Cerebellum Blues

Farewell 2007.

When 2007 started, I had some seriously grand plans and even grander hopes.

My plans included making an album, finishing my advertising portfolio, going to Wyoming for a bit of fishing, exercising regularly again, mastering meditation and lots of other stuff that escapes my memory at the moment.

My hopes -- or I should say hope -- was to feel normal again, with no dizzies, no balance problems, fatigue issues, migraines or cold legs and feet.

Sadly, neither my plans nor hope really worked out. This damn cerebellar injury I suffered in 2006 has a devilish, evil, ghoulish even, sense of humor. It works like this: I get all excited about doing something, and when I start, I feel pretty good. But within mere days of decently intense activity, my cerebellum rears its ugly head-part, and lays me low with a slew of symptoms, most of which were described in the 'hopes' paragraph above. As a result, I have to stop for several days, killing any momentum, and causing me to mope about the apartment looking downright pathetic.

Not all 07 news is bad, though. I found a great person to help me navigate the treacherous world of disability insurance; I borrowed The Maton from a friend; I had The Maton repaired after the neck separated from the body and now the guitar is better than ever; I wrote some songs I'm very proud of; I met some great musicians; I spent a lot more time than I have in ages with one of my oldest and closest friends; I got ever so slightly better at yoga thanks to the Greatest Yoga Teacher in this Universe or any Other; I discovered that antidepressants can really help me as I deal with the aftermath of my injury; I found a presidential candidate I can actually get behind (with only a few nits); there were some positive work work developments; Catherine and I moved into a nicer apartment; and last but not least, Catherine and I are closer than ever, despite (or maybe because of) my trubbles.

Goodbye 2007. You had your ups, you had your downs, and my most sincere hope is that, if nothing else, you laid the groundwork for a great '08.

Pause.

I was out for a walk today, and I spotted this scooter, which looked like a jewel in a setting of tin, as it gleamed against a graffiti covered concrete barrier and defied the dirt on which it sat to even think about defiling the scooter's deep blue paint. Seeing it sent me into a bit of a reverie. I have always wanted a motorcycle or, here in the City, a scooter, and I as I sat there and stared at this little Yamaha (not even a true Vespa!), my want meter pegged. Then I remembered my brain injury and balance troubles, and, well, I shuffled on my way, leaving the dream behind. Someday...

About as good a reason as you'll ever find to kill a few trees.

When I turned 40 -- FOUR YEARS AGO -- my parents bought me the Gibson 336 CS at left.
Yes, I might have prodded them in a certain direction, but how else would they have known what to to write a check for? The first 336 I ordered, I sent back. I think it was from Musiciansfriend. But the second one arrived and I knew it was The One, with its dramatic flame maple grain and meticulous workmanship.

When I first got this guitar, I played it incessantly, noodling leads, chunking out my best Keith Richards imitation, even strumming a few jazz chords. The tone is woodsy and warm, with a but more projection than a solid body, thanks to the f-holes and carved top. Mahogany forms the back, sides and neck, and in an unusual twist, the back and sides are actually one piece of mahogany, which has been carved out. Gibson claims that this is why the guitar's tone is so woody, but I just think it's cool. Over time, I've played the guitar a little less, especially since The Maton arrived on the scene, but these days I play my Gibson about 50% of the time, The Maton the rest, and use my Strat only when an amp is involved.

Mom and Dad, THANK YOU for this instrument. I will keep it forever, and should I ever find myself onstage before a crowd of thousands (actually 10s would do!), you can bet that this guitar will make an appearance!

R.I.P.

This is the camera that was to have chronicled my journey from TBI-suffering-former-ECD to rock and roll god and worldwide cultural sensation. Sadly, the camera took many a plunge from the cheap-ass tripod I purchased, and is now -- as you can see from the photograph -- falling apart. Fixing it would have cost about $200, so I opted to ask my parents for a new camera for Christmas. They came through in spades, presenting me last night with new Canon that is, in sophisticated camera speak, totally rad. Thank you Mom and Dad!

Hey, that wasn't basil.

On Saturday night, Catherine and I were cooking up a batch of spaghetti, and I was tasked with chopping the basil. Bad idea. Read all about it here.

Welcome home.

Today, under a cool mid-afternoon sun, I headed toward Gary Brawer's guitar repair shop to pick up The Maton. I was excited, but worried: Would it sill be the same after the neck repair? Would ii still have songs and ideas to give? Gary Brawer did little to ease my anxiety, as he made me wait while he helped someone else pick out a bridge for his bass. Did Gary not realize that I was there for The Maton, the most incredible guitar he has ever worked on? After too many minutes, Gary finally acknowledged my presence, and when I announced what I had come for, he brightened, as damn well he should have. Within minutes, I was strumming out a few chords and I was floored, in a good way. The new neck joint was rock solid, but more important, The Maton was actually easy to play and blessed with perfect intonation, qualities the old Maton did not have. I gladly paid Gary and left, but I had to run a few errands before I could properly noodle on The Maton in the comfort of my apartment, so the moment of noodle truth was still a ways off. Well, as of now, I have noodled and The Maton is BETTER THAN EVER: It plays beautifully, and the new strings add a pleasing sparkle to the sound. The tuning pegs all turn the right way (before Gary worked his magic, the tuning pegs on the treble strings were reversed). And even the buzz in the pick guard is gone. Most important, The Maton still has its muse, and promptly offered me a cool solution to a vexing chord progression I'd been struggling with for A WEEK. What a guitar. Thank you again, Brad, for letting me borrow it.

My favorite vocal performance ever.

The other night I popped the iPod into the dock and dialed up some Beatles and before long "The Night Before" started, and I was reminded once again of much I love the song and especially the vocal performance. In fact, I'm prepared to say the McCartney's singing on this tune is my favorite vocal performance of all time and has been for ages. Sure, I love many a Lennon track, and Lodi, by Creedence, and countless Dylan, Petty, Waits and REM numbers, but man, for my money, McCartney's singing on The Night Before soars above the crowd. It's double tracked, so there's extra richness to his voice, but it's more than just studio trickery that makes this performance so killer for me. The melody and key just fit McCartney's voice to perfection, and despite some pretty high notes, he never sounds like he's straining, just belting with abandon. Damn, I wish I could sing.

The Maton is ready.

Not five minutes ago I called Brawer Guitars to check on The Maton, and IT IS READY. The guy said that the repair, and I quote, "turned out beautifully" but I reserve judgment until I've seen the work. With luck, this Friday will be The Day I Pick Up The Maton. Stay tuned.

That Budda is one fat bastard.

I'm talking about that Budda, the amp, of course. I tried this thing the other day and it's, to quote Steve Jobs, insanely great. Rotund, punchy, snarly, bright, a little lewd; it's what a tube amp should be.

Sadly, it's also pricey, as in just-shy-of-you-gotta- be-kidding-me pricey. Worse, it's ugly, and not in a good way. I mean, look at the photo. What the hell is up with the cheesy color panel and boring grill cloth? Worst of all, it's not even so ugly it's cool or funky. No, it's just ugly. Lame, shitty, cheap-ass ugly. And that's a shame because the tone is truly a thing of beauty.

Oh, by the way, the specific model of this amp is the Budda Superdrive Series II 30 Watt 1X12" combo.