Universe Fucking: An open letter to Max Perkins on his birthday

Dear Max,

I know it feels like the universe is a malevolent force or at least an indifferent one.

I've decried the fools who have the nerve to tell the downtrodden if they put good vibes out into the universe, the universe will reward them with good luck. It's an offensive conceit. Anyone whose breath's been knocked from their guts knows no good vibes will save them.

You've elucidated through postings and rants how you feel about the universe and those who espouse stupid Sufi sayings in defense of universe fucking. And yeah, fuck the universe I guess. Who cares anyway?

But it seems to me you're wrong about one fundamental thing: separation from the universe is a persistent and tricky illusion.

You are the universe. You're a tiny, maybe insignificant part. But that's kind of cool I think.

The universe is infinite, so you're infinite.

It's usually pretty beautiful too.

So indeed, the universe doesn't care about you or me just as our bodies and minds don't care about us, but that really shouldn't matter.

And hey, being an infinite being part of a swirling glowing expanse is pretty nifty, right?

Your pal in the void (there's no such thing as a void),

Sky Jack Morgan

Thrillist Wrote an Article. I'm in it, and there's a Cartoon of Me, too!

That's me next to Li'l Jon. He used to like to stop by the Lobby Bar at MGM Grand after his sets at Hakkasan to drink tequila; maybe he still does. I don't know anymore because I don't work there anymore. I miss it a lot sometimes, and this article makes me see it all with rosy glasses. It's also really cool to be mentioned in an article like this. It was a long time coming, and I wish I'd been there long enough to print it out and frame it on our wall.

Casey Childers spent a whole 24-hour period in our bar. He saw a lot. It was a slow day, so I wish he'd seen how crazy it got, but he saw enough. He talks about a lot of my team, and it was an honor to work with them.

Check it out.

A Personal Update

FAQ:

What's with your name?

I changed my name when I started travelling seriously and living in other countries. When I came back to the states, I brought a person with me who called me Jack, so everyone else called me Jack, too. Some of my oldest friends and family call me Skyler or Sky. Most of them live in the western United States. Then some people started calling me SkyJack. I like that. But you can call me Sky, Jack, Skyler, SkyJack, or Captain. Those are all the things people still call me, and I'm OK with that. How did I think I was going to have this unique, distinctive, adventurous life without a few different names sticking?

Where do you live now?

I've moved to Las Vegas. It's in the name of my blog now to help people know.

Is your wife with you?

I don't have one of those anymore.

What? What happened?

It turns out I only fall for people who don't have consciences.

Why Vegas?

I've always wanted to move to Las Vegas. I love it here. I grew up coming here at least once or twice a year. My father worked here, my grandmother lived and died here, and I have a cousin and an Aunt here. Plus, work. It might be the only place on earth with opportunities to incorporate my entire skill set. 

Where are you working now?

I'm a Beverage Manager at MGM Grand. It's a dream job for me at this point in my career. I moved my relocation schedule up because they showed interest, and then I was in a holding pattern for a bit, while seasonal managers were moved around and whatnot. Now I'm training and excited about every second of it. There's a lot to take in.

Do you miss Virginia?

I miss some people in Virginia, and I kind of wished I'd seen the leaves change one last time. VA was pretty good to me, when it's all said and done. I did some amazing things professionally, and I saw some stuff I don't think most Americans get to. I lived in Virginia almost exactly the same amount of time I lived in Germany, and I still feel like a German in a lot of ways. Surely, I'll always have a little southern boy in me now, too.

Why didn't you move back to California, either to SF Bay or to live near your mother in SoCal?

I think I might have gotten all the personal development I can out of those places. And moving back to anywhere is symbolically unfortunate. I did consider Los Angeles, but Las Vegas has always been on my target list of places to live. I really want to live in a place where all my friends will visit me from all over the world. Who doesn't visit Vegas at least once? And if they were on the fence about it, now they have a reason to come. I'll always love California, but I don't know if I ever want to live there again.

What about the restaurant?

TBD

When is your new book coming out?

I'm almost halfway done with it. It's the most ambitious project I've ever undertaken in poetry, and it's the most difficult thing I've ever written. Some time in the middle of next year I hope.

Are you going to make any more videos?

I don't think so. I was turned off by the lack of response. Maybe I'll try again, but there's too much going on right now to edit videos. If I had someone to edit them for me, I'd do it.

Isn't Vegas crazy all the time?

Well, it can be. But on my morning runs, inside Las Vegas, I run down a street that often has chickens in the middle of it and there are horses and cows, too. I saw someone walking a miniature pony like a dog. Oh, and burros. And I live next to a fairly big casino. So it's a city of contradictions. I love contradictions. Come visit me and find out.

Sweet Water Trip in Atlanta

For the first time in a very long time, I missed my flight. For the first time ever, I was one minute late to something. The plane was still there, but they wouldn't let me through. Charlottesville airport FAIL. But I didn't miss anything through a miracle twist of fate, someone was too drunk to get on a plane in Charlotte, so I slid on in their place and made it to Atlanta just as the taxi was leaving the hotel to the brewery.

And the luckiest guy in the world made it to the brewery as scheduled.

And the taps had me excited to be there. When you're at a brewery, there's a lot to discover.

The obligatory glass of beer shot. I needed the refreshing embrace of a crisp IPA after the stressful journey.

Special-release beers everyone can fall in love with. I'm a sucker for the good stuff available only in deuces.

The experimental "Dank Tank" is a brewer's playground. Incredible juice comes from this thing, and it's painted in a way that celebrates the ritual.

Sweet Water also hand-paints their Jockey Boxes, which I think is particularly cool.

The place is gigantic. at 450,000 BBL capacity, I was thoroughly impressed. I spend a lot of time in smaller breweries.

Drinking the beer that is being made right there. I always love that. 

Big bottling lines remind me of Laverne & Shirley.

I'd been keeping touch with Sweet Water online, so I had a friend there when I arrived: Brian the Social Media Director. Cool dude who was interesting to talk with, he gave me advice on where to get the most out of the Atlanta craft beer scene. 

The brewery filled up with people, and I made friends quickly. People in Atlanta are exceedingly friendly. Breweries are really great places to meet people.

I went to Sweet Water as a representative of Virginia Eagle Distributing. We're hoping to represent them in Virginia. To me, it'd be a privilege to share their brews with Virginians, and I'm really crossing my fingers.

I loved Atlanta, and I love this side of the business. I learned a ton on this trip from restaurant and bar owners and the awesome people at the brewery. And Atlanta is an open city if you're willing to throw yourself in. If my phone hadn't died, I would have kept taking pictures of my epic adventures, but people were calling me from the office to see how the meeting went. It went well. I would have a great time getting this beer into the mouths of Virginian beer-drinkers.

I didn't want to leave the city without drinking a Coca-Cola. The morning I left I woke up just in time to get to the airport, so it was a last-minute thing. The woman in line with me said she drank six a day. Atlantans love Coke.

If you go to Atlanta, make sure to try these places:

• Sweet Water Brewery Great Brewery with great people and great beer.
• Argosy Super chic craft beer bar and wood-fired pizza. Excellent.
• Midway Pub Tons of taps and laid back atmosphere. Serious dart players. 
• Church "A goddamn bar" with so much character you'll never want to leave. Educated doorman clued me in on some cool spots. Ping-pong upstairs and a nun hanging from the ceiling rotating in space to hit a ping-pong ball.
• Trader Vic's The last of the once-great empire of tiki bars on the east coast. I'm in love with Trader Vic's and will go to any one I can find. Inventors of the Mai-tai, but they also make delicious Suffering Bastards.

My Birthday and Henry Rollins

Last week was my birthday. We got so much snow, we were unable to leave the house for the first part of the day and unwilling to leave for the rest of the day.

I received no gifts that day, but I was buried with birthday wishes on my facebook, which is nice.

My father didn't call me. I haven't spoken with him for about a year. This is fairly common for me. I often wonder how I was born to a person so disinterested in my welfare. It was difficult growing up under his tyrannical rule. He tore apart the family several times, and it's at one of those points now. But I don't think it is ever going to be together again. I haven't spoken with my brother in many years. Something like seven or eight. My mother doesn't speak with him either. Neither does my father.

This year I felt like a commercial for an iPad because I "facetimed" with my mother in California. The technology is only 10 years too late, but that's OK. It was interesting to feel closer to someone because I could see her face over a distance of thousands of miles over a hand-held device. 

The next day I received the only birthday card I received this year. It was from my employer, the company, Virginia Eagle.

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I have been working out poetry in my mind. I'm trying to write a book called the Chris Hemsworth Sonnets. Sometimes I think it's genius. Other times I feel like it will not be taken seriously because of how funny it is at parts. I feel like the Glen Danzig of poetry. No one ever knew how to take the Misfits, and maybe the Misfits didn't know how they wanted to be taken. But my cult following is nowhere near as big.

I met Henry Rollins. I said something about Sons of Anarchy and we had a short conversation. We met at a gallery/art museum in DC that was showing old Punk and GoGo artifacts. It was amazing. There are pictures. When Henry Rollins was done DJ-ing and the party was over he walked out alone and waited for a taxi. I said "good-bye Henry Rollins, and thank you." He looked at me like he was trying to figure out if he knew me. He said "thank you" and got in a cab alone. I wish I did know Henry Rollins. I think he would appreciate my writing and my music. People these days have so many buffers around them. I'm not sure how I know as many people as I do.

After that, we met this guy named Jared, and we went to the after party, another gallery-cum-discotheque. The after after party was great, too. But the night was dissolving, so Mary and I bugged out and went to the hotel. 

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My birthday makes me somber. Sorry about this sad post after so long being away. I'm trying to work blogging back into my regular routine again. These flaws and starts are killing my writing.

The Lovely Madame Rose

Madame Rose is a remarkable Kriek style beer from Goose Island. I tried the 2012 and decided to make a video review of it right then and there. A dark crimson color is the first thing you'll notice about it. Cloudy as hell and alluring, I must say. It's gorgeous to look at in a glass with the tiny bubbles popping at what passes for a head like a champagne. Wild yeasts do that!

God I just love wild yeast anything. I love having to tell people that we're constantly being eaten by yeast and breathing it in and that when we die, yeast will help turn us into ash and dust. It reminds me that we are all part of a cosmic process showcased by the miracle of fermented beverages.

I also just love funky sour beers. It should remind you about a whole world out there that disregards the Reinheitsgebot and the prevailing tastes of untrained palates looking for tasteless lagers.

Madame Rose is aged on cherries in wine barrels for a complex treasure.

Here's my Instagram photo of it.

New Job. New Adventure.

I haven't been active online as much these days because I have been learning the ropes at my new job, Brand Development Manager for Virginia Eagle. It's an exciting windfall in my career in the Beverage Industry.

As most of you know, I'm intensely interested in all beverages, and this new position will give me the chance to be on the front lines helping to make or break different brands as the emerge in beer, wine, and non-alcoholic beverages.

There are many perks to the job, obviously.

I'll still be posting about poetry and art and entertainment and fast cars and all sorts of things that I think are important in our culture, but you're going to start to see this space also serve as sounding board for me to share some of the adventures I'll be having in this incredibly dynamic world of drink.

Here's to new adventures and new worlds to conquer.
Cheers!

Favorites

• Beer: Paulaner Hefeweizen because I lived in Germany and loved sitting at the palace cafe beer garden with a Hefeweizen. 
• Wine: Jack London Zinfandel from Kenwood in Sonoma because Jack London is one of my favorite writers and this wine is made on his farm.
• Liquor: Fernet Branca because my band drinks it together and it reminds me of awesome places and people I've encountered. 
• Movie: Chinatown because its about where I grew up and it takes place in a glamorous time.
• Band: Murder Bros. because it's my own creation. 
• Restaurant: the Darjeeling Cafe because it has an incredible wine list and great food and vegan options. 
• Bar: Door 74 in Amsterdam because of our awesome adventure there and the best, most creative bartenders. 
• Hotel: Hotel Boheme in Sn Francisco because it's in North Beach and Ginsberg and Kerouac have stayed there. Plus, six o'clock sherry
• Car: Porsche 911 for fun, Cadillac CTS for style. 
• Author: Jack London because he inspires adventure and ethics. 
• Clothes: Band of Outsiders suits because they are modern and sexy.

National Poetry Month and How I Quit Writing Poetry and Killed Osama Bin Laden

I always write something in April about National Poetry Month. I feel very conflicted about NPH, but this month has been a sort of return to poetry for me.

Sure, I still read and write poetry. I even publish from time to time. But since I've been in a band, writing songs and playing music and doing all the things you have to do to keep a band going has been taking precedence over all other modes of artistic expression and ambition.

This April, we had two poetry readings at the Darjeeling Cafe. I read at one of them. I read a short cycle that has been accepted for publication, and I read another short portion of a poetry book I've been working on. I'm pleased to report that poetry readings, no matter where you go, are the same as they ever were.

People still clap when they're not supposed to. There are still members of the audience that will say "hmm" rather loudly in order to tell others audience members that, yes, they are listening to poems that are affecting them on a level that pushes them to audible response. There are still those well-meaning poetry reading goers who will laugh mercifully at little jokes in poems. Kids still make noises and distract everyone in a charming way that only kids can. I've always loved it when people make noise at poetry readings (except for the hmm's), but there is still the one lady who will "shh" her fellow inhabitants of the temporary holy ground of poetry. There's still the poet who demands people participate by raising their hands or saying something when prompted. There's still wine and wine and wine and wine and purple tongues to prove it. There are poets who read too long and ones who are too nervous. There are poets who don't know what a poem is but have enough money to publish through vanity presses. There are still stacks of books that go unread attractively arranged on a table near the bar where you can buy them for a handsome fee, knowing you'll never read them because there are just too many poems in them, and they aren't organized in a way that makes you want to finish. The pretty people and the ugly people and the over-educated and the wannabes are all still there and make a hodgepodge of who's who that makes you realize everybody's a nobody in the end because the art you're performing fell out of favor long ago and doesn't matter to anyone outside of that room, so you love them all anyway.

Poetry is still dead except during National Poetry Month for most people who have ever read a poem or pretend to care about things like that.
Poetry is still the greatest form of artwork the human race has ever known, forcing it to the privileged few and fringes.

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Someone put together a poetry strike online. I thought it was funny, so I observed it. It happened on May 1. Poets were supposed to not do anything poetic except maybe look at flowers and faint. For the poet, this is very difficult.

One day of not writing poetry, and Osama Bin Laden dies. Coincidence?
Maybe poets should abstain from writing poetry more often.

Osama's death is a very strange thing. It caused many people to cry out in jubilation. I don't feel the way I am supposed to feel about it. I'm supposed to be happy, I guess. I'm supposed to be relieved. But I wonder how much information died with him, and I wonder if knowing more about him and how he became the way he was would be more valuable than his corpse. I've heard why he hates Americans, but I would like to know what made him hate Americans. I wish that that information were more public, and I wish more people would think about what makes a mass murderer. I learned almost nothing from his death, and that's why victory is often empty, and this one seems Pyrrhic if it is a victory at all.

Murder Bros. Perform Wingman

The Murder Bros. perform their song Wingman at the Blue Nile in Harrisonburg on April 17, 2011. I hope you like this song. Sound is always hard on  people's cameras at shows, but I think this came out all right. Thanks for watching.

A Typical Conversation I Have with People (Why Some People Think I "Talk Down" to Them)

 Ever since I moved to Staunton, there have been some people who think I talk down to them. I have never had this problem before moving to this town, and I am loath to think that it's a southern thing or that it's a Staunton thing. I have been trying to blame my self for this phenomenon. I get frustrated with certain people, and I think I have a reason. I need to learn to "just let go" and "just forget about it" more. Anyway, here's a typical conversation that gets me going and pushes my buttons and makes me crazy and sticks in my craw (you can change the topic to suit):

Random Person: Moby Dick is about Gays and Gay Rights and Gayness.

Jack Morgan: I've read several critics who think so, and I've sat up nights with scholars arguing about this book and about this issue, but I have to say that I disagree. You see, there's a part where Starbuck--

RP: Why are you talking about coffee, idiot? LOL

JM: Starbuck was the first mate on the Pequod

RP: I don't know or care what a Pequod is, but I know Melville was gay.

JM: Wait a second, have you even read the book? Why don't you go and read the book, and then maybe take a class on it and read some criticism, and then come back and talk with me about it.

RP: I know it's about gays.

JM: Are you just repeating shit you heard on a TV sit. com. or something?

RP: DON'T TALK DOWN TO ME. I HAVE A RIGHT TO MY OPINION.

JM: Yes, you are entitled to an opinion, but your opinion is invalidated by your ignorance on this particular topic.

RP: You're an asshole! You are DEROGATORY!

Then I get all bent out of shape and feel bad, and I lose friends.

This thing in Staunton about the noise ordinance is like this. I've talked with several business owners and venue owners; I've sat down with Julie Markowitz, the SDDA Director, and used her decibel gauge with her; I've talked with cops and council people about this; I've actually operated venues on two continents, and I've been harassed by cops for a 65db law in Staunton's New Town District. I didn't just hear some crap online and join a protest movement. I studied the topic, interviewed people, and deduced. Then I wrote a status on Facebook that said something like this: I wish people would get more involved in local politics so that we can start working on things that matter in this town rather than waste our time and energy on something that doesn't matter. A couple people got upset and said some things that weren't true or were uninformed. Then they said I was talking to them like children.

A child is someone who knows less than you do. You have to talk with them in a way that informs them. I'm not a parent, but I imagine it's a difficult task. It's difficult enough talking with uninformed adults.

But back to me and this being my fault.
I always feel like I'm stupid. I always ask a lot of questions. If I don't know something, I strive to find it out so that I don't feel dumb. It's a curse. I hate feeling stupid. My father called me stupid a lot when I was a kid, and I kind of blame him for my unhealthy intellectual curiosity. But then I meet people who want to argue with me about something I know a lot about, and they don't want to know about it, and they just want to argue. They don't want to ask questions or to find out what the deal is; they just want to oppose something. I'm unbelievably frustrated by this sort of thing. It pains me. And I shouldn't let it.

It's like, read a book on critical thinking, please. Write down your thoughts and try to organize them and surround an issue with them. Explore the issue. Ask questions about it.

And the answer is a shriek, or maybe it's a cry, or it could be only a wail.

The Murder Bros. at the Stratton Event Room

We're playing with Wasted Year and Pete Stallings at 7:30 at the Stratton Event Room at 110 West Johnson St. Staunton, VA, 24401. Check us out this Saturday, January 29, 2011. I think you'll enjoy it.

My New Bow Tie

I learned how to tie a bow tie from Youtube, Playboy, and a little patience.

A friend named John accidentally bought two bow ties with crossed bones and skulls on them. Rather than send one back, he gave it to me. I've been interested in learning to tie a bow tie for some time now, partly because I've been thinking of making some.  Now I know how to do it. And I think I look pretty good.

Here's the video I used to learn. It's good because it shows the tie from many angles. It was still hard to learn, but now I have a great new skill, and I'm wearing an awesomely bad ass bow tie.

The Murder Bros. Played a Show on the 25th of December

I had the best Xmas I've had in years. I went to the residence of my parents-in-law. They don't appreciate how awesome I am. They have made very clear that I am not considered part of their family. But this time, I didn't have to stay overnight or have to stay late. I had a show to play with the Murder Bros.! And, the last hour I spent there was outside in watching the snow fall, smoking a cigar. It was great.

Then the show was fantastic. I'd like to make it a tradition. Every year on Christmas: Christmas with the Murder Bros.I think there are a lot of people who would rather be out doing something cool, starting their own traditions, rather than sitting around a house listening to Bing Crosby or watching the same movie a dozen times.

The Parasitic Twin Living inside of Mary Morgan's Head

I had to write an apology to a friend today. This is an excerpt. I guess I'm a big jerk.

Sorry I joked about the whole parasitic twin living inside of Mary Morgan's head. I thought it would be funny if people all over town believed that she had a dark twin living in her brain making her do mean things. I don't know where the joke became so big in our conversation, but since I thought it was funny, I kept letting you buy into the idea.

Anyway, sorry you took it to heart so much. I didn't mean to upset you.

My friend got really upset because I told her that my wife had a teratoma in her skull that had to be operated out. In reality, she only had a viral infection in her head because she had a sinus infection but refuses to drink more than a glass of water a day or take any vitamins, so it worsened and caused a horrible migraine and she had to go to the hospital. She still won't drink extra water or take vitamins. Why do people think that magic pills are more powerful than water and vitamins? Doctors are not wizards. I had the same viral infection, and I'm fine right now because I drank two (2) pitchers of water and took six thousand milligrams (6000mg) of vitamin C daily until I got better. I also ate a bunch of onions and garlic and spicy stuff, all things that are good against viruses. Getting better from a cold is easy; it's not brain surgery!

Gig in Harrisonburg #1

The Murder Bros. is having its first gig in Harrisonburg. We're extremely excited about it. Doing a show in Harrisonburg so soon after our show in Staunton is really great, and it gets us going for a goal I've set for us: one gig a month.

The show is free, so if you live in the area, please come!
Also, please find us on Facebook. It would be great to get our "like" number up. Thanks.

Looking for a Job, Playing the Blame Game, Getting a Healthy Drummer, and Running for My Life!

I'm applying for more jobs, some of them seem really awesome, and I can't wait to start working. This week, I've spent a great deal of time looking for jobs that fit my skill sets, but people keep telling me I should apply to do things I don't want to do. I haven't really done that. I just want to do something I'll be good at, and I don't think that's too much to ask.

The Café is still closed. I blame the inspectors of Staunton. It's hard to get them to return calls or just stick to one story. It's very frustrating, and I don't know what to do with that. With any luck, today's meeting with the inspectors will go well, and we will all be happier next week.

Pablo, the drummer for the Murder Bros., is finally getting better. He's been sick all week and unable to practice, which is also a source of frustration because I want our show on October 30th to be perfect. I'm probably stressing a little too much about that, though. I'd really like to be practicing because I feel better about life after playing music.

I've been doing art in my basement. Some pretty cool stuff I can't wait to share with the world.

It's getting colder in Staunton, and I found out today that my running clothes from this time last year are much bigger on me this time this year. It's great that I'm losing flab, but I don't have any money to buy new gear. My gear makes me look a little like Puff Daddy circa 1996. It's not a good look for me, baggy jogging outfits. It's a tough life.

I will run 20 miles this Sunday. That's the plan, weather permitting. I'm going to wake up early and just head out for the longest run of my life thus far. In two weeks, I want to run a marathon. Not a race, but a clean run. I want to get a lot faster before I run in a huge group like the NY Marathon. Plus, the ultimate goal is to rock an Iron Man next year, and I haven't started swimming or cycling due to a lack of funds. I figure, for now, if I get super fast at marathoning, an Iron Man will be that much easier.

Cue Rocky Montage!

Misfire

I didn't get the job I really wanted. I guess I did not fit in with their corporate culture. It's difficult to say what they didn't like about me. I thought I would have been a great addition to their team. Anyway, back to the grinders.

This Weekend's Party

Marc is uncharacteristically underdressed. I'm wearing my vintage
Italian jacket I picked up in Venice, my new favorite article of
clothing.

I'm holding the longest cigar ever. It's called the AB Maxx, and the
type of cigar is an ego. A great medium interminable smoke (over 2
hours). I forget what Marc is smoking.

Big Favor for Jack Morgan

Would you Tumblrs and FBrs (and other friends and followers) do me a really quick/important favor please?

I want a job with Power Monitors, Inc. as their social media expert. I’m very qualified. I want to show them that I can get some likes on their fb page even before they’re paying me because I’m a social media ninja. They make devices to help people monitor their power use in their homes and buildings. I like that. It’s green.

Anyway, here’s their FB page. There’s nothing on it. I don’t even know why they started it without putting any content on it. Maybe even leave a comment like, “Thanks for introducing me to this company, Jack!” That would be cool.

Reblogging this message would be really cool, too.

Thanks.