There’s energy out there. Fill up your spirit tank and run amok. Spin like a whirling dervish and really hope that the whales DO look at you sideways with crooked whale smiles. Daydream about Cuba and The Presidents and The Pope and Sony, North Korea, Seth Rogan and computer hackers. Breathe in and then breathe it all out and watch your thoughts float up to the clouds and blink your eyes in amazement at the whole shebang. These are the wonder days and they’re passing by so fast that dates and times are flickering and short circuiting. The sun sets and rises and grins because it knows it’ll be here long after we’re gone. So Merry Christmas my friends. Happy Hanukah and best wishes. 2014 went by so fast. 2015 is gonna kick ass!

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Airstream of Consciousness

I hung out with my pal Tim Flannery yesterday in his Airstream trailer and he filmed me. Watch here!

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Some folks want mp3s of these instrumentals. I put em up here and you can download em


Sunday Boots

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Perfect rainy day to make up an instrumental song on the old geetar. I call this one Bethlehem. Listen here

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Sunday Boots

I’ve decided to start playing the old guitar again and it feels pretty dang good. Here’s an instrumental I made up this mornin called Sunday Boots. Listen Here!

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The Enetertainer

“You have to want to get high. Hold the joint like this: between your thumb and first finger, breathe in and keep it in your lungs for as long as you can, and in your mind say- ‘I want to get high’”.

I was in the backseat next to my best friend Mokie listening to our stoner coaching team. We were in my Sister Kathy’s brown Dodge Demon. It had vinyl seats and was 3 on a tree with a deep clutch that made a grinding sound and moaned when shifting into second. On the back bumper there was sticker that said ‘Give Jesus a Chance’.

Sitting up front next to Kath was her best friend Darcelle. It was Palm Springs California in 1974 and me and Mokie were 14 and my sister and Darcie were 16. We begged them and begged them to let us try pot. We were virgins in every sense of the word. I had a crush on Darcelle- she had nice boobs and wore tight fitting Dittos that accentuated her perfect butt. I thought I was sly but Darcie would always catch me staring at her tits like they were the promised land and I was Moses. She would just ignore me. Mokie probably had a crush on my sister but that was something I didn’t want to know about.

“You can never mention this to Mom and Dad” said Kath as she dipped her fingers into her purse to grab the weed. “Darcelle and I went halfsies on a 15 dollar 3 finger lid and the dealer told us it was Acapulco Gold.” She pulled out some tinfoil and opened it up and there were 3 fat joints already rolled in gold rolling papers. We got to hold one of them and smell it. Next, she produced some matches and put the joint in her mouth and inhaled. I heard something popping and Darcie said, “that’s the sound of seeds exploding- it means it’s good weed.” Darcelle went second and then handed it to Mokie and me in the backseat and said, “What do you say? Say it loud!”
We both chanted in unison “WE WANT TO GET HIGH!” It smelled so foreign and yet so familiar and if I concentrate, I can still smell that exact aroma from precisely that night. It’s amazing how the mind works.

We passed the joint around and around and I coughed and somebody said “if you don’t cough you don’t get off”.
On the radio was Blue Swede singing Hooked On A Feeling and in the smoky haze we all sang along- “I aye aye aye aye, I’m hooked on a feelin’, I’m high on believin’, that you’re in love with meeeeee!”

We were in the parking lot of Shakey’s Pizza and the smoke filled Demon was rocking.
“I’m a concept, I’m a woncept, I’m a song ‘cept I’ve got no head- it leapt. It’s on the steering wheel. My head is on the fucking steering wheel!” I was laughing hysterically. Tears were pouring out of my eyes.
“Let’s smoke some more” I shouted. “Let’s smoke all the fucking weed in the whole wide world!”
“Uhhhhh. No. I think you’ve had enough.” said Kath.
“Let’s go eat some pizza and play Breakout. They have a new video machine” screamed Mokie.

When we walked inside there were dirt stained little league teams with their coaches and they were gorging on huge pepperoni pizzas that looked translucent under the lights. I’d never felt so hungry. The melted cheese looked like it was stretching 100 yards. We ordered the biggest pizza we afford and I said “I have wrestling practice tomorrow. Will I still be high?”
“Nah! You’ll be ok. Coach Renfro will never know” said Darcie.

Shakey’s Pizza had a player piano in the corner that would blast songs and the piano keys would move on their own but there was no one sitting there. It was like a ghost was playing and I was mesmerized. The song it was playing was The Entertainer. I thought of Paul Newman and Scott Joplin and I was so high the only thing to break my concentration was Darcelle’s patchouli scented hand on my shoulder telling me it was my turn on Breakout.

Breakout was a video game invented by Steve Wozniak. Woz started Apple Computer with Steve Jobs. Steve Woz is now one of my dear friends and he’s never smoked pot. Ever. Little did I know that the first night I got stoned I’d be playing a game that my future friend invented. Since time isn’t really real it would be neat to travel through a black hole and somehow go back in time and meet Woz and tell him to watch out because Steve Jobs was going to sell Breakout to Atari and lie about how much they got paid. Woz only got 800 bucks and Jobs sold it for 15k. Then I could invest in Apple and I’d have enough cash to buy The San Diego Padres and we’d have a license to print money and win a World Series for our lovey city.
But I digress. Back to Stonerville. Population of 4.

I played Breakout with my Sister and the gang until our pizza arrived and we ate like famished peripatetic hobos. We drank cokes and laughed and didn’t even bother to wipe the pizza sauce from our stony faces. I remember looking up into the corner of the restaurant and seeing my own head looking down at me from the corner of the room and laughing. I was laughing at myself. I didn’t like it so I excused myself to go pee. “This is not happening right now” I whispered. “This is good weed man. I’m never getting high again.” As I peed I had the first of many visions in my life of my pee bubbles forming a beard in the toilet and a mouth opening up and talking to me. The face seems to shift between the image of Jesus and Santa and usually it says something like “you’ve been a bad boy. Ho Ho Ho. Jesus is crying and the world hates you. Go eat your pizza.” I was freaked out and ran out of the bathroom so happy to sit next to Mokie. I told him of my vision and what Santa/ Jesus said and he started laughing so hard that some coca cola AND a small piece of pepperoni shot out of his nose and on to my arm. Kathy and Darcelle were giggling and cackling so loud that families and little league teams all started staring at us like we were witches in The Crucible. We leapt up and ran out of Shakey’s and huddled in the safety of the cannabis scented Dodge Demon.

When we came home that night after saying goodbye to our friends my sister said “did you like it?”
“Oh hell yes! Tell Darcelle I love her.”
“Shut up you idiot. She likes Mark Quesada. He’s a senior. And so do I. He’s dreamy. He rides a 10 speed everywhere and he’s so tan and has a ponytail”

We walked inside our parent’s warm homey house and our folks were watching Kojak. I felt so safe to be back home. I wanted to click my heels 3 times. My Dad shouted form the bedroom “Who loves ya baby?”

“Goodnight! I’m sleepy. See ya the morning. Goodnight John Boy. Goodnight Elizabeth. Goodnight Mary Ellen. Goodnight Son. Goodnight Daddy. Goodnight Mama.” I was like a walking Walton’s TV encyclopedia of useless knowledge.

In the morning when I woke I was so happy to not be stoned anymore and I bounced out of bed and thought of Darcelle’s
boobs and hopped in the shower while whistling the melody of The Entertainer.

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Culinary tips

Steve’s culinary tips-

When chopping onions always wear glasses or safety goggles. Sometimes your eyes will start spontaneously crying and you might chop off a piece of your finger. It’s ok! No worries mate. You don’t want a piece of the finger to ricochet into your eye. You don’t know where that finger’s been. Or even worse, maybe you do. Save the finger in a baggie on ice and finish chopping the veggies. It’s all good bro/dude/brahh. Put the soup on the stove and go see a doctor. Oh- make sure to bring the severed finger with you for reattachment procedures. We aren’t lizards- we don’t grow new ones.

That’s all for today’s culinary tips. Happy cooking. Go Expos!

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Torrey Pines was pretty today.

I’ve been walking and walking and walking and I almost feel like I’m Forrest Gump. I just walk places and I can’t seem to stop. Today after my morning walk I went up north to Torrey Pines and I hiked Torrey Pines and it felt so good that I turned around and did it again a second time. I was sweating and I was smiling and then I was sideways smiling and upside down sweating and right side up smiling and sweating.

I like hiking etiquette because many times you just walk by other hikers and nod your head and then they nod their heads at you and this goes on and on like you’re in a secret society of head nodders. Sometimes it’s just a quick smile and other times it’s a “how are you doing?” as you saunter by and sometimes squeeze out of the way when there’s a group of six huge Amazon hikers walking together. But it doesn’t matter, I’m in my own world and I just keep walking. I don’t really know why I’m walking so much. It’s not like I’m running from something, it’s just that I don’t have any place to be. My whole life I’ve always had a show to play and I’ve never really had a long break. But the last show I played was October 22 and I had a stroke. So I decided I would just start walking. I haven’t even been playing guitar or singing much. It’s almost like I look at the guitar and it scares me. It reminds me of the night I had a stroke on stage and I think I want to avoid having another stroke so I’ll avoid singing and playing for a spell. But— I did pick up the guitar this morning at 4:30 and I strummed some chords and it felt pretty good. I remembered how to play a G chord — so I got that going for me which is nice. But then I ended up putting down the guitar and going on a walk. Walk and think and think and walk. The things I think about are random things like: why is that person smoking a cigarette so early in the morning? Cigs can cause strokes. Maybe I should tell them? No, they’ll get mad at me. Besides, I don’t even smoke or drink and I got a stroke. Maybe they’re on to something. I remember when I first tried smoking. I was a little kid playing with matches and we got new neighbors from England who moved in next door. The Dunlings. Their kids were named Ian and Robert and they were my age and they smoked. I was a real 7 and they were 7 and 10 going on 30. They told me how my Mom got pregnant by my Dad and I started crying. They laughed at me and told me to smoke a cigarette and shut the hell up. I was scared of them yet drawn to them because they seemed to have all the answers and they could kick my ass. So I smoked with them but I never liked it so it was something that never took with me. I never smoked again. Yet I ended up getting a bunch of collapsed lungs anyways so maybe I should’ve smoked. Hey- look at that seagull over there picking up a cigarette. He thinks it’s a tortilla chip. That’d be cool if they made tortilla chip cigarettes so you could inhale the corn tortilla flavored tobacco. Tortigarrettes. That’s what I’ll call them.

This is just a random sample of the things I think about while walking. Batteries not included.

But now, my legs are tired and I think I’ll take a nap.

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Zombie beak

The moon was busting at the seams this morning when I started my walk. This cellular phone device photo does not do it justice but it’s the only evidence I have for you. People were just getting going. Lights were starting to blink as the early rising zombies joined me in the morning revelry. One of them staggered into my path as zombies do and he was wearing an old Bob Dylan concert T-shirt with dried blood stains around the neck.
“Give me a bite of your forearm. This is my neighborhood. You and your friends should show me some respect. You should let me wet my beak a little” he bellowed as if he were Don Fanucci from The Godfather.

I backed away and threw a Twinkie at his head and started running. He bent down and ate the beautiful golden preservative filled sponge like it was 1973 and he was on the playground at Nellie Coffman Junior High in Palm Springs California. The sugary goodness poisoned his blood seeking lips and he collapsed like a cobra with a heart attack and started foaming at the mouth.

So I suppose it was a message and today is a good day to listen to some mixtape Bob Dylan. I think I’ll start with The Man In Me off of New Morning. The second song will be I Threw It All Away off of Nashville Skyline.

What shall track 3 be?

Enjoy your zombie scrambled eggs. You are amazing. Simply amazing.

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Jah love


I hiked up Cowles Mountain this morning at 6 for a beautiful gift of a sunrise. It was so quiet and peaceful so I talked to this coyote that was out walking. I said, “ruff ruff you growler. Are you able to work an iPhone? I noticed that you don’t have any opposable thumbs.”
The coyote said “No worries dude I work at the Genius Bar.” Then he nipped at my finger and took a picture but I didn’t mind. I said “it’s all good bro.” And the coyote was like “Jah love protect us.”

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