Wanna know about the music I make? Here’s the info:

A performer for more than 35 years, Chuck Parker has filled many musical roles: heavy metal guitarist, singer/songwriter, jazz sideman, open mic host, filk circle regular, session player, and World’s Okayest Bassist™.

Chuck has been a regular on the con circuit for more than a decade, and he’s played ballrooms, biergartens and backyards all over the country, both as a solo performer and as the bassist for wizard rock icons The Blibbering Humdingers. He plays slice of life, confessional geek tunes that are often kind of funny, and his lyrics have been called “sensitive”, “literate”, and “hard to sing…”

He is also a published poet, avid cyclist, spouse, father, and a herder of cats, both figuratively and literally.

Tunes:

• Bandcamp: Songs/Albums for sale/download
• Spotify
• Apple Music
• YouTube Artist Channel
• …and very likely on your other favorite streaming service!
• The Blibbering Humdingers, the wizard rock/nerdmusik band I’ve played bass with for most of the last ten years
• Stuff I Made – live recordings, other people’s records I’ve appeared on, rare stuff, writing, etc…

Gigs

• Chuck’s Gigs Page

Thanks for checking in, and if you like, stick around to read two decades’ worth of blog posts!

Another week mostly down. Work was work, headlines were headlines, and the back hurt. Also, My lovely spouse celebrated crossed a major, hard-earned milestone (and I am very, very proud), and I learned that a dear friend from my past is no longer with us, which is seriously a bummer. I spent some time with a few friends, I mowed some grass, but mostly? it rained.

it was a mixed bag, or would have been, had my elderly cat not woken me up on Thursday morning at 4:30 am by peeing on my head (she really hates the CPAP machine). I guess that experience does kind of shove it into the negative column overall.

It was what it was. I kind of just, well, existed, and dealt with things. All we can do. I honestly don’t have that much to share that I haven’t already. It was honestly, well, enough.

Well, except for the playlist my streaming service spit out this week. It sounded, end-to-end, like the perfect soundtrack to a low-to-mid budget 80s action film, most of which would be completely appropriate for an end-of-second-act montage. I dug it so much, I ended up making it into it’s own playlist to totally hit that mark, because why the heck not?:

1. “Crazy Nights” – Loudness
2. “Road of the Gypsy” – Adrenalin
3. “Waiting For The Big One” – Femme Fatale
4. “God Blessed Video” – Alcatrazz
5. “Carry On My Wayward Son” -Yngwie J. Malmsteen
6. “Fight” – No Vacancy
7. “It’s A Long Way To The Top” – Jake E. Lee
8. “Rock You Tonight” – C.J. Snare
9. “I Wish I Had A Girl Who Walked Like That” – Henry Lee Summer
10. “Sunset Strip” – Roger Waters
11. “Iron Eagle (Never Say Die)” – King Kobra
12. “So You Ran” – Orion The Hunter
13. “Swords and Tequila” – Riot

This morning I woke up in a cold sweat, with my pulse racing and an existential feeling of dread and anxiety. The clock radio alarm, went it went off, was playing “Hot Blooded” from Foreigner, which, I guess, was oddly appropriate. Seems I was having an anxiety-induced panic attack, and wasn’t immediately aware of why.

As I stood in the shower attempting to calm down, I started remembering fragmented images of what I was dreaming about before the exquisitely produced voice of Lou Gramm yanked me from my slumber:

Apparently I had been booked to play a musical set at a familiar place, a church I used to attend, which, of course, looked nothing like that place in real life, but you know how dreams are. Also on the bill were a bunch of my favorite people in my life, from all over; work, the con scene, friends I look forward to sharing a pint with, others I haven’t seen or spoken to in decades. Most of them aren’t performers in any sense of the word, but they were all on stage doing their sets. Weird stuff; interpretive dance, guided meditation, poetry readings, acrobatics, dramatic one-person monologues, martial arts form demonstrations, and yes, some music, but none of the musicians (I know a *lot* of musicians) were not doing music, and the non-performer types tended toward esoteric musical styles. I think Eurasian throat singing and didgeridoos were represented; it’s kind of vague.

As for me, I was basically set to do an hour or so of my usual acoustic singer-songwriter thing. The problem was, I had no idea when I was on the bill to perform, or even if I was performing that day, and the schedules I was able to get hold of were all out of sync with the time; the dates were wrong, the times didn’t make sense; and seemed like they were for entirely different events. On top of that, I also didn’t seem to have any kind of instrument on hand, and ended up slipping out to grab my gear, while also having to run my youngest child (who for some reason was a preschooler here) to another event across town that we were already a quarter-hour late for that involved mattresses, and was convinced that if I left, I’d miss my set and let everyone down.

My spouse was present at the event, but I wasn’t able to communicate with her for some reason. A dear friend from my musical community was supposedly the organizer (since she’s *always* the organizer IRL), but likewise, I was unable to get a straight answer from her as to when I was supposed to do my thing, but she, and others were inordinately happy I’d agreed to perform, and kept saying how much they were looking forward to it.

Also, every time I left the venue (which seemed to happen regularly, in spite of my feeling of dread about doing so), I always ended up in a different bathroom where I, for no discernible reason, always took a shower (because these dreams always involve nudity for some reason), and was always interrupted by strangers who needed to chat about something, leaving me unable to find my socks.

And finally, I was consistently worried that my set list (which I could swear got left with the gear I was worried about acquiring) had too many Beatles songs in it (I don’t typically do Beatles or Beatles-adjacent material)…

Seriously, the only thing that was missing from this weird subconscious mental conjuring was me being late for a final exam in a class I’d not attended all semester, or perhaps some kind of Freudian maternal weirdness.

Now, I’ve been under a *lot* of stress and anxiety due to occupational uncertainty, the political realities of the day, money, aging, and pharmaceutical weirdness. I often feel anxious, depressed, and unable to give proper attention to other people’s needs. This particularly lucid dream caught a lot of those feelings, and incorporated some mundane details that have cropped up recently in life…and ramped them up in ridiculously surreal circumstances.

I’m not sure what it all means, other than my subconscious trying to process and work through some stuff, but it kind of feels like I was saving all this up to deal with at once, and through the looking glass, so to speak.

Anyway, thanks for your attention to this personal exercise (or maybe I mean “exorcise”) of self-reflection and personal demons.

it’s not been a great week.

The return-to-office mandate is still unpleasant, loud, and demoralizing, with too few bathrooms, a broken ice machine, and barely functioning network services. It adds a good hour to my “working” time given the commute, traffic on the interstate, lines at the badge check at the gate, and “differently functional” PIV readers on the building doors. That hour does an excellent job of denying me time to dedicate to mental health management activities, so my depression and anxiety are a lot more acute than is normal.

I am aware that I am a creature of habit, and when my routines get disrupted, I get disrupted. I know that in time, the work location will become the new normal, and I’ll be better. However, it won’t do anything for the random bullshit spewing from Washington, and fatalistic gallows humor about the whole business in the break room can only go so far.

On top of all that, my middle-aged body decided to do me a solid after some weekend chores last Saturday, and I somehow messed up my back, leading to way-more-serious-than-usual pain and very unpleasant muscle spasms. Crying after work isn’t exactly atypical anymore, but it’s usually due to existential dread and not piercing pain as I try to drive the manual transmission home.

I’m supposed to ride the Cap2Cap this weekend, though fifty miles with the remnants of the conditions described in the previous paragraph is probably not a good idea right now. I’ll make a judgement call Friday evening, but I’m likely to delay my personal half-century a few weeks for my own good.

So yeah, that sucks. I’m kind of numb to everything (well, except the back pain) at the moment, with occasional saltiness thrown in. I paid off two really pretty big bills this week, freeing up quite a bit of money each month, and I can’t even get excited about it, and not just because the annual personal property tax bill came due this month and ate up the first month’s windfall, and I’ll be expecting a separate bill to cover the new ride in a little while. Long term? It’s a good deal, though right now it’s just one more turd for the sh*tpile.

So all that happened. Here’s a list of tunes. Loads and loads of blues-y hair metal:

1. “Neighbor” – Ugly Kid Joe
2. “Over My Head” – King’s X
3. “Black Cars” – Gino Vanelli
4. “Dirty Water” – Rock & Hyde
5. “Got No Shame” – Brother Cane
6. “Tweeter And The Monkey Man” – Headstones
7. “Wouldn’t You Like To Know Me” – Paul Stanley
8. “Bad Bad Boy” – Haywire
9. “Living In A Dream” – Arc Angels
10. “Don’t Call Us (We’ll Call You)” – Sugarloaf
11. “Run Runaway” – Slade
12. “High Road Easy” – Sass Jordan
13. “Lover” – Michael Stanley Band
14. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Outlaw” – Rose Tattoo
15. “New Age Girl” – Dead Eye Dick

Given the recent news in federal circles regarding potential benefit cuts in the latest budget, as well as the whole < gestures vaguely at everything > in my particular vocation since the end of January, it’s depressingly ironic that this week is recognized as Public Service Recognition Week.

Not that I’m really looking for recognition (I’d rather just sit there being quietly competent and getting the the job done without anyone really bothering me), though it is nice to be appreciated, even symbolically. Not that I feel particularly appreciated (beyond my immediate team, anyway) right now. None of us do.

Just wanted to get that out there is all.

That said, it seems I was recognized today, by being assigned a new project that’s come down from the head office that my boss described as “HOT HOT HOT” that I’ve now got to deal with. As the proverb goes, “the reward for good work is more work,” so I guess through some twisted logic, that’s recognition.

After more than five years of remote work, today I returned to the commuting office life. It was…fine. In the most general of terms, it’s not really *that* much of an inconvenience, though to be honest, it’s kind of a bummer, just because. I likely could have waited until Monday to come in, though I figured that coming in on a Friday, which is generally a pretty quiet day, to make sure my desk had all the stuff it needed, it wasn’t falling down, and ensure that the cube wasn’t full of bedbugs or rodents or whatever…

All told, the workspace was in reasonably good shape (as I learned, someone had been squatting in it, so it at least had the essentials, like a monitor/docking station), and while I still have an open ticket to get the eVOIP phone to register my number, I did get the software-based phone working (not that we don’t use Teams most of the time anyway).

The one thing I didn’t expect was how loud the place was going to be. While most folks haven’t actually come back to the office yet (that’ll happen over the next month or so), those that here truly don’t understand the concept of “inside voice,” and it’s really damned hard to concentrate. I suppose, however, that I’ll have to adapt. Until then, there’s noise-cancelling headphones.

At least the week’s over. The weekend is largely full of chores. As I have to spend most of the afternoon at home anyway waiting for the dishwasher repair guy, I figure I’ll mow the grass and clean my car inside and out, since my lovely spouse has a fancy new one to splash caramel iced coffee around in. That, when combined with dog, isn’t exactly the olfactory bouquet I’d prefer. I suspect we’ll get out to see Thunderbolts* at some point, because that’s what we do; otherwise, I just want some quiet after the office day.

Here are some tunes; metal, new wave, and a little bit of 80s pop. I’ll take it:

1. “Higher Ground” – RHCP
2. “Helter Skelter (live)” – U2
3. “Never Say Die” – Black Sabbath
4. “Used To Love Her” – Guns N’ Roses
5. “Money Changes Everything” – Cyndi Lauper
6. “Goody Two Shoes” – Adam Ant
7. “Round and Round” – Ratt
8. “Cold Hard Bitch” – Jet
9. “Boys Are Back In Town” – Busboys
10. “Running Free” – Iron Maiden
11. “Louie Louie” – Motörhead
12. “Bad Luck” – Social Distortion
13. “Cuts Like a Knife” – Bryan Adams

It’s coming folks.

77 million voters fucked around; now they’re going to find out. While the rumors of the Port of Seattle being completely empty this week were perhaps somewhat overblown, shipments of products from China and other Asian countries to the United States are slowing down rapidly thanks to those tariffs, and pretty soon (i.e. the next two or three weeks) the shelves at your local big box will be bereft of cheap plastic crap, and the little that’s left is going to cost a hell of a lot more. It’s likely going to stay that way through at least the rest of the year.

And the folks at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. don’t care, because it’s not going to affect them at all.  Here’s the actual quote from TFG during yesterday’s Cabinet meeting:

“Well, maybe the children will have two dolls instead of 30 dolls, you know? And maybe the two dolls will cost a couple of bucks more.”

That’s your “War on Christmas” right there.

Y’all asked for this; more than half of you, by voting for That Man, or not voting at all, brought this on. And whether it’s the OTR trucker getting laid off* (and people in that industry voted for the current administration by about 73%) and who is now also now mandated to speak English, or the billionaire TechBros who donated millions to the campaign, and are now finding their costs skyrocketing and are taking digs at the administration by line item to online shopping carts displaying the extra costs attributed of the policy. I keep getting update emails on the couple of Kickstarter projects I backed over the last six months or so referencing the impact on potential shipping and pricing changes (the tariffs are hitting the tabletop games industry particularly hard, especially so because of the thin profit margins and the wealth of small-business publishers), and the news is universally bad for business.

Personally, I’m very glad the car we took delivery of yesterday got in under the wire; it was assembled at Toyota’s Kentucky plant, though the vast majority of the parts were sourced from Japan, Mexico, and Canada.

Although so much of this administration’s efforts in the first 100 days has impacted me very personally (see so many of my previous posts regarding my status as a civil servant), I feel a certain frustration with talking about it (which, clearly, I’ve not let it stop me), because it hits on the whole “empathy” discussion that crops up in political coverage (and is particularly trendy academic circles right now); and I really struggle with the fact that this does affect me personally, by bitching about my personal difficulties with all this might make me appear that I lack empathy, given that it’s the general pattern that those of a conservative mindset only change ingrained opinions when things affect them personally, and that’s only after a bunch of prevaricating about whether things are tolerable based on how it hurts those they’ve decided are “the other.”

It’s all so “zero sum” for so many people, particularly That Guy in charge right now; there’s always got to be a winner and a loser; none of this “a rising tide lifts all boats” business; the idea that something can be good for all of us; that there’s no “loser” in a situation, is anathema to their thinking; Like LBJ said during his tenure during the time of the Civil Rights Act:

If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best colored man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he’ll empty his pockets for you.

Convince someone they’re “gonna win so much, you may even get tired of winning,” in other words, and  they’ll accept the lash willingly as long as that guy they don’t like gets one more stroke. As Twain may have said, “History does not repeat itself, but it often rhymes.”

This is truly, in many ways, the worst timeline.

______________________

*- And that’s not even considering entrepreneurial amphetamine dealers or the “lot lizards” loitering outside Buc-ees offering their services to the trucking community…

…and that’s another one in the books.  This year’s Ravencon ended up being a good experience, largely due to the presence of some very good friends I don’t see often enough and a reasonably relaxed vibe when I wasn’t rushing to sit panels, play shows, running equally-busy offspring to off-site commitments, or working around inconveniently broken elevators.

After a really long day Friday, involving my mundane day job after being out for a later-than-usual-for-me Thursday dinner out with friends who arrived a day early, four back-to-back panel commitments all evening, and a late-night music circle where any sort of skill or competence ran off and hid (likely in the dank underground tunnels connecting the conference center buildings), Saturday went much better; especially the oddly timed morning show where at least I had a captive audience in the hotel restaurant finishing their hangover-cures at the breakfast buffet. I actually kind of nailed it, I guess, after getting every mistake out of my system the night before.  Similarly, my more subdued, unamplified set in the art show room later in the day seemed to contribute the atmosphere they were trying to create; no definitive plan, some less-common quieter songs, and some gentle finger-picking instrumental improvisation hit the desired mark.

I also got the chance to just sit, watch things go by, and catch up with lots of people I really like, which is it’s own special kind of thing, and I really appreciated it. It provided some very necessary mental refreshment, even if the physical sphere took a serious hit and made Monday morning a little more challenging than usual.

That said, I did get to sit down for an hour Sunday evening before retiring with a friend’s book and a glass of my homebrewed English Brown Ale that came out quite nicely, if I do say so myself.

As for the week ahead, I really need to start getting serious about conditioning if I’m going to pull off the Cap2Cap next weekend.  As it is, fifty miles is going to be more of a struggle than it normally is at this point in the year, but I’ll get it done, even if it takes me a bit longer than usual, given, well, everything else going on, because convincing myself I’m in above-average condition for my age and *not* falling apart is oddly important for me.

Also, because of this garbage and my organization finally getting everything sorted after the expected disorganization surrounding implementing these things without warning, I get to start working from the office again later this week, and as of Monday, am still waiting for confirmation of where my desk will be (since they’re in the process or organizing the knocking down the building I used to work in).  I am not really looking forward to this, in large part because my team is scattered around the country, and I’ll be driving fifteen miles on the interstate to sit on the phone all day instead of walking to the other end of the house to sit on the phone all day.  Joy.

Once again, it’s time for Ravencon this weekend, April 25 through 27, and once again, I’ll be doing my thing at my “hometown” convention! It’s always a good time, with good friends, great creativity (including music, writing, cosplay, film, art, and anything else you can imagine!), and tons of fun! I’m playing a couple of shows and doing a bunch of panels, and here’s when they are, using the snazzy “come find me” template the con provided:

There will be hundreds of hours of programming throughout the weekend, all of it described here in the program book! If you’re anywhere near RVA this weekend, you should seriously consider coming out!

As the title of this post suggests, we’re smack in the middle of that stretch of springtime with a total dearth of federal holidays; this year with 96 days between Washington’s Birthday (observed) and Memorial Day. In public service, one can usually count on a long weekend or some such break every six weeks or so, but not so at this point in the year. It’s always kind of a drag on the psyche in the best of years, and as we’re all aware, this year is pretty much the exact opposite of that.

I’ve also not taken much personal leave these last few months, given the current uncertainties, as a strategic measure, given the fact that should my current employ not be continued due to whatever, annual leave would pay out in a lump sum, which would end up being a not-insignificant amount after tax; two or three paychecks, which could make a hell of a difference under those circumstances.

So, it’s been a slog, and there aren’t enough hours in a weekend to allow for regular decompression, especially right now.

Even so, his weekend was actually pretty decent. I got a bunch of things accomplished – groceries, grass mowing, wrapping up at least one of those automotive tasks I alluded to previously. I also spent an enjoyable evening on Saturday with friends at a quite exciting Richmond Kickers match, got a few more episodes of Ted Lasso in, took a nice long bike ride and found my endurance hasn’t regressed as much as I’d expected, and had great fun in my not-quite-monthly old-folks Dungeons and Dragons game, this time involving giant fireballs and very high deception and performance roles in support of convincing cultists we were feudal OSHA inspectors.

It was also blessedly free of doom-scrolling the headlines and social media, which I’ve been trying to limit any consumption of anyway, and occasionally succeeding.  Of course, I woke up to more shenanigans and the Pentagon and The Pope talking to JD Vance then promptly setting off to his heavenly reward.

I feel ya, Frank.

That said, productive as it was, it still dodn’t quite provide tge respite required. So, here’s to hoping for a non-eventful work week for all within viewing distance of this wall-o-text; especially me, as I’ll be busy this coming weekend doing my alleged rock star thing at Ravencon (more on that later this week), and I need the rest.

There’s everything and nothing going on all at the same time, and I can’t find motivation or focus for more than two or three hours at a time. Sure, I’ve kind of hit the “acceptance” stage of the whole current American experience and it’s constant threats to my livelihood, but the constant load is a lot.  I’m tired. We all are.

For the folks in charge, of course, that was exactly what they wanted to do. Russell Vought, the current head of OMB, Heritage Foundation guy and Project 2025 architect, has never even been shy about it:

“We want the bureaucrats to be traumatically affected,” he said. “When they wake up in the morning, we want them to not want to go to work because they are increasingly viewed as the villains. We want their funding to be shut down so that the EPA can’t do all of the rules against our energy industry because they have no bandwidth financially to do so.

“We want to put them in trauma.”

And we are.

The shame is, I really like the work I’m doing, and if people in power were really interested in efficiency, the stuff my team is putting together is the exact definition of it – providing visibility, accountability, and putting the focus on the actual problems and doing away with all kinds of time-wasting, bureaucratic bullshit that eats up people’s day instead of the actual work to be done. It’s really neat stuff, and my whole team’s proud of it.

Here I am, doing some of the most meaningful work of my career, and I just can’t get excited about it because of the constant threat that someone is going to yank it out from under me any day now, even if the senior management of my organization keeps telling us how important and essential we are, even if that message is entirely different from what’s coming down Interstate 395 out of Arlington, which constantly tells us we’re all disposable.

It’s a never-ending spiral of crap, but the realities of my place in the career path and what I need in order to maintain the lifestyle to which my family and I are accustomed, it makes the most objective sense to keep doing the thing until they tell me I can’t do the thing anymore (not that the folks I work with who are in different places who intended to take the latest DeRP 2.0 offer, were allowed to take it, because, apparently, for the moment, we’re all considered “mission essential,” at least until the next edict to come down when they decide we aren’t.).

It’s even more of an emotional struggle because as much as I’m carrying here, so many others have it so much worse, so on top of feeling awful and stressed all the time, I feel guilty about my feelings because what I’m dealing with isn’t quite as bad as what some others are dealing with.

So, feeling terribly disengaged from the work because I’m being both told that I’m essential and the villain to be purged simultaneously. Feeling bad about that because I know what it feels like to care about the work and it’s importance. Also feeling guilty for feeling that way because why should I complain when somebody in another agency or disappeared into some Central American dungeon would love to be in the situation I find myself in.

Anyway, sorry for repeating myself week to week.

I’ll save you the impact of my elaboration on non-existential crisis things involving lingering medical stuff, the lack of communication on several automobile-related business transactions in process, the simultaneous relief and feelings of rejection that come with Schroedinger’s response to the application for a musical gig I’m not sure I should take this year anyway, the never-ending cycle of dishwasher repair, and my feeling guilty about wallowing in my own crap that I’m probably not being as supportive as I should be as my lovely spouse steps into some exciting-but-also-scary life changes of her own.

Or maybe I won’t. At least it’s only one paragraph.

This post is brought to you by the following playlist, which feels like a pretty decent hour on a pleasantly-eclectic classic rock station:

1. “Even The Losers”- Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
2. “L.A. Woman” – Billy Idol
3. “Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” – Spin Doctors
4. “Can’t Get Enough” – Bad Company
5. “Freeze-Frame” – J. Geils Band
6. “Under My Wheels” – Alice Cooper
7. “Pearl Necklace” – ZZ Top
8. “Angela” – Mötley Crüe
9. “Middle of the Road” – Pretenders
10. “Turn Up The Radio” – Autograph
11. “Anytime” –  Journey
12. “Take Me Away” – Blue Oyster Cult
13. “Dream Police” – Cheap Trick