Thursday: Soarin' On an Eagle-Drawn Chariot!

sweet-hot and buttery biscuits, this here Thursday finds me - your humblest of humble announcers - announcing the very sturdy and strong fact that is that I am beginning to feel better. After my inter-dealings with "Dr." Albert Tubman left me swindled, bamboozled and emotionally flapping in the wind, operating - as Tubman might say - "like a little baby pansy, trembling with fear". There is no denying these things. It hurt and it stung and left me bereft of my money, my posessions, my dignity, and - most important of all - my honor.

Now, the hazy fog and detritus of my past is lifting, slowly but surely and in a steady fashion. Aided and encumbered by a kind soul at work whom let me take two advance paychecks out (at a mere 15% for his trouble) I was able to avoid eviction to the sidewalk at the Regency Tower. Granted, I don't have any furniture or anything (to be resolved soon!) but I have a toilet and running water - or rather I do now, after I had to pay through the nose to get the water re-turned on after I missed a payment (dear City Water, I was in jail! Hello!). Point being, if a man has a place to lay his head, whether it's on a pillow or on an old brown dessicated carpet w/ cracker crumbs in it, he has a home. This is a fact.

The most important piece of the puzzle as far as my artistic-ness goes for those of you who miss dearly my songs and songcraft, is this: Where is the guitar of Taffy "Sunburst" McKittrick? I'm certain it's been pawned and fenced and traded like so much rotten cornmeal throughout the seedy underbelly of this town. All by way of saying: its gone and that's fine but if i'm gonna rock this party like I'm Taffy-Old-School, I need a new guitar. When I have appropriated or found or stolen one, you better believe that my songcraft will be all over the internet again, like so many powerful viruses. This is how I give back. This is how I pay it forward.

peace
Taffy

Wednesday: Birth of a MadMan's Rantings

Well Well Well, and then Well how do you do? That is the question du jour (which means 'of the day" like say a soup or an entree at a fine restaurant). How do you do? Meaning me. How do I - Taffy Sunburst McKittrick - find myself at this particular juncture wherein it is now September and the whole of the August teat dried up and shrunk into the rearview mirror. Where does the time go? (note: yes that is another question, but it is not the question. The question is "How do you do?"). You - a member of my storied and voluminous blog-reading audience have probably given up on ol' Taffy, right? You've thought that I just slunk off somewhere under a tree and maybe part of you even gave up on me. That is fine. Let me announce to you that I have been places in the past few weeks and I have grown in an accelerated manner, like an infant or a baby or - at my most extreme - like an infant baby.

Ah, I'm stalling. Let's get to it:

It goes without saying that Dr. Albert Tubman was a fraud and a much better swindler and bamboozler than life coach. Oh, he indeed taught me some life lessons: don't trust people, don't let people into your heart, and - above all - don't take out a line of credit in your name and sign over the control of said line of credit to a bald, seemingly well-intentioned aspirant orthodontist who promised to help you become a better artist. I won't get into all the sticky details but lets just pretend that I'm saying that I spent several days in the county lockup and upon my release came home to find all my furniture had been sold on craigslist. Even my crockpot.

In short, these are dark and furious times. And I am, by extension, a dark and furious man-beast, howling in the blackness, my gnarled claws to my scarred visage, wailing up at the sky in a guttural and booming roar: why? Why? why?! Mothereffer Why why Why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?

Glorious Tuesday: I Am Shimmering!!

Dear sweet and buttery blog reading audience, can you believe the depths and intensities that this thing - life, that is - can grow and expand to? Sort of like a giant blimp that gets bigger, encompassing more and more hot air. Oh, bliss!

When I left you last I was informing you about my meeting at the Lakeshore Mall with Dr. Albert Tubman, aka my Life Coach. We had a grand and glorious day of walking and observing, looking at storefront displays, sharing ice cream samples etc. The day ended with me giving Dr. Tubman a ride to a local 7/11 where he was set to meet another client. Can I tell you that a pang of jealousy shot through my trunk and arms when I heard this. But I talked myself down, realizing: he is a Doctor with many patients of which I am one of them. He provided me with some homework: cataloguing my darkest fears with aims to confront them, making a list of what I want out of life, and researching dock fees at local marinas. (note: I am still not sure what the last one has to do with me but I have full faith in the good Doc's methods. He teaches thru metaphors the way another doctor might teach through hands on guidance or, for example, dirty language or something. Point being, I trust Tubman with the fullest heart I can muster!!).

It's funny how once you begin to make changes in your life, the rest of the parts of your life will change along with it. For instance: I was at the laundromat across from the Apartments on Sunday and I saw Ron Mealeman again (or "Fat Ron", as he prefers) and you may recall that he was a man that used to annoy me but I found that he did not. He was at the back pulling his clothes out of the dryer and laying them on that rolly-cart thing and I walked right up to him and said: "Glorious day Fat Ron!"
He looked at me and said: "I guess. What's your name again? Butterscotch?"
"Ha!" I said. "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! No it is not Butterscotch."
There was a long pause.
He looked at me and said
"um, okay. So what is it?"
I took a deep breath, like a man drinking from a soda fountain after he's been in the dessert for weeks, and then I said: "Taffy Mothereffin' McKittrick!!"

Large Announcement: Yesterday My Life Began: Day One!

Whoa and Wow! I can hardly type this because my arms are quaking and my body is moving, squirming around like that breakdance The Centipede. I am alive with an electric white-hot sugar beam, swirling over and around me as I fully contemplate all manner of existing and what it truly means to be Taffy "Sunburst" McKittrick!

Okay. Deep breath. I don't want to get all rambly on you. Therefore, I will center my thoughts and excrete a calm and cogent stream of data toward you, as I instruct myself to do, and I will tell you all about yesterday, which was Day One of the rest of my life! It was my first full session with Dr. Albert Tubman.

Here is how the day went down:

I woke early from a thick sleep that had me dreaming about living in a castle made of stone, with torches and knights and what have you. The sun bled thru the blinds and I was half-asleep as I walked from the futon toward the kitchen and so I picked up my guitar. Yes, it was early, not quite 7am but I remembered that a big key being a recepient of Life-Coaching is to recognize the urges that compel you. (Keep in mind I am an artist so it's a one-two punch). The guitar was speaking to me so I picked it up and began strumming a loud and sturdy strumming shuffle in the key of E7with a walk-up to G#m and then over to Bb#7diminished, all the while my foot counter-tapping in syncopated bursts. And then the lyrics: they fell out of my mouth like so many baby birds: Livin' in a Castle made of Stone/With Torches and Knights and What have you...and so on. It was like I was another person, like the dream Taffy was controlling the awake Taffy like a marionette. Before I knew it I was shrieking out more lyrics at the top of my lungs: Dead in the Castle/Sorry for the hassle! over and over, until it became sort of a meta-self-referencing thing and before I knew it my neighbor in the next apartment was banging on the wall (keeping perfect time with my syncopated foot)!! Such is the power of unguarded art!!!!

Whew. Okay:

I bathed and dressed and drove to the Lakeshore Mall. I was to meet Dr. Tubman in the Food Court. I sat for an hour or so and there was no sign of him. Plenty of commerce-minded people were shopping and carrying bags and eating sausage biscuits and whatnot but no Dr. Tubman. Just as I was getting nervous and thinking that perhaps I had my days mixed up, he arrived. He was wearing a backwards baseball cap and a leather jacket and a pair of denim shorts that went to his knees. I don't know a lot about fashion but I don't think many people could pull that look off. Dr. Tubman did. He had a suave nature about him, gliding across the food court, like a gazelle. He approached the table and snapped his fingers:
"Waiting long?"
"An hour"
"Good, I was afraid it was much longer. It's been one of those days already and it ain't 9:30" he said.
I began cackling out of empathy but he shot me a look that urged me to cease this line of laughter.
"Shall we begin" he asked.
"Yes" I said.
He sat down and looked at me. It was quiet for a moment and I thought he was doing some jedi-life-coach staring thing so I didn't say anything. Another moment passed and then he said:
"You know, a venti latte would be frigging killer right now".
I went and got it for him and sat back down. He was calling the shots so I watched as he blew on his drink and sipped it. More time passed and then he looked right in my face and uttered:
"Taffy" he began "Tell me about your fears"

Well, as you can imagine, this is like getting punched in the gut with a sledgehammer and a jackhammer all at once. I think my reticence was glistening on my face because Dr. Tubman looked at me and said: "This isn't going to work if you don't go to the dark places Taffy".
A whole minute passed. I swallowed. I couldn't meet his eye! Finally I moaned:
"I'm afraid of the dark" I said.
"Good" he said. "That's real good to hear. Let me ask you a question. You're an artist, right?"
"Yes"
"Just like Jim Morrison?" he said, referring to the singer from the 80s band The Doors.
"Yes"
"What'd Jim Morrison think of the dark? Did he run away from it like a little girl?"
I thought about it. "I guess not"
"Did he prance away like Little Lord Fauntleroy? Did he put ribbons in his hair and wear a dress like a little girl at a tea party"
I thought some more "I don't think so"
"No dipshit, he didn't. What did he do?"
"I don't know"
"I'll give you a hint: He sang about it".
There was an awkard moment here because it appeared that what Dr. Tubman said was the whole of what he wanted to say, not a hint. I wasn't sure what to say, if anything. So I reapeated his last words, as if they were a question "He sang about it".
Dr. Tubman broke into a fancy grin here, from cheek to cheek.
"Pardon my french" he said "But you're starting to get the hang of this shit Taffy"

Presenting: A Huge Announcement!!!

Well, my sweet and sun-kissed blog readership, I have news of an epic nature to present to you for your current consideration. You have probably been wondering why my epic gush of songcraft has dwindled to a mere mountain stream, a trickle that can benefit no one really and I'd like to tell the reason for this: I have been up to something.

Yes, I am being deliberately mysterious at the present moment and I'm merely teasing you, not unlike some fish-stuffed cat using sharp claws to bat around a catnip-mouse (or whatever metaphor you deem suitable to insert here) and I know I'm stalling so here it is:

I, Taffy "Sunburst" McKittrick do hereby solemnly admit to swear that the reason for my going into hiding in the month of July is as follows:
- In an interest to better serve my listening (and blog-following) audience, I have procured the instruction and tutelage of a Life Coach.
- After a couple attempts with various Life Coaches whose approaches did not mesh nicely with my artistic and creative sensibilities, I have at last landed on the best Life Coach: one Albert Tubman, a former Navy SEAL and aspiring orthodontist who has used his muscles (mental and physical) to get me into shape.
- Yesterday was in fact the first meeting with Dr. Tubman and it went effing swimmingly!! (note: though not an actual MD yet, Tubman prefers I use the sobriquet "Dr." because he is the architect of his own existence, because he sets the perception of his own self, because he wants it this way).
- We met at a Starbucks. He arrived late and sat at the table and asked for a Venti Latte. I retrieved it for him and we began discussing my agenda as a human being but more importantly as a creative entity.
"How bad do you want it Taffy?" he asked me.
"Pretty bad" I said. "Like the hummingbird wants the dew". (note: I'm not certain if hummingbirds want dew or are maybe allergic to it but it fell from my mouth and Dr. Tubman seemed to agree.
"Well then." he said "You are on your way".
And an electric tingle surged up my leg, all the way to my head and heart.
"What next"? I asked.
Dr. Tubman looked me in the eye and said: "Are you committed to putting all your trust in me"?
I nodded vigorously.
"This isn't an easy fix necessarily" he murmurred. "It can take time".
"I realize that" I said.
"And money". he said.
"It takes money to make money" I shrieked, not quite certain how I meant it.
And at that Dr. Tubman broke into a grin. He knew in that moment that he had me.
That I now belonged to him....

To Be Continued

update: not belonged to him in a bad way, but in a cosmic Navy Seal way.