We're Bolton like Michael.

I've got two words for you - Michael Bolton. The very mention of the man's name evokes indescribably deep emotions and you KNOW it. Whatever happened to this guy?? How in the world did someone so talented[both vocally, and in the hair follicles]become a used-to-be, has-been, nearly forgotten joke? I'll tell you something right now - NOT ON MY WATCH. I'm bringing Michael Bolton back. I don't know how quite yet, but I'm dead-set on restoring this man's respectability and lofty position as possibly the greatest singer ever. Maybe you forgot some of the songs that shook you to your soul, that made you feel ALIVE for the first time. Remember when he asked us "How Can We Be Lovers When We Can't Be Friends?", or when he told how he "Said I Loved You, But I Lied"? Remember what it felt like to pump your rock fist to such classics as "Steel Bars"? Speaking of classics, how about the gut-busting rendtion of "When A Man Loves A Woman"that made you wish you had the might of the mullet so that YOU could get all the chicks? Or the cover of "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay"that was somehow 19 keys higher than the original Otis Redding version? Remember how his rough soprano impressed, made you uncomfortable, and left you to worry about the health of his throat[or the possiblilty of a hernia]all at the very same time?! Pure genius. Well friends, it suddenly came to me in a flash the other day - Michael Bolton not only needs you and your "Time, Love, and Tenderness", but YOU need Michael Bolton. Maybe it's been too long since you've asked yourself "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You"? Yep, and if you want to stand up and help me make a difference in this world -you can do what I've done - go out, and buy Michael Bolton's greatest hits. Get in your car. Roll down the windows[spring IS in the air...]and crank, again - CRANK your favorite Michael Bolton tune!! I think you'll find the grass looks a little greener, the flowers smell a little sweeter, the air feels a little warmer, and the people you pass on the streets of life will return your gift of gloriously transcendant music with a wave or a smile. Probably both, and they may just involuntarily dance a bit as you drive by, because they will hear you. There is only one way to listen to Michael Bolton after all, - LOUD.

God Bless M. Bolton -

T

Almasy - Why not take Almasy?

I have been in love with the same girl for a dozen years. Absolutely not a shadow-of-a-doubt-about-it-good-old-fashioned-head-over-heels in LOVE. When we met, I had been working with her Uncle[he was managing me at the time], and he had told me several times about his niece who was coming into town. He said she was beautiful, smart, and just a really good kid. He told me that he thought we would really hit it off, and that I should ask her to do something when she came out to my show that night. So, I played the gig, and at the end of the night I went out to meet her. However, regardless of what everyone thinks about me, I am not necessarily the smoothest cat around when it comes to girls[everyone does think that.....right?]which would explain why I was so nervous[and wearing sunglasses indoors after midnight]. I was so nervous in fact, that I didn't have the guts to ask her out on a date. Instead, I told her that her and her sister should come hang out with me and my buddy Dave[Smokey D, my old bass player]at the Valley Fair Amusement Park while they were in town. I mean, I was eighteen after all. Luckily, they agreed and the next day we went to pick them up. We had to drive all the way up to Plymouth, MN to collect them from their Aunt's house, and as luck would have it the sky clouded over and threatened to storm on the way to the Park. Time for plan B. And, when you are a Twin Cities kid from Apple Valley, plan B almost always involves the Mall Of America. I mean it IS the biggest mall in the nation, and women love that stuff. So we wound up at the Mall where we went to see "Face Off"[the John Travolta flick]and I proceeded to[again]wear sunglasses throughout the entire movie. In the pitch-black theater. I think I was in a Roy Orbison phase.......anyway, that[somehow]didn't scare her off, so the next activity involved an indoor Ferris Wheel and a guy[me]with a belly so full of anxiety that I couldn't bring myself to sit next to her. So, I stared at her from across the buggy through my black-out Ray Ban's while Smokey D was left to wonder why he'd been dragged along on this excursion. At evening's end, Melissa told me they were leaving town the next day to fly back home. She gave me her phone number[which I've found out since was something she was certainly NOT accustomed to doing]and told me to call her sometime. Well, apparently I didn't believe her, because I didn't call her. I'm telling you, I thought when she said "you should call me sometime", she meant "ohhhh, you should call me sometime"like, whatever dude-I'm just gonna say the old "you should call me sometime"line because that's just what you say when you've spent your entire evening with someone and his sunglasses and don't want to be rude. In other words, I was clueless. I really couldn't believe my eyes, because this girl was everything I'd privately told God I wanted in a woman, and I just couldn't wrap my brain around the idea that she just might actually want to see me again. But, according to her, she did! Anyway, she went back to Atlanta, and I spent the rest of the year trying to forget her. Which I aaaaalmost did, until her Uncle informed me a year had passed, and she was coming back. Well, we got together again, and it was pretty much over from there. We were inseparable for the remainer of her stay[two weeks!]until it was unfortunately time again for her to return home to Georgia. However, this time when she left, it was as my girlfriend. We lived apart, long-distance for ten years. We flew back and forth hundreds of times, wrote letters, emailed etc. We broke up two or three times throughout that decade, but could not seem to shake the love we felt for each other. I'm telling you I'm talking about real-deal, earth-shaking, honest-to-goodness, the stuff dreams are made of and the kind-everyone-wishes-they-felt, kind of love. I could never really put it into words, actually.......i would die for her. Finally, at 29yrs old, I decided enough was enough and that she was the only one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I went ring shopping, and brought her up to the North Shore of Minnesota on her Birthday. There, near dusk in a private cove, I got down on one knee and[trembling]proposed to her while trying not to fall into the water. Her "yes" was THE sweetest sound my ears have ever heard, surely. Shortly after, it became clear that I would have to move and make my home in Atlanta so we could be together. I did, and I have, and have never been happier in all of my life. We are to be Wed this December, and already have many of the details in place including wedding photographers. We were turned on to this amazing award-winning husband/wife team[ALMASY] that does incredible work in Atlanta, and secured them to do our pictures. They asked if we'd like to do an engagement shoot and[even though we've already been engaged for a year and a half!]since we'd never actually had one done, we thought it was a cool idea. So, we did, and here are some of the pics:

I've had a few dreams in my life. Living thus far has taught me that dreams don't always come true. I think, perhaps, it's a rare man who gets what he wants and dreams for out of life but gratefully, in my case, this dream came true. I have learned that if love is meant to be, and if it's the good kind that belongs together and is destined, it will endure all.

- T

Thank you for the years, Minnesota.

I am "officially" a resident of Georgia. I went into the nearby[and always scary]DMV yesterday, stood in line[s], showed various forms of identification proving I was myself and slowly, ultimately, surrendered my Minnesota Drivers License. Actually, there was a moment. There was a moment when I realized I was really going to get my new license[I was almost convinced something somehow would crop up at the last minute to taunt me and postpone the issuance, leaving me to throw a tantrum and go clomping out the slammed door while swallowing deep down the string of profanity I wanted to but would not allow the new, improved, spiritually peaceful version of me to spew], and smiled and chatted a bit with the middle aged African-American woman behind the impossibly and purposefully tall desk before me. I'm telling you, that desk came up to my chin, and I didn't like it. But, it seemed all was progressing effortlessly and that I would claim the prize for which I'd come. After reviewal of my papers, and after I'd signed some lines, she handed me back my documents. All but one, that is. My Minnesota State Drivers License sat squarely in front of her, illuminated softly by the light of her computer terminal. It was almost.......pretty. That wonderful license had been my friend and lived in my left front pocket for almost ten years. We'd been through the mill together, and she'd never let me down. Even when my care left something to be desired, and left her nearly drowned in a cold wash cycle of Purex water, she still came out smiling and tirelessly ready for service. How often had that license proved my age and identity in the face of doubting bouncers, gas-station attendants, and casino officials? Many my friend, many. So, naturally, I was eager to have her back where she belonged and that's why I stood there. I stood there waiting until the woman finally let the irritability I'd worked so hard to diffuse creep back into her face and voice. She said, "can I help you with anything else?" and I said, "no I think that'll do it - are you gonna gimme my license back"? That's when it hit me, and that's when she said "oh no, you have to surrender this to me and go stand in that line over there to take your picture and get your new one. Good day, Sir". Surrender? Good day Sir?! I JUST BROKE UP WITH MINNESOTA!!!! I can't believe it......I've ALWAYS had a MN license, I've ALWAYS been a Minnesota resident, but not anymore -"Good day, Sir"! And just like that, it was over. I knew when I moved down here last November[the day after Thanksgiving, I began driving south]that I was moving for good. My mind was made up, and I was taking the bull by the horns, and that was that. Come what may, I would make my home in Atlanta, GA with the girl of my dreams. And I did, and I have. I just never anticipated the rush of emotion I'd feel at "surrendering"the card that proved I was from Minnesota, and indeed a Minnesotan. I love the land of the ten thousand lakes. I love Apple Valley. I love my incredible family and friends. I love the Mall of America[it opened on my Birthday for crying out loud]. I love Minnehaha Falls. I love the Kindho Vietnamese restaurant in Uptown that makes fried rice so good, it makes me want to binge and purge only to binge again. Uptown!! I LOVE uptown!! Downtown, oh I LOVE the Minneapolis downtown!! St. Paul! While I don't particularly love the St. Paul downtown, I do stand tall for St. Paul and the Science Museum, which I LOVE!! I love the fact that I can go out in the Twin Cities, and within one night hear great live acoustic music, great live rock music, great live alternative music, great live blues, and r&b, and funk. What a wonderfully diverse music scene in the most inconspicuous of places!! I love weekend Brainerd trips with friends, and I hold an extremely special place in my heart for the North Shore. My Dad had told me for years, "Son, you've just GOT to take a weekend and do that drive up the North Shore", and I found out how right he was[thank you, Dad!]when I finally drove up on July 20th, 2007 and proposed to the love of my life. It was amaaaaaazing. I love you Minnesota, and I miss you sometimes. Just not at winter times. I don't want to break up, but my life has changed, and I have to move on. You will always be in my heart, and in my song eternal. This boy born of Shakopee will never forget you.......when the wolf cries and the fish whistles, I will be with you my sweet Northern love of yester me, yester you, yesterday.

If I Never See Snow Again.........

Snow. We had snow yesterday, in Atlanta Georgia. It was in fact, beautiful snow. Giant, white, glistening crystals of awe-inspiring uniqueness falling slow and fat to the ground. Everybody was bustling about, remarking in excited tones about the majesty of frozen precipitation. Everyone, but ME. For I am from MINNESOTA. I have seen more snow, and felt more cold and wind and ice than any human being should ever be allowed. I believe, actually, that winter weather should be made illegal. I am going to write a letter to President Obama[that was just the first time I've ever written President Obama, and it seemed weird. What a strange name for the President.....anyway...]asking him if there is some way to make snow and ice illegal. Or maybe figure out a way to tax it[but, only if it works really hard and is successful]. Now, I understand the whole thing about a blanket of snow on a hillside at Christmas time being magical and all of that crap, but let's get real Georgia. Snow is beautiful when it melts within an hour and you can go back about your business knowing that this freak cold snap will be over in a few days when the temps head back up towards 70 degrees for the upcoming weekend. Snow is beautiful on a postcard picture, or in the movies. However, when you grow up in a place like Minnesota and you actually have to deal with real winter weather for 29 yrs, and you move to a place like Atlanta, GA where the weather is generally incredible except in the summer when it's hot[but weather is SUPPOSED to be hot in the summertime, and it's more fun to sunbathe and swim when it's a little too hot anyway]to hopefully escape terribly traumatizing elements like snow and ice, I guess you'll just have to forgive my lack of enthusiasm. It's not that I want to ruin the fun, or dash your dreams of what it must be like to live in a place where it "snows like this all winter". It's just that I know better, and you don't. You don't understand that the snow is pretty when it falls, but in a half hour or so that pretty white snow is gonna look more like a root-beer slushy. You don't understand about cold that pulls you out of your house at 5 o'clock in the morning to go start your car so it can warm up, while you scrape and brush the inch-thick layer of the devil's breath off of your windows and headlights. Or, about slipping on the skating rink beneath your feet while doing so, resulting in a cracked tailbone and wounded pride. You don't know about loading out from a gig in Stillwater down near the river in the middle of February with a 15 below zero windchill blowing straight into your face no matter which way you turn. And shovelling. You don't know about shovelling. You don't know about the snowblower that gave out last year, and that you should've replaced but didn't want to because your brain had no problem coming up with a cooler way to spend $1200, only to suddenly remember this year while walking out to the driveway in the middle of a storm system that has promised to dump another six inches on top of the five that already exist, that you made that dumb decision and now will suffer the consequences along with your newfound best friend Mr. Shovel. You don't have any idea about the backache waiting for you once you've finished. Or should I say, once you THINK you have finished, because I can virtually guarantee that when you've ridded your beautiful blacktop of the evil white slop, the big bad snowplow will come down your street and fill the end of your driveway back up with what used to be your neighbors problem. Georgia, all you know of snow is that when the weatherman says it's coming, it's time for you to drive to the store like an idiot at 4 and a half miles per hour to buy milk, bread, and pallets of water just in case[God forbid]you are trapped in your house for two hours while the "pretty" snow melts. You don't know how good you have it, you don't appreciate the mild warmth that blesses your skin and blows through your always-stylish hair for the lions share of the year. You just wonder sweetly and innocently in your honey-touched native tongue if you'll "get to see snow!!!"this winter. Lucky for you, you've never really known what winter is and Georgia, for your beautiful and naive' sake, I pray you never do. TS, out