Brother Jack

I hate to break the streak. I live life with a lot of habits. I’ve had my share of bad habits but my good habits are what define my daily routines. I write a daily post for a lot of reasons. It’s made me a better writer. It’s provided a tangible way to process my thoughts and ideas. It’s been a healthy and essential part of my daily routine for a long time. I am hoping to return to it soon but I have to take a break. The flow of life has changed for me and I need to spend this energy in other ways. Thanks for reading. I’m still here and you can send me a message anytime. Let’s stay connected, just not with a daily post from me.

“Sometime soon, I am going to work on prioritizing my time.”

“That’s a good goal but what does that mean for you.”

“I need to make a list and prioritize my time… Sometime soon, I’m gonna work on that…”

“I still don’t really know what that means. You are nine, what priorities do you have? What sparked this new interest in time management?”

“The teacher told us that we are gonna have a lot more homework soon and I don’t want to spend all my time doing homework. There’s other stuff I want to do. So, if I make some priorities, I won’t spend all of my time doing homework.”

“I don’t think that is how time management really works but I think you may have a promising future as a politician.”

Everybody has experienced that moment, a flash of time that will remain vivid in your memory forever. It’s not that it haunts you. It’s simply a moment when everything changed. The paradigm shifted. That flash in time marks a new reality.

I was watching the news and enjoying my coffee, when I saw the planes hit the towers. I was young and in that moment everything changed.

Selected excerpts from Jonah:

There was a recent lottery drawing with a record-setting payout. It was a huge amount of money. Even with all of the taxes and hassle, it would be life-changing money for multiple generations. Some people got lucky and won it all. It wasn’t me.

I hope they don’t get weighed down and swallowed up by everything that will come with their sudden windfall. I’d like to think that no amount of money would change who I am and how I spend my days. I’ll get up tomorrow and do the work. I am the luckiest man alive. I’ve already won the jackpot.

My son just started playing the oboe. He has been following me around the house, jumping from the shadows, and randomly squawking. It is scary but not in the way that he intends. It reminds me of an old Looney Tunes episode. Imagine Bugs Bunny as a snake charmer. He is trying to convince a cobra to emerge from a wicker basket. He does seem to be a natural at it. “How can you get such a good sound on the first try?” “It’s easy. It’s like holding your breath and trying to poop at the same time.”

I’m late getting my daily post published. I played a three hour show last night. It was the first three hour show that I have played in a while. I am out of shape. Recovery was easier when I was younger. My back hurts. My hamstrings are tight. My vocals chords are fried. I didn’t sleep enough. I don’t know how Mick Jagger does it.

“You should get a job at our school as a lunch lady.”

“What? I don’t need a job right now and I think I would be a lunch man?”

“Yeah, I guess… But I think you would be a very popular lunch lady… Everyone would love you and you could come out of the kitchen and wave at me everyday.”

Her brother thought this was a good idea. “Ohhhh, and you could make the food better. None of our lunch ladies know how to fold a taco.”

Well, I guess this means that I should add taco-folding to the personal skills listed on my resume.

I love words. I love lists. I really love lists of words.

There is a podcast that I enjoy. It’s a daily show that provides a brief dive into a singular topic. It feels like a good opportunity to learn something new everyday. A recent show was about the weird words that we use to describe very specific groups of animals. Some of my favorites include a leap of leopards, a chorus of frogs, and a host of sparrows. This episode was a spectacular collection of words. You should listen to this wonderful list of words. You can find it here.

I’ve been watching a show. It doesn’t matter what show. The important part is that I had one episode left in the season. I could have watched it yesterday but I wanted to delay the gratification. I was stretching it out, enjoying the binge. When I sat down to watch this final episode, it was gone. The show is now unavailable. They must have shipped it out to a different streaming platform. I know there are far worse problems in this world but it’s hard for me to think of anything more annoying than being blocked on the last episode.

I am sure this has happened to you. Hit reply and tell me about it. What was the show? Did you ever get a chance to finish it?

If you were a Smurf, who would you be?

My kids instigated a deep conversation about The Smurfs. My little girl would choose to be Smurfette (obviously). Hefty was a close second choice. My son was comfortable being any Smurf except Papa or Smurfette. He was partial to Narrator or Tracker Smurf. At this stage in life, there is only one choice for me. If I had to be a Smurf, I would be Papa Smurf.

This debate made me think about the Smurf community as it compares to some of our societal norms. It would be easier to determine a person’s motivations if they had a name that coincided with their character. I think life would be so much less complicated if we all had labels that summed up the essence of who we are. Which Smurf are you?

It’s Labor Day in the United States. This is the day when we celebrate the Puritan work ethic. We celebrate the virtue of hard work. It is the most essential thing in life. Everything is meaningless, if you don’t work yourself into an early grave. As a reward for all of the hard work, we receive a day off so that we can grill some meat.

I’ve heard it said that if you love your job, you never work a day in your life. I love my job but some days can be hard. I know that I am the luckiest man alive because I get to do something that I love doing. Please don’t make me take the day off. I will keep working and still find time to grill the meat. There’s that old Puritan work ethic. Back to work.

I keep track of everything. I document all of my regular documentation. I have a collection of previously used to-do lists. When I write a post, sometimes there are three versions. Occasionally, it is scribbled on a piece of paper with a pencil. It is always typed into a word processing format. This iteration is backed up to the cloud. Then I copy and paste each Dispatch into my host interface. At this point, each post (that has already been backed up in multiple spots) is scheduled for delivery.

It has been almost a full year since I switched to a new host for my Daily Dispatch. I was recently looking for previous posts that had been published around past Labor Day holidays. It’s nice to read the documentation of the years. Passage of time is reflected in my daily posts. I discovered that I am missing a chunk. It might be as much as six months worth of material. Because of my meticulous system, I have the titles of the missing posts documented in multiple places but the actual content of the posts are gone.

This discovery is unsettling but it doesn’t change anything. That is the worst part of this whole process. I meticulously document everything. I back up all of my work in multiple spots. When something goes missing, nothing changes. The world is still the same even though I am missing a bunch of posts. I guess I need to write an extra 180 posts to make up for the gap.

Exercise is weird. The act of exercising makes a person feel better. It produces a glowing vibrancy. Every part of your body functions better as a result of some exercise. Although, I just exercised and I feel real bad. Everything hurts. It’s complete pain that perfectly coincides with a glowing vibrancy. I might do it again but not today.

Autumn is my favorite season but I refuse to embrace it until the time is right. I would never drink a pumpkin spice latte. If it were my cup of tea, I would never drink it in August. There is a whole set of music that I only perform during the fall. The nights are chilly. The mornings are crisp like a fall apple. The days are getting shorter. The calendar says that it is not time yet. We are so close, I can almost smell it.

“I tripped on a curb at recess and scraped both my knees.”

This is a regular occurrence for him. It is not a surprise.

His twin sister responded, “Awwww buddy, I am sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“What do you mean?”

(She is four inches shorter and ten pounds lighter.)

“I am your big sister, it’s my job to protect you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Clearly disgruntled, “You are one minute older than me. I don’t need you to protect me.”

I thought it was adorable. His knees are fine.

I just disposed of a set of Sony MDR-CD60 headphones. They are consumer grade headphones but they have been with me for a long time. I purchased these headphones at a Best Buy store while I was working on my very first record. Most serious audiophiles wouldn’t give a second listen with these headphones. I knew them like they were my own ears. I listened to so much music through these headphones. I mixed all of my early work with them. (The pitfalls of mixing with headphones is a conversation for another day.) I’m going to miss these headphones. Honestly, they have not been useful or even functional for a long time. I guess it’s time to get rid of them. The foam in the padding is deteriorating and leaving black dust all through my microphone bin. If it wasn’t for the mess, I would have kept them forever. Thanks for 20 years of exceptional service.

We were watching the movie IF. It is a good movie but this post is not about the movie. In this story “IF” stands for Imaginary Friend. This post is about imaginary friends.

Do all kids have imaginary friends? My little girl had a lot of imaginary friends. She was constantly talking to them and sharing stories about their fun adventures. One day, her twin brother couldn’t take it anymore. “Your friends aren’t real and they can’t fly.”

In case you were wondering, my imaginary friend was called Lemmy and he moved to Florida when I was six.

The twins have been “helping” me with grocery shopping. It’s fun and not nearly as stressful as you might imagine. We buy far more baked goods than I would if I were by myself. And somehow, despite my good intentions, we come home with very few vegetables. It’s been a fun learning experience for all three of us. It hasn’t been easy to come up with anything resembling an actual meal but we won’t run out of chocolate any time soon.