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May
16, 2008
Howdy my
fine friends, picture this, if you
will:
One of your very favorite
folkslingers, me of course, leaves
his ol' guitar on the rainy sidewalk
and is guzzling peppermint tea in a
Tully's Coffee Shop. A third of my
body is lounging in a chair, the
remainder sprawled jellyfish-like
upon what is supposed to be a
community ottoman, shared by people
in four opposing chairs. I am
exhibiting the absolute worst
posture the human body is capable of
in my desire to take full ownership
of the ottoman. If there is a
chiropractor in the room, he is
salivating at the potential I
present.
I've never had occasion to think
about it before, but I really do not
care for community ottomans -
precisely because one cannot truly
and utterly experience full
relaxation mode while at the same
time being considerate about the
space others might require. So to
avoid that predicament, I've
exaggerated my sprawl, spreading out
unashamedly across the vast block of
furniture, and have claimed the
entire acreage as my own. If we were
to find out later that Tully's has
security cameras located about the
room, particularly above me, the
sight of my slack form might do one
of two things: 1.) cause you to
recoil in horror at the human
octopus, or 2.) win me a full
scholarship to Cirque du Soleil
University.
|
Walking under Seattle Skies |
People
flood into Tully's, as they tend to
on a rainy Seattle day. They tap the
rain off their umbrellas and look
around for a place to sit. Sit
anywhere you like podnas, I'm
thinkin'. But this ottoman is mine.
Limp as my body appears, I have a
grip on that block of furniture a
crowbar couldn't budge. Many who
enter wish to lay out books and
tablets in order to study. Others
seem to want to open up laptops such
as mine and write some stupid blog
of their own. I pretend not to see
them. I don't see the burly guy with
the turbulent gunny sack full of. .
. what? Monkeys? I absolutely refuse
to focus on the jittery woman with
two tousle-headed boys swingin'
little plastic baseball bats. She
glances at the cozy community
seating area where I am ensconced -
clearly considering whether I might
be her default babysitter while she
sips a cappuccino - but I foretell
this and snort so loudly that she
jumps and the little boys drop their
bats. That was a close one.
Languid though I may appear, I am in
rigid control of the situation. I do
have a slight problem though; I need
to pee. Really, really badly. At
some point in the span of time
between when one just sort of needs
to pee and when one must absolutely
pee or die, it becomes nearly
impossible for me to continue to
pose in such a casual way. I doomed
to impersonate ol' Faithful and my
posture is becoming less lax, taking
on more of a frenetic, hermit
crab-like appearance. I know if I
leave my ottoman unattended, it may
invite others to come over and share
the large, inviting surface. That's
unacceptable. I need it all. I must
have it to myself. I don't even know
why, it's not like I'm afraid to
brush up against other people. I
just flew to Texas in the middle
seat in a full airplane and was not
in the least troubled by the
forearms on either side of me.
(though I did grow weary of the
footsie-action, I'll admit) I'm not
one of those people who, when I
accidentally touch you as we brush
past in a store, feels that I must
wildly apologize for my
indiscretion. But for some reason,
this footrest is special to me and I
want it all for myself. If I could
sneak it out of here I'd take it
home in a minute.
Which gives me an idea. I'll take it
to the restroom with me! That's not
wierd, is it? I don't think so. I
search my memory, trying to recall
seeing fellers haul rockin' chairs
and piano stools into the urinal and
I believe I've seen it before. I'm
going to go for it. I chart my
course. Let's see, I have to squeeze
between two tables of people and
then down a little hallway. Without
making a big deal of it, I slither
off the surface and crouch down,
reach under and check the heft of
the ottoman. Whoa! It's heavier than
I had presumed. I'm going to have to
scoot it. It's probably going to
squeal against the floor, which
means that I must make a high
pitched sound to conceal the noise.
I lean back and make a big show of
stretching, letting rip a big Howard
Dean holler as I do. "Yeee-heeee!
Aheeeyaaa!" I grin famously. (I'm
not even sure what that means) I've
set the tone for my task. The room
is aware that there is a squealer in
their midst, so now I must work that
in my favor as I push and pull and
manhandle the ottoman into the
bathroom. But if someone tries to
stop me, what will be my excuse?
 I
decide the best answer is the most
obvious one: I'll pretend to be a
Repair Man from Sears. Is that
brilliant or what? What could be
more perfect? Shielding my
creativity from onlookers, I draw a
remarkably authentic-looking Sears
name tag on my shirt pocket flap.
That is impressive, podnas! I stand
so all can see I'm there in my
official capacity as a Sears rep,
and then I bend at the waist to lift
one side. I scoff at those "doctors"
who say "use your legs to lift".
What a joke. Cave men did it the old
way and so do I. I reach under the
big leather block and heave with all
my might. I don't know what all
those cracking and popping sounds
are, but they sure seem close behind
me. That rush in my ears is a trip!
What the heck caused that? Anyway,
I'm standing now, woozey, swaying,
but pleased overall that I've
managed to get the big block up on
it's side. Now I can scoot it. I
throw my hip into it and grunt with
every bit of brute strength in my
body. It moves maybe an inch. I have
renewed respect for the slaves who
built the pyramids. I'd forgotten
all about 'em until now. I take a
moment to give thanks for what they
did and then I put my shoulder to
the ottoman and roar from the core
of my being. "Heee-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The ottoman actually moves! Only a
few inches, but it's a hopeful sign.
Let me tell you podnas, scooting a
200-pound ottoman to the urinal with
you is a feat that should be
immortalized in the Guiness Book o'
Records. Or at least on America's
Got Talent! I'm tellin' you, I stood
there so proud. And relieved, o'
course. But I was surprisingly too
tired to lug it back, so I just left
'er right there on the tile floor in
the men's bathroom. I gave one last
lunge and scootched it over in front
of one of the stalls. The guy with
the bag o' monkeys was in there and
I thought it might be fun for him to
have to figure an alternate way out.
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| My
lovely girlfriend, Patricia, was
recently creating a concert poster
for me for my upcoming Bainbridge
Island concert. She accidentally
misspelled my first name as Micahel
- which I railed about for hours in
a high pitched whine - but actually,
her mistake gave me an idea. I'm
nearing the finish of recording my
new CD and thought I'd try to raise
a bit of money with which to do
that. So this is the letter I sent
to all my friends. My friends are
stupid but they are compassionate. I
sure hope it works. The example was
to my stupidest friend, Rick Grant,
of Snoqualmie Washington.
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Dear Mister
Richards Grant,
Perhaps you have heard
of me. I am exiled
millionaire living this
time in South Africa.
Family fortune is being
safely and kindly held
in Nigerian bank and I
need YOUR trustful
expertise in
transferring to my legal
bank account. Was it be
possible for you to
allow me wire you 17
million U.S. Dallars
into your joyful banking
account this week? You
would be doing my royal
family huge favorite,
for which your super
goodness exactly must be
rewarded. You may even
spend much the money for
own private and personal
purpose, so long as
least one-half (1/2)
remainder is there when
I arrive your country in
three (3) years and
several (5) hours.
To prove to you person
that I am sincere,
please forward $1000 to
me at your early joyous
convenience. I surely
return to you a
cashier's bank cheque
for $1001 dollars. When
you see good prooveness
that receiving your
money back - plus big
interest - you'll then
sure know that I
honestly and
trustworthiness.
I sincerely hopeful that
I absolutely wire you
the 17-mil within the
day.
In greatest desire for
our mutual healthiness
benefit,
~Prince Micahel Tommalinsoon" |
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Thus far, I've received no checks,
but I'm really thinking this could
work. |
Well, I think that's probably been
plenty o' that kind o' nonsense,
don't you? I promise to be somewhat
serious for the rest of this
rambling. It's just what happens
when a man gets cooped up on the
studio for too long. I keep telling
you I'm very close to finishing the
new CD, and I really am, but there
are just lots of finishing details.
I care too much about this music to
force myself to finish just to meet
a time line. So I'll be working a
little ways into the summer in order
to finish everything.
I couldn't be happier with where
this music had evolved. I write
these songs and sing them by myself
for a long time. They take on an
orchestral arrangement in my head
and imagination and then once I get
to the studio it can be difficult to
turn them into something as great as
I've been dreaming. But I've trusted
in the process and have gradually
watched each song blossom into
something fuller and richer than I
thought possible.
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with my mom and Patricia |
The
thing that has made the most
difference in this recording process
is what has been going on inside me
these last three years. Through some
miracle beyond my dreams, I found
Patricia O'Driscoll, the woman I
will spend the rest of my life with.
I had long ago thought I'd never get
to say those words, but it happened.
We met in the process of creating a
benefit concert for the folks who
were hurt by Hurricane Katrina. We
thought we were giving something to
the people who so needed help at
that time, but really, we were being
given each other. I've always
written and sung my songs with great
love, but to record them as so much
love is blossoming inside me, and in
a time when my sweetheart and I are
learning such compassion together,
all of this kindness and gratitude
pours into the songs and they become
living things, like beautiful trees
taking root and reaching up into the
sky. I know you'll be able to hear
that in the music. When you are
allowed such a beautiful love, it
just wants to overflow into every
relationship you have.
I recently played a concert in
Denver and invited people to bring
someone whom they wish to make peace
with. Many did so and it gratified
me to think that folks would reach
out to someone they felt estranged
from and ask them to come and listen
to my music for an evening.
It occurred to me that that's what
my music is for - it is there for
inner healing and forgiveness. It is
there to bring comfort and trust and
a reminder that life is good and a
nudge toward remembering to be
grateful to be alive. In my concerts
coming up this year I am going to
continue this theme - Making peace
with yourself or someone you wish to
heal with. Whether you can come to
one of my concerts or not, I hope
you'll hold that thought and see if
you feel moved to make your own
peace. |
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 There
is a song that will be on my new CD
that I am so very happy with. When
my record comes out, Patricia and I
are going to do all we can to get
the song out all over the world.
I'll be asking for your help when we
do. I can't wait for you to hear it
because, as beautiful and powerful
as I feel the lyrics are, it's in
the wholeness of the full recording
that I feel the most beautiful
healing. When you hear the music,
the voices and instruments and
arrangement, I believe you will want
to listen over and over again. I've
posted the lyrics before, but have
changed a few of them in the
recording process. I'll finish out
this rambling by posting them here.
Thank you so much for visiting and
for your kindness toward me. Thank
you for listening and, as so many of
you do, for sharing my music with
those you love. Don't forget to take
some deep breaths and be kind to
yourself.
Your friend in rainy Seattle,
~Michael |
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Flag of
Human
Kindness
©2008
Michael
Tomlinson
From the
wild Alaska
sky
To the muddy
Rio Grande
To the
stormy
shores of
rocky Maine
There lies a
country
I was born
here in this
land
Under the
flag of hope
and freedom
Now it seems
such a faded
dream
Like a dream
that's lost
it's meaning
In the early
morning sun
There are
many men and
women
Waking up in
more ways
than one
To say where
are we
going?
Where are we
going?
There's a
time in
every life
There is an
age for
every nation
When her
patriots
must stand
aside
And say,
"first, we
are human"
Are we not
human?
And
in the
dawning
of this
hour
And in a
clear,
undoubting
voice
If we
can heal
this
ever
raging
noise
For our
human
race
I know
we must
Who will
mend
this
sacred
place?
It's
surely
us
We can
cast our
bitter blame
Or we can
just do what
is needed
Pray the
embers that
still remain
Become once
more a
beacon
It's not us
against the
world
No, it's
everyone or
no one
There is a
braver flag
to unfurl
It's called
the Flag of
Human
Kindness
Human
Kindess
And
in the
dawning
of this
hour
And in a
clear,
undoubting
voice
If we
can heal
this
ever
raging
noise
For our
human
race
I know
we must
Who will
mend
this
sacred
place?
It's
surely
us
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~How to be be a Sponsor of my new CD~
~How to be be a Sponsor of my new CD~
~How to be be a Sponsor of my new CD~
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I've spent over a year on my new recording
and I'm so very happy with it. It is truly
filled with some of the best songs I've ever
written and the production is beautiful and
rich and vibrant. Every week I feel that the
songs reach a new level of excellence. It's
such a dream to see this coming true and I'm
really excited to release this music into
the world.
In hopes of really promoting the CD widely,
in the US and Europe, I'm looking for
sponsors; companies or organizations or
individuals who would like to be a part of
releasing this music into the world. It's an
extremely expensive thing, creating a new
album. I've spent many thousands on it so
far and am nearing the finish. But there are
pressing and design costs and mostly,
promotion costs that lie ahead. If you are
interested in being a part of this project,
of having your name or company or
organization name associated with this
music, I'd love for you to get in touch.
There are a number of ways I believe the
association can serve everyone involved.
My plan is to do something much in line with
the way PBS promotes their sponsors:
tastefully and with respect and clarity. For
instance: This recording made possible by a
generous grant from the folks at Evergreen
Corporation.
- Each
sponsor will have included in the actual
CD packaging; mention and thanks by
name, along with logo and website URL.
- Major
sponsors will have an opportunity to
share a presence at my concerts. We can
talk about how this best serves you.
- On my
Official Website, I will create a page
of sponsors with descriptions and links
to your homepage.
- All
sponsors will be acknowledged in a
national e-mailing I will send out to
announce the release of my CD
I'M ALSO SEEKING
A SINGLE SPONSOR
TO SUPPORT A NATIONWIDE MAILING TO MY ENTIRE
MAILING LIST. I plan on
sending out a beautiful letter, not a
newsletter, an actual letter offering
something special for everyone on my mail
list. That one organization - if it is one
that is in alignment with my music and
goodwill - would benefit by being included
in the mailing and having nearly 9000 folks
know about what it is that they do and
offer.
- According
to your sponsorship amount, I will send
you a stack of the new CDs before they
are officially released to the public.
- All
sponsors and their guests will be
invited to a private performance I will
give in 2008.
There are
endless other ways we can be associated and
I'm open to talking about your thoughts on
this. If you are interested, please email me
and I'll get right back to you.
There are endless possibilities and I'm very
open to hearing about what you envision. If
you're interested in becoming a sponsor,
please email me at
mt@michaeltomlinson.com
My mailing address is
PO Box 15248 / Seattle, WA 98115-0248
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