CANADIAN-AMERICANS IN THE NEWS

TO BOLDLY SPLIT AN INFINITIVE (or CANADIAN-AMERICANS IN THE NEWS)

This spring has taken me by my already-ripped collar and shook me violently, like a neglectful babysitter on a hidden camera, into some kind of whiplash-induced hyperconsciousness from which the earthly issues of my life have somehow cracked loose and crumbled off me. Change, always a constant, has shifted into some new gear these days.

I’ve needed a reordering of the senses. Or rather, I too have needed to get my groove back.

When the news came down yesterday that Ben Folds was putting off work on his new album to finish the latest record by the Great Canadian-American Actor William Shatner (entitled, deliciously, Has Been), something told me the world was about to take a turn for the better.

When I got pulled unceremoniously out of a job I really liked to go back into the belly of a corporate beast I really didn't like (I'm back in the same building I was in for the last two-plus years, a biannus horribilis, and that's the first and last time I'll look up a phrase in Latin to post here but you-all deserve it, you smart and sexy blogreader you, don't think I haven't noticed), I thought, perhaps someone's saying something pertinent to me that I'm not hearing.

Not that I believe in any of that supernatural claptrap. The voices in my head speak only to me. If you want to leave them a message, send me an email. I'll pass it along.

My point is that in the last six weeks or so, my life has turned upside down, and while I'm not doing what I want (certainly this entry isn't going where I want it to go), I'm moving forward. Area 52 is back in full effect again, I'm putting a band together and booking shows, I'm writing again after taking a couple of months off of that, and outside, I've started noticing the streets swimming with happy people hanging out in the all-night heat, listening to salsa or techno or metal or klassik rokk or good ole American guitar pop like what I play, and all the shit that had congealed in the pipes of this town and the inside of my head over the last six months really feels like it's starting to break loose. Finally.

So thanks for continuing to come by here even when I drop out for a minute, even when I don't make much sense, even when I ramble on like a shitty Zeppelin tune you never want to hear again. And thank you for being cool and giving a shit. Unless you don't. Then piss off. We're partying here, and we don't need another pooper.