The good old days

Remember when we were younger? Before the internet. You might hear of bad news but then you’d go on with your day.

– “Hey Mokie! Let’s go play catch outside. I got a new mitt and I want to break it in.”

– “Ok cool! Hey, did you hear about so and so. She died in a car accident. And then some maniac shot up a Luby’s Cafeteria.”

– “Oh man. That’s horrible. Can you check out my new mitt? I oiled it and shoved it under my mattress and slept on it to try to break it in. It’s a Rawlings.”

There wasn’t Facebook. There wasn’t an endless echo chamber. I didn’t even know whether someone was a Democrat or a Republican. We went to Winchell’s Donuts and talked about our paper routes and if we could maybe get jobs bagging groceries at Market Basket. We could join the union. They pay time and half on holidays.

Now – to some of you I may sound like an old man talking about the old days. And I sure do love the internet. I get to publicize shows and catch up with old and new friends and see what you ate for dinner and what you thought of a new film.

I don’t really even know what I’m trying to say. I’m kind of lost. Everybody is shattered. Tom Petty dies. We all have stories. We are saddened.

Puerto Rico. Las Vegas. Houston. On and on. Guns guns guns. NRA.

I know everyone’s political beliefs. You guys definitely know mine. You know how I feel about our current president.

But hey- the good old days. The Goodle Days.

We sure had us some fun. I didn’t know who you voted for. I didn’t really care. I had music to make. We had cassette release parties. Merriment. Happiness. Love.

It’s still here. Happiness is right here. It stares at you everyday. Look at the parking lot with new eyes. I promise you. Miracles happen every single facking day. They really do. I love my friends. They’re all quite different. Different views. But I love em.

Be the joy you want to see. You only have a limited amount of sunsets left. Don’t waste them. Remember to breathe in good things. Meditate. Meditate on love and patience.

Smile at a stranger. Today. Go do this now. It’s simple. Hold a door open for your fellow humans. Let people in.

You’re gonna be ok. You got this. I believe in you.

Weirdos!

Quick story- WARNING- this video shows men’s butt cracks.

People that come see my shows are weirdos. I guess weirdo attracts weirdos.

I like weirdos!

OK- a few years back I got very sick. Stroke, hospital, loss of vision disorientation etc.

I have crazy folks who like my music. Some are in Britain.

After I was released from hospital a cool dude in the USA named Joel Freimark was going to make a video of a bunch of folks singing snippets of a Rugburns song I wrote called Dick’s Automotive. I’m not sure if he ever made the video but it was a good idea. He thought it would cheer me up. Sometimes good ideas never come to fruition. I guess Joel secretly reached out to folks and asked them to send videos. Well- these cats definitely took it seriously. There’s a part of the song where we say “we’re goin’ on a picnic, we’re goin’ on a picnic!”

The audience usually goes nuts and screams along.

Well- yesterday morning I woke up at a house in the suburbs of London. I’d played a house concert the night before. So, we’re eating brekkie and this dude Bob decides to whip out this video he made. I almost spit out my tea I was laughing so hard. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I won’t give Bob’s full name but he’s married to the lovely Barbara Mcloughlin.

Have a great Monday.

London tonight. Friday Sept 29

Hey London England!Specifically Greenwich. I’m playing a show TONIGHT at Pelton Arms. It’s freeeeee! Gonna be packed. Get there early.

My buddy Glenn Tilbrook has a very talented son named Leon Tillbrook. Leon shall open the show starting at 8:30pm.

Can’t wait for my return to this lovely venue. Tonight. Friday Sept 29. 8:30

A review of my show last night in Dubs

Well- all my worries were for naught. Last night was a joy. The upstairs room at Whelan’s was filled. Now, mind you- it’s a small room but it’s a fine room and every seat had a bum in it. I’m not saying the audience were a bunch of bums. On the contrary, they all had nice arses.

So yes. There were about 49 punters in room. The sound was great and it’s a good beginning for my quest to conquer Dublin Ireland.

How was my show?

Here’s a review someone just emailed me.

Steve Poltz at Whelan’s (upstairs)

Sept 26. Dublin Ireland.

United Press Internatioal

Steve Poltz came out on stage at exactly 9:01pm. He was a minute late. He was wearing a plaid shirt made of the finest wool. He was dressed in fine denim APC jeans. The crowd was abuzz. Steve tipped his Stetson hat to the crowd. (LBJ Open Road Silver Belly) he picked up his guitar and tuned it and then was about to play a song but decided that talking was more important.

He must’ve yammered on and on for at least 20 minutes. He still hadn’t played a song. All he did was talk. About every subject he could think of. Oatmeal. Art films. Levi’s 501 jeans. The presidential physical fitness award he won as a kid. Softball. Bob Beamon. Cocaine. Weed. Cadillacs. Sex in Cadillacs. The Catholic Church. Robot Catholics. Being an altar boy. His parents. His dog. Hipster coffee houses. Trump. Nixon. Baseball. Tea, almond butter and blood pudding.

He kept talking and actually said “I don’t feel like playing music. It all sounds like noise to me.”

Then after 20 minutes he said “Goodnight. I have Cds at the back of the bar.”

Then he played his guitar. And sang. Lots of songs. Songs about every subject imaginable. It was a 2 hour show.

Then he ended the show by saying “I will not sleep well tonight because I fear I’ve shared too much personal info. I will regret this. Please never come see me again. Goodnight. I’ll be at the back of the bar if you’d like to pose for pictures. Each picture I take with you will cost you 25 Euros. You think I do this shit for free? This is my VIP package.”

All in in all it was a weird night by a weirdo with the initials SP.

This review was written by our overseas correspondent Stove Plotz.

People like singing with strangers!

I know these are crazy times on this wild planet we call Earth. Folks are divided and arguing and threatening war. But I’m here to tell you that people still love to join together with strangers and sing their hearts out.

Here I am at The Gathering in Burlington Newfoundland with a bunch of crazy Newfoundlanders and Planet Earthlings singing Forever Young by Bob Dylan.

Feel free to share this video with folks who might need a smile.

Worry

I have this weird feeling that not many people are going to come out to my show tonight at Whelan’s in Dublin Ireland. I haven’t played here in 4 years when I opened for The Lost Brothers. They have a big following. That’s a long time to not return.

Tonight is my own show. It’s on me to bring the crowd. I’m worried that it’ll be sparse. Worry worry worry. The rest of the Irish tour has been grand.

I try not to worry. But I’m worried. Worry starts with w and ends with y. Why? Because that’s how the word maker uppers spelled it.

Here are a list of bands and performers that could sell out Whelan’s.

1. Oasis

2. Neil Diamond

3. Taylor Swift

4. Ed Sheeran

5. U2

Here’s a list of people who might NOT be able to sell out Whelan’s.

1. Steve Poltz

* This has been a book report by Steve Poltz so not all facts are verified. We can’t trust him.