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From an unsuccessful ad I placed a couple of years ago on a well-known dating site...  

Dr. Dale seeks Dr. Girlfriend

No, I’m not a real doctor.  I don’t even play one on TV

. 

I’m a man with a split soul.  On one side, I work in computers. Most importantly, I like to fix things; all things.  If you have a broken thingy – fixing it makes all the positive gears in me go ‘round. However, I have discovered that try as I might, I cannot fix people.  Therefore, if you are broken I cannot fix you. We shall move on.

The other side is creative.  I am a performer, play guitar, a little piano and sing.  I’ve been in music since I was a little kid. I like to write.  I write songs.  I’ve written a complete novel (memoir), which I’m actively trying to get published. I love photography, art, and travel. 

If I haven’t lost you yet: “So, what kind of things do you want in a relationship?” she said, and did not stay for an answer. 

What I ultimately desire is… well, everything:  Angel’s singing, mountains moving, making out in on a rainy street in Paris in the springtime.  I deserve that.  Don’t you?

In the meantime – what I’d like is to find someone to get to know.  Someone to hang with, go to movies, and share experiences.  Perhaps someone to travel with to destinations both inane and far-flung.  Someone to play “tourist” with and spend the day doing the Wisconsin Dells.  Someone to hike on the trails.  Someone to play board games and cheat at cards. 

Someone to stay in and watch a movie with buttery-soaked popcorn. 

What I am not looking for:

A friend.  It is an oft-used phrase here: “Friend’s first.” I am not on a dating site to find a friend.  I think that mostly means, “I’m not here for sex.”  I get that.  But to be brutally honest, my bar for friendships is considerably higher than finding a first date. I value my friendships much.  And principles such as trust and courage are earned over long periods of time, not on the internet.

A Sex toy. Yeah, I’ve already been to the circus, thanks. Though I am hoping at some point, if we become acquainted, and we really like each other, we could get to that. I seem to recall it was rather enjoyable, and I think I was fairly good at it.  Though that last part is purely conjecture.

Motorcycle Rider.  Sure, I love motorcycles. No, I don’t own one.  Maybe someday, I will.  Until then, please move on.

Drama.  I’ve managed to construct a fairly quiet life, with as little drama as possible.  I realize this is life, and all of us come with baggage, issues and problems.  Yet, I would appreciate that most of the dramatics are found in the books I am writing and not in my relationships. 

I know it is a lot to take in and take on.  But we are not kids anymore. Life is complicated, and so is love (or at least the pursuit of love).  But the risks could be so much worth the rewards.  I’ve made a pretty big step by putting this out there.  

If you are at all interested, why not take a step too?  It might be nothing, or it might be everything.  Or it might be something in between.  I hope to hear from you.

The absolute absurdity of it all. You could say this little “nugget” is truly my “Life in a nutshell”… The next time someone tells you there’s a plan to all this… “there’s a reason for everything…” tell them Dale say... BAH, HUMBUG!

Personally, I blame that verbose, oversold wanna-be “novelist” Nicolas Sparks for giving us ridiculous sentiment like this. Give them this little story, because maybe… just maybe, life is about as arbitrary as it gets….

On the way home today, as I’m leaving my usual parking spot in front of my work, I’m happily enjoying the prospect of doffing my Walmart brand necktie and thinking about making a nice chopped salad and seeing how that buffalo ranch and chicken might taste… along with a couple of cold, Cerveceria Modelo Mexico-s. (Trump wall or no wall).

As I round the corner from Iowa avenue to Vine Street, I hear this terrible screeching sound… like someone spinning their tires around a corner. I quickly stopped at the stop sign, and looked all around me, expecting some hot rod to flame out around me (well, it was near the High School, and one expects things like that occasionally). But, there was no one. No one in front, behind or on either side of me. I continue to make my right-hand turn….and that earsplitting screech came back.

I realized with horror the sound was coming from what sounded like under my hood. Immediately I thought the worst! My engine had just blown up! Um… no. There were no “imminent engine failure” lights (A “feature” of BMW’s I found. Apparently, rich folk like to know when they engines’ burn up…). I stopped, and everything seemed normal. Gas, had gas…. Flux Capacitator… um, fluxing.

I turned the wheel, and I heard the faint squeak, and I knew that it was 1. Me. And 2. Related to the wheels. Great! It’s probably some power steering belt. (Adding up the cost for a mini-Cooper Serpentine belt, minus the national debt, plus the square root of pi = ah, crap! I’m broke!) I decided the best course of action is to not stop the car, and continue driving as long as the car will move… and try to get home.

However, as I’m driving… I revise my self-diagnosis. It appears the problem must be related to the tires, or the breaks, as the squawking appears only when the car is in motion. It does get worse when turning corners. Ah-hah! I think, it is the breaks! It sounds like when your disc brakes are at the end of life, and give you that little warning “squeak.” But, this was no squeak. This was a definite squawk.. Possibly more like a squeal!

Calculating how much new front disc brakes on a mini will cost… I sadly think my last reserves of savings soon to be depleted. Possibly, I could find someone local to fix breaks. However, there were few, if any local mechanics that are willing to change the oil on my jalopy… how would the break thing go? (Replaying several scenes from the movie “Doc Hollywood.”)

As I pull into my usual parking spot in front of my apartment, I decide I will take a hard look at the front wheels. It seemed the sound was definitely coming from the driver side front… and was fully expecting to see smoke, or possibly calipers dangling from under the car.

Why the picture of the walnut? This is what I found lodged in the right, front disc break of the tire. Seems some squirrel decided this would be a great place to hide his prized walnut, while awaiting the winter solstice. The entire unearthly sound was caused by a walnut, lodged between the tire and the brake, and was rubbing against the disc as the tire was rotating.

After prying the nut with a long screwdriver, it was freed from its mechanical prison. Hoping no damage was done to the breaks, I took the car for a drive and observed no ill effects.

Problem solved. Deep breath! And I had a very, very long laugh.

A Pocket Full Of Lonesome.   The Pre-Extended Play (EP) CD of the Project:  The Whole Shebang! 

The CD consists of these song:

Intro-Motif

Bang on Those Things

Midlife Crisis

Could be Scary

I Need a Drink

Left her in La Valle

Put ‘er there

They Call me Lonesome…

Driving to Vegas. 

The first song is called “Intro-Motif” as I believe all epic journeys should have an introduction.  I would like to think of this project as just that, a journey.  A Motif is by dictionary definition:  (noun) A recurring subject, theme, idea, etc., especially in a literary, artistic, or musical work.

Here, the motif is a song called “My Checkered Past… having the time of my life.”  I imagine this song as two lovers, aged and sitting on the porch arguing about he having to go off…and leaving her alone… to do the thing that he loves;  In this case, of course, playing music.  However, you could assign this story to almost any good story. 

I think of the movie, Casablanca… where the battered and weary, cynical character of Rick (Bogart) in that moment when he finally gives away his heart… and go off to fight the evil Nazis, and leaves his one true love behind to the man that loves her (that she does not), so that he can finally do that thing that makes him a true citizen of the world. 

Well, the theme here is about someone that is world-weary… heartbroken in so many ways… still finds the will to fight on, in spite of his flaws, to be the person he was meant to be.  I love that sort of story, more than nearly any other…  

"come on home, she says…

You’re too old to play,

But I’m having the time of my life.

Life is a tragedy, Love is a fantasy,

But I’m having the time of my life.

The world’s growing colder,

And I’m getting older,

I have no other choice…. 

A time of my life… “

The song to be featured on the CD, The Whole Shebang, will include the entire song… which will be the longest of them all.  It will have the intro (from here)…  a short piano interlude, and then a really hard… and heavy guitar Jam…  Finally, the Latin-inspired finality of the song.  I think this will be my favorite of the project…  I finally get to create an entire musical movement.  At least, that’s my fervent hope!

The next six songs will be essentially the same on the final project.  There might be the entire “scary” intro included, which is a good two-minutes and forty-five seconds long… and frankly, it kinda really scared me.  Don’t listen to it in the dark and alone… it really will give you the creeps…  (Hint, it features the words: Radioactive sodium Isotopes from a scared radio announcer). 

This part: Pocketful of Lonesome represents some of the older songs in my catalog… written around the period of 2000-2013 (or earlier).  Most of these songs are well established, and edited over a long period of time.  Some have been through several alterations.  The Bang those things song, for example, was much different, and included a few naughty phone messages from lady friends… which had nothing to do with banging on drums. 

The song “Could be Scary” was a song I re-did from the age of a band called “Prophet” from the 1979-81 years of my life.  The words were written by Kenny Lange (then, the drummer for the band), and the music I wrote.  I always wanted to re-imagine the song and add my own touches to it, and decided to just go ahead and record it.  This one is my favorite, sonically, on the project.

I included the acoustic version of “I need a drink,” which was originally done on the Checkered Past release in 1998.  I changed around some of the words, and made the arrangement my own.  This one without the drums…  but, I did keep the funky bass lines… added a harmonica, and what I hoped sounded like a blues-dobro-ish slide guitar.  It is about drinking, after all. 

Left her in La Valle, is based on a true story.  There really is a town called La Valle, Wisconsin.  Quaint small town along a beautiful bicycle trail… and a nice little wayside called “The Trail Break”  which has (and I swear this is true), the best thin-style pizza on the planet. 

The song “Put ‘er There” is a re-do of a song I had written for a movie-project for Ka-tet films of Madison, WI.  The movie short was called “One Night Only.” The movie was written by my favorite bard, and good friend, Scott Rawson.  

I included the songs “They call me Lonesome…”  from  my other CD release done in 2003.  I re-mixed the song and decided to include it here.

Also the same for the last song… a musical called “Driving to Vegas.”  I wrote the song not long after some very good friends and I took a long road trip to Las Vegas for nothing more than fun and adventure. 

I included an intro to this song which is very special to me.  The intro will be separate on final project…as the song will be re-done too. 

The intro was recorded sometime in the winter of 1975, at a talent contest held at the Sauk City (Wisconsin) High School gymnasium.  I was 16 years old at the time.  I sang a song, solo, by Ringo Starr called “It don’t Come Easy.”  And another musician friend of mine’s mother (unknown to me at the time) recorded the whole show.  Many, many years later, I received a cassette tape in the mail right around Christmas.  No return address.  I played the tape, and the entire show, including the intro was caught on a crude, bad-sounding personal tape machine. 

I still have the tape… I cleaned up the audio as best I could, and decided to include it here.  The musician friend of mine that so thoughtfully sent me the present died of a heart attack before I got a chance to thank him. 

Newer Stuff:

The 2^nd half of the project will be newer songs… perhaps not as developed as the first ones.  It seems like these songs will be much darker and more cynical than the first batch.  I think this is due to my perception of the world becoming darker…and myself become older.  And less willing to change… 

There are a few exceptions, I hope.  One song I’m working on is actually about a sex toy.  Yes, I went there.  It’s called “The Little Red Rocket.” And I have a pretty catchy chorus already…  I have not noted it on the “planned project.”  But I like the concept and the music so much (very much rockin’) that I might have to include it.  I’m hoping I can employ a lady friend of mine to supply some much needed vocals on the chorus.

Same for a song I’ve been working for years..  at the request of a friend of mine.  She reminded me there are no good rock songs about “Debby”   So, I’ve been steadily working on a rockabilly-style song called “Lil’ Debby” (after the desert, of course). 

The song “Ipso Facto Recoil” started out as an instrumental… but I put a fairly Armageddon-like story behind it… and a happy guitar lick, immediately becomes a scary song.  It’s a story about a possible Presidential Candidate that decides he wants to end the world… 

Ipso Facto, stupid mutha-f***ers,

Push the button and the sky. Turns. Red.

Ispo Facto, call it Armageddon,  

Kiss your babys, you’ll be better off dead.

And also, I’m working on a song called “The 3^rd day of my sobriety.”  Which is about a man that decides he’s going to battle his addiction.  He makes it to six months before…  well, I’ll let you figure that out.  Dark, indeed.

(Being Single Sucks!)  


Okay.. so, no... I'm glad that you said a big NO to going out with me.. even if it was to a minor type date..(nice dinner and maybe a movie)  and I thank you for at least being honest.  And not like most of the women I've contacted here... that tell me we will meet up... and then make excuses at the last moment. 

Here's the thing.  I'm not really attracted to you, either.  I'm really looking for a "little people" kind of woman.  Someone under 4 foot and 11 inches tall...  sort of a circus-freak kind of girl.  And especially, if she's been involved in, like.. the adult film industry..  Yeah, that's what I'm looking for.  

And, sorry to say.. that is not you.  So, we are all good. 

I hope you find the guy you're looking for.. and meanwhile, we shall continue onward...  

The Greatest Lies:  2016 edition.

I’m from the Government.  I’m here to help.

We will work in a bipartisan manner. 

I did not have sex with that woman. 

I promise I’ll pull out.

We did not plagiarize that speech!  

Crappy T-shirts:

Oh, Lord. Help me… I have become the OLD MAN BACHELOR. I’ve recently noticed I very much enjoy my old, hole-ly, quickly-disintegrating “work out T-shirts.” I’ve discovered this while doing laundry. I have more crappy workout shirts than I do the requisite Polo and golf variety that more becomes my age. – Let’s face it, when you step lightly over 50-something, those Iron Maiden tour shirts that look brand new are a definite scream for intervention.Still, I’d like to think I’m still a step or two away from when they write my name in the collar, so that leaves little in choice of home-casual attire.

As long as I’m not wading out in public (Good heavens, like that would make any difference amongst the hoi polloi and Donald Trump supporters), I slip on my old Wisconsin T-shirt I once absconded from my then-GF, Melinda (Sorry Mel, it’s about all I have left to remember you by) and I feel great! There’s little left of the shirt, really… in fact, it sort of reads: W con n, now.

That shirt, my old 505 blue jeans, a turntable full of scratchy Glen Miller songs, a laptop full of words I’m assembling in some sort of order I’d like to someday call “A Novel,” and a glass of tart orange juice, picks me up on a cloudy, soupy rainy Saturday morning.