Venting and Star Wars IV

Venting has to be first, because it was a long, pain-in-the-ass week, and it was a pain-in-the-ass Saturday. As a #StayAtHomeDad, Saturdays are supposed to be my easy day. The day that I get to relax while my wife takes the kid away, and I watch cartoons, or Star Trek or whatever, on Netflix.

It's my own fault. I forgot that today was the day that we were getting a new fridge, oven, and dishwasher installed. Earlier in the week, I also invited a friend over to hang out. She lived out of town, and hadn't met my son, a Padawan. (A Padawan is a very young Jedi in training.)

They were scheduled between three and five. Kudos, to my landlord for having his nephew here at five minutes to three, and being here at five minutes after three. #Sears didn't deliver until almost six! A single man doesn't care. I'm not a single man. I have a wife, a toddler, and a cockapoo that thinks she's bigger than she is.

Luckily, we were planning on grilling, and Chicago weather didn't screw us over. If it had rained or snowed, someone would have gotten a verbal ass-kicking. My landlord, his nephew, and the plumber were also not happy.

Now, I have a new matching fridge/dishwasher/oven set. If they had re-attached the door frame afterwards, everything would be perfect. If my son hurts himself being curious, there will be hell to pay.

Rant done.

I'm a Star Wars fan based on a lie.

I was five or six years old at the time. My parents left me with a babysitter. I  don't know how old she was but I'd guess 16 or 17. I casually suggested we watch a movie, Star Wars.

"Are you allowed to see that?"

"Yea, I've seen it lots of times."

"Ok, than what's it about?"

(Luckily, apparently, she hadn't seen it yet. How a person hadn't seen Star Wars when they were over the age of 15 is beyond me.)

"The invaders come, and the Star Wars guys have to fight them off."

Seriously, that's what I said, the girl bought it, and I got to watch it for the first time. And I was so brilliant about my lie, and so excited about the movie, I went batshit crazy when my parents got home. I don't remember exactly what I said. But, it probably sounded like this.

"Mami, Daddy, I saw Star Wars and Luke got a lightsaber and then Obi Wan and Luke had to fight and then Han Solo Chewbacca had a ship and these aren't the droids we're looking for and R2D2 and C3PO and Luke and lightsabers and the force!"

How could anyone get angry at a child for that? It's cute as hell, and I fully expect my boy to do the same thing to me. (I fully expect my mother hopes my son does the same thing to me.)

I can't wait for Star Wars Episode VII, and as always thanks for wasting your time, reading.

-J

Anyways

If I were a rockstar, I'd have an entire library of music for you to check out on Amazon, Pandora, Spotify, or whatever random music service might be most popular now. I'm clearly not a rockstar. I'm just a guy that stays at home, takes care of his son daily, and infrequently enough cleans the house and has dinner made when his working wife comes home.

I'm comfortable with that role, even if sometimes I can be kind of lazy.  (Some days I just make sure my son stays alive, drink beer, watch my shows, and fuck around with my guitar or piano.) That's life.

But I do love music. I love to play it. I love listen to and critique it. I especially love to watch my son go batshit crazy dancing when I pull out my guitar or piano and play together. My wife had a hell of a time bathing, changing, and dressing him before bed tonight because he heard me on the piano. I will never be a proper rockstar, but I bet one day my son is.

All of that was preamble to another post of a song I wrote. It's one of my favorite songs that I wrote. This is more of a pop/acoustic/rock song than the bluesy songs I last posted. Think OAR/DaveMatthews/SisterHazel, but less generically annoying. (Or just as generic and annoying.) It's called "Anyways".

I see you sitting at the end of the bar.
Twenty feet never seemed so far.
I'm way too nervous to come say hello.
But I'm not willing to just let this go.

I've already spent one night with you.
But something tells me, one night won't do.

Stay tonight. Forget about tomorrow.
Kiss me quick, and I'll never let you go.
Hold me close, and this night will never end.
And in the morning we'll go back to just being friends.

I'm in the shower singing love songs.
I can't concentrate, and I'm getting the words wrong.
My roommate says you'd be good for me.
Gotta find a way to make you see.

And I've already spent one night with you.
Something tells me that one night won't do.

So, stay tonight. Forget about tomorrow.
Kiss me quick, and I'll never let you go.
Hold me close, and this night will never end.
And in the morning we'll go back to just being friends.

A couple of notes about the pop rubbish I wrote a decade ago.

1. To my wife, sorry it's not about you. I didn't even know you then.
2. It's called "Anyways" because that is the name of the bar I was at when I conceived it. I went home and wrote it that night.
3.I'd never change anything about my past or, past relationships because then I wouldn't have my badass wife or the cutest son on Earth.
4. I haven't yet figured out how to post video, otherwise I'd post video of one or more of my songs.
5. If you are that curious to hear the songs, scour the internet. My previous bands are called #TheMakeshiftBand (lots of blues and Rolling Stones), #SecondHandBicycle (lots of Christian/pop/punk/oldies), and #PennyDomestics (original pop/punk/emo). Second Hand Bicycle and Penny Domestics had websites, The Makeshift Band only had cassette tapes and garage recording.
6. From now on, I think it's just gonna be me and my son recording. Maybe my brother. I'd include my wife, but her musical talent could break the internet. And not in the good way.

Thank you, as always spending two minutes of your life reading.

I Wanna Be Bad

I think I might be making up for not having posted a blog entry for a few weeks. Or maybe it's because I've neglected my keyboard and guitar for a while. But I think this should catch me up, and keep me honest.

I wrote another song today, I'm sorry you don't get to actually hear it. I like this one even better than the last one I wrote and posted. I know my wife doesn't care for it, (probably because of the subject content). That's ok, because I know she's happy when I'm writing, playing music, or anything besides drinking PBRs and watching Star Trek and Stargate.

I tried to attach a picture of my keyboard and guitar on top of my son's Curious George, Pooh Bear, and Tigger, but I haven't quite figured out my new laptop. It might have been easier if I didn't have to hide my guitar, keyboard, phone, and laptop from my toddler. Regardless, here are the lyrics.

It's a blues riff, you can play it in any key. It's called,

"I Wanna Be Bad"

I wanna be bad, (baby)
  because I'm just so damn good at it.
I wanna be bad,
  Cuz I know deep down that you like it.
So I'm gonna be bad,
  I'm probably rotten to the core.

So, I'm gonna be bad. (Insert bluesy guitar solo)

I wanna bad, baby
  Cuz I'd rather drink and smoke some weed.
I gotta be bad, girl.
  It's the only way I can see.
So I'm gonna be bad,
  and everyone else can kneel at my feet.

So I'm gonna be bad. (Insert another bluesy guitar solo.

At this point, I'd probably have more to say/blog about. But I just almost lost this entire post, and I'd rather not tempt fate.

So thank you for reading. I will now take 6 weeks off.

-J

The Family That Lived in My Head

I'm afraid this post may make people that I should be institutionalized. But Kat Dennings on The Tonight Show reminded me of a childhood memory that I can't not share.

I was born in Queens, NY. One of my oldest and most vivid memories was being sent to bed earlier than I wanted to. I'll never forget laying in bed, pissed off, listening to my parents watch M*A*S*H. To this day I can't watch the show because the theme song still makes me angry.

One night I was sent to bed. My mom was still up cleaning the kitchen. As I was fighting against falling asleep, I heard her washing dishes. This seems like a typical toddler complaint. But, I was never typical. I liked to cover my ears as tightly as possible, so that I could listen to my heart beat as I fell asleep. Well on this occasion, I wasn't covering my ears as tightly as I could.

Almost asleep, I was covering my ears, listening to my heart beat, and my Mom washing the dishes leaked through. In my mostly asleep state, I somehow convinced myself that there was a normal family of very tiny people that lived in my head. I really thought there was a Mom, Dad, and kids that only I could hear, and only right after I went to bed.

I know it's crazy. And needless to say, I don't still believe that. But there are still nights when I'm half asleep (or drinking), when I cover my ears as tightly as I can, and listen to my heart beat, or whatever the people that live in my head might be doing.

Please, don't have me committed. It's just a story from a person obsessed with stories. A person who is not a danger to his wife, son, or dog. Seriously, I'm harmless.

As always, thank for reading. See you later.

-J

Long Time Coming

I haven't written any music in a long time. I've been listening to a lot of Eric Clapton, and watched a documentary of Jimi Hendrix this past week, and I was inspired. The greatest thing about writing a blues song is vocally you have a ton of freedom to do whatever you want. If the lyrics don't fit the music, you can just change the way you sing them.

So this is the song I wrote. If you couldn't guess by this blog post title, it's called, "Long Time Coming". This is a blues riff in 'A', watch me for the changes and try to keep up. https://youtu.be/S1i5coU-0_Q

It's been a long time coming, but at least I know who I am.
It's been a long time coming, and I finally know where I am.
Call me Papa, husband, brother or son, I promise to never let you down.

It's been a long time fixing me, and I know I'm not quite there yet.
It's taken a long time killing me, but I ain't quite dead just yet.
You can try to fix me, kill me, or rob me blind, but it'll be a long time coming.

Song dedicated to my wife and son.

I actually don't think this one is crap, so that's saying something. If any of my readers want to actually hear me play it, come on over.

-J

Rat Poison

It's been a while since I last posted. But if anything could motivate me to write, a new laptop/tablet will do the job. I swear, one of the days my wife is gonna come home from work, and find me watching a tv show on our Wii, watching a movie on the laptop, and playing games on my phone. #TechnologyOverload

This post is kind of a cop out, but something is better than nothing. I wrote this short story several years ago, and found it today on an old zip drive. It's not very good, but it's at least good for a quick laugh. Just an FYI, Jason Vaughan is one of the pen names I use.

RAT POISON

By Jason Vaughan

 

            The box sat there, from across the garage, taunting me. I tried to ignore it, tried to forget about it, but in my mind’s eye I knew those two words would be forever etched in my brain. RAT POISON.

            How could I have been living in this house for six months and never realized what a hostile environment I had walked into?  Taking another drag from my half burned cigarette, my eyes quickly scanned the room. Cigarette butts. Leaves. Oil stains. But no sign of rats. Had the situation already been resolved?  Or was the war still raging?

            Silently I thought of the many nights I had spent slumbering in the bedroom downstairs. All those nights I had heard the house talking to me. Countless times I had rolled over in my bed hearing the walls creak and the foundation shift. Was that merely the normal sounds of a house in winter or were the rats infiltrating the walls, taking stock of all our positions, waiting for their chance to attack?

            I should make a quick sweep of the house. Check the bathroom cabinets and the kitchen. Every nook and cranny should be evaluated for weaknesses before I could rest in the knowledge that me and my housemates were safe. What about the other bedrooms? There are a million places for rodentia to hide in the stacks of clothing the resided my housemates floor. How could they sleep knowing that in every abandoned pair of pants a filthy, beadied-eyed little monster could be hiding in a pocket?

            Quickly I worked out a game plan. Obviously, my first step should be in arming myself. My eyes swept over the garage looking for a weapon. A hammer.  No, a hammer would be too short. The little devils would be on my before I could defend myself. A shovel. Perhaps, but could I wield a shovel with speed and and precision? A broom. It would have to do.

            I thought about what I would do if they were to attack. Just like a golf club, I would smack the disgusting creatures into the next time zone as they scurried across the floor. Maybe they’d be slowed by the leaves and oil slicks in the garage, but that was not a bet I was willing to make. If they got inside range of my trusty broom I would have to switch to hand-to-hand combat. Foot-to-hand combat. Foot-to-paw combat? How do you refer to rodent appendages? No matter. I could boot them just as easily as I could sweep them. Their small, mushy bodies compressing on the toe of my slipper…

            Slipper??!! What was I thinking. I quickly mashed out my cigarette and stepped inside to put on more appropriate shoes for combat. Taking one last look at the garage I knew that my cigarette breaks were at an end. At least until I could be sure that the rat situation had been completely eliminated.

Leonard Nimoy

Normally, I don't give a rat's ass about any celebrity passing away. It seems like every other day a 'celebrity' dies, and most of the time I've never even heard of them. I guess my age is showing. But, the death of Leonard Nimoy is different. 

I'm a tv junkie. I watch everything, and then I rewatch everything. Even when I was little I was addicted to television. But my first two fandoms were Star Wars, and Star Trek. In high school I remember coming home from basketball practice, late for dinner, and watching Star Trek The Next Generation, every single day. It was our family routine. 

Once, my dad even ditched school with me so we could go see the Friday afternoon matinee of the most recent Star Trek movie. 

So, believe me when I say, if you've never known a Trekkie, you know one now. Ask my wife. When she's annoyed with me she typically says go watch Star Trek, just to get me out of her hair.

He had a full career, covering every genre of television and film. I haven't seen all of it. To me, he will always be Spock. If I knew how to make a video montage I'd post it right here. But I don't. So check out  this article by Entertainment Weekly. They know how to do that stuff. 

http://www.ew.com/article/2015/02/27/take-look-some-leonard-nimoys-most-interesting-non-trek-tv-roles

We as millennials lost a truly gifted entertainer. I already miss him. But he's really only gone if we forget about him. So queue up your Netflix and Hulu accounts and watch him. Who knows? Maybe we can send him to the Genesis planet and he'll be reborn, or we can warp around the sun, go back in time, and bring him back. 

Doubtfully, but hopefully, 

-J