I’ve got too much

stuff. We all have. Even people in prison probably have too much crap in their cells. Less is more and more is a huge weight on one’s existence. The world is full of useless garbage. It doesn’t seem to be getting better. Just looking around this room I can see things that have been here for years that I don’t use, and probably won’t use. They are useless to me. Some of the stuff came with this house. Old furniture which, while some of it I am using, some of it should be burnt in the wood stove in winter. There are six guitars and two keyboards in this room for a start. One of the guitars is for all intents and purposes, broken. The others are useable I guess. I don’t know. I’m just waiting for midday for the Transfer Station to open so I can dump all the branches from the tree I cut down yesterday. I may have stuff in my house, but I’m getting rid of excess trees that I don’t like. I cut down two yesterday. They weren’t huge but they were big enough for me to want to make sure they fell in the right direction. The chainsaw wasn’t very sharp either. I was going to sharpen it before I tackled the second tree, but I just thought, fuck it, I’ll cut it down.

Sir farmer Paul and Lady Linda plus goat.

This is all too much like being a farmer for me. I feel like other rock musicians who decided to go and live on the land and then realized it was too much work. Paul McCartney springs to mind. Joe Walsh is another cat who bought a huge place in South Eastern Vermont. He spent ….

I’m going to have to continue this tomorrow. My fucking computer froze mid way through typing that last sentence, and I tried using another one and it too, slowed down to an unusable crawl. Some weird stuff is happening with my electronics here today. Maybe it’s the heat. To be continued…

Joe could have stored all the grain he wanted here.

All this fuckery is annoying. The computer stuff was weird. On Monday I lost a remote control for a new projector I had just bought. It appeared in a doorway eventually. There is a wifi camera on the roof of this building and it decided of it’s own accord to swivel around and face the post that it’s mounted on, and immediately went offline. Things seem ok today so far. Halloween is approaching, and odd things happen here. Maybe they’ve just started early? Yesterday I was in the middle of talking about Joe Walsh and the house he bought in Saxton’s River Vermont. Joe thought he’d try being a country dude but couldn’t take the winters there. Supposedly he wrote a song about it for his solo album, Life’s Been Good.  “Life’s Been Good”. “I have a mansion, forget the price.  I’ve never been there, they tell me it’s nice.”  

Do never buy an old house where it snows half of the year.

The story goes that the house was built in the early 1900’s by an executive of General Motors. It is said he committed suicide in one of the upstairs bedrooms. In a Rolling Stone interview in 2017 Joe said, ” I had always had this fantasy, basically, of “Oh man, I’m gonna get some land and I’m gonna get out in the country. I’m gonna live off the grid. I’m gonna hunt like Ted Nugent and chop my own wood.” So I found this farm in Vermont that had an 80-year old farmhouse, it had a lake, and almost a square mile, like 800 acres.

And I thought, “That’s it, that’s it.”  He went on to say, “Then I had to live it. And it was too hard. There was no time for music. I had to get up at five in the morning because there was so much to do. Chopping your own wood ain’t fun and the winters ain’t fun. Just to take care of the place is a full-time job, and I couldn’t find anybody to do that for me so I could just visit my cool place.”

Yeah, I know the feeling Joe.

Dazza’s music barn is not very far from where I am right now.