10 Things To Do In Burlington When You're Deaf.

So, here I am with a busted ear again. Since listening to music is excruciating (not to mention out-of-tune), I've found some substitute activities.

#1. Read. A lot. Currently, I'm immersed in the world of contemporary French novelist Michel Houellebecq. I normally don't do fiction, but this guy's a real pill. I've also been re-reading  H.P. Lovecraft. Interestingly, Houellebecq penned a book of essays about his work called H.P. Lovecraft: Against the World, Against Life. (Keep in mind that Houellebecq doesn't write horror — he's just nuts.) I own it, but have yet to make it past the introduction by Stephen King.

#2. Watch movies and the like. Well, as long as they don't have a lot of music in them. Piano soundtracks especially hurt my ear. Brooke and I got bored and ordered "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang" from Adelphia the other night. It was pretty ridiculous. But we have a weird Robert Downey Jr. fetish. He actually contributes a song to the film! And while the rest of the world consumes episodes of "Lost," we've been geeking out to Sorkin-era "West Wing." Don't get me started on that guy.

#3. I sometimes go to the gym to vent my frustrations at being tormented by God.

#4. Drink. Before the return of my ear thingie, I had cut back on the booze big time. Now I'm back to using it as a crutch. "Oh, demon alcohol," as Ray Davies once sang.

#5. Contemplate quantum physics. That is, in my incredibly limited capacity. I also need a refresher on the principles of evolution. Any hard-core Darwinists among you?

#6. Contemplate human suffering. It all seems so unnecessary, really.

#7. Juggle the cats. No, really.

#8. Eat salad and fruit. It's so good. And good for you!

#9. Sit around practicing scales. There's nothing to do in the studio other than get my shred on. It doesn't even require ears.

#10. Go for walks. After all, there's a big pretty lake right by my house.

So there you have it. Now I'm off to the doctor for another round of We Can't Figure It Out.

Broke and broken.

My dear friend Ethan was up this weekend. I miss him terribly. But it only underscored the fact that, while I know a lot of people here, there's next to no one to bitch to, laugh or pal around with.

I find myself wondering if I'm in a social dead zone. But with no skills other than playing/recording/writing about music (all of which drive me slightly mad) what else can I do?

I know this shouldn't be a personal blog, but screw it — it's how I feel. Yes, I'm a lone wolf by nature, but this is pretty bad.

Interestingly, some old friends from before I moved to VT found me on MySpace. After 15 years of no contact, I find I have more of a connection with them than I do most folks in my regular life.

Don't get me wrong — I'm not asking anyone to call me or nothin'. And please, don't ever just "pop by." I don't have guns like Nugent, but I do have the Evil Eye. And a Hand of Glory. And sundry potions and brews.

You know what's weird? Every classic rock song I heard in the car today was about outlaws. Some were dumb, like AC/DC's "TNT," or Bon Jovi's (barf) "Dead or Alive." Others were a little more nuanced, like, well... I don't remember. But I swear I heard 'em.

Steve at Burlington Guitar & Amp used to call me "The Outlaw Casey Rea" whenever I'd stop in —  which used to be a lot. It makes me smile to think about it. But it also makes me sad that I've not been in once this year.

What have I become?

Don't you dare quote any NIN/Johnny Cash on me, "my sweetest friends."