Ever since oldold man Finn woke up sick after our gulf-to-ocean-and-back road trip, I’ve been consumed by the question:  “Legacy or Longevity?”

In a couple hours, I’m going to go back into Book of Blues. I’m finally in uncharted territories. I know where’s it’s going. I know how it’s gonna end.

But I don’t know how to answer the Legacy / Longevity question.

I started thinking of how music heroes. I often think of Sam Cooke. Like Otis and Marvin, Sam’s flame extinguished while burning bright. My lifeline is closing in on his length. So long as I can stay away from women of the night near LA hotels, I might live a little longer.

Will it be worth it?

By this time, Sam Cooke helped bridge racial gaps in music. Several crossover hits, support for the civil rights music, and a smile that shown through the darkest of nights, Sam Cooke was a magical artisty whose Soulful craft as continued to transcend the generations.

I’ve written a book of blues that could be two books of blues – pending, and have started a prequel. And i’ll work on it once the season premiere of Chuck is over.

I’ll probably live to see tomorrow if the Southwest Florida deep freeze of 2010 doesn’t get the best of Fort Myers, Margaritaville.

I have the longevity, he has the legacy.

Who do you think has had the better life?

(photo credit:  African Goddess 02 via Flickr)

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I woke up today still jazzed that oldold man Finn and I actually decided to roadtrip from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean and back. How many times does that get to happen?

I woke up today ready to write about the mushroom clouds of smoke and the apocalyptic haze we drove through as the sugar cane fields burned around us.

But as I woke up today I found oldold man Finn passed out on his La-Z-Boy. He had an upset stomach and said he went to bed with a bit of a chill. He talked with a bit of a drawl…

“You’re speech has me concerned.”

“You’re speech has always had me concerned.”

And after a couple yawns his cadence retruned.

After another nap he had more of a pep in his step. He thinks he’s going to go biking since it’s finally nice weather (~ 72 degrees) and that we’re still going to dinner and the Florida Gulf Coast University game tonight.

“Where are our seats tonight?”

“In the gym.”

But I couldn’t help but be concerned.

When do you tell the oldold man to ease up? Or do you?

Is it better to wear yourself out doing something you love or better to hold back and live to fight another day?

This is actually the initial question I explore on my Book of Blues Prequel. The repercussions of the situation are reverberated throughout the Prequel, Book of Blues and, eventually, the Sequel.

It was life imitating art imitating life.

I felt like I was living two nightmares and I didn’t know if I was creating the chaos. But that’s probably me giving myself too much credit. Either way, I need to realize I couldn’t think objectively at that point.

I still don’t know the answer. And that concerns me.

And in the end, I don’t know whether or not it was a good thing. Maybe it’s good to push a little if it brings the memories along with it. Maybe I’m selfish, concerned about tomorrow and making sure he’s a part of it.

Maybe life isn’t about longevity so much as it is about the footprint you leave behind.

Even if you wake up in the morning feeling a little closer to death.

Either way, I’m the one that’ll have to deal with the tomorrows.

What Do You Guys Think?

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It’s Sunday night in Ft. Myers, Margaritaville. The heater is on and I’ve closed the doors to the porches. I can’t complain because it’s still 45 degrees warmer than The Region.

Stay warm, y’all! I’ll be back in the mess soon enough.

Today is an anniversary of sorts, and for it, I going to work on the dream instead of the dream job. But I shouldn’t even be making excuses for it.

I go for the dream job so I can work on the dream.

And that dream – finishing the book of blues.

Max Power tells me that chapter 2 is bad. I warned him it was horrible and the worst thing ever. A chapter so bad it has had more rewrites than many other chapters combined. So, tonight I fix chapter 2. After 3 years of dealing with the worst chapter ever, I spent the last 4 days figuring out how I want to do it. And I think I finally have a plan for it that I like.

We’ll see what Max says.

Fingers crossed.

(photo credit: sean_hickin via Flickr)

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Some parts of my Book of Blues come from experience. And some parts of the blues book come from research. And there’s a little “other roads traveled” fantasies and truths cut-in for flavor.

And sometimes, my blues book ideas come from mischievous curiosity.

Take last weekend in Indy.

I went down to watch a reunion concert for an Indianapolis Metal band named Dent. The drummer, Jason Carr, is the co-owner of The Bean Cup – the place where I had my life-changing experience on Halloween.

One of my hometown friends who lives in Indy went with me.

We got to the theater to find there was no alcohol. The band didn’t start for another hour. Not that I need it, but especially for my friend – who isn’t the biggest metal head – he was gonna need something to get him a little high (in the “I get high with a little help from my friends” using-alcohol sense [Lennon/McCartney]). The Carrs and Karrs told us that the bar around the corner had, low and behold, GUMBALLHEAD.

We got to the bar, my buddy saw some goth, and instantly he wanted to drive back east five blocks to pre-drink at his buddy’s.

His buddy didn’t have Gumballhead but my buddy had the car keys. GRRRRR.

Pre-drink and the concert came and went. Whoops, hollars, weak attempts at mosh pits, pleasant “hello’s” and delightful “goodbye’s” flew by as scripted.

I had the car keys. It was time to go.

Typically this would scream “Broad Ripple,” but one buddy was having issues with his girlfriend and my ex from the area was having a birthday that night and would probably be there. Instincts said to follow the road elsewhere.

And the road lead us to a nice little place near my buddy’s condo on the north side. The place was quiet, had pool tables, and though they’d never heard of Gumballhead, they had a suitable substitute: hot waitresses.

I saw her. My buddy gazed at her. The two guys at the other pool table had already started to try and work her.

And the fun began.

Come to find out, if you spend an obscene amount of money at this place, they take your picture and hang it on the wall. It was worth it.

The guys at the other table ended up being Good people. A couple rounds of shots, a couple more pitchers, and all three of their bellys got so full that when they tried their best pickup line, they fumbled over themselves.

And that guy left over was the gentlemen who was willing to drive for a friend and only drank when the waitress “questioned” his constitution.

I admit, it’s fun when waitresses question my constitution. They’re the fun ones.

And I call that, “the advantage of the designated driver.”

That’s for keeping Finn away from Gumballhead!

Typically, hitting on the help is pretty classless. You won’t be their first and you won’t be their last.You won’t even be either on that work shift. But if you really want to pick up a waitress who isn’t a slut, you don’t try for it all in one night. That leads to disaster more often than not. You space it out over a few days. Let her realize you don’t suck as a person (unless you suck as a person, then study up on “The Prince”). And, make sure she’s a Good person too or you’re waisting your time.

So we went back the next day. My excuse to my buddy was the truth: the weather sucked last night, we were the reason she didn’t get cut early, and she had to be back at the place early the next morning. Besides, he was buying and I got to pick the place.

Apparently karma was watching.

We got to the place and, GASP, they didn’t have the Bears game on. I had no more bullets left in the chamber. If you’re from The Region and have ever cheered for Walter Payton, you have to abide by a couple rules. Rule #1: if the Bears are playing, the bar you attend must have it on on at least one screen. This place did not.

So we had to leave.

We’ll see if the road takes me back there next month.

And, for those interested, the above picture is NOT her. Images changed to protect the Good people.

(photo credit: Sublime via Flickr)

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Since my 99 week pilgrimage started, I’ve had many people ask what my next steps are going to be. I’ve even gotten a couple projects from these conversations. I am grateful for the questions and appreciative of the concern, but I can’t say for certain, yet, as to where I’m going.

Sleepless nights, numerous conversations, and apprehensive afternoons have been fidgeted away because, like Max Power who had having trouble focusing on his last PPC Hero blog post, I’ve been gripping too hard to the question, “What to do next.”

Then something changed, a little.

1) Bless the cursed marketing promotion for John Mayer’s, “Who Says.” I’m not the biggest John Mayer fan. It’s not because of his talent. He’s a craftsmen. It’s because I haven’t been in his target market of 14-year-old girls. But in his song, “Who Says,” not only is it a well crafted, finger-picked song, but I’ll confess I relate to it.

“It’s been a long time since ‘22′
I don’t remember you lookin’ any  better
then again I don’t remember you…”

The images in his video also captivate me:  the sharp lines and right angles of his European-styled apartment, latest fashion trends of his city friends, walking the streets at night, great food, good drink… But none of the scenes caught my attention more than the scene with the old wooden chair along a white wall with a Martin acoustic guitar in its lap 13 seconds in.

Most of us who fall in love with our guitars dream of this spot. Many of us work through our days to get back to this spot at night. I used to even turn off the lights so I wouldn’t watch my fingers.

2) After I saw the “Who Says,” video I stopped over at oldold man Finn’s house to check on his place. He’s snowbirding in Ft. Myers. I’ll be down there soon to visit.

I went into his house, checked the rooms, and saw my Martin guitar sitting in his living room. It’s been sitting there almost two years in its black hardtop case. I don’t have the space to store it and I didn’t have time to play it. I sat in the old dining room chair, pulled the guitar out of its case, and placed it in my lap. The first thing that hit me was the fresh smell of Mahogany. The second thing that hit me was how it felt like I was hugging an old friend.

Some people get into careers to feed themselves. Some get into their careers only as far as it takes to feed their family. I dove deep into my career so I could always have a space to play guitar and work on my book of blues. Once I got in there, I found my career, my guitar playing, and my blues books can all help each other. That’s why my topic of my site is:

“Live Music. Blues Books. Inbound Marketing, Social Media, SEO, Blogging…”

All my passions have become family. Now I have to bring my family together.

I still don’t know where the next step will be, but it’ll involve live music, blues books, and inbound marketing.

It has been a long time since 22. And don’t remember her looking any better, but then again I don’t know if I remember her anymore.

(Here’s a live version of John Mayer’s “Who Says”)

(photo credit:  Marite 2007 via flickr)

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