dEM bONES

Dedicating this one to the latest member of the clipped wing club.....The Rev. Apparently the Rev took a huge digger and got him some "Wrecking Ball Frequent Fly (ER)" points (to be redeemed on the couch while icing).

IT'S A CONSPIRACY MAN!

w.b.z.n.

Everything Always Happens To Me

Well the collarbone groundhog came out today and saw my x-ray's shadow. Sadly it will be two to four month's before I get on a bike again. I hate to subject you faithful readers of (this geek tragedy) to  more of my health woes, but someone has to be the goat and unfortunately, the costume is my size.

It is a little hard (even for my bitter, cynical brain) to believe I didn't even get a full year back on the bike. The song lyrics to "If I only Had a Brain" and "If I only had a Heart" keep ringing in my ears for some reason. I am getting a little tired of trying to keep a stiff upper lip and all that. I was really hoping for some long boring years of little to nothing to report, but I guess Deity of Choice has other agendas to which I am either not privy or the punch line.

I want to apologize to all my friends for not calling more, or staying in touch, but I see no need to spread the bad vibes.

Anger management, time on the trainer, and more TV are in my (BASTARD!) future. Feel free to laugh.

W.B.Z.N.    

The Greatest Sin

The greatest tragedy of all is not the anguish we suffer at the hands of those we loved.
It is the hurt we cause to others of which we are totally unaware.
Those are the tears that fall with the weight of the ocean.
The tears that fall from the eyes of those that trusted us with their hearts,
only to find us careless, weak and unknowing,
of the responsibility with which we were charged.



W.B.Z.N.

pOP yA cOLLA

I got a broken bone and you roll your eyes
say I'm almost fifty I outta realize
can't heal like when I was twenty
popped my colla, but at least it was funny

Y'all know I can be a hater
till the day I die, be a bass racer
my world needed an instigator
if you fast well, I'll see ya later

I don't like trails wrapped up like candy now or laters
you got good lines, I got erasers
you like clay, Yanni and mediators
I like rocks, roots, logs and alligators

hiking trail, do work son
BC FNG, ain't no stripe son
earned my kit and you bought one
save your receipt, get a refund
titanium in my heart and neck
If I crash, I bleed orange and black
fell off the skill builder heard a crack
rehab like Shanks, and we'll both be back

Wrecking Ball hanging in the sun
Rusty chain, mouth's a machine gun
no body cry when I'm done
you might have trophies, but I had more fun

When I die spread my ashes on the levy
hope the box holding me ain't too heavy
All the BC boys get handful and throw me
You didn't like me?
Then ya didn't know me....


W.B.Z.N.

Bones

Not really feeling like typing the whole sorted tale of my demise, but here's a little morsel for you BASTARDS!

W.B.B.C.B.Z.N.

Digging In The Dirt

What is it that leads us to believe big events will change us or our lives? The movies convince us that everything leads to closure in the third act. The lovers are united. The hero's journey ends with the defeat of his foe and his fathers death avenged. The under dog has one moment in the sun and gets carried out on the shoulders of his friends who understand the epic struggle, the pain of his trials and the glory of his payoff. My experiences have been very different. The moments of clarity have all happened in the silence of the night, at a stop light or (dare I say it) in the feeble space of this blog. Still, some part of me sees the worm on the hook and thinks the meal is free. There is a sap that lives inside me that has been walking around for years with a tattered speech in his breast pocket that no one will ever hear.

Last year I sat out The Tour De San Felasco (fifty mile mountain bike ride) for reasons beyond my control. In the geologic terms of my life a mere hiccup, like a volcano in the history of the earth. Grand scheme just a random event, for the villagers down lava stream, it's a little different. I thought I might feel better and normal if I completed this fifty mile vision quest. I went with the usual suspects and my son Lil W.B. (doing his first Tour De Felasco) down to Alachua, threw my hat over the fence and went after it. It all started fine with the usual exuberant beginning; laughter, loud heckling and seeing friends on the trail. Then (despite an endless line of hodads in our way) the rhythm was established. After the first sag stop the herd thinned and L.W.B. and I became a pair. The trail was spectacular and I was delirious with joy. The trails between stop one and two were my favorite of the day, traffic was negotiable and I was riding with my son as I hoped we would. I was all teeth riding in the woods of happiness.

After stop two I made a navi error (set back#1) and all the work we put in to catch up with Jauncho and his robots was gone. L.W.B. flipped his Irish switch and rode away from me with little or no effort, in retaliation for my mistake. At lunch L.W.B. and I, reunited with the crew, ate, and got a slight head start. We rode great for a while but as the crew caught us on some really soft double track I bobbled and went off the back. (Set back#2). I fought my way back on and then Big Worm caught us and he L.W.B. and I settled into a good pace. Somewhere on another soft section, with a tough climb, B.W. went off the back. Treeman had found us by this time and on the long power line climb the dust and a piece of Cliff Shot set off a coughing fit which led to a small asthma event (set back #3). I rode through the coughing, despite Treeman wanting to interview me during the worst of it. On the crest of the hill Worm caught me and dropped the hammer on the fastest downhill of the day, taking my son with him. I caught them on the toughest single track climb of the day (in what can only be described as super soft Nestle' Quik). Once over the top and back onto the soft double track, I watched as Worm and L.W.B. disappeared with no reply from my aching legs.

At some point in this ride I am always alone and the anger fairy comes. I was mad at Cory for dropping me. I was mad at Worm for coming by without a word and riding away. Derwood, had some cramps and rode with me for a few miles, brightening up the darkest part of my ride. On the grass hill to the last sag stop, I began to find some solo mojo, knowing I had six miles to go. This is the reason we all come back to this ride. At some point you are unable to race, your brain shuts off and you get to a place where you are nothing more than a slave to your bike. You live for little landmarks that let you know how close you are to finishing. All the fear and anxiety of being weak in front of the crew and your son, the demons you live with from last years volcano, all go away. You know you are going to make it and the brutal, exhausted nirvana sets in. You son is a real honest to goodness cyclist. The crew is an assemblage of dicks that is never going to cut you a break. That's why you hang out with them, because you are a dick too, and no one else will have you. You don't really feel that bad and the pain is no longer magnified by fear. You ride into the last clearing and see the gate. You don't need an award or a pat on the back from anyone. It was only a big deal in your head. It is really just another mountain bike ride to which you have attached a bunch of symbolism. In the strata of your timeline, it will be another grain of sand, over the miles and miles of dirt.

W.B.Z.N.

Hello My Friend

 I am a pretty good musician and had I not reached beyond my local surroundings I probably could have played for life. I was in a band from Ft. Pierce that was the toast of a one horse town. Then one fateful night, while trying to get gig's in Tallahassee, I ambled in to Bullwinkles and saw "John Kurzweg and The Night". I stood slack jawed as his band put on a demonstration of what a real band should sound and look like. The chasm between what we could do and what they did was vast.

Growing pains drove me from my home town in 87 and I ended up back in Tallahassee. My first week in town I saw him again in Finales doing a crazy solo act on acoustic guitar. He played with a drum machine and beat his guitar like a drum in the spaces where the playing stopped. I made a promise to myself that he and I would play together some day, but he was living in Jacksonville. I was a nobody that couldn't get arrested, much less land a gig with a former Atlantic recording artist. I formed a band with other outcasts and we we began to do gigs under the moniker of "The Reign". We had a devoted following that always came to see us. Our dance floor was packed every night. I was bitter that my life wasn't going according to my plan. I had an awful ego problem and a huge chip on my shoulder. I was at the top of my game as a musician and at the bottom of my humanity.

One night while playing "Gimmie Shelter" at the Flamingo Cafe, I looked up and saw John in front of me. As the solo approached I lifted the guitar off of my band mates neck and handed it to him. What took place after he started playing was a transcendent moment in my life as a musician. We traded lines on the remaining vocals and when the song ended we took a break. John and I exchanged small talk and he left the club. After that I fired and hired three other guitarists trying to get that feeling. Finally John agreed to fill in for a few weeks until we could find someone to fit. My anger and ego put him off  and a few months we parted again.

Over the following years I had two or three other bands and I tried to get John in all of them. Finally in 94 I convinced him to sit in with my new band "Radio Bikini" and he stayed for five years. He never officially joined the band. I was married and had children and playing with John and Dale softened some of my edge. Through all his time playing clubs he had a day job as a home recording engineer and producer. He recorded a band called "Creed" in his living room and the rest of that story is too big for this page and not mine to tell. He became a multi platinum producer and worked with some of the best musicians in the business. I became a part time musician, then later quit playing to manage "socialburn" "No Address" and "Go Radio". The next six years were a roller coaster as I found myself again working with John this time as the producer of the bands I managed. There was tension, good times, big hits and crushing lows. John's life took him to Santa Fe where his career settled down his marriage ended. We were both left with huge wounds no one really understood except he and I. It was then that we became the great friends we are today. John and I would spend hours on the phone discussing the merits of Grand Funk, Muse, every band, singer, drummer and guitarist imaginable. We talked like Nam vets about our days in the thick of the music business.

John's band from the eighties "Slapstick" did a reunion show at The Moon and it was a huge event. He looked happier and more at home on stage than ever and I felt just like I did when I saw him in 84. They decided to make it an annual event and this year John wanted to do a show of his originals at The Mockingbird Cafe. He asked Dale (the ambassador of joy, and bass player from Radio Bikini) and I to back him up.

For five glorious days I was a musician again. We practiced for hours, but we didn't have the time to get the show up to the standards. We did our best, but in the end we had to wing it. The show sold out and the place was filled with John's fans, our friends and family. It was a great shinning moment I never dared hope for, having been on the bench for so long. In the end it was a good night and I think everyone there got their moneys worth. For me it was a dream come true and I was reminded again how lucky I am to have a friend with such talent, but also the grace to lift me back up to the stage. I have no words to express  my gratitude. If you were there I hope you felt the magic and overlooked the imperfection. If you weren't there, dare I say, you missed something pretty special.

A week and thirty hours went into that gig but it really represented a lifetime of friendship.

W.B.Z.N