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The enjoyment of writing and recording music in a home studio is a recent gift to musicians.

Hey I'm old, started ,on Mono Reel to Reel.

Given all the toys, input , sounds, dubs, effects and all. It can be quite a learning curve: not to mention the ability to write, play and kinda sing.

I love the time i spend in this small space trying to make the sounds I produce match the sounds I hear in my head.

But I got a gift last night. an unknown one. We needed a quick background song for the Fabled Deputy Ted show.

Stealing, borrowing or paying tribute to Bobby Boris Picket, I did a version of The Monster Mash.

Two Guitars, Two Takes, a fun silly song.

got as much of a rush out of it as if I had spent weeks on the writing and production.

All about the fun Amigos, in writing: prose, poetry, music, that is your focus.

wow, still a rush.

go create!

and send me some results.

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Valuable prize offered.

One container of


That's right, the best caption entered wins a container of


Guaranteed to cleanse past lives of all issues. Three to Seven incarnations depending on how naughty all of your peopple may have been in past visits.

Enter Early, Enter Often.

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Ok this is not a garage sale in Durango Colorado, just drying out some things from a wet night in Chaco Canyon Camp Site. This time machine, a 1983,or 4 Toyota Sunrader took us from Grants Pass, to Salt Lake, all over New Mexico and a bunch of Colorado and Arizona, mostly under its own power. Sure a few occurrences like almost dying of heat stroke in Barstow while spending the night in a junk yard waiting for parts. Getting it to run on Charcoal lighter fluid in Mammoth Ca. But hey, I'm sure Conestoga wagons had some issues too.

This trip found us driving down 25 miles of unimproved road, deep mud, in a combination sleet, rain snowstorm; depending if you were uphill or down.

During this time of isolation, I miss the ability to pack and go, even though it could be quite a challenge.

So much of the American Southwest has many tales to tell. Sit quietly on a cool night, gaze at crumbling walls raised in a barren and yet beautiful desert. See firelight reflecting on stones raised Before Spanish or English was ever heard in the land. Listen to the nothing, so loud and clear in the night, and discover much about yourself.

We miss this flawed time machine. Driving CA. 395 in summer, No AC. Driving to Tahoe in a blizzard, random heat: but what a trail partner.

Quiet nights in Long Beach, bound by Sea and Time, I listen and wait to again find seldom traveled roads.

Welcome to our past and future.


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