About Me
I never know exactly how to handle those “so, tell me a little about yourself†moments in life. If you know me, then you know that I have little reservation talking “about†myself, and if you don’t know me yet, you’ll soon see. I’m an attention whore, I suppose; or, at the very least, I enjoy being in the limelight. Almost needless to say, I’m a nobody so the lime in the light has been rather anorexic to say the very least. Or, I suppose one could say that the light of my lime has been monumentally dim. All the same, I prefer to either be the eye of the storm or an unassuming bystander who blends into the crowd. It totally depends on my mood.
I am currently “trapped†in Northern Virginia. I won’t say that I hate the place, but I am far from being “in love†with the area. Sure, it’s picturesque, not too terribly cold in the winters … ah, bullshit … it’s a fucking cesspool of humanity only outdone by New Jersey, Arkansas, Oklahoma and New Hampshire when it comes utter uselessness. The winters are typically somewhat tame, but when there’s precipitation it’s usually in the form of ice. If you own a sports car, then park the motherfucker in the garage for the winter (knowing that you’ll have a fair share of “Indian summer†days where it can peak out to enjoy some asphalt). The summers are unbearably hot and humid … not entirely unlike central Florida or the jungles of Vietnam. The people here range from severely brain-damaged inbreds to intolerable yuppies who are full of themselves and their possessions and appearances. Then there are the good folks … I have to admit that there are plenty of them to be found; both indigenous and imported alike.
Myself, I am a Magyar/Comanche "hybrid" who spent his childhood moving back and forth between the L.A. area and Denver (amongst other places, but that’s where the vast majority of my childhood took place).
I am an asshole, albeit a lovable one. Of course, I'm a guy, so it is a god given right to be an asshole, but within certain boundaries, of course. I have a long fuse, just don't light it. I like to think of myself as an environmentalist, but I hate Green Peace.
I love bizarrely eclectic music, I swear to god I do. Here lately, my main daytime playlist is chock full of beautiful little lunatic devils such as Trey Gunn, Mike Keneally (man, I absolutely LOVE "Dancing" and "Wooden Smoke"), Devin Townsend, Steve Vai, Adrian Legg, Jack Irons, Ganga Giri, Annie Lennox (okay, she's not so eclectic, but I do hope my obsession with her voice is not entirely too unhealthy) ... and, of course, far too many others to list. In fact, this list might be boringly long enough already ...
I'm a perpetually recovering prodigal as well as a multi-instrumentalist. I believe in God with all of my heart, but as a rule I tend to totally despise religious people and organizations. But I fear I have begun to digress. There are dozens of instruments in my studio and I love them all too (not as much as God, but that's another little diatribe for another time; I do, however, believe that music is, in itself, profoundly connected to eternity). Unlike religious people, I tend to really like musicians ... except for the ones that are bigger assholes than myself. But, back to the instruments … I suppose it's a matter of opinion whether or not I play *any* of them worth a damn. My primary love is the guitar and bass; the former I've been playing for about 30 years and latter far fewer than that.
I suppose the more puritanical would consider me a "backslider", but then we get lost in a whole theological mire of interpretation and attempting to dictate what it is that The Divine really meant to say to us. I do not care to go there; at least not in this particular forum.
Anyhow ... to cop a phrase from the eternally toasty Joe Walsh, "I'm just an ordinary, average guy." I am a man of many talents and I suppose a master of none. I view myself as an extremely laid-back guy. I guess the fact that friends from 15 or 20 years ago gave me the nickname "Dude" should probably to that on some level. :o) (for you Lebowski fans out there, sorry, but it's not a cheesy rip-off of the character played by Jeff Bridges. In fact, after the release of said movie the "The" part of my nickname was willingly discarded for that very reason. Gotta admit, though, Bridges was AWESOME in that role! Am I wrong??? :o) When that movie first came out one of my best friends, Harry B. Avery (r.i.p.), told me that I *had* to go see it. His comment was, "Dude, the Coen brothers stole your persona!")
Now ... this is not to imply that I am a fantastically lazy man, which in some regards I may be. Despite being laid back, I'm a moderately intense person who gets captivated and passionate about things that grab my attention. I built and tend to a modest sized koi pond (about 20 koi and then a smattering of a couple other species) surrounded by a 5,000 square foot tropical garden. I work a full time job helping run a small portfolio management firm in northern Virginia and I am also a musician, a retired systems programmer, a woodworker, author (satire, social commentary, published sports writer, and hopefully soon to be published novelist), amateur photographer and an aspiring pool god. I know I'm forgetting plenty of other interests, hobbies and obsessions at the moment, but the point being ... I almost never experience an idle moment! :o) Even my sleep is interrupted with dreams with new ideas or fixes to something that I'm perplexed with in the waking world.
Speaking of different worlds, I'm a ardent believer in lucid dreaming. I refuse to delve into the myriad arguments as to the significance (or insignificance, if you will) of dreams (and believe you me, Freud would have scratched his head in utter disbelief had he seen some of the ones that I have!, "Vell, Mr. Dude ... mein professional opinion iz zat you are vun very sick fuck!" )
Since I'm already digressing like a mad man, let me just add that I don't get the "D" in OCD! At least not in my case. Yes, I am obsessive, and, yes, I am compulsive. I just don't see the disorder! Every one of my obsessions -- so far as I can tell -- has lead to something productive, beautiful or personally fulfilling. So, like I said, I don't get the "D" part.
I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. I do not believe in bullshitting around a point and I appreciate people who do not sugar-coat stuff and deny their own denial. I detest drama and can get outrageously intolerant of inter-personal, self-induced chaos. Too many facets of my soul have been scarred by other people's drama and personal demons (granted, some of those facets tend to be in the murky backwaters of my soul, but all the same ...) This dude is (god willing) going to grow to be an old, mellow, HAPPY dude!
Oh, and the "buckwezr" thing ... a remnant from the past. "Wheezer" was a nickname given me by a dear friend and our sound man, Ricky (he's down there in the Friends list below). When I got to laughing too hard, during the allergy seasons especially, I'd often get to wheezing a bit. “Reeeeeky†thought, for some bizarre reason, that this was humorous, or at least more than mildly entertaining to himself. In fact, he seemed to take great pleasure in causing me all manner of asthma attacks and intense pain otherwise (ever see those old-school "faith healers" that would push people in the forehead? Yeah, well Ricky -- not a small man by any measure -- would often come up and in one fell swoop grab my nose [which is also big] and proceed to nail me square in the forehead with base of his hand. I swear to god, my brow now protrudes out even further than my ancestral Comanche heritage would otherwise cause one to expect.
Anyhow ... there we were, listening to a tape of some comedy troupe on the tour bus one day. Along comes this part of the skit whereupon the listener is introduced to a character that went by the moniker of "Buck Wheezer." When that came over the speakers the guys looked back, laughed, and thus was born a nickname I've never been able to fully shake.
Oh, and if you haven't noticed, I have a tendency to ramble. I was out having a beer with my dad -- eons ago -- and I made the “profound†self-assessment, "Ya know, Pop ... I tend to be a little overly verbose and a touch redundant at times, don't I?"
He failed miserably at hiding an incredulous, sarcastic look. After setting his pint down he added, "Ya think, son?" :o)
So much for the "short of it" ...
