Wednesday, May 26, 2010

From setting sons to risen demi-gods...

I'm not one to wax nostalgic and I'm well-known enough that everyone knows what an enormous role Paul Weller played in my formative years, both musically and on a stronger, cultural level. So to see him on stage with Bruce Foxton after 28 years apart and playing "The Eton Rifles" makes me think two things: "I never thought I'd live to see this" and "what the fuck?". I can't help but take both approaches. The Jam were the most important band in the world (after The Beatles and The Who) and their late-1982 split was a blow to 17-year-old me. I got used to the pain of the loss (and overcame the nausea that was The Style Council), but this is a kick in the balls, both good and bad. I want to keep the memory of the younger Foxton and Weller as they were. I know it's a one off, but shit...

Being the massive hypocrite that I am, naturally, I'll eat these words should The Punch Line get back together again. But at least I won't stand around, posturing on the notion. I'll just do it. And it wouldn't take me 28 fucking years to do it, either.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Louis Ross 1934 -2010

My father died tonight.

He passed away quietly in his sleep at the nursing home at 10 p.m. They called to tell me and to let me know that the cremation service were on their way. Everyone has been kind and patient and helpful, even though we knew that this was going to happen. My mother's family came to see my father over this past weekend to say their goodbyes.

I had said my goodbyes every time I saw him this past week. I could go on and write--and I will at a later time--but this is what I want to say.

I loved him. I respected him. He was my friend. I was proud of him and proud to be his son. He was my father and no finer a man will I ever know.

Goodbye, Dad. Thank you for everything. I will miss you for the rest of my life.

Friday, May 07, 2010

Art of dying

On Wednesday, I received the news that my father has two weeks - if that long - left to live. Try as I have to prepare myself for this over the last four years (when he was first diagnosed with Alzheimer's), it's been all for nothing. The reality; the finality is here and I am alternately devastated and angry beyond words that he has been robbed of everything--his motor skills; his ability to breathe; his mind and his sight. Emphysema is what will end his life; pneumonia and the subsequent fever and infection that is shutting his kidneys down will be what robs me now of my father. He has deserved so much better than this and I am enraged by life's cruelties.

I go to the nursing home and sit with him and talk to him. He can barely hear or comprehend me. I leave in a blinded state of tears mixed with fury.

Every time the phone rings, my heart sinks. I know the phone call is coming. No longer if but when. Now it's all about waiting.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

One wonders...

...why do logical adults like myself get so frothed up by something as insipid as Facebook? For the last hour, I've found myself irritated to no end by the confusing manner in which they've changed the layout, so you no longer know where your "groups" and "fan pages" (hence referred to as "likes") have disappeared to. Just because I like cats doesn't mean I want to be auto-linked to "species".

Got the new Les Paul Special. And as hoped, a new song came along with it. "Alchemy" is a bit of a departure for me. I can't recall having written a groove/boogie-based track like this. Has a great '70's feel to it. I'm digging where I'm going.

And speaking of which, everyone should be going tomorrow, weather permitting, to the Hoboken Music and Arts Festival. It should be a blast.