There is an epidemic going on where people seem to be in love with celebrating stupidity in all its forms. The current Republican candidate for President is a perfect example. The man has no policy positions but people love the guy because he “says it like it is!” Give me a fucking break. I think that so many people idolize this ass because he does not require that they think or that they form an original thought. Goddess forbid that anybody take a few minutes and think twice about what somebody is proposing and do even a small amount of research. They saw the guy on the TV box firing somebody so they are going to vote for the man. Simply embarrassing.

The celebration extends far beyond politics. Anything that focuses on the lowest common denominator is where people want to focus. Think of the constant attention of mindless celebrity gossip, everything surrounding Kardashian clan, Caitlin Jenner (part of the Kardashian clan? I’m glad I don’t know for sure), idiot TV featuring Honey-Fucking-Boo Boo, short people, plastic surgery, real and fake housewives, drama without meaning and without thought. It seems that so many simply abhor the thought of being required to think or to be faced with facts. They wear blinders that do not go beyond the immediate and the easy. Work (if they have a job), a trip to Wal-Mart, a call to Mom, something to do with offspring, and a ball game on the weekend. Done.

Something is seriously wrong when people look at you like you just grew a horn out of your head when you mention that you like to read and actually write with a pen or pencil. When they find somebody “odd” because they want to learn new things and enjoy the struggle of learning new and difficult things. Mention that you are not a huge sports fan and all of a sudden people slowly back away as if you just started bleeding from every orifice. If someone gets a hint that you once watched a documentary they quickly retreat to find the nearest TV showing FOX News. The mindset of only paying attention to sparkly things and damaged fucked up people seems to be really sad. The attention span of so many is in seconds (squirrel!) and the ability to focus on one thing for an extended period of time has seemed to have faded to a mere memory.

The number of people that noticeably celebrate stupidity diminishes as the population of a town/city grows. It still exists of course, it just is not as obvious. This is why the draw to the big city, or at least an enlightened town is so strong and ever growing.

It came out of nowhere. A barrage of images from childhood dreams. Things and images not thought of for decades but suddenly once again vividly clear. These dreams stopped around junior high but were consistent from a very early age. Putting them on the page likely will not make them more clear and will certainly confuse the reader. But, sometimes things just have to get out of the head and out in the world.

The words “boggy creek” and the image of a barely moving stream in a dark and dense forest. The view is from the left of the stream and is looking upstream. There is something very ominous about the scene and those words. The feeling is that there is something at the source of the creak/stream but the image does not advance in this direction. There is a feeling of being pursued while at the same time looking for something or someone.

Approximately 20-feet away is a figure that looks like Captain Caveman but without the face or Cousin Itt from “The Addams Family”…this figure has long arms hanging from the side of its fur and has short legs protruding towards the ground. It seems that somehow this figure/creature is related to Bigfoot but much more ominous. At first, it seemed as if this thing and “boggy creek” were somehow related and part of the same dream. Further thought made it clear that they are unrelated and two separate dream images. Like the stream/creek, this is a static image that does nothing but says a lot. The exact meaning is still not known.

A large steel door closing very slowly. The door closes top to bottom and resembles a giant pair of nail clippers viewed straight on. Opening and closing with large tubes and pipes connected from either side. The doors itself or shiny and pristine while the tubes and pipes are worn, torn, and have the look of something vaguely Steampunk. This image is firmly connected to watching my Grandma get on the plane at the old Montrose Airport (Frontier with propellers) and head back to Lincoln, Nebraska. Watching her get on the plane and watching the doors close was a ritual every time she left.

The sudden awareness of standing in front of a large auditorium full of people while naked on the stage. A common “nightmare” but in personal dreams there is a feeling of contentment and comfort, both with being in front of a large group of people, clearly getting to give a talk, and in being naked in front of all. There is no fear in public speaking or doing it while naked. This image somehow reveals that there is a level of gratitude in not being in the audience having to listen to a clothed person give a talk about something mundane likes sales management or the benefits of homeschooling.

A dark and wet city with multiple layers. The layers are buildings built on top of buildings and there are flying cars zooming in all directions. The city is dark and wet and resembles something out of a Cyberpunk novel or Gotham City in 200 years. There is constant movement and a sense of trying to get to a particular destination. Certain tasks must be completed to get to this destination. Each completed task leads to another task and the overall feel is of a treadmill going nowhere. The need to get to the final destination is great and all consuming. Each task becomes more and more difficult and less ground is gained each and every time. This was a childhood dream but it has the feel of an adult facing modern day bureaucracy.

A dream that combines the images of being at a British boarding school while at the very same time observing a ship moving across the vastness of space. The two are clearly connected somehow. The school image is full of brick buildings, large libraries, the musty smell of a shared dorm room, and the chiming of a heavy bell in the distance. The spaceship is long and cylindrical with viewing windows on the port side. The ship is viewed from the rear and to the left and it moves slowly in a straight line before moving off to the right in a quick turn with a flash of its warp engines. How it is known that the ship has warp engines is not known. The connection between the British school and the spaceship is directly related to the 4th Doctor. Tom Baker in Doctor Who. This was watched religiously in the early 80’s and clearly had a huge if not somewhat twisted impact.

First of all, the word nudity is just fucking stupid. It is a thinly veiled attempt to make a word safe for the entire family. Pointless and most of all annoying because words should be used at their very core meaning and not painted over with a sense of safety and sensibility. From now on and forever more the word is *NAKED. Yep, bare ass fucking naked. A word with some meaning behind it and with multiple meanings sort of like the word fuck.

The question at the heart of this rant is why does the United States have such a negative view of being naked, seeing others naked, and talking about being naked. There is no grey area and it seems people go from conceiving a kid, in the dark, with eyes closed, while only partially naked to flat out in your face demeaning pointless stupid fucking pornography? Try this as an experiment, tell somebody you are going to Orvis Hot Springs and that you will be exercising your right to be clothing optional. Yep, once again, here comes the word…naked. Now that the words are out of your mouth watch the recipients face. They will likely start to slightly tremble, their eyes will glaze over, and their jaw will drop ever closer towards the floor. They will think they have regained some sense of self-righteous composure and they will try to be cool when asking, “how can you let other people see you naked?” The correct answer, pay attention as there will be a test, is “nobody cares and if they want to look let them look. I’m going for myself and for my own relaxation. Nobody cares.” This brief back and forth usually ends up with a question about children, are you taking children, will there be children there, etc. If you have not been to Orvis Hot Springs the answer is yes. Children go to Orvis and I think it is incredibly healthy. As long as they do not yell and scream, piss in the water, and generally make my life miserable, I am happy to see them at Orvis. Their presence tells me the parents have their heads screwed on straight. You know what is even healthier and more common than you may think? Teenage children at Orvis completely naked with their siblings and parents all reaping the benefits of the mystical waters. Seeing this is like being transported to Scandinavia where the issue of being naked is a non-issue.

Where does this sense of modesty and body shame come from? My guess it comes from the fucking church, where most nonsensical bullshit is introduced, repeated, and developed into a core belief. If people want young people, especially girls, to have better body images, do not teach body shame from a young age. Allow them to be comfortable with their own bodies and do not treat something as natural and normal as being naked as something shameful and something to be avoided. As with most things, especially the use of some words (fuck, shit, twat, goddamn, bastard, bitch, pussy) it is all about context and appropriateness. The real lesson to be learned is when to be naked, how to embrace being naked, and knowing when to avoid being naked if it will put you or others in a dangerous situation. Come on, nobody wants to go to jail over simply being naked. Avoid being stupid, embrace the places (and there are many) where you can be naked and roll with things on a different level.

Okay everybody, drop all of your multiple layers and GET NAKED!!

One of the many great things about grade school was learning to write in cursive. The printing part of grade school was so easy that it really does not deserve a mention. It was penmanship and cursive writing that was oh so very cool and fun. The letters up above the chalkboard, upper case and lower case, scrawled out in all their glory in thick white lines on a green background. The fascination involved in seeing that a capital Q was written as a large number 2 with a nice loop at the top and a longish tail at the end. The capital X that looked like something an alien would write. The simply joy of connecting the letters together into words without having to pick up the writing implement. Mastering the lines and the curves and the technique of writing in cursive. This was true visceral learning where you could see progress on a daily basis.

Closely connected to penmanship was the pencil sharpener at the front of the room. A true student wanted a nice edge to their pencil so that blotchy mistakes would not be made while forming that magical capital Q. Usually attached to the wall on the left side of the chalkboard, the grey metal contraption was a simple but oh so effective tool. If you were lucky you had a sharpener whose handled turned with ease and that produced a needle sharp point connected to a freshly shaved shaft. Now that I wrote that it sounds a bit dirty. But never you mind. Moving on. There was often a dial you could turn so that a larger pencil could be accommodated and sharpened. If you were really lucky the teacher would ask you to sharpen a dozen or so pencils at a time. You were asked because you clearly enjoyed it and took the job seriously. Quite an honor on every level.

Penmanship and pencil sharpeners. Just two of the things I miss from grade school.

Very little connects me to my hometown Montrose, Colorado. I feel almost no connection to the town and have to dig deeply to list any redeeming qualities that the town has to offer. One place in town offers a true connections and that is the downtown Fox Theatre. This theatre is a connection to some very specific memories. The grand opening of the Penthouse Theatre watching “9 to 5” while being really sick with Bronchitis. A 1980 school trip to see Tim Conway and Don Knotts in “Private Eyes” and holding hands with Angela McCormick in the right side of the third row. Coming out of the theatre with my buddy Bill Pleau and having his mother tell me that my Grandma was very sick and in the hospital. She would die exactly 10 days later on January 23, 1984. The father of my friend Craig Files attempting to be the “parent” for about six middle schoolers and did everything he could to get us in to see “Porky’s”, an R-rated favorite. To this day, Ralph Files is a hero in my eyes for standing up for us and doing what he could to get us in so we could see a few sets of boobs. These memories and many more make for a great small town connection.

The Fox Theatre has been in the same location since 1929. Its design is highly unique among more mundane looking downtown buildings. The men’s bathroom just off the little theatre still looks exactly the same as it did in 1977. One stand-up, one sit-down, one sink, and one up high small window leading to the alley. The small door on the wall by the door leading outside. Half the size of a normal door and set down low near the floor. Where does it go? The dark office that sits behind the box office. Back in the 1970’s the owner of the theatre was a man named Stan. I wish I could remember his last name. He looked like someone out of a mobster movie. A giant pinkie ring with a huge diamond on his right hand. Slick suits and a hairstyle that was so very not Montrose, Colorado. An intimidating figure no doubt but I remember him with his hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me and asking if I enjoyed “the picture show.” Damn right I did and thanks for asking Stan.

The Fox Theatre has a feel of an old school movie house. A monument to film and to movies. Leading up the ramp to the upstairs Penthouse theatre you will be greeted with posters of old movie greats. Mae West, Laurel and Hardy, Will Rogers, and Abbott and Costello. Halfway up the ramp and to your right you can glance up and see painting of a topless woman. This painting has been in the same place since the Penthouse open and it must always be greeted with a nod of appreciation and a subtle salute.

Having different interests is not the point. Understanding that different people are interested in different things is not a difficult concept to grasp. It is those that simply have no interests that are so baffling. With very very few or no interests of course comes a total lack of curiosity. Not caring one iota about what is going on in the world and why. Those that can throw out a couple of interests automatically think that if you do not sure these interests you have none of your own. I mean why and how could you not be interested in grandchildren, gardening, and a romance novel book club? If you even dare to list a few of your own interests, many will be slack jawed at the mere mention of video games, reading, math/science, books, Shakespeare, Latin, movies, TV, NETFLIX, Dungeons&Dragons, cord management, dogs, bicycles, gear, technology, writing, fountain pens, politics, education, opera, chamber music, travel, food, wine, and making people uncomfortable.

Many people are simply okay with the day to day and a lifelong routine of work, dinner, FOX News, bed, repeat. On the weekends they may throw in the ever important and seemingly endless and difficult task of laundry and going to the Wal-Mart for supplies. A softball game may be thrown in there somewhere but let us not get too crazy. Monday is coming and we have to start bitching about that really really soon. How do people get through their days when they have no interests? What do they look forward to and what motivates them? Were they lobotomized as small children and therefore cannot see beyond there limited and BORING tunnel vision of life?

Fascinating things make for a fascinating life inside ones own mind. Even when the people around you and the day to day routine makes you numb, going inside your own head and exploring what is there makes it all worth the time.

A great music venue rises above being a place to simply hear live music. The great venues become separate topics of conversation and will draw people to hear music they might not otherwise wish to hear. They come for the venue first and the music second. Think about it, if you had the chance to go back in time and experience some of the great venues in history would you pass up the opportunity? The Cotton Club, Copacabana, CBGB, Whiskey a Go Go, just to name a few. These places and many more have their own personalities and the music played within their walls only makes their mystique that much stronger.

At times, great venues will appear in the most unlikely of places. In Montrose, Colorado, world capital of classic rock cover bands playing on golf courses or shoehorned into local bars, is The Lark and Sparrow historic venue. This beautiful venue features a library area that is perfect for conversation, background acoustic music, and lively happy hours. The skylight ballroom is the big room that will feature nationally known artists from several genres. Jazz is the primary focus but you are just as likely to hear the silky harmonies of a young all female bluegrass trio.

Ascending the stairs to The Lark and Sparrow transports you from a humdrum world to a different place in time. The library area could be an intimate gathering place off the streets of London; the main ballroom has the feel of a jazz club from a different era. Music is designed to transport people through sound. A great venue can enhance this process by making one feel they are removed, if only temporarily, from their everyday world. It is clear that a venue is special when people want to go there not just for the performers but also for the atmosphere of the building itself.

The Lark and Sparrow is well on its way to becoming a venue that gets noticed. The amount of time, energy, and resources that have gone into this building is remarkable. It has gone beyond a renovation. Heart and soul, passion, and a love of music drip from the walls and emanates as a palpable energy that is noticed by all.

Sunday morning while at church (the local coffee shop) is the time to listen to “Sacred Classics” on Colorado Public Radio classical station 103.3FM. As this is being written Ralph Vaughan Williams composition “Benedicte” is being played. The variety of sacred music played is vast and ranges from 16th to the 21st century. Choral works, orchestral compositions, works for solo instruments and for solo voices. The sounds are amazing and the structure of the music becomes very clear when it is often set against the simple and straightforward text.

This is serious music. By serious I mean it was composed by serious composers and should not ever EVER be confused with Christian music. Not even for one second. A lot of the music played was written for the church at a time when composers were employed by the church and were required to produce music on the scale and speed of an assembly line. Johann Sebastian Bach spent most of his career as an employee of the church.

Having a love for the sounds and structure of sacred music does not automatically make the listener a Christian or a believer. This assumption occurs all to often and is overly simplistic. The sound of the music is separated from the meaning of the text. The text, often sung in languages other than English, simply adds to the overall sound and texture of the piece.

There is a line at the coffee joint eight people deep. A family of four is up next and when it is their turn they decide to have a conversation with their two small children about choices. Dad, at his self-righteous Easter best, proceeds to read off every option on the  menu to both kids and then turns his attention to the pastry case. While doing this, Mom is trying to talk over everything and explain to the little girl why we have choices. It is like lesson #4 day at fucking pre-school. Even with the huge number of options laid out for them like jewels on a velvet cloth, the little monsters still cannot make a decision and begin to wail, cry, and scream. Nothing says Sunday morning like two kids crying so hard they are about to shit themselves while Mommy and Daddy do absolutely nothing to resolve the situation. Meanwhile, a line full of people without children are running out of patience and are about to make a sacrificial offerings of both kids and parents. People with places to go and people to see have to listen to baby talk and life lessons about choices. You know what, choose for your fucking kids and let’s get this goddamn show on the road. Nobody is impressed and if you look back at the people in line with the look of “I know, aren’t they adorable” on your face you are bound to have issues with the mob. Completely clueless about anybody around them. This charmer of a family is now upstairs and the yells of the kids are piercing the morning air. They were clearly dressed for the once a year church service so I suggest you leave the building and let people have coffee in peace. Your choice.

The topic was to name three things that interest you and that you would be willing to commit large amounts of time to with great excitement. Two people were asked this question and the responses were less than ideal. The first person simply could not think of three things that they are interested in enough to spend large amounts of time on for the rest of their life. The second person responded that they were all about balance and they spend the time needed on interests when the time needs to be spent. Not the point people, not the point on any level.

Opera. If I had the time and resources I could spend eight hours a day delving into the world of opera. Composers, time periods, singers, opera houses, books and plays that operas were based on, the history of theaters, studying scores, and listening to multiple recordings of the same opera just to compare and contrast. This would not even begin to scratch the surface. The goal? To be the next pre-performance Lecturer at the Santa Fe Opera. No goal is needed to have the desire to spend large amounts of time on something that I love. I picture large oak study tables, three would do it, five feet wide and nine feet long. The tables would be piled high with scores, papers, fountain pens, dictionaries, reference books, recordings, and anything else related to the world of opera. A great sound system would of course accompany the hours of study. A sanctuary for the study of opera.

Star Trek. This is a topic that really upsets some people. They simply cannot understand how someone could be interested in the world of Star Trek. Well let’s list just a few things that make this world so incredibly fascinating. A world where multiple cultures, races, and species all live, work, and innovate together. The science and technology that may and should exist three hundred years in the future. Starships that carry over a thousand people and have the resources, science labs, and engineering sections to accommodate multi-year voyages in the universe. I take one look at a cross section drawing of the Enterprise NCC-1701 D (Star Trek: The Next Generation) and I instantly know that I want to find out how the ship was built,where it was built, how long it took, where each section of the ship is located, etc.

The world of Star Trek places a huge emphasis on personal education and expanding the base of knowledge in the universe. Topics such as Astrobiology, Celestial Cartography, Romulan Genetics, and Warp Drive Propulsion Systems are thrown around willy nilly as if these things are simply common and everyday. The acceptance and tolerance of ignorance, hatred, and bigotry are just not part of the Star Trek. In fact, this world is the 180 degree opposite of everything that Donald Trump currently represents.

My third thing has yet to be discovered. There are some viable candidates out there but no one thing has landed firmly into that third position.