Yer Semi-Weekly Blarg (warning: steep deep end)

Yesterday. All my troubles seemed — to be taken out on stage by the happiness of my love for writing, revising, rehearsing, and executing musical compositions. With my friends. For a superb audience.

I am grateful for my band mates and friends and family and fans who joined us for my 23rd year of playing at the Capitol Hill People’s Fair. Too many people in my life have passed on and I remember them being there for me for so many years, so many shows, good and sometimes *not so good* and absurd, bizarre, impossible to explain memories. I remember almost every show I have played, when and where, with whom, and the experiences and the people who have come, gone, stayed, and the ones who aren’t here anymore to laugh and play with us. We work hard, sometimes I may be obsessively diligent and proud of working 60 hour weeks — but that’s what I think keeps me rollin’ along. I love my life because I can write it out and play it for you in less than five minutes. And I love my band. And I love the friends who are kind enough to keep coming back and motivating me to be as good as I can be at this game of musical wars that it tends to be — but I don’t let it get to me — I won’t see someone as or let them be more important than anyone else because they have the power to make or break you on the scene. Of course it’s healthy to be competitive, but we aren’t competing. We aren’t judging or criticizing. We are still playing music that we composed and not in this for the money (although we don’t turn it down) and hell, we are not going away as long as we still are being asked to show up. No apologies. I speak for myself and the kids in the band when I say we wouldn’t do this if we didn’t have the balance and ability and joy to play well with others. Enjoy what you gots. You can have it all and set your standards however you like. You can do what you say you are going to do -and- carry through. No one is better than anyone else or has the right to take away what you love in life — not with their words, actions and behavior, or their demeanor.

I have to be grateful for those who have destroyed me as much as I am grateful for those who have mended me.

I have written this statement once before and I have to think to myself that maybe it is more significant than ever.

Saving a person’s life when he is seconds away from stepping off that ledge was not part of the plan. A few years ago, saving a life was important to me until this turned on me as something that was my fault; I knew this was clearly not the case — I was so glad I was there at the right time and place to prevent this — but I was no hero to the people who I loved. I learned what it was to be the anti-hero more than I ever believed possible.  But no no no, I can cleanly admit that I learned that I was a hero, damn it, and to let go of the ones who made an effort to destroy me from that moment in time that I walked into a bad situation, to the phone call I made for help. (Note: Call 911 when someone tries to commit suicide because he or she will certainly try to do it again, sometimes that same day.) The strangeness of thinking — that seconds later, I would have found this person dead and maybe I would never recover from the guilt of not showing up in time, shadowed the years of the disrespect and evil that plagued me because I got in his way of getting out the easy way — and retaliation takes on a wretched anguished ghost who is always there to let you know, “Hey, dude. You are going to hell for getting in the way of destiny,” and shreds pieces of your life and limited time on the planet in order to carry on and live well, and then what happens:

Your life changes you; you change your life.

I’m not dwelling on the reasons I have been destroyed. When I was in those moments, it was difficult to avoid the sick feeling of reflecting for and with no reason, and empty hopes and pure loathing of self, but yes: I am out of there now. I have been for awhile. But I’m better than that — I am fucking lucky that I saved his life and so are the people who weren’t so sure. Those people will never know how to thank me, yet I thank them for teaching me who I am and being myself and happy about it all. Their hostility is common and I know to let it go when I see it. You can have it. Keep it; I can’t sail that ship, I will swim back to shore, please send me my mail and keep the rest of my stuff, or give it to someone else. I don’t want you to give me another gigantic piece of anything- tangible or intangible – that it takes every last drop of sweat to mend for myself so I don’t end up on the wrong side of the rope (so to speak).

Right now, the circumstances are trying to break me again but have not done so. Right now, I am mending and letting it go. Right now, I have myself to rely on — no one else should have to help me — and although the damage is done, I am not finished and I need some letting go. I will be on the other side of this situation and then I can bury it. And write about it.

Saving a life and saving yourself are both similar and equally dangerous. But I get to try to meliorate and rehabilitate myself and spare myself the long ride on the wave of mental erosion and psychopathic entities who betray in the most unfathomable manner, and who hate and break and enjoy it. Watching you struggle is what they need to be happy.


I’m grateful anyway. I never promised you a rose garden. I’m not the sharpest pencil in the pack. I’m not unhappy either.

I know who I am. I’m grateful for that and for losing so much that I never really had – and being a rock star for getting back up, dusting myself off, tipping my hat and exiting the theatre rather than the sharpening the stick and returning with the blackness of hatred I was meandering through too long. I sharpen the stick to make a point; the point of it all is how you find your way back to the shore, back to the mountain after a cliffhanger, back to music after the silence stops making so much noise.

You are allowed to be happy and to laugh despite yourself.

Today is the first day of the rest of your series of other first days of your life. 

Please keep off the grass and don’t feed the dog and don’t stay with someone who makes you truly feel bad about yourself.

You should be playing anyway. That’s what I would do.

Credits: Thank you for the media Michael Kuhl.










DOS LOCOS Video for “Don’t You Think I Know” at Devil’s Head Distillery 9/27/2018


Spinoff. Me and the bassist – who is rightfully concerned about my confidence. It isn’t consistant.

Book us please!

More at

The Catharsis of Band Poster Design (series of delusional and inconsistent clarification)

I design promotional materials and write content, SEO and SMO stuff, and other PR and site management. It’s as living.

I also do local music PR and have been successful with many local artists – and am always trying new tricks of the trade to promote and use my band as a means to experiment with, and enjoy the graphics and image side plus the video promotional techniques.

But I am perplexed with my own graphic design work when self-promoting. Here is an example of one of the digital flyers for my band’s next show (tomorrow). I am a also a photographer (mentored and thrown into two jobs which I had to learn how to overcome the anxiety of doing *whatever


it takes to get the shot*) and thus use my own photos and a variety of programs depending on what device I have at the time and place that I create one. This was made in Photoshop which I have been using as much as possible to learn what I didn’t have access to in Photoshop Elements. I like to create posters. That’s why I started a band in the first place, right?

Of course not.

So after posting this green image of our show tomorrow (above), I thought that this is an aesthetically displeasing work — the rules were broken and it is a poor representation of a music event — in so many ways… and wonder why people are digging it.

Will this grab the attention of someone and possible convert them into a attendee of the event? I mean, my flyers have been used in tshirt designs for shows for clients, and I was asked if this one will be for sale by a fan – so I have to ask – why do designers have crippling self-doubt and why should we expect ourselves to know if we have made an good or bad impression? IMG-3964.png

If only content was as ambiguous. I made a poster for the next show that is one of my favorites of the 100s. It’s good. I received compliments which is the band flyer maker’s reason to live. Will anyone go to the show if they see it? Ask about tshirts? Why is the struggle to promote ourselves visually so cathartic for some of us in bands?

After all, I *know* when I write a song — it’s good or it isn’t going to exist. I don’t question myself. That is why I still get to play my own music — I don’t have the skills or the rock star goddess beauty (well, that’s arguable) and height and boobs. But I know better than to question my compositions and I won’t wonder if I am good at what I write – because I am. Who would play their songs if they didn’t think they were awesome?

So many rhetorical non-questions and ambiguity.


The Joke is On

“Okay,” I said. “I can take a joke.” I began to shuffle down the opposite direction of the atrium corridor and I began to focus on a new plot, but I needed a new persona first, then the intangible and it’s obscurities would be a natural consequence.

In an effort to prove the power of the meaning of words, I will launch my latest metaphysical awareness campaign: Speaking in one-word sentences. And as I waited for my mom to pick me up from school I was reading an essay written by a Hawaiian clown who used to teach French Revolutionary Architecture but decided to write in order to teach and he wrote well for a clown I suppose – as I waited the notion struck me between the lines that this constant quest to transcend the shallow traditional surface of society and judgment, I was not operating inside the function of my mission to master world domination.


The second time I was administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was he second time it wasn’t necessary, and was the event that spurred me to embark immediately to see a specialist.

I always thought of myself as the dangerous type – mentally, obviously.

Hmmm. Life is inconsistent. I picked myself up and put myself down. I was as much a part of the problem as I was the solution as I was to the apathy.

What you expect of someone
something or
is what you’ll get.

Yeah, WHAT ever. Thanks for explaining THAT one to me, you self-actualized f**king genious, you. ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF? ….I wish I needed to regurgitate all the selfish-help book epiphanies that I read by a pragmatic spiritually elevated “writer” connect my (thus yours and the -universe-) dots.

When conversations turn into mud and I am being sabotaged by the tactless talkers, I used to terrorize them. Now I am older and I have a fifty-fifty chance that I am going to care anyway; I just sigh and quietly say, “Based on the information you have provided, explain what specific impact you have just made on my life.”

“What are you implying?” is also a fabulous conversation-stopper. My brother and I began to compile a list. Then friends added to it. Someday I will publish it under the self-absorbed section at Barnes and Noble. Soon I will care enough to get angry again.

“That’s an interesting perspective,” my friend C.A. would say when she was confronted by the psychologically stunted.

Self-fulfilling prophecy is determining the meantime what will concern very largely your past and present meantimes.

So my NEXT entry will be My Thoughts on “Nothingness.”

So… how are you going to be noticed when you’re not here?


I walked out of the place and haven’t even stopped thinking about your face but I wanted your actual presence so I walked out of that space and that place and I knew more than I wanted to reflect upon. Time is always in a hurry anyway.  Those times we drove home any place and how many years I didn’t waste then or some place.

Now we are years ahead
You have changed and put your hands on a different part and angle of your hips now
I still want to run away from you sometimes
The way these reminders are the best way to not forget the way I haven’t changed
The truth syrup astounds me as much as the last words we exchanged
You were always available to let me down
So thanks for that and I am getting back up
I will take my time and let go of the record collaboration
And the interpretation of love versus hate
Plus the regret that I regret every dayIMG_2030 (2).jpg

I’m looking past the place I filled the tank with using my last known income and you were on the phone and I knew then that the moment I was trampled – and so simply cut –  the empty pain of my every cell deflating and gasping, the air poisoning my lungs, the way someone who falls off a skyscraper may feel – the terror of this being new to me and assuring this was a space I found – not for the last time in life either.

Photo Jul 30, 1 39 55 PM.jpg

I walked over to that space but can’t stop thinking about you.

Wendy Clark Band @ Cheers FRI 01SEPT2017

Event Star Production PresentsSpecial Friday Night Showcase @ Cheers September 1st, 2017 7pm doors 

Wendy Clark Band with Of David

Come discover a new band with your friends at a great live music venue!
21+ event with ID

$5 at the door
Address: 11964 Washington St, Northglenn, CO 80233

Phone: (303) 955-5660

Event sponsored by:

Dragons Eye Photography (Root of All)

Mile High Rock

Graphics by Victor

Blunt Force Stereo at