Somewhere you won’t no by heart

Yes it has been miles since I’ve written in this thing. And yes I am going to write as if no days have passed and without any explanation of how I got to this point in my life.

Mikey’s benefit for suicide prevention has come and passed with amazing turnout and production. Last I heard they ended with over a grand more than their goal. I don’t think anyone had a bad set period. And for the very little practice we had, Christina and I rocked, and she brought the house down on her originals. Some how I believe we formed her Crocker Street Experience (Christina Gillies and the Crocker Street Experience). It feels really good to play again and I just want to use this motivation as my energy to get going on my music. While being part of Christina’s band is a major importance to me, I need to buckle down on my music as well. I currently only have two songs “recorded”(i quote because they actually pseudo live recordings) and only one on my myspace page. I am trying to put lover on there as I type. Very difficult as I am sure you all know.

The summer is Here and what a relief! I’ve been biking around town a lot in efforts to lose weight on my body while I gain it in my wallet. I never lived in downtown Chesterton and I now see what makes this town worth it. It’s so friggin’ beautiful!!

Tim came into town this past weekend gasping from the Marathon that was/is The booneville project. That man should be an inspiration for all artist of every medium. Read more at the link provided. Tim learned how to play corn hole (or bags as I like to call them) at my new place. A redneck speciality celebrated with Coors Light and Bar Fights every weekend at your local bar. He ended up kicking everyone’s ass at it. I hope he takes his skills back to Brooklyn.

,…more to come….

A few months ago, my great grandmother, Agapita Flores, passed away at the tender age of 97. Atleast I believe that was the age. You kinda lose count after 90, I guess. Grandma Pita, as we called her, was a role model for the human race. This lady taught me so much about life and family and just love for life. She was Mexican transplanted in Chicagoland. The woman gave 30 years of her life to the retail industry. She raised and outlived both of her children as well as her husband. All this without ever getting a driver’s license. Every-time I would go to see my great grandma, she always insisted on cooking me something. She would ask about my life and encourage me in everything I did. From basketball teams to rock and roll bands, she would tell me how proud she was of me and support me. Even after I graduated High School and spent a year in Florida followed by three and a half years in Las Vegas, I could always tell her my life and she kept it in here memory bank.

About three months before her death, her mind started to go. People in my family would warn me that I should go to see Grandma but also that she probably wouldn’t remember me. This scared me and I found reasons to not go and see her. Eventually my mother convinced me to go. We walked into her house and low and behold she says, “Johnsie I’ve only seen you once since your move back from Las Vegas” My mom and I were confused because everyone was warning us about Grandma’s memory slipping. The day went like any other day would go. We just talked about life, family, and love.

Within the next few months, Grandma’s body started failing. Kidneys, blood, eventually everything. So the family decides to put her in a hospice. I go to visit her. I’ve never been to a hospice before in my life. I would always hear horror stories. About how depressing it is and that people go here to die. So I was completely dreading this event. Once I got there, I realized the only reason these places are so morbid is because of the visitors. I walk into the room and a few members of my family all look as if I came too late and grandma had passed. Just the look you see in every funeral home in every part of this country. The look of emptiness and the confusion on how to act in these situations. Grandma wasn’t dead. She was laying in her bed and smiling as I came in. I go to speak to her and she tells me how happy she is that I came and we spoke like we would always speak. Just a highly abbreviated version. She falls asleep and I go sit on the other side of the room with everyone else. I start to notice how two of her grand-kids are trying to wake her up every five minutes. This pisses me off. They do this by clapping there hands in front of her face as you would do to try to get a newborn’s attention. or a dog’s. And every-time her eyes would open and roll into place you can see grandma getting a little upset. I could tell that when she closes her eyes, she sees the other side. She sees her husband and her two children. She sees the light and the world behind it. And every-time she hears those hands clap behind her, she puts her finger up and tells the other side, “Just one minute, I’ve gotta get this.”

She actually got better and the docs said she can go home. But  I believe the family put her in a different hospice. This part isn’t so clear to me. She eventually did pass on. So in her will, her instructions were to be creamated. Which being from a catholic family shocked everyone. But no one tried to stop this. She had a viewing which is just the funeral part of a creamation. They put makeup on her. She never wore makeup. She didn’t really look like herself. And that kinda made the day a bit easier to swallow for me. Her grandson, Ricky, gave what would be known as the eulogy.  He starts out saying greased gears. That grandma’s life was always working as fluidly as greased gears. From the gunfire, spanish conversations she would have with Ricky’s mother while he sat in the backseat of car rides to the way that she would have things done her way and only her way. As much as her stubborn personality would get to you, at the end of the day you would always end up so happy you did do it her way.

 So greased gears. My great grandmother lived her whole life fluidly. I’ve managed to dirty up my gears through out the past few years, but if I were to speak to her right now about it, She would tell me I did the right thing and help me move to the next step. Fluidly.

One conversation I had recently with a buddy of my mine was on the topic of Organic foods. We went to coffee at the Grind in Lincoln Square the other day. He ordered an egg sandwich and a coffee. Then he noticed the Ham was organic and added that to the sandwich. Makes since. 60% of the nation’s Pork Farms are owned by 4 corporations. One of these corporate farms put all the waste of the farm into one giant, uncovered vat and basically cooked it down. These idiots didn’t relize that the liquid was seeping into the ground and poisoning the water of the surrounding rural area. Ended up poisoning quite a few of the locals. Finding this out obviously shocked me. But I am very happy for the organic farmers. They make me smile. I told my buddy Tim at coffee that it was only a matter of time before the USDA starts slacking on rules and mandatory routines needed for the production of USDA Certified Organic.

Which could be true. However, I was reading the Chicago Reader article “Pie In The Sky” about the Local Chef Michael Altenberg’s quest to open up the first 100% organic restaurant in Chicago. He goes on to explain how before anything can be taken off of a delivery truck, the driver must first have an affidavit explaining how the truck was cleaned and with what products. Chef Altenberg goes on to explain, “the driver has to come in and sign an affidavit saying that if organic tomatoes and nonorganic tomatoes were on the same truck, there was no chance of those two things commingling.” I love this. This is great! I can only imagine the amount of passion and natural farming that is necessary in just getting the product on the Truck. He also goes on to explain the humor he finds in articles he reads about “Organic” Chefs going to local farmers markets. “There are a ton of guys out there getting photo-ops of them walking with baskets and sniffing a tomato. But come on. Stand at my back door [at Bistro Campagne] all day and see what I get in—and this is just a 90-seat restaurant. I have truckloads of product coming in. If you and I were going to walk together and shop for my day at the bistro, we would have to have, maybe not a semi, but a substantial truck sitting there. You’d be following me with a dolly and we’d be picking up pallets of products. It’s just not realistic. It makes for good fluff in food magazines,” He explains.

 With all this I am hoping that everyone is out there doing what they can to not only keep their own health up but also supporting the push for naturally farmed food.

These past two days have been mind opening to say the least. The best friend I’ve ever had, Tim Briner, came in from New York for the past few days. This guy should be the poster boy for “you can do anything you put your mind to.” Tim is a photographer in New York. For the past few years he has been working on this new project called “Boonville, USA”. Even after having one of his knee repaired in a surgery(the other is due in for surgery as well) he has managed to turn his dream into reality. All this has made me dwell on the life of over achievers and I came to this: They all must have tunnel-vision of some degree. With all the obstacles in Tim’s way, he refuses to let go of this project. Determined to achieve a goal he will/has stop(ped) at nothing.

This re-lit a flame inside of me. Passion. When I was younger, I remember wanting nothing more than to play music. Go out and play. and I did. The reality of…well…REALITY has found away to dull me and my dream. I actually wrote lyrics when I was a teenager

                                “they say, ‘as life is fading people get jaded”

 I’ve become this.  And now I will cut myself of this.

Top Ten Things to Accomplish This Year

1. Create Visionary Poster

2. Get into the best shape I can

3. Do more things for myself

4. Play a show – in Chicago

5. Go on vacation (Vegas? Islands?)

6. Make more money….thru work or shows

7. Start Record Label

8. Buy A Bike

9. Bike to Work

10. Meet tons of new people. That’s atleast 2000 Lbs of humans

By the time i finally made it into the city after the move from out west, the temperature already dropped, giving me no time to let this place know who I was…am. So, along with the streets and the rest of the city, I am frozen in place. I feel like this bitter cold has created as shell of inpenatrable ice around my body. As if a slow drip from a leaky water pipe is dripping on me and making the ice barrier around me larger and larger. this is a horrible way to introduce myself into this new blog. but i’ll be up.