So on Friday, November 12th, 2010 we played a stinky little dive called Fitzgerald’s in Huntington Beach. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disparaging Fitzgerald’s. At least they have the cajones to feature unknown original bands on weekend nights. Live bands, Original Music! Holy Crap, Really?
Hey, I still have kids under 18, so I use terms like “crap” and “cajones” if you don’t like it, blow.
The camera sucked, the lighting was bad, but neither was as bad as the sound, so here you go:
Friday, Nov. 12th, 2010 – Huntington Beach
The Whistleblowers took the stage on Friday night at Fitzgerald’s in Huntington Beach. Sharing the bill were “Doggy Style” and “The Outsiders”. Here is the Whistleblowers version of the Woody Guthrie classic – “Blood of the Lamb”.
A depth few will recognize, and while they (those lucky enough to be a they) may not recognize or appreciate the depth, appreciation abounds by all fortunate enough to be touched by her smile, her voice, her eyes, her love.
Because she loves. She loves completely, she loves unconditionally, she loves deeply.
She Understands
An intuitive, accurate understanding complete
A completely unbiased progressive understanding rooted in vast, keen perception borne from victory over tragedy, fucked up parental behavior and life-threatening illness.
Circumstances, separate or combined that could irrevocably damage and kill, yet she overcame and flourished.
Words by themselves are flat, two dimensional, black and white…
Colored with her inflection, tone, nuance, intent and illuminated by her chrysalis eyes, they comfort…heal… inspire…
That’s what she does.
When she speaks, you don’t hear her words, you feel her heart.
OMG
I must have done something incredibly good and tremendously right
She reveals multitudinous dimensions of love,
She shares precious intimacy
She gushes over me, swallows me and allows me in to her extraordinariness
~~
I thought I knew,
I didn’t know
~~
Eager to learn
I may not know what you’re talking about..
May not recognize the terminology or a specific word (that’s what google is for)..
But,
Present me with an issue, a problem, a puzzle, a challenge…
And I will answer with solutions.
(as he scrapes melted butter off the front of his shirt)
Burn All The Books. Burning books is good. Books introduce subversive ideology into the minds of our young. Raid the libraries, set Barnes & Noble ablaze, Nuke the educational institutions (oh yeah, institution – that’s a bad word, right? Cool.)
According to statements by Florida preacher Terry Jones, God wants our soldiers to die. God wants Terry and his army of toothless inanity to enrage the muslim world, whilst our armed forces, our sons and daughters are in the crosshairs, brilliant.
At least Al Qaeda thought it was brilliant, because it proved to galvanize uneducated, disconnected communities against the west, which serves their purposes very well. I mean really, you know how your flock would react if they learned that muslims down the street were burning bibles, right?
General David Petraeus publicly stated that it was a BAD idea. But don’t listen to him Terry, he’s only in charge and actually has responsibility for our sons, our daughters, our mothers and our fathers fighting in that part of the world. General Petraeus lives and breathes this issue, day in and day out. You, Terry, on the other hand have responsibility for their souls. Thank God. Because you’ve traveled extensively over there and are well aware of the situation, right Terry?
So for God’s sake, don’t listen to Petraeus. You have God on your side.
Were Jesus alive, he’d be standing right next to you, holding his Bic Lighter ready to torch the next copy, because that was his way, right?
I distinctly remember reading the “Search & Destroy” scripture, the “We’ll all live, after we kill you” scripture, the “Slash each cheek with a bowie knife” scripture. Sure, those were my favorites.
Hey, Terry…
Please don’t consider that your country was actually founded on the freedom of religion, naw, that just weakens your argument. Besides, your parishioners don’t read that shit anyway (and they’re not the sharpest tools in the shed, but you already knew that, huh Terry). The constitution was written by a bunch of mutinous malcontents. Imagine, being forced to follow one particular god, one religion…
Thank god you’re not bound by such incredulous notions, right Terry?
Some pinko hippie might suggest that by reading the satan-saturated text, one could learn about a culture that constitutes a large percentage of the world’s population, and use it to one’s advantage, but such aspirations are obviously misguided and obtuse. (do you need a minute to google “obtuse” Terry?)
Because someone of your obvious mental superiority and worldly wisdom would surely recognize the far-reaching repercussions of their actions, right?
Obviously God has a greater plan. You’ve spoken to him, right? God is aware that the seemingly innocuous action of setting fire to the tantamount symbol of an immense portion of the world populations belief system won’t negatively affect my cousin in Afghanistan, right. I can count on you Terry, right?
Should my cousin direct their amen to God, or you Terry?
You know when butter is burnt
Black and rancid
Or when the dog doesn’t like you,
Fangs poised, growling, bloodshot eye whites, tiny pupils fixated on your slightest tremble.
Hate and disrespect are easy.
Love is Hard.
She knew I was calling, why didn’t she answer, why doesn’t she call back, she says she loves me…
what does it say about a man who at 15 met a girl and positively identified her as his life love
who can remember the exact moment 33 years later, delicious details intact
who wrote frequent long letters after she’d moved far away, dreams & desires gush across handwritten pages colored with odd drawings, who jumped at every opportunity to be with her even though separated by more than a hundred miles
what does it say about a man who recognized early the unattainable reality, but refused to accept it and resigned himself to quiet longing and absurd optimism
what does it say about a man who expressed his intention to love her while still teenagers, depth and breadth full, and though she convincingly announced her insatiable appetite to explore and experiment, declaring her utter lack of interest in commitment, his love for her endured, evolved and amplified
what does it say about a man who was well aware that the motive behind her summertime visit was to meet a lover who wasn’t that into her, and that she’s here now because it’s convenient while she’s working it out, and it hurts like hell but he does it anyway to spend moments with her
what does it say about a man who eagerly lurched at every opportunity to be with her, even when it was just to watch her go into a back room at a party at an unknown address with some guy to snort coke. He was never invited, and wasn’t considered until a ride was needed at the end.
what does it say about a man who had girlfriends, but thought of her constantly.
what does it say about a man who thinks he finally has a chance, elated at the prospect that she’s finally moving back, who searches the newspapers and drives the streets looking for a place for her near him, who believes that she’s finally coming around, after an eternity, who wrote him that it was possible, but “we’d have to take it slow”, so he plans for her and helps her move. Who makes a date on a Saturday night after work, who shows up at the designated time, who walks into a party and asks where she is, who is directed upstairs and climbs up a dropdown ladder leading to the loft with hope and smiles and when the bedsheet covering the hatch is removed finds her naked with Bob, a guy he knew in high school. An image burned so excruciatingly deep in his memory it depresses him today (not a figurative today – today actually – you pick the day)
Who stumbled out weeping and swore never, never again..
~
What does it say about a man who years later, is haunted by dreams of her silky black hair, smile that outshines the sun and sensual supple skin that melts his hand. Who begins shaking uncontrollably and breaks out in a cold sweat believing he sees her in line at a grocery store.
Not her…still had to sit.. for a minute.
Time passes…
What does it say about a man who hears her voice on his answering machine late at night, she’s alive in San Diego but doesn’t leave a number, so he strikes out, tearing into a city of millions hoping, needing, believing that somehow he’ll find her with only enduring true love to guide him
A hapless year dwindles and dies…
What does it say about a man who is engaged to his girlfriend of 7 years, who answers an alcohol and drug inspired phone call at 4am and knows from the sweet air he sucks through the phone line a hundred miles away that his life is irrevocably modified forever…again.
Whose heart inflates, spilling through orifices, but doesn’t bleed
Who drops life and speeds to her rescue, unapologetic and with an epic voracious thirst
What does it say about a man who in a blink walks away from everything he knows to build a life with a woman he hasn’t seen in years, but believes in
Who actually physically floated for months after his long lost love, his heart, his reason to be, finally held him and kissed his lips.
~
What does it say about a man who changed his dream to care for her, to support her through victorious battles with addiction, mania, illness and self-loathing
Who went where she wanted to go, because she had to
Who understands, cherishes and exults the greatest gift possible that she bestowed upon him – the gift of human life
Who cries today in gratitude for the family she gave him – who is grateful every breath, every day
~
What does it say about a man who recognized the limitations of his career choice, who did the math, wanted more for the future of his family and began actively pursuing that goal, sacrificing precious time to serve a long range greater good
Who struggled with his own demons in the pursuit, but kept his eye on the prize
Whose sole motivation was to gain an advantage for those who depend on him
Who was walking gingerly along the tightrope of life when suddenly the ends unraveled and the world came crashing up, crushing his feet and confidence.
~
What does it say about a man whose rudder was abruptly grotesquely ripped from the stern of his life, who needed support but was too proud, or too stupid to verbalize it, and instead sank the boat
~
What do you do?
Do you dig in and help out or do you run like hell?
(48 year-old son, Dave, is driving his 71 year-old mother, Donna to the store. )
Dave:
Yeah, I had that 65′ Buick, used keep stalling on me. Figured out rust chips from the gas tank kept plugging up the fuel filter.
I’d travel with 2 pencils, a screwdriver and a spare fuel filter. Whenever it’d stall, I’d pull over, pop the hood, unscrew the clamps on the fuel filter, stick the pencils into the lines on either side of the filter so gas didn’t leak, put in the spare fuel filter and I was back on the road in four minutes.
Donna:
We used to have an Olds convertible when you guys were little..
Dave:
I remember that car.
Donna:
Brakes were shot – driving you guys around on the ice with no brakes, shish!
Dave:
And you were probably drunk.
Donna:
I always had a few belts before getting into that car. Are you kidding?