result, I will find a way to cure the ills of society.

I'll keep you posted.

Cycling 2008-2009

In this years' Tour de France, we saw more people caught doping. I commented about it at the time, so I won't bother rehashing that.

Or will I?

Recently, the drug testing peeps have done more testing on the samples taken during the Tour de France in July. Guess what they found?

Two more dopers.

Now, I wouldn't bother giving these bastards any of my time, but here's the thing:

Stefan Schumacher won two time trial stages.

Bernard Kohl won third place overall and the king of the mountains jersey.

These cheaters were roommates at the Tour. They were racing for a German team (Gerolsteiner) that was looking for a new sponsor.

In cycling, the best way to garner interest from potential sponsors is to have good results. For example, the American team Slipstream-Chipotle won a number of races throughout the year, and named a new major sponsor (Garmin) just prior to the Tour de France. They are now known as Garmin-Chipotle.

So the question comes up - why did these guys cheat?

1) To demand a higher contract from a potential new team?

2) To garner support for a new sponsor?

3) To taste victory?

I dunno. There's a stank in cycling and I feel that somehow the way the sport is set up with sponsors, etc., spells failure by nature.

It's like the economy. There is something innately wrong, and who knows how to fix it?

Well, believe it or not, cycling does have hope.

More and more teams are instituting drug testing programs. Hopefully they are testing in order to find out who is cheating as opposed to testing to see what drugs won't be found!

Anyhow, Lance Armstrong is coming back to the peloton as well. In order to bring awareness to the fight against cancer, Lance has stated that he will race in the Tour de France. And folks, he's in it to win it.

Lance will be joining the Astana team, whose current leader, Alberto Contador, has won the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and the Vuelta a Espana - cycling's golden trio.

Naturally, Contador is like, "Hey, screw that, I want to race to win the Tour de France, and will do whatever I can to make sure that happens (including going to another team)!"

Uncharacteristically, Lance apparently gave this some thought, and decided to race the Giro d'Italia, and possibly pass up the Tour.

Silly you say?

No. It makes sense. In 2009, the Giro will be celebrating 100 years. There will be a ton of press, and Lance will be able to get his word out about fighting cancer. Do you think that would happen at the Tour? No way - Lance would be too busy fending off doping questions, and it would take away from his real mission.

Plus, it will allow the Astana team an opportunity to win both races...

It will be interesting to see what next year brings to the cycling world. Hopefully we can get people racing clean. It's such a drag rooting for some underdog only to find out that this rags to riches story succumbed to the pressure to cheat.

Vent

I know it's been a while since I posted. I've again been waiting for a spark - the ethereal hand of creative knowledge.

Well, it's still not here.

However, this morning, I am harboring a lot of anger and despair. I've probably been watching too much media, but I am really frustrated with what is going on in the world right now.

How in the hell did we get to where we are?

I am currently reading a book called "World War Z" - a collection of first-hand accounts regarding the zombie war. It's a fascinating book in the way it incorporates current world events with the outbreak of the zombie virus.

And even though the book sort of pokes fun at the media, I am riled by it. I mean, in the book, they talk about a decisive battle where the journalists are implanted in the troops, and the armed forces put on a display, much like the "shock and awe" done in Iraq. But in the book, the zombies aren't defeated. So instead of the media being given a dog and pony show on the strength and power of our armed forces, whatever is left of the media shows the horror and despair of a full-blown zombie invasion.

And once again, I have to get on my high horse about our media. We love to tear down celebrities and laugh at their occasional idiocy. Has this become today's "Kill Your Idols" from the punk revolution?

And as a result, we have become accustomed to - and thirsty for - bad, ugly news reporting.

I mean, really, how does all of this relate to me?

I remember as a kid the first time I watched the 11:00 news. I was by myself, it was dark outside, AND THE NEWS SCARED THE HELL OUT OF ME!

And guess what?

THE NEWS STILL SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME!!

Am I the only person who thinks this? Why don't we demand better news reporting? Why don't we demand a 50% ratio of good news vs. bad news?

Why does anything that promotes goodness have to be religion-based?

Why can't we just believe in the goodness of people? Why can't we keep our hands to ourselves? Why must we feed off the foibles of others?

Isn't that just pathetic that we can't seem to establish our own lives - our own excitement?

Then again, do we actually do anything besides sit in our own bomb shelters playing Nintendo, PS3 or watching the idiot box?

Is it truly more enjoyable to be a pseudo-rock star or guitar hero than being a real-life hero to someone in our community?

Shit... I wish I knew what it took to carry the torch of decency. The torch of self-worth. The torch of responsibility. The torch of earning a living rather than expecting someone to give it to us.

We're so frigging pathetic I can hardly stand it.

And still, I can't help but think that there are enough people out there who believe in themselves - ourselves. I can't help but have deep-seeded hope and faith in humanity. Something's gotta change in this world - and unfortunately, most change comes from dire circumstances.

Aren't things dire enough?

Who's going to stand up and hold the torch?

Got Change?

For me, fall exemplifies change. In the past, I would go overboard with change, and spin my world so fast that I couldn't see straight for weeks.

This year seems a little different, though. It seems like the world itself is changing and spinning, and I am standing still. I don't know how much I like that.

The Detroit Lions made a change shortly after my last post. They fired Matt Millen, which was a welcome change.

My hip/back seems to hurt less and less, and that is a welcome change.

Sheryl has changed her work schedule, and that will be good, too.

I am not playing darts this season, and that is a huge change for me. I've been playing since September of 2001. This is the first time I'm not.

According to the media and President Bush, the sky is falling. Although this isn't a big change - especially for Bush's regime, change will be required to get the US back on track. Whoever moves into the White House is going to have to fumigate that bad boy - I have visions of that place being so messed up, their going to have to do serious renovations to it!

Big change, strange change, change for a dollar... we've all got change on our horizon. Sometimes, a matter of perspective changes the way THAT looks, too.

People don't like change, in general. It takes us out of our comfort zone. The only thing, they say, that stays the same is change.

The sooner we embrace it, the more welcoming it becomes.

I've been working on it for 42 years, and I still find it difficult.

Lion To Myself (Like Being Stood Up At the Prom)

Dang, I'm bitter.

I am like an elderly person who unknowingly got ripped off by a fake policeman selling tickets to a fake ball.

I am like the poor sap stood up at the senior prom.

I am like the angry ex who posts naked pictures of his former girlfriend on the internet (it really happens, you know!).

Yep, I'm bitter.

I was one of a few poor saps who bought into the 2008 Detroit Lions hype. I happily enjoyed their dismantling of opponents in the pre-season, and believed in NOW, just as they asked me to.

I considered purchasing season tickets, but thankfully couldn't allow myself to pull the trigger. It just seemed like a bit too much money.

Now I realize that an angel was watching over me.

After three incredibly pathetic games, I've given up.

Alright, that's not exactly true. I gave up after TWO incredibly pathetic games.

There is a cancer in the Lions organization, and I am starting to believe that it comes from the top. It's a serious shame, because the city of Detroit needs something to build on.

Fortunately, we are less than a month away from the Red Wings opening their season.

If it sounds like I'm a wagon jumper, I don't care - As long as they continue embarrassing the city, I will not sink any of my hard-earned money into the Lions organization. I will not sink any of my heard-earned trust into the Lions organization. I will, however, continue to hope that they can turn things around, but I am not counting on it.

I love watching the game of football. I love playing fantasy football. I love rooting for my teams. Now I need to find a new team.

Man, I am bitter.

September 18, 2008
Nine years, Duane, and I still miss you like hell!

The Great Gig in the Sky

For the last few days, I've been trying to come up with a topic to blog about. There is nothing worse than trying to force yourself into writing something when you don't have a topic. So I decided to wait for the topic to find me.

Unfortunately, it has.

I have blogged about what an inspiration Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. was for me (April 12, 2007). And all of my friends know what else has inspired me: The music of Pink Floyd.

When I was a young 'un, I remember going to my Uncle's house, and listening to his records while the adults visited with each other. One of the most fascinating albums I enjoyed listening to was "Wish You Were Here", by Pink Floyd.

I remember thinking how cool the music was, and stared at the awesome graphics on the album cover and sleeve.

In high school, I got more and more into Pink Floyd. For my 14th birthday, I received a copy of "The Wall", and played it to death. Later, I found how much I enjoyed the entire "Dark Side of the Moon", and "The Final Cut".

It was such a joy to obtain and listen to Pink Floyd music, and I quickly acquired all of their albums.

During my college years, I constantly listened to old Pink Floyd while lying in bed, pondering my life and my future.

I had a chance to see Pink Floyd when they toured in 1986, 1988 and 1994. I had become a serious Pink Floyd freak, even getting a tattoo of "The Division Bell" album cover art.

So I was shocked and saddened when I learned that keyboardist Richard Wright died yesterday. At the age of 65, he apparently died of cancer. Because Rick was so private, his family didn't want to release any additional information.

What I had loved about Pink Floyd was David Gilmour's guitar playing and singing, Roger Waters' lyrics and vocal effects, Nick Mason's synchopation on drums, and the galaxy-opening sounds of Rick Wright's keyboards.

I laughed my ass off the first time I saw the video for "Live at Pompeii". During the song "Saucerful of Secrets", seeing Rick smashing at the piano keys with his whole hand - and elbows! But I came to love that about Rick and Pink Floyd... they always pushed musical limits, much like Frank Zappa did. And Rick's elbow playing actually worked within the context of the song!

"Live at Pompeii" opens and closes with the song "Echoes", and I was floored watching Rick and Dave singing in harmony, taking me away to labyrinths of coral caves, glancing at strangers on the street.

The Pink Floyd song that is most likely to move me to tears (and has on more than one occasion) is the Wright-penned "Great Gig in the Sky" from "Dark Side of the Moon". Rick's keyboards combine with Clare Torry's voice to make the soundtrack to the process of dying. My soul aches with pleasure every time I hear it.

Pink Floyd helped me realize that I wanted to leave a legacy when I died. I have writings that can be published posthumously, and I have tried to become a virus, infecting peoples' lives along the way. Richard Wright's legacy lies with his family, but it also lies on vinyl, on CD and in MP3s.

I will miss Richard Wright, and I will never be able to thank him for all of the inspiration he has given me.

Rest in Peace, Rick.

I was logged on to LinkedIn this morning, and thought about joining a cancer survivorship group. So I did a search, using the word "cancer", and was presented with 17 pages of results.

As I was looking at the cancer groups, I realized how many people out there are making an effort to eradicate cancer.

As a survivor, I feel a burden to help rid the world of this curse. It is a personal crusade to be involved in the cancer world and to help people in some way. It is MY world. It is MY view.

But I realized that a whole lot of people feel that way, too.

It's strange to find during your personal war with dragons and other-worldly scourges, that there are other armies fighting the same battles. It's very encouraging.

Yet, at the same time, I find myself feeling that none of them have had my experiences - with cancer or life. And rather than celebrate those differences, I find myself feeling that I should keep fighting my fight alone.

It makes no sense at all, but maybe there is a bigger reason why I feel this way.

I'll have to think about that.

Dirty Diamonds

Before I rave about seeing Alice Cooper at the Michigan State Fair, I want to say that I think Neil Diamond is cooler than hell.

In Detroit, we talk about the Red Wings being a classy organization. Of course, there's not much else classy in Detroit...

Hello Kwame Kilpatrick.

Hello Monica Conyers.

Sorry, I digress.

Neil Diamond had laryngitis, and decided to perform a show in Ohio anyway. Who would care? Rock groups have put on crappy shows for years... Ever see Aerosmith when the toxic twins were in their glory? How about Guns n Roses?

So Neil puts on a crappy show, and apparently, he felt bad about it, and offered his fans their money back!! How's THAT for class?! I gotta tell you, I have a lot of respect for the guy - especially after doing something like that!

Now many of us think that if someone performs at a State Fair, they are desperate for cash and/or washed up. I felt the same way year after year, when I heard Alice Cooper was coming to perform.

Probably because of this assumption, I never went to see Alice until last year. While at that show, I realized that I couldn't have been more wrong, and immediately recruited friends to join me this year and see what they've been missing.

So last night, we paid for our $60 tickets - NOT! We paid $10 (plus $7 for parking) for "main floor" type seats, and proceeded to get our heads ripped off!

I will repeat what I said last year - how could it have taken me so long to see Alice Cooper???! The show was amazing! It was everything I had ever heard about his shows growing up, and at 60 years old, he still performs like a madman!

One thing that stuck out to me was the sound. The drums and guitars sounded incredibly full, leaving us nothing for want. And then there was Alice's voice... cripes! He sang phenomenally!

We are finding out that as many rock singers age, they cannot reach many of the notes they used to (see Robert Plant). Yeah, this curse affected Alice, too... but only once (during "Poison") did I notice.

And I gotta say... the opening to Alice's show is one of the coolest openings to a concert that I've seen.

A troubled man for troubled times. Our homegrown boy thrilled and chilled once again. I am ecstatic that I've finally come to my senses and saw Alice Cooper... at the State Fair.

Has America become SO shallow and lazy that we do not expect anyone to take responsibility for anything?

Hello Kwame Kilpatrick.

Why do we let presidential hopefuls get away with telling us what they think the other guy did wrong? TAKE RESPONSIBILITY! Tell me what YOU did RIGHT! What are your goals and dreams?

Hello Barack Obama.

Hello John McCain.

Really, I do enjoy living in America. But how have we come to blame everyone else for our problems? Whatever happened to George Washington chopping down the cherry tree? Whatever happened to the golden rule?

And just as importantly, why do I feel so helpless to change things?

Can I Change My Mind?

Okay, in the words of Howard Kaylan, I know when I'm licked - all over.

I have to revisit some comments I made in an earlier post about American art.

Sheryl and I went to the Detroit Institute of Arts this weekend and I ran through some of the galleries, including the American art galleries. Prior to this visit, I recall American art being paintings of men in wigs - the new world hoity-toity - and indians. And frankly, this is the stuff that bores me.

However, these images were merely a few of the many pieces of American art displayed in the museum. There were many more that splashed color, busting from the canvas and displayed American ideals that I've forgotten about.

I feel like I have an American hangover. With the elections coming up, with the war in Iraq, with McDonald's spreading like a scourge on humanity, I have forgotten the rich history of this country.

I love European history. I feel like it's so strange and magical. Italy, Germany, Greece - they all fascinate me.

Yes, America is 1,000 years younger than Europe, but the fact is, we have some 230+ years of documented history, and knowledge of stuff before that.

If we look at places like Savannah and St. Augustine, we can learn our history. We can see that America is so much more than Best Buy, Kid Rock, Usher and Mariah Carey. If we take some time to breathe in our historical landmarks, we can see why immigrants came here to make life better for their families.

So I sit corrected. American art - paintings, writings and such - isn't all dull. For me, it still doesn't hold the magic that European art does, but it made me look twice, and re-evaluate my stand.

And ironically, during my American art sucks soapbox, I hadn't paid attention that I was dissing one of the most influential writers in my life - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

There it is then.

(picture above: "Street Performers" by Hughie-Lee Smith)

Like A Fuse

Sammie took off one night
In her beet purple beat down jeep
Beatles tunes repeating
Feeling deep in her seat

She told me one night
Fueled by tequila and chartreuse
It was all a ruse and no use
She was lit like a fuse, the booze

Between tears and cheers
Beers
She switched gears
Telling me she'd take off one night

And there she was,
Screaming to the world:
Sing me a song, let your heart cry out
Touch me, make me feel full of grace

I wonder when she realized
The compromise
That symbolized our ties
The lies

Sammie disappeared
Her words cutting through the night
Such a fight
Uptight, she drove out of sight

And there she was,
Screaming to the world:
Sing me a song, let your heart cry out
Touch me, make me feel full of grace

Movies, movies everywhere!

Sheryl and I rarely go to see movies, especially together. I'm more into "Iron Man", and she's more into "Sex and the City". She's a little bit country and I'm a little bit rock and roll...

Together, we've seen, like three movies at the theater, which averages to about one per year. In fact, I think the last one we saw was the third Bourne movie, which we saw last summer!

That was until recently, however.

Last November, we attended the Detroit Institute of Arts' (DIA) grand re-opening. While there, we became members. So earlier this summer, we received a pamphlet in the mail telling us what events were upcoming at the DIA.

Within the DIA is the Detroit Film Theater (DFT - pay attention, there will be a test at the end of this blog!), which seemed to have quite an interesting array of quirky films being shown throughout the season.

Sheryl wanted to see a few of the films, and I was interested in checking them out, too. I went online and purchased tickets.

So here we are in the month of August, and we have already seen two of the movies ("Jellyfish" and "Encounters at the End of the World"), with another two coming this week ("Rebirth of a Nation" and "Up the Yangtze"). We are like a walking Sundance Channel!

Oh yeah, and next week we've got the Children's Leukemia Foundation moviethon!

Good thing I'm going to physical therapy, or I'd have no time for exercise! LOL

Now, I don't know about Sheryl, but I love seeing these eclectic films - they open up my eyes and mind to more going on in the world besides our lives.

You know, sometimes we all get stuck in our little boxes and forget to venture out. This membership to the DIA has been a good thing. We still want to see the Sacred Places exhibit, and I am debating about joining an auxiliary. It would be really, really cool to get inside info on some art and the DIA, but man, sometimes the detail these people want to get into just sucks the life out of me! So I'm still debating about that.

I can definitely burn out on movies... but not so much on art... yet...

Me? Old? HAH!

Question: When is the best time to laugh about getting old?

There are two answers.

1) Always

2) See #1, particularly when your oncologist teases you about getting old.

For the last year or two or three, I've been struggling with my body. I never knew whether I was experiencing a certain pain or bump or bruise as a result of long term chemo/radiation side effects, or getting older.

I was a victim of this country's wonderful health care institution: insurance. I lost my job, and couldn't keep up with COBRA payments. Knowing full well that I'd have to deal with the pre-existing condition bullcrap, I just couldn't keep up my insurance and let it lapse.

As a result, years went by since I saw my oncologist. I passed the magical five-year mark without getting my graduation certificate - if you know what I mean.

So finally, this year, I decided it was time to close that chapter once and for all. I saw my oncologist - who naturally yelled at me for not following up properly - and being the thorough doc that he is, he sent me to a neurologist for my hip - just to make sure that it wasn't chemo related.

Sure enough, after my tests, it was determined that my hip problem is related to a couple of herniated discs in my lower back.

So I returned to my oncologist armed with this information, and he started to dance - "I knew it!" He exclaimed animatedly. "You are getting old, Matt!"

And we laughed.

He said he was happy because he wasn't the only one getting old, and I told him that with the history we have between us, I am very happy to be getting old!

His face got serious for a moment, and he said pointedly: "Well said." He took a moment and reiterated: "Well said..."

I still have to get a CT scan to get this wrapped up and put a bow on it. In three months, this will all be over. I already have my peace of mind, but I an still waiting for my diploma - the handshake and the tassle that tells me that I am getting old.

Thank God!!

Age is such a depressing thing for so many people. For me, I recognize that yeah, it's gonna wreak havoc on my body, but shit, that ain't nothing that I haven't already gone through! We should welcome age and the wisdom that comes along with it, not treat it like it's a bad thing.

After all, it's better than the alternative!

A Memory is a Terrible Thing to Taste...

Memories are terribly important to us. They are the basis for stories, folklore and rumors. They can also cause crazy emotions such as sadness, happiness, anger and ecstacy.

I have spent a lot of time this summer talking about summers past. I have truly missed them. My favorite summer memories that have popped up this year are the summers when I was a leetle boy, and hung out with my mom's Uncle Phil.

My mom, Grandma and I would go to see Uncle Phil and Auntie Aggie, and Uncle Phil and I would head out to the garage to let the wimmin's talk. He was the coolest, because he was the oldest guy I knew who would treat me like a person and not as a kid.

In the garage, Uncle Phil always seemed to have some building materials laying around. He would let me build the crappiest things in the world - although my imagination turned them into birds, planes, cars, etc. When we got done building stuff, we would head down the street to the park and play.

This entire summer, the weather has reminded me of those unemcumbered days shooting the bull with my buddy Phil. Those memories have given me such pain and longing in my heart that I haven't known what to do with it.

I was talking to my mom yesterday, and realized that maybe I just needed to embrace those memories, and acknowledge them. Maybe I need to say a few silent prayers to Uncle Phil, who died long ago. Maybe these memories are his way of contacting me to say: "hey, my brother, don't forget me!"

Maybe these are also memories that need to be documented for posterity.

Memories can be a bitch, man, but if we can figure out the proper use for them, perhaps we can grow into stronger, better people. Looking back on my time with Uncle Phil, for example, has got me wondering if I have been someone for my nephews and nieces to look up to - just like I still do to my old pal Uncle Phil.

Thank you for blessing me with those memories. I hope you're stockpiling some nails wherever you are, I've learned to swing a pretty mean hammer!

Bicentennial Post (#200)!!

Early August is considered the dog days. This term was coined because the constellation Canis Major ("big dog") and Canis Minor ("little dog") are easily visible in the night sky.

The name is apt, too. After all, when we think "dog days of summer", we think of dogs laying around and panting because it's so hot. They are lethargic and generally "blech".

These first two weeks of August often seem like the hottest days of summer. But... you can also feel change in the air. August is like a mime pulling a fake rope, only on the other end of the fake rope is a hint of fall.

This entire summer, I've been trying to reconnect with summers in the past. Sheryl and I have been so busy that I feel like I haven't really relaxed and enjoyed it. Of course, since we vacationed in Florida last winter, we haven't taken any time off this summer as well. So that might have something to do with it.

But I can feel the change coming. For me, I feel like it's going to be a spiritual change - time to spark the zen again (said Ben the hen as only he can!).

The Perseid meteor shower will take place the night (and/or morning) of August 12. I would love to be able to find a dark spot and have a late night picnic with my wife as we contemplate life under a waterfall of shooting stars.

Lots of riding left this season, too, and I still have an outside chance of hitting my goal of 2,000 miles. Man, I love riding.

Whoo-hoo for my bicentennial post!