i didn’t have money for christmas
i didn’t have money for fun
i only had money for milk & honey
and chasing that love on the run
i didn’t have time for romance
i didn’t have time for love
but i found enough time to make you mine
and now i’m singing heaven above
all i want is to spend my days with you
all i want is for us to see it through
every night i tell myself it’s true
since nobody else can even hold a candle to you
we’re going to need a ticket for two
something in the way you call me
something in the way you say my name
makes the winter warm and balmy
makes a guy crazy, making me insane
i knew about a dog named rango
he knew a couple cats could play
if they all got together in a stormy weather
we could get married that day
all i want is to spend my days with you
all i want is for us to see it through
every night i tell myself it’s true
since nobody else can even hold a candle to you
we’re going to need a ticket for two
\m/ (-.-) \m/ and ? and 😀
update 12/23/2012, the video’s been released 😀
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gu8QsQ-idI
or (fandalism, way more plays & feedback here since it uses facebok authentication &)
http://www.fandalism.com/rangothedog/bGhl
merry christmas!!!!
<best><thanksgiving><ever>. you might think yours was better, but i had dinner with Tim Hearn who dutifully accepted basting assignments from the lovely Rachel Jaimes Murray-Hearn while i rolled around on the floor and played Legos and toy cars with his four year old grandson. the kid proceeded to charm me stupid and showed uncanny dexterity strumming my guitar as i played Frankin, and he and his mom danced to Smokehouse. dinner was a <spread> and the turkey was perfect (i credit the immaculately timed basting).
after that Tim and i got to jam for the first time after connecting online through our music almost two years ago. it was pure joy, and a privilege. the only thing missing was an entire weekend to keep on going. which we’re totally going to do next time. highlight of the evening was hearing him play Dobra the Pawnshop dobro and sing this song. after that i played smokehouse and he solo’d on his acoustic and it was like butter on my bread. Rachel proceeded to croon and vocalize like an old-school Appalachian wife and it brought me back to the hills of West Virginian watching uncle Earl play. we concluded the evening with an extended exploration of using chromatics to link Maj7 and dominant chords, somewhat jazzy, and than an impromptu song about pumpkin pie, complete with words, because music is magic. i couldn’t do it right now but at the time it was effortless. we laughed all day, and i left with a bucket of food.
see? mine was the best. definitely had a sweet soundtrack, it’s like a cliche a minute and totally sticky. brilliant 😀
morning, peeps. grey skies here and tough times for some of you, another day of waking up into a bad dream. it’s a familiar feeling.
but as bad as it is being unemployed and broke and sidelined by bipolar and ending up in this giant house alone, it’s not cancer, it’s not a child with a heart condition, and nobody’s going off to war. those things will truly challenge your faith (even if you don’t call it that). my kids are 15 minutes from here, probably ignoring their mom right now just as they would be ignoring me if they were here. and despite being alone i am never lonely (see: this page, almost famous, hummingbirds, etc). as for work, something’s coming my way, i can feel it.
next up: graphic arts, and the RDogg Media portfolio featuring a gallery of the most amazing indie photographers and graphic artists on the web, and a mechanism to monetize their work and connect them with the musicians, real estate agents, and small business owners to improve their web presence. you people should be talking and $$ should be flowing, and not to the big image houses, right to the dudes with the cameras and the photoshops. but somehow i have a feeling that Mgr99 was right when she said “it just seems like you should be a musician”. it’s going to be something like that.
so, a little levity. let me try to lighten your spirit and maybe it will lighten mine. let me massacre a proverb instead of the random grocery store cashier who pissed me off yesterday and got a face full of rango in front of the store this week (no regrets, but not one of my finer moments: i have worked as a grocery store cashier).
i’m reminded of the proverb of the monk who falls to his death from a towering cliff. on the way down he snatches a strawberry, and pops it into his mouth. his last thoughts before the lights went out were (massacre here): “amazing strawberry”
today: a little time for remembrance. then to clean my skunky body and my physical space. then i’m going to mix/record all day, and share songs, and listen to your tunes. and delete/delete/delete.
\m/ rango \m/
sorry to ruin the suspense, but my son already called it. it went like this:
rango: who do you think’s going to win tomorrow?
junior: me, but this kid from pyongyang is pretty good.
rango: that’s impossible, there is no starcraft in pyongyang. they’re living on shoe leather.
junior: the internet doesn’t lie, dad. and thanks for the support. what’s next, who’s your daddy online?
rango: it’s me, i am your father (menacing but fail). dude, it’s like The Hunger Games there, but you’d give up your best friend for a Birkenstock. having said that, rich hippies may fare well there. also emos. you should be good despite your horrendous lack of skills and less-than-amazing cache of mojo.
junior: cool story, bro.
rango: you know there’s an election tomorrow, right?
junior: that’s hilarious…(pew pew pew)
rango: …(knocks on desk next to mouse hand)
junior: (glances at rango’s hand by mouse, acknowledges threat) why bother, you’re already pope. besides, you told me plagus had that in the bag, that it was all just a facade for the sheeple. you even called it the “Facade for the Sheeple(TM)” and had him trademark it.
plagus: “job’s finished.”
junior: damn that’s retro. i liked your song though, dad. cool “Election Theme Song”. i’m sure that will be very popular. how’s your reverb score? let me guess, the same, right? (cracks up)
rango: i suppose you think that’s funny.
junior: it was very chuck mangione (in faux italian)
rango: you don’t say it like that.
junior: ba-ha-ha-ha…cool story, bro. (pew pew pew)
rango: no, srsly.
junior: o, rly?
rango: who’s going to win?
junior: obama.
rango: why?
junior: because he’s asian and asians are cooler than you.
rango: o, rly?
junior: no, srsly.
rango: ok, what if they were super-heroes?
junior: obama.
rango: perhaps i’ve biased you.
junior: obama.
rango: (puts finger on computer power button and holds it for 3 seconds, one second short of a hard reboot and total shame for generations against people that kill for Birkenstocks by day whilst selling options on their cousin’s kidney’s through a black-market derivatives exchange by night)
junior: yes, father? (perfect angel, full attention)
rango: if the election were a super-hero battle, who would win? the cool black guy who looks like Rhodey from Iron Man, and who one day will in fact be Iron Man, or the smarmy, arrogant rich white guy who looks like every politician/villain from every science fiction movie ever, who looks like he has a personal beautician and a monthly budget for hair gel that exceeds your entire lifetime income, and who hates you?
junior: obama.
rango: cool story, bro.
junior: (pew pew pew!) [stops, breaks character, Skyping now, ignoring rango] what, what? what’s the problem? you promised, dude. Pedro had it in the bag! all the write-ins. i gave you that code from plagus are you telling me it didn’t work? (stands up, points at headset like a disrespectful smartass, then starts shoving rango out of the room, nodding his head “no”.)…what are you, Ron Paul now? that’s never going to work, his brother is type O-Negative, you didn’t get the message? it was on fans of derivatives facebook, dude, pretty sure it made CNN [slams door]. [muffled]you need a better botnet dude, let me hook you up.
rango: cool story, bro \m/

. you know what they say, measure twice, cut once.
guys, ladies, musicians – the revolution will be somewhat televised. in fact it’s already on, and you can interact with it here. please join me at Dean Thomas Barnett’s channel featuring Sony recording artists, or create your own. but just get on it, ok? and tell him Rango sent you? it’s actually important \m/. pretty sure Sam Rahimi and Dianne Murray and John Summers agree 😀
you all stay safe from that monster storm. i’d like this story to play out with a few tragic Facebook brown-outs and some interesting stories about canned food, nothing more. you know the drill, i’m not going to act like your dad. maybe add cash and a shotgun to the list, and something to toss at the zombies.
here’s to peace, hugs, soup and canned fruit. i was without power once in Seattle for 10 days and we spent so much time snuggled up under the blankets with my ex, i actually thought it would save our marriage. but you see there are monsters, and then there are monsters. the big ones are scary, but the tiny ones are the worst.
heal your heart, and watch for trolls. they tend to troll about during the worst of storms, those opportunistic bastards. if they demand toll, just blast them. you know you have blasters, right? they’re your words. try them, they’re awesome. watch:
pew pew pew
-rango
1/2 through the photos but 100% out of steam. 10:30 DING DING DING more lame than rock star but the bloop bloop starts hours before the sun comes up and i love you people, but i’m a tired dogg. r.dogg, actually, hat’s off to super-mom Amy Trout for the moniker, that’s the media arm of my business and 2nd order of priority tomorrow once these pictures are printed and delivered. my number one ass
i am rango the dog \m/.
[stamp: r.dogg, esquire ]
PLAGUS: that’s not your name, and you’re not an esquire.
MONA: what’s an esquire?
RANGO: i have no idea, i thought it was an e-squire. i just want a squire, you know a little help around here with the dishes and facebook and shit? somebody to, you know, sheath the sword now and then? and help getting into/out of my body armor? it’s not easy being green. wait, perhaps Morbid North could help here. yo morbid:
MORBID: what the f*
MONA: BEEEEEEEEEP
RANGO: SINCE WHEN DO WE CENSOR YOU GOD DA***
MONA: BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
RANGO: (does buddha) (-.-)
FRANKLIN: ??
RANGO: i’m done \m/
MORBID: ??
\m/ (-.-) \m/
…alright guys, here’s the scoop. i need some social love in this vote over at Museboat radio. just go provide your email address in the box, my name, and in the comments section either call out Franklin or request a song for next week should i still be in the running. it’s a little thing, just take you a minute:
cheers,
<rango>
http://museboat.wix.com/multimedia#!__chart-votes
here’s the tune has it was presented today:
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/11011538
the contravoice: it’s the other voice inside your head, the one that’s always popping off. it’s your mom, the demon on your shoulder, your dad, the angel from the painting. it’s rational when you’re irrational, it provides the suspension of your disbelief. it’s your intuition, your pessimist, your godhead or your serpent. it’s the contra voice and we all have it. sometimes it’s right and sometimes it’s wrong, and learning when to listen to it is a fine art, it’s called wisdom. so difficult it takes a lifetime to master it. that’s why they call them the golden years, if you make it that long you’re doing pretty good at surfing life.
now imagine if you’re bipolar. the contravoice shifts in polarity in direct opposition to your mood swings. yesterday your contravoice encouraged you, and told you to keep the faith. you look fine, you’ll be ok, these things tend to work themselves out. maybe you remembered something from bible school or a pat on the back, a child or a lover. perfectly reasonable, dig deep and find the love. and it was enough, just like yesterday, of course it was fine, why wouldn’t it be? don’t worry, keep going .
enter the contravoice. today it presents convincing arguments that you’re poisonous, just point blank and laid out in cogent bullet points before a full-on in-memory slideshow of meteoric failures. the better the memory, the better the slideshow. pitty the genius. that’s why bipolars are 10x as likely as the rest of the population to commit suicide. and it throws in a little shame if you weren’t convinced. you’re smart enough to know it’s just Doubt coming up out of the well, so you rationalize, because you have to keep going, right?. everything’s fine, your family, your friends, your church, they’ll save you. but your contravoice is smarter than you. of course it is, and you have to concede to the logic and the arguments about the long term interests of all the vested individuals in your life because you’re still a decent person, just poisonous. so why are you here?
“manic depression is a frustrating mess” – jimi hendrix
so boom, there we go popping off again. what to do about the contravoice? when i cannot crush Doubt with my will i must revert to my established working parameters:
1) what would jimi hendrix do?
2) what about kindness?
solution: take the vaporizer over the .38, and play that funky music, white boy. some girl will love it. love is magic. gather some magic and make a beautiful story. pretty sure that’s what jimi would do.
\m/ (-.-) \m/