Boringest yet most peaceful Swizzle vid yet

So this post was actually going to be the continuation of the To Be Continueds, number 12 in fact. I've been wrestling with how much to really reveal in this verbose series. I'd erased about 500 words and written 500 better words. I'd unlocked the puzzle. It was flowing. Episodes 12 through 20 were just sitting there, waiting.

And then the magnetic power cord pulled out of the computer. The battery is dead so there ain't no battery back up. The screen just went black. All gone. Reopening the file just returned me to the 500 words that I'd just trashed.

And then I looked to my left. Henry and George, just chillin' in front of the fire. Honney Bunny--chillin'. And the mellowness of the scene took over. It was mellow. I can cobble those 500 words together again, but chillin' like this should be spread and celebrated. Hope you're not too bored.

To be Continueds........continue

To be Continued.......11 (click Once Upon a Time to start the story from the beginning)

So……....Wayne, the Road Warrior, pulled up in a white, 1980 Chevy Monza. He got out, left the drivers door open and the car idling on the dirt in front of the garage that he appears to call home. He walked forward, opened the hood, and started fiddling with something that must have caught his attention on the short drive from the automotive graveyard around back. He seemed happy. Was this the look of contentment that comes from finding what you are good at and then doing it? Or did something deep down in this gritty dude with missing teeth, tattered clothes, and matted hair unconsciously understand that helping these snarky college kids, helps him get closer to enlightenment? Or was he too thinking of Eunice and her freckly cleavage, all smushed up in that mustard colored uniform Gene makes her wear?

“Check out the hooptie the Road Warrior just pulled up in,” said Angel. “You think that’s the car that Gene was talking about?”

“Yup”, said Ebony as he washed his eggs down with a gulp of coffee. He had a globule of yellow yolk and masticated toast on the corner of his mouth, as he continued, “It’s not pretty, but it sure looks better than a bus ticket.”

The Swizz was still a little shook up from the morning’s activities. The eggs hit the spot, but he was just kinda empty. Or more like floating—adrift. “How’s all this gonna turn out?” he thought. “I was just minding my own business on the way to the store….” The thought trailed off the way sugar dissolves in coffee. Slowly becoming opaque…… suspended.

Angel called over to Eunice, “Can we get the check maam?” like he’d been stopping here on his truck drivin route for the last 10 years. Doesn’t he know that they know he’s a t-shirt wearin, rock climbin, national park campin, car crashin college boy from Cali? Is he mocking the good people of Delle, Utah or trying to fit in?

“Sure honey,” she said.

And that was it. The boys pooled together their crinkled up ones and fives and paid the bill.

“That’s quite a car you got there Gene,” said Angel as the boys spilled out of the double wide and into the bright Utah desert sun.

“Yep, it is,” said Gene as he pushed the brim of his cowboy hat back and pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “Ol’ Wayne here got it runnin. Found it by the side of the road a few months back. Abandoned by the looks of it.”

“Who abandons a car by the side of the road?” asked the Swizz to no one in particular.

“Got me,” said Gene. “But then again, who jumps into and out of the only runoff ditch within 50 miles in a beat up Volkswagen? I’ll tell ya boys, you do this job enough and nothing will surprise you after a while.”
Huh? Has Gene really seen that much? I mean c’mon. He’s the “mayor” and the “Chief of Police,” of a town that consists of two trailers and two gas pumps? What has he seen? Road kill? Tumbleweeds?

Wayne let the hood of the idling car fall with a thwap. “I’ll sell it to ya if you want,” said Gene.

The boys looked at each other. “Uh yea. Wa da ya think boys?” said Ebony.

“Let’s take it for a spin,” said Angel.

“Yea, boys. Do what ever you need,” said Gene.

The boys piled in. Since this was going to be replacing Ebony’s car, he did the test drive, like a Dad or similarly responsible person would. Swizz jumped into the cramped back seat and Angel slipped smilingly into the shotgun seat.

Ebony slipped it into first and pulled away from the garage. The white Monza with it’s cargo of college boys did a quick loop around the driveway and pulled right back up infront of Gene and Wayne.

“We’ll take it,” said Angel.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Ebony. “We don’t even know how much Gene wants for it.”

“Yea, boys, you need to learn a thing or two about negotiations. I’ve got you over a barrel now.” Said Gene with a demonic “Heh, Heh, Heh.”

Yep, ol Gene was quite the deal broker. “Okay, Gene what do you want for it?” said Ebony.

“$300”

“Oooh, that’s kinda steep don’tcha think?” said Ebony O’Malley chief negotiator. “Seeing how we weren’t really planning on doing any car shopping on this trip, we’ve only got $200. Could you do $200?” he said with an impish smile.

“Well boys. Ol’ Wayne here put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into that there jalopy,” said Gene looking over at Wayne. “Wa da ya think Wayne?”

The road warrior just stood there. Sure he could get the car running from the parts that he harvested from the auto graveyard around back but the next step eluded him. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never really be asked for his opinion about anything….ever. All he could think to do was raise his dirty right hand up to the 5 days of beard he had on his chin. It made a coarse sandpaper sound when he rubbed it in what he hoped would appear to be a contemplative pose. All eyes were on Wayne. The highway hummed in the background and sun kept beating down. I guess you could say there was a pregnant pause. Nobody really knew what to do. Gene was fascinated by Wayne’s “contemplation”. The boys just wanted to get the deal done so they could transfer all the crap: climbing gear, coolers, sleeping bags, camping pads, tents, peanut butter and jelly, road maps, fishing rods, and the basketball and the *&%#$ tennis racket into the car so they could limp home. The Swizz was thinking that they could be drinking beer’s and stoking up the bar-b-que on the porch before sundown.

Finally, Gene broke the silence. “You look like ok boys. You’ve been through a helluva morning and I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. $225. You better take it before I change my mind or ol’ Wayne here talks me out of it.”

Everybody, including Wayne knew that ol’ Wayne wasn’t talking anybody out of anything.

“Deal,” said Ebony. Copious handshaking ensued like they’d just signed a nuclear non-proliferation treaty right there in the dust, and sun, and heat of the desert.

The car was still idling. The doors were left open revealing the cracked vinyl interior.

Then like a kid asking for permission to speak in home room, Wayne raised his hand…………………

To Be Continued
(click Once Upon a Time to start the story from the beginning)

Schism Forming in Swizzle's Psyche

The Swizz has been more than happy to Swizz it up lo, these many months, but there seems to be cracks forming in Swizzleland. And the crazy thing is we can't really be sure what's going on or what ultimate end these chinks seem to be foreshadowing. At times, the Swizz begs to play more than just a bit part; times when the Swizz demands to be more than just some wig wearing, doughnut eating, discoball wearing stand in/pseudo alter ego. The Swizz wants to be the primary ego. Front and center. Grocery shopping--the Swizz. Returning a library book--Le Swizz. Lunch with a friend--El Swizz-a-dante. And often times Il Swizz-er-ino is in fact the primary ego.

But then there are times when the other egos start worrying. Worrying that the Swizz may just take hold in ways that could prove problematic for everyone. "Hey what about us," they say. "What about YOU?," they remark. "What's happening to you?" "Do you know what people are saying about you/Swizzle?" they query. "They think you are just a goofball/poser/psudeo self aggrandizer with a curious affinity for wigs and disguises," they scold like the kids in JR high would do. "What's up with that?" they ask.

Fair question.

In fleeting moments of clarity however, the curious reality takes hold again. The Swizz exists for the very reason that the nay-sayers say he shouldn't. For the exact reason that the nay sayers say nay/worry/mock/and try to put the Swizz back into the sub-conscious. The Swizz is really not that complicated. He's just freedom. Free. Free to be exactly as he is. And it sounds kinda corny, but the Swizz's goal, his guiding light, his mission is.....to just be free. Free to be a goofball/poser/self aggrandizer. Free to be free. Cue retorical question.....What's wrong with that?

Uhhhhhhhhhh. Nothing.

Or maybe it's all in my head. This is going to be interesting. Tune in later this week to see how it all works out. In the meantime check out the vid from the CD release party gig.

Sub-freezing moment of Zen

I've been hoping to post a Moment of Zen each day since we've returned from the blue, blue water, but unfortunately, the mundane has interfered just a bit. The cool thing is that thanks to the blue, blue water, the mundane isn't as mind-numbing or as odious. Yes, I spent 12 hours in the car (one day in a wicked early season snow storm) commuting to the mundane last week, and yes, the work spigot was turned on full blast after the 10 days away from the computer screen, but, it's all good. The Zen endures inspite of the mundane. Notice the sound of the waves. It was kinda like living in one of those self-help meditation CD's (you know, the ones with the sounds of the ocean or birds chirping in a meadow) that people buy. Actually it was way better than that.

I sincerely hope these little interludes help all you 7 people out in Swizzle-land. Maybe I'm a a simpleton, but I believe tuning into stuff like this every once in a while can be a therapeutic use of a computer screen. Or maybe the Swizz has just gone around the bend and will soon start touting the benefits of soft jazz or Yani, or Michael Bolton.

Swizzle's Moment of Zen

Yes it's Monday morning. Kinda cold outside. The leaves are gone and there's a dusting of snow on the ground. The news reports traffic snarls and overturned trucks on the highway, military surges, and Tiger Woods' wife swinging a golf club at him a 2 AM, but the question is: How much does it matter, really? Who cares? I learned many things during these last 10 days away, but the most important and honestly, the most obvious (at least to me) is to always be where my feet are. It may be a bit of Yogi Bera common sense but hey, I never said I was the smartest kid in class. So here's a moment of zen to start the week of with. Not complicated. Not even particularly insightful. Just a simple and conscious respite from any maelstroms that may be swirling in your various orbits.