Wednesday, September 4, 2013

luckiest.

Every eight to nine months I think about the blog I started many moons ago, and I vow to update it.  Maybe this time I'll get back on the train.

Lately I've been making some changes in my life.  Changes in choices and lifestyle.  There have been many reasons for these changes, like reflection, revision and age.  I can't deny that I'm getting a touch older.  I can't deny that sometimes things hurt for unknown reasons.  I cannot deny my own mortality, as I have watched too many friends fall.  But I know I'm a lucky one.
I haven't wound up where I thought I would be back when I was eighteen.  I have watched many friends succeed where I wished I had, and I am happy for them.  I am also old enough where jealousy isn't a factor.  I know that we all have our own path, and that we cannot compare our paths to the paths of others.  I know that mine is the way it is for whatever reason it is, and I'm ok with that, I know I'm a lucky one.
I've loved and I've lost, and I've loved and I've won, and I know right now I'm the lucky one.

I wake up everyday.  I have a comfortable home that I share with an amazing person.  I have talents I can use.  I have options, I am the lucky one.

Although today my mind is moving a little slow, much like an old motor puttering to start, I will get this going.  Now is my time to start again, for I have always been the lucky one.



www.markmacminn.com


Sunday, February 24, 2013

Sunday breath.

And now is another time to write.  To share a little something about nothing on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  I am in love with this lazy Sunday afternoon.  I have absolutely no agenda.  I am not trying to get you to do anything.  I don't need you to listen to anything, look at anything, read anything.  I don't need you to give me anything or be anywhere with me.  I just need this.  This nothing.  This empty space.  This time where I don't need myself to do anything, be anywhere or complete anything for anybody else.  It's just me.  It's just Sunday.  The neighbor's children will play outside.  They aren't bothering me, I don't care.  Today I am not a grumpy old man.  You can sleep all day, I don't mind.  Take your time, feel better.  Take what you need, for today I need nothing from you.  Perhaps I'll join you.  A little dream nap couldn't hurt anything.  I am not tired though, not tired like that.

I am tired.  That is perhaps another reason that I love Sunday.  I can be tired.  Everyone accepts that today.

Take some time.  Take a breath.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

man, the things you think about

So, I was intending to get back into the swing of the blog.  I was shooting for one a week.  A month has gone by!  Goodness, slap my hand and call me Sally.  Then look at me goofy with a squinty eye.  After you do that, you'll likely be considered creepy, or drunk, depending.
Now, off to the races.

I got some happenings!  I have a few shows lined up.

First.

February 2nd
Jade Lounge
2343 SE Ankeny St.
Portland, OR

February 21st
Firehouse Lounge
605 Brazos St.
Austin, TX

March 3rd
Hotel Cafe
1623 NE Cahuenga Blvd
Los Angeles, CA

As you can see, these are a little all over the map.  Crazy?  Yes.  Mini-goal accomplished? Yes.
I do hope to see some smiling faces that I haven't seen for too long.  I will have more information on these in the future.  But for ever current information follow my music page on FB: https://www.facebook.com/macminn
or follow me on twitter: https://twitter.com/mmacminn

And yes, I also have a tumblr page, but I should probably leave that for a future post.  PS I put cool stuff on it.

Now, In honor of movement, I will close with a racy poem.

Row Your Boats

the eyes they dance, they play, they bounce
they travel where hands can't go
to field you on this filthy floor, in thoughts not had before
to quench a thirst from cotton squeezed as it puddles down your thigh
to teach a lesson taught before, and seek where vultures lie
torment the mind with teasing fragrance, and sniff through the unknown
unknown is known as wetness parts in lands that cross to sow
mount you when the counters steam and silence fills the air
press you through mistaken moments, banished now, beware
cross your hearts and hope to die when secrets have been seen
you kid yourself, you know you do
this life is but a dream