Monkey Island

An unenviable position, wedged between the classic “Blow Your Face Out” in 1976 and “Sanctuary” in 1978. The J. Geils Band changed their name on this disc only to “Geils” (mistake), changed back and then crushed it going forward. They are deserving Rock Hall inductees. Nominating committee, do the right thing! Bring them home to the hall where they belong. I have seen Peter Wolf within my reach and do have a story, but I am sure no one cares..

There ain't no life on Monkey Island
No one cares and no one knows
The moon hangs cold on Monkey Island
The night has dealt the fatal blow

This was my most resonating “Monkey” song (along with “Monkey Time” by The Tubes with my crush, Marth Davis) to bring me to this post content. Love this band. Many of their songs are all-timers for me.

This is an underappreciated song and album. You will never hear anything off of it on the wasteland that is known as radio these days.

This post was sparked by a personal email, which I will not go into in detail, but it sparked something I needed to say (this post will run a good month later, so by the time you read this, I will have no idea why I wrote this).

See that picture above. That is me (except I do not drive a U-Haul). That is MY reality. I have referred to myself as a monkey in a truck for years, many years. Truck drivers are not mindless, but for me, it is. Day after day, I turn my brain off, go about executing what needs to be done to bank that money, to allow the bills to be paid, to provide.

I previously managed tens of millions of dollars. I have an MBA. I fucked up beyond what I could ever have imagined. Stupidly so, and not for my personal benefit (selfishly or unselfishly). If you break the law, be smarter than me and get something out of it, even of it is fleeting. That was 22 years ago, and it haunts me to this day. It shapes my life; it dictates how I have to move forward day-to-day. It lays upon me like a wet blanket. I am weighted down in my real world. You all get to see my escape, my oasis, my sanity, Kandi. That is not my real.

I get a lot of feedback here. I love this about the blog, so and so doesn’t resonate with me, I cannot read daily and on and on and on. I put myself out there. I care. Nothing, none of it means anything. That is the truth. I catch shit yet am not really appreciated in the blogosphere. Why do this? Why do I put myself out there? What is the point? Why does this even bother me?

I want to make a difference. In my opinion, there is no real place for all of us. If it exists, please tell me where. I am referring to the spectrum of different interpretations of CD/TG. For ME, I am not suggesting this is true for you, AI has ruined how our sisters support one another. Goofy cartoons, unreal images that many feel represent them. BE REAL! BE YOU! I crave community and I cannot find it. Even here, I am the gatekeeper, I don’t feel like one of you as it relates to how this is all viewed. A meal eaten in a restaurant is a very different experience for the patron than it is for the chef. That is how I view Kandi’s Land, I am the chef and I hope I serve a memorable meal.

So, what the hell are you talking about?

Fuckedifiknow…

This is often my “question” to every final Jeopardy “answer”, What is Fuckedifiknow?

I guess it gets to judgement. I guess it gets to who we are. I guess it gets to the crux of why I spend my time doing all of this. Recently, my computer was down, and I was unable to write for over a week. That was rough. This, writing, keeps me focused, gives me purpose.

Anyway, this was a stream of consciousness post mostly written a while ago and I figured I would throw it against the wall to see if it sticks.

I’ve been fortunate to have a great deal of content to share with you all so far this year. That, despite (believe me, it’s true), much fewer Kandi outings. After this we will, over time, revisit a glorious three days, two of which were at Keystone and then a big dry spell, a few weeks. You won’t even notice it here, but I will. Between work and family (one a necessity, the other a joy), busy, busy, busy! So we’ll leave you with another pic from the Sherry selfie shoot and something to think about.

Societal change is not microwaved; it’s done in a slow cooker.

We change one mind at a time. Do that today.

PS. Yes, I know it’s April Fool’s Day. No fools here, you can get that elsewhere.