Wednesday, July 16, 2025

My Music Journal 2025: July 15, 2025

 


Tuesday, July 15, 2025

Time: 9:05 PM
Song: Sinners & Saints
Artist: George Jones
Mode of Consumption: Listening to MP3s on shuffle on the way home from Write On.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/720w30MoVUGawm3GuZfFhh?si=9396c30fc0894cc2

It was our Writing Workout session at Write On. Below was our prompt. I had a hankering to write something old west. Please remember I wrote this in 45 minutes, so don’t expect everything to be historically or culturally accurate.

Prompt:

Over the last few months, we have read two selections:

“On the Road” by Cormac McCarthy

“Of Mice and Men” By John Steinbeck

Each selection featured two characters who were dependent upon each other even though it was clear one of the characters was in authority.

Tonight, develop a scene of your own with two characters who are dependent upon each other. This can be anything or anytime or any genre. No other constraints.

---

A hawk circled above the field, gliding in wide arcs with its wings extended, never seeming to flutter. Instead, floating as if the air was water that it bobbed on. Three blackbirds antagonized it, swooping in for brief attacks and dashing away before the bird of prey could snap them with its large talons or iron beak.

“That hawk got something on its mind,” Jed squinted, the brim of his black hat pushed back from his forehead. “Looking to grab something down here.”

“Maybe your nose,” Tayen said. The spirts had carved a hook beak on the man like she’d never seen. Must be a white man’s trait, hooked noses and bad breath. She considered what offense Jed’s ancestors must have committed to receive such a sentence. She thought of her father’s nose, smooth, brown, skinny at the top, widening at the bottom. A memory of tugging on it when she was but a little squaw tickled to the front of her mind, and it made her sad. Her father and her people were all gone now.

“You know they comin’ after me, right?” Jed had dropped to his rear in the tall grass, exhausted from the long hours of walking in the sweltering heat of the sun and field. Just as vexing were the bugs, with his hands tied at the wrist behind his back, he couldn’t swat a single mosquito from his face, which he assumed was now comprised of nothing but festering red bites.

Tayen squatted beside the man, held out a bit of deer jerky she’d produced from her pouch, and then placed it on his tongue before he sucked it in and began chewing with chomps more reminiscent of a steer than a man.

“They’ll kill you if they find us,” Tayen said, before taking a bite of jerky for herself.

“If? If? I thought you people were great trackers! If? Shoot, I bet they are three feet away and we don’t even know it.”

“The Sioux are not my people,” Tayen said.

Jed grinned, he was missing three teeth across the top and even more below.

“You all red on the outside, sweetie,” he spat, “Now, if you gave me my guns, and them Sioux came upon us, then we might stand a chance.”

It was her turn to spit.

“If I give you your guns, you’d kill me and then they’d kill you, that’s the only difference. The Sioux might not like me, but they won’t kill me.”

“They will if you tryin’ to keep them from gettin’ me. That’s why you in trouble. It’s ten more miles before we reach a town’s sheriff that will pay you the ransom, and you need that money, don’t you?”

Above the Hawk still circled, but the black birds seemed to have lost interest in tormenting it. A breeze rustled the prairie grass which was shoulder high and intermixed with bursts of yellow and red and purple from the great wildflowers. Tayen’s mother had been enamored by flowers. Picking them and braiding them in each of her seven daughter’s hair. Tayen had been the youngest. Tayen was the only one left, or the only one free. Lomasi was enslaved to a wealthy banker in Oklahoma. Seven hundred dollars would buy her freedom. Seven hundred dollars was the bounty on Jed’s head.

She forced Jed to his feet and they moved on through the tall grass, away from the cart paths. The white men patrolled the paths, but they’d take Jed from her and collect the bounty for themselves. The Sioux would take secret paths through the grass. It was entirely possible they were already trapped on each side. White on one. Red on the other.

 **

 

Jed had camped the night before near a river bed. He’d burned wet wood at dusk, and she’d made out the white smoke from two miles away. It was why she had him, and not the Sioux and not the county’s deputies.

Taking him had been easy enough, he was snoring like a bear when she circled his camp. He only woke a brief second before she brought a rock down on the side of skull, just hard enough to knock him silly, but not kill him. The “dead” bounty was lower than the “live” bounty in this case.  She bound his hands behind his back as he rocked and moaned in the dirt. She had hoped he’d have a horse, but she wagered he lost it in his encounters with the Sioux.

**

Jed’s head throbbed the entire night and day as they tumbled along. Him a few feet ahead of her, her hand never leaving the butt of his revolver. The nerve of this Indian woman to take him captive and then wear his guns. He wondered if she even knew how to shoot one. A lesser woman he would have tested more. This one had the look that she’d spilt some blood in her time, and that spilling his wouldn’t weigh on her soul other than the loss of some money.

He was sure he’d been in worse jams before, but he couldn’t recall when. Maybe that mix up with the Spanish down there in Texas. That had been pretty bad. At least there, he’d had allies. Now, everyone seemed to want him dead.

The town folk wanted him for robbing banks. Yeah, he’d done that, but lost most of the money running from the posse on his trail.

The Sioux wanted him for killing that young brave. He done that, but he hadn’t wanted to.

And this woman. This strange Indian woman might have wanted her bounty, but her eyes told him that she was eager to watch him hang.

She was his key. The only way to get out of this alive was this woman, and he had pretty much reckoned how he was going to convince her.

The gold. He knew where it was, and he knew she needed it worse than he did.


Tuesday, July 15, 2025

My Music Journal 2025: July 14, 2025

 


Monday, July 14, 2025

Time: 8:47 PM
Song: Take Me to the River
Artist: Talking Heads
Mode of Consumption: Playing on the radio.

Link to the song: https://open.spotify.com/track/1oV1tu8utgHQjLJsEK9sVl?si=88201c8923d24803

I believe I’ve mentioned here before that I am not a mechanical man. Tonight, it was a battle with a chainsaw.

It works. It really does.

It just takes me about a half hour to get it going. I pulled the string over and over, and it puttered but wouldn’t kick over.

All I needed to do was cut a couple old fence posts, plus one small branch that had fallen from a tree recently. Ten minutes of work, tops.

It wasn’t hot out, but warm enough that a film of sweat built up. When I get hot, I get frustrated. Like swearing-under-my-breath frustrated.

Then with one random pull, it started. Then died. I pulled again. It fired up and then died. The third time it fired up and kept going.

A few cuts later, I was done.

We cut up a few other boards with our miter saws. Much easier process. Once complete, we stacked the wood on our pile for burning.

Jodi walked the dog. I plucked away on my ukelele on the porch.

This song played as I entered a darkening house. Another evening passed.


Sunday, July 13, 2025

My Music Journal 2025: July 13, 2025

 



Sunday, July 13, 2025

Time: 11:45 AM
Song: All I Want is You
Artist: Barry Louis Polisar
Mode of Consumption: Playing over the speakers at Blumen Gardens in Sycamore. 

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/5sIBOrRLBI6ypREdEPj2wQ?si=3b8d07f7a95744ae

I suppose it’s fair to say that I’ve changed over the years. I am not sure if I would have wanted to drive over an hour to a place like Blumen Gardens to look at crafts and plants twenty years ago. Today, I did it without a second thought. It didn’t bother me to go, and I enjoyed looking at the wares even if I wasn’t going to buy any of it. 

Jodi and her mom enjoyed it, and that’s all that matters.

Well, I have to admit that it wasn’t an entirely a self-sacrifice of a Sunday. I had arranged to sell a tote of Victrola records to a guy from St. Charles. 

He had contacted me a week or so earlier, and explained that he had an old Victrola and was always glad to look through a lot like this to see if there was anything he could play. We discovered during our conversation that we were both graduates of Northern Illinois University. He finished about two years after I did. It’s entirely possible we passed each other in the halls or on campus all those years ago. 

After Blumen Gardens, we met him in the parking lot at Portillo’s. He was a tall, skinny man with glasses and well-kept hair. I was in shorts and the Jason Isbell t-shirt I had bought the night before. 

He picked through the box a little. Pointed to a thick one, and said this would play on the machine made by Thomas Edison only. Edison was ahead of his time, making technology that only worked with other technology that he had produced. Apple must have been taking notes. 

He was happy to take the tote of my hands. I was happy to be rid of it. It was heavy and took up space in our basement. More room for me to buy more vinyl that I am interested in.

My Music Journal 2025: July 12, 2025


 

Saturday, July 12, 2025

Time: 9:20 PM
Song: If We Were Vampires
Artist: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
Mode of Consumption: Live at concert at Coronado Theatre

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/250RLekaiL1q9qZer975Eg?si=eb7de3c723d24f2e

The band opened this song with their backs to the audience, the stage dark with a pulsating white light. It is a Jason Isbell song that I know, but hadn’t really ever studied. 

As the band turned and played the opening notes, a round of applause broke out to our right. I should say that Jodi and I were in the very back row in the balcony at the Coronado Theatre in Rockford, IL. We were the only ones in the row, pretty much the only ones within twenty feet. We could stretch out and enjoy the show without intruding on any other human’s space. It was nice. 

Back to the applause, a short, wide-shouldered man was rising from his knee in the aisle. He had picked this song to pop the question. It was a bold move. 

It made me pause and listen closer to the lyrics because I assumed he knew them in order to pick that one to propose. Of course, it was possible it was her favorite song, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good one to commit to a life together with. 

The song is a lament that nothing lasts forever, but in the case of love, perhaps that’s a good thing. I could paraphrase, but I think it’s best to just point out the section that had to be the heart of the proposal:

“Maybe time running out is a gift
I’ll work hard ‘til the end of my shift
And give you every second I can find
And I hope it isn’t me who’s left behind.” 

If you don’t know Isbell, you should look him up. I was thinking while watching the concert, I should put together a quick primer list of songs of Isbell for anyone who asks about him. 

Saturday, July 12, 2025

My Music Journal 2025: July 11, 2025

 



Friday, July 11, 2025

Time: 3:11 PM
Song: Wilder Days
Artist: Morgan Wade
Mode of Consumption: Listening to MP3s on shuffle on way to a vinyl record sale.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/2vubFQgAJO5SeuVa7ytIHc?si=e03c973451364454

I adjusted my lunch schedule for the last half of the week so I that I could leave work two hours early today to travel to Walnut, Illinois, for a vinyl record sale. 

The Facebook listing mentioned eight boxes of records and a similar amount of CDs for sale located in the alley behind the house. Sounded a little like a drug deal to me. Despite that, it was right up my alley. 

Walnut is south of Dixon and Sterling so I would be making a loop from work to the sale to home, about an hour of driving through about the flattest ground you can find in the Sauk Valley. It’s a landscape pocked with irrigation systems and gigantic windmills. 

The vinyl collection proved to be impressive, comprised mostly of 60s, 70s, and 80s rock with a bit of jazz and miscellaneous artists. Every record had a plastic cover and the purveyor had graded most of the selections by condition. 

As someone who prices vinyl, I thought he had them priced fair, though there were several I thought he was probably a little low on. Those were the ones I honed in on. There was a Hendrix Super Hits, a Sticky Fingers by the Stones and a couple others that I bought for two dollars each. Each had some condition issues with the covers, but I thought they were good deals. 

The CDs were priced individually, but as a rule I try not and pay more than a dollar for a CD. I am most likely just going to rip songs off of it and resell it. It’s hard to sell a CD for more than a dollar. I bought only one of those. 

I spent about a half hour there before paying and pointing the Renegade north for home. By then, dark clouds were rolling in from the west and we prepared to leave for Timber Lake with tickets for a production of “Waitress.”

Thursday, July 10, 2025

My Music Journal 2025: July 10, 2025

 


Thursday, July 10, 2025

Time: 3 PM
Song: Changes
Artist: Langhorne Slim, The Law
Mode of Consumption: Listening to liked songs on Spotify while working.

Link to Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/0fPHfNb0LwKGw3jCKzMk54?si=e32ab81946314c9a

I heard about the term “Doomscrolling” a few years ago when a couple different bands released songs or albums with that in the title. I think one of the bands was Dawes.

Anyway, the act of Doomscrolling is basically looking at your phone or computer screen, most likely social media accounts and scrolling until you find some catastrophe or another. We modern folk have become addicted to the dramatic theater of the internet.

Earlier I typed a few names into Facebook. The few full names I remember from college just to see if they appeared. Some did. Some didn’t. It’s strange seeing these people that I knew for a brief time when they were basically still kids now aged into full-grown adults with spouses and kids.

I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d likely be in the same room with any of these people again. Frankly, I have little desire to be. Nothing against them, but outside of a few minutes of telling old stories, there’s little between them and me. They have their lives, and I have mine.

I don’t know why I took that mental leap from Doomscrolling to snooping on old acquaintances.

I suppose all this is adjusting to this world where we are all connected online. I can access these people instead of just having a rare random thought of them and then spending ten minutes trying to remember their last name.

I finish my break from work with a quick Google of my own name. We used to leave a paper trail – taxes, property sales, obits – but now we have a digital one. I have a unique name which helps, and it pops up a fair amount hits in the search. Old newspaper stories. Publishing credits for fiction stories. This blog (there’s more links to this now thanks to this daily journal). Mentions of my current gig.

I have left a long trail over the last twenty years, and I wonder if any of these old college folks have Googled my name (assuming they remember me and how to spell my last name) and wondered if this writer guy is the guy they knew.


Wednesday, July 9, 2025

My Music Journal 2025: July 9, 2025

 


Wednesday, July 9, 2025

Time: 11:10 AM
Song: Lit Up
Artist: Buckcherry
Mode of Consumption: Listening to Buckcherry’s self-titled album from 1999.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/1OBMSzh2ocRqK2gUFaMBSM?si=d96e786451844910

My co-worker, Lindsey, came into my office and exclaimed.

“Buckcherry is going to be in Dixon in October!”

She was excited and bought front-row tickets when sales opened at noon for the show at the Historic Dixon Theater.

I haven’t decided yet if we’ll go, but it is a show that is intriguing.

When I was a freshman in college, I loved this song and album (No, I didn’t love the cocaine, lol). It was an album I popped in whenever I wanted a shot of energy, which was more often as a 19-year-old than now as a 43-year-old.

Their album “15” released in 2006 was also solid and featured their biggest hit “Crazy Bitch,” a song while very infectious I was never that fond of.

Buckcherry is a heavy rocking band capable of dropping a good rock ballad. I sometimes hear Aerosmith in their sound.

I’ve always felt they were about a decade late from being a band that was a household name like Aerosmith or ACDC. By the time they hit the airwaves, radio was losing its stronghold to streaming and bands beyond the most mainstream weren’t able to reach the masses very easily.

Instead, they are a hard rock band that hard rock fans know that will be playing Dixon, a 15,000-people town in Northern Illinois in 2025 rather than stadiums.

On the bright side, that’s good for folks like Lindsey and me.


2026 Writing Challenge: Write On Prompt - Eli Meets Uncle Ned

 Note: This is the second part of the prompt from Tuesday's Write On meeting. We had to write the same scene from a different Point of ...