Where the Hell have We Been? 

Sorry it’s been another long break since blogging. I will be more consistent from now on. Last year turned out to be a year of trauma and recovery - both health and financial. My knee surgery went well, but I developed some strange and still unexplained complications. I became very lethargic and my stamina diminished severely. One theory was the medications I was on so I played around with some different combinations to see what worked better. Over the late spring and summer I began swimming again (which I love) and that helped a lot. I’m doing much better now in spite of still recovering from both the knee (I continue to rehab it) and my recent surgery on my back to remove a benign cyst. Won’t be able to swim again for a couple of more weeks.

Larry just had the cast removed from his 2nd wrist surgery. Larry hasn’t been able to perform his first love in several years - playing guitar and is hoping surgery will give him the ability to play again. Seems he’s been mostly one-handed form many months now. After his first surgery on his left wrist in September, Larry began physical therapy. Several weeks later he began to have tremendous pain in that wrist. The screw in the wrist holding everything together came undone, so just before Christmas he had a 2nd surgery to fix it. The cast from that surgery was removed Monday, 2/10, and now the slow slog of gentle rehab to full recovery begins. Wish him luck. The world needs more of Larry’s beautiful guitar playing.

In more bad news, four beautiful being close to me recently passed - three of them last week. First, David Lynch, who I worked with on “Lost Highway” back in the mid 90’s. David was a hero of mine and his death rocked me hard. 

(I wrote a tribute to him shortly after his passing that I have posted in a previous blog.)

Then ten days ago, Larry’s beloved Australian Shepherd, Lil’e took her final breath. She was 16 and was completely devoted to him and he to her. Since both of them have lived with me for the past 7 years, she’d been a constant in our lives. “Studio Dog.” The house feels empty and quiet now, not that she was loud, just one less heart beating in our home. 

(I've included a eulogy I wrote in the post preceding this one.)

The following day I was informed another good friend and Karmic Jester collaborator, Mark Parson passed away. The details are still cloudy as we haven’t spoken in seven years - not since the night he left my house leaving all his belongings without saying a word. I’ll write more about Mark in the days/weeks to come and hope to release some of the songs we collaborated. Mark was instrumental in giving me the confidence to pursue songwriting. I will always love him and be grateful to him for his passion for music and his steadfast encouragement in me to follow this dream.

Then on Super Bowl Sunday I found out a close childhood friend, Kathy Stewart died of pancreatic cancer. Growing up, the youngest of three boys, I had a yearning for sisters. The girls in my neighborhood became my adopted sisters, and Kathy was a close younger sister. She lived two doors down from us and was a constant in my life till I was a teen and moved away to London, England. We’ve kept in touch over the years, with the help of Facebook, and she enjoyed the music her two “older brothers” were making. Kathy loved to sing. She sang in many choirs and was a choir director for some years. I had hoped to one day have her sing on one of our songs. Some things are just not meant to be.

On the happy side - Yes, it’s not all doom and gloom in Karmic Jester Land - we are about to release a new song! Finally, right? Honestly, we have a few ready but I didn’t want to release them during the chaos of the 2024 elections. So, now that we are in the chaos of the post 2025 elections, it seems like a good time to do so. This Friday - Valentine’s Day - we will be releasing a song that was never meant to be released in its current form. It’s called “LUV Angeles,” and it is a loving lullaby to the City of Angels - the city of dreams. 

Of all of or songs, this one is truly special to me and Larry. It was written over 11 years ago and was our first true collaboration. We recorded it as a simple demo and planned to one day return to it and re-record it with s full band, orchestra and choir - when we could afford it. When the firestorm that ravaged our beloved city happened, I asked inside what could I do to help. And that little guiding voice inside me said - release LUV Angeles. It is time. 

I will write more about LUV Angeles in subsequent posts explaining the story. Its creation is as magical as the song itself, and I’m sure its journey onward from here will be just as magical.

If you want to participate in the magic, just simply download the song from our music page (the song is free), and if you “LUV” it, then please pass it on to your friends. 

Share the LUV!

Thank you all who spend their time on this site listening to the music and reading my words. It is truly an honor to share my passions with you. I hope you enjoy.

Peace….

T - 2/12/25)

Lil’e

(December 31, 2008 - February 3, 2025)

Letting go of something you love is the most difficult of tasks a human being does during their life. When that something is a dear family member, friend or pet, the task can be almost unbearable… and yet we do, most of us, find a way to endure.

Today is one of those days for my brother Larry and I as we say farewell to his beloved dog Lil’e. The two of them have lived with me for over seven years, nearly half of Lil’e’s 16. The reality of today is difficult. More than just painful. It sucks. And I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

It’s a time of transition - when a special being returns home and leaves their adoring loved ones behind. The survivors must get on with their lives, but so much is disrupted. The daily routines that involved or centered around them are no longer necessary and it leaves a hole where the routines and habits of caring had once filled. A large painful void that cries out to be filled with something… anything. What to do with that hole? What now?

Lil’e (pronounced Lily) was born inside a rural culvert pipe just northwest of Tulsa, Oklahoma around New Years of 2009. Her mother, possibly an abandoned stray, must’ve sought shelter there from the nightly coyote raids that threatened her pups. There is no telling how many Australian Shepherds/Burmese Mountain Dog mixed puppies were in the original litter. By the time she was discovered and rescued, there were only two pups remaining - Lil’e and her sister. Lil’e had bite marks on the end of her tiny tail where she was nipped - just missing being another meal.

Lil’e first came into Larry’s life when she was about 11 weeks old.  In February of 2009, Larry suffered a heart attack, and after recovering, wanted to raise a puppy that could be his walking buddy. One of Larry’s great talents (among many) is training dogs. One morning in mid-March, Larry saw an ad in a local circular advertising a couple of Australian Shepherd pups that were being put up for adoption. Lil’e, her mom and sister had been fostered by a family who brought them to a local pet store in search of permanent loving homes.

Larry and his wife Jenny brought their small white year old Maltese, Bella along to help pick out a baby sister. Bella jumped into the pen with the two puppies, playing mostly with the sister. Lil’e was less active, acting sleepy and disinterested. She had been lightly sedated because of her uncontrollable energy. Lil’e was the kind of dog that needed a task. A job. Larry picked Lil’e because he felt he could train her out of her hyperactivity and give her that purpose she required. And for 16 years she honored that purpose. Larry trained her to be a “service dog,” becoming his emotional support animal when he needed it the most. And even when it became too much for her, that need to be of service always endured.

The name Lil’e stood for “Little Evangeline” and was (as Larry later confided to me) inspired by one of his favorite actresses at the time. The pronunciation of the pup’s name turned out to be the same pronunciation as the actress’ last name (but I will keep her full name a secret out of respect for both Larry and the actress).

Lil’e came into my life on more of a full-time basis when Larry moved in with me in December of 2017. Lil’e was not an easy dog to love. She didn’t like to play in any traditional sense and didn’t ask for or enjoy receiving physical affection. Lil’e was no lovey lap-dog. She didn’t want to be petted or hugged and rarely even scratched. She mostly detested other dogs (except Bella - who had been more of a sister to her) and hated going to dog parks. The only human she really truly loved was Larry. He was hers. She was responsible for him. Yes, it was his job to feed her and have her groomed and give her treats, and let her out when she wanted, and go to bed on time (precisely 10pm every night) - but he was only obeying the rules that she insisted upon. And if those rules were broken (or even bent), she’d let him and whoever else was around know it. Loudly and insistently. Lil’e was a very demanding dog. She was more than just a fiery red-head. She was red all over. All except for her front right paw that wore her white glove.

It hadn’t always been that way. During her first year with Larry she loved to play. She’d fetch toys that were thrown, and chase and play like most other pups her age. But one afternoon two neighboring Pit Bulls broke through the shared backyard fence and attacked her brutally. Lil’e was never the same after that - like a light went out never to be reignited. She became more indifferent - uninterested in toys or play, and definitely didn’t trust other dogs. 

After Larry and Jenny split up, he and the two dogs moved to a country house in the rolling hills of Osage County, Oklahoma. It was here that Lil’e found her calling. Hunting. She would roam the many acres of field and forest adjacent to the land Larry was caretaking, and at night hunt for little critters to play with. Those unsuspecting critters, mostly rats, squirrels and opossums, would play with Lil’e as she stalked and captured them, then toss them in the air to make them fly. For Lil’e it was great fun. For the critters, not so much. They would play and play till they finally got tired and “went to sleep.” When Lil’e couldn’t wake them, she’d get bored and search for another play friend. Yes, Lil’e was a psycho-killer! The Red Demon Bitch! 

I have sometimes wondered about the fauna in around Larry’s old country house. What fear those creatures must’ve endured, especially at night while the Red Dragon roamed their peaceful land. One thing she did do for those creatures is protect them from the roaming coyotes. Lil’e would chase them off. Wasn’t going to let those coyotes anywhere near her critter friends. She wasn’t about to share.

And even after she left her happy hunting grounds and moved to the big city of Los Angeles and became more house/yard bound, that girl still wanted to kill. Anything. She jonesed for it. I sure didn’t have a rat problem once she moved in. Especially as she got older and her body began to fail, she wanted one last major kill. I’m sure she dreamed about it - plotting, stalking and killing one victim in particular…

Me.

Oh, she loved me and all. I know that. But you see, I wasn’t her real daddy. I was only “Uncle Daddy,” so I was expendable. She didn’t know what the hell I did. I became just another responsibility of hers - more of a nuisance, really. Her self appointed job was to keep an eye on both Larry and I and it frustrated her that Uncle Daddy didn’t fully cooperate. She could never keep Uncle Daddy in one place for very long - especially not in the same place as real Daddy - downstairs in front of the television. He just wouldn’t stay put. Uncle Daddy was always leaving the house and coming back late or shutting himself an a room by himself tapping away at something for hours. It was annoying for Lil’e that I didn’t obey the rules. So when she could, she would corral me. She’d find the most strategic place in the house to be completely in my way and plop herself down in that spot. Usually it was either at the top of the stairs (when Larry and I were both upstairs) where we’d need to step over her to go downstairs, or at the foot of those stairs at the intersection of the kitchen, the living room and the stairs leading down to the garage (or what I affectionately call “Lil’e’s Killing Zone!”).

“Come here Uncle Daddy. Come closer to the stairs. I want to show you something.” Bump, tumble “AHHHHHH!!!” SNAP!

I swear, on more than one occasion as I would step over her next to the stairs, she would raise up causing me to trip. I’d have to catch myself from falling. One time she rumbled towards me from the kitchen as I stood in front of the bottom stairs, barely missing me as I slid sideways to avoid her. She went bounding down the stairs instead. So I quickly learned to tread carefully around her.

I grew up around dogs. I adored them and loved to get in the middle of all that wiggly love they expressed. I convinced myself I was part dog and would talk to them and they would sort of talk back to me. The closer I got to a dog emotionally, the clearer I could decipher what they were saying. And though my earliest memory at 18 months was being caught in the middle of a dog-fight (our family dog Frisky protecting me from two neighbor dogs), and at four years old being attacked by a black dog name Goblin, requiring several stitches in the corner my mouth, I’ve never been afraid of dogs. So, the longer I was around Lil’e, the better I was at understanding and translating her unique language skills.

Lil’e had an endearing name for Larry and I - one she used often. “Motherfuckers!” Yes, Lil’e had quite the potty-mouth and swore like the proverbial sailor. Now, I admit, I’m the only one who actually heard her speak in this way, but I will attest to the truthfulness of my claims. Believe me or not. Makes no difference to me. But that girl could cuss!

“Hey Motherfuckers! It’s time to fucking eat! Where’s my fucking chicken!” 

Lil’e loved chicken. There was no other chicken like real chicken. She’d sometimes eat tuna-chicken, or even beef-chicken for a meal or two, but that wasn’t real chicken. And don’t even think about Alpo or other dog-food. Once she tasted real chicken, there was no going back. 

“Don’t give me that dog-food bullshit! GIVE ME SOME CHICKEN!!!” 

Lil’e's evening meal became a ritual of sorts. After preparing and serving it to her - usually 6pm precisely - she would first ignore it. After a few minutes she’d sniff at it. Then, when she’d worked up her appetite, she’d go to the door to be let outside. And then it would begin. Lil’e would announce herself to all of the dogs in the neighborhood.

“HEY MOTHERFUCKERS!!! I AM ABOUT TO EAT!!! AND IT’S FUCKING CHICKEN!!! GO AHEAD!  EAT YOUR FUCKING ALPO AND YOUR FUCKING KIBBLE AND BITS AND CHOKE!!! I’M HAVING CHICKEN!!! SO FUCK YOU!!!”

And all the other dogs, and there are many, would respond in kind. But I’m not as fluent in their dialect as I was with Lil’e so I can’t tell you exactly what they said in reply. But whatever it was, it sure didn’t bother Lil’e in the least. She’d come back inside and eat her chicken till the bowl was licked clean, then turn to us and say (demandingly) - 

“Okay, I’m done with that bullshit. WHERE’S MY GOD DAMN CHICKEN TREATS?!!! GIMME THOSE FUCKERS!!!”

Lil’e lived for her chicken treats. It was like crack. She had to have them. Lots of them. If she could live off them she would. And of course, Larry and I were careful about feeding her too many. For one thing, they were expensive. Nearly $25 a bag from Costco. But it was also unhealthy for her to eat nothing but treats. But oh, she’d try.

“God damn humans. Fucking useless! Oh, why wasn’t I born with thumbs? Just give me the whole fucking bag. I’ll rip into that motherfucker. Eat them little strips of heaven till there’s nothing left but my blissful belly and tastebuds.”

As the years wore on, Lil’e’s once spry and healthy body began to betray her. Her hips began to fail, and arthritis in her joints made it more difficult to get up and to climb or descend the stairs. Small tumors ravaged her body making her bony and gaunt. Her eyesight and hearing diminished considerably and she had to feel her way around the house and yard. Yet her appetite remained healthy and she still lived for her chicken treats… and her duty to watch over her two humans. She had the will to live and we didn’t want to deprive her of that until she let us know she was ready. But she eventually stopped announcing herself to the neighborhood dogs. Maybe she finally made peace with all the motherfuckers. She slowed down and slept more, and became less demanding of us. Oh, she continued to corral us and would occasionally try to send me tumbling down the stairs. She was still Lil’e after all. Some things don’t change. But she also became more receptive to touch, strolling up to me and hovering as if to say - “I’ll let you pet me if you want to, Uncle Daddy. You can even scratch me in those now hard to reach places.” And I did. She finally allowed me to love on her and it was the greatest kindness she could give me. She’d let me tug on her ears, like what puppies do to each other in loving play. And when she had enough loving attention she would simply saunter away. I was never quite sure if Lil’e allowing my touch was for her benefit or for mine. I’m grateful no matter what her reasons.

What I love most about dogs is their ability to love unconditionally. To simply love without any expectation in return. Gaze into the eyes of a loving pet and you can feel their adoration. It’s so pure and overwhelming. That love can melt the hardest of hearts. For Lil’e and I, it was sort of the opposite. I learned to just love her. It didn’t matter if she loved me back. I believe she gave me a great gift and a great lesson to learn. She taught me the true meaning of unconditional love. This is what came to me last night as I was about to go to sleep. Maybe it was from her.

“Loving is more important than being loved. Having someone or something to love is more nurturing than being loved in return.”

That’s the lesson. That was her mission - what she was sent here to teach me. “To love just to simply love.”

The loss of love or a loved one can be devastating on a soul. It’s like a fire that rampages a beautiful field or forest turning everything in its path black. The seeds of new love and optimism turn downward, burrowing deep under the surface, hiding in the depths of consciousness. There the soul suffers grief and loneliness - a hole unfilled. Time passes as life adjusts. Eventually the soul begins to heal and starts to unwind the threads of attachment - turning upwards toward the warmth of the light. Add a few tears - the spirit-cleansing rain, and the soul returns to the surface and to life. The forest reborn. The old burned away, and in its place, something new and inviting. The hope and promise of new love. A new life. A new journey to begin.

And so must we. Take our time to grieve our loss, and when the time is right, turn back upwards to the light - into the boundless realms of creativity. We must refill the hole. 

Nothing is ever lost. Not truly. Only transformed. Energy remains energy. Love remains love. And sacrifice is the burden and price of renewal. All things must change. It’s the way of things… of life. Better to embrace the transformation and live fully, than fight against the tide and drown in sadness and remorse.

Whatever comes next, I only know one thing. It will be beautiful. No, it won’t be another Lil’e. Probably not even another dog… for now. But it will be something worthy of her loss. Something extraordinary. Something filled with goodness to heal our hearts, and hopefully, one day maybe, the hearts of many.

Timothy Boggs - February 3rd/4th, 2025

(The following is a remembrance I wrote celebrating my experience with the great Artist, David Lynch )

David Lynch: “Almost Velvet” - A Remembrance

“This whole world is wild at heart and weird on top.”

There are few people in my life that I have most wanted to work with and actually got the opportunity to do so as David Lynch. I will be forever grateful for that opportunity and the lasting impression David had on me and my creative life.

I first met David at his house... his middle house near Mulholland Drive in the Hollywood Hills. David owned a three house compound along a lush treelined street; the lower one he resided, the middle one he created art and edited films in, and the the newly bought third house where he filmed parts of the movie I was beginning to work with him on - “Lost Highway." 

It was a late spring morning in 1996 and I was there with a group of sound colleagues from Digital Sound & Picture (DSP), an independent, state of the art digital post-production sound house located in Culver City. We were the young  hot-shot sound house that were pioneers in digital recording, editing and mixing of movies and television shows, and just the kind of studio David wanted to work with.

David met us inside a large converted living room that was part art studio and part equipment storage room. He wore his traditional wear - buttoned up black shirt, khaki pants and black shoes. His silvery hair was flipped back wildly as if he had just gotten out of bed, and he wore the grin of a young boy who was about to open presents on his birthday. Pure joy.

Together we watched an early draft of the film, discussing creative sound design and noting potential sound problems we detected. My job was to listen to the dialog and make notes of any dialog that might need re-recorded and suggest areas where background voices could be helpful. The first version we watched was well over two hours long so we took many breaks during our 6-7 hour meeting. Mostly we took breaks so David could go outside and smoke a cigarrete - a habit he embraced and fully enjoyed. Smoking breaks gave David time to slow down, to ponder, to give his creative mind a chance to make evaluations and respond. It was part of his process. 

The process of a very creative mind and magical artist.

I was already a huge fan of David, having been introduced to his film ”Eraserhead” while I was still in Art School in the late 70’s. It was a mind blowing experience.  David’s dark visions titilated my fascination of the balance between darkness and light that my Halloween birthday influence gave rise to. I suspect some of my collegues were unaware at the time just who they were about to work with and David’s growing influence on cinema. But I was well versed, having watched every feature he had made to that point and was beyond excited to be working with one of my cinematic heros. 

So on his breaks, I hovered.

“I love paint. I like watercolors. I like acrylic paint... a little bit.

 I like house paint. I like oil-based paint. 

I love the smell of turpentine and 

I like the world of oil paint very very very much.”

During one of the early breaks I told David of my art background, hoping to connect with him on some deeper level. So he happily took me out to his concrete walled back patio where he was finishing a new painting. The painting was comprised of mostly black paint on a white background with circular swirls, and in the center of the canvas was a dead bird. A real dead bird - one he had found laying on his patio floor one morning and decided to incorporate it into the work. He used a thick lacquer to adhere the fallen fowl onto the canvas. I wasn’t shocked at all. It seemed perfectly “Lynchian” to me. David found inspiration all around him, and the dead bird was merely another color to be used and expressed. No judgement or emotion. It wasn’t gross or horrifying. It was beautiful. Why paint an image of death when real death was there to be utilized? Of course many (if not most) people would find this work of art disgusting and repulsive. I found it enlightening. 

“To me, a story can be both concrete and abstract,

or a concrete story can hold abstractions. 

And abstractions are things that really 

can’t be said so well with words.”

Weeks later, back at DSP, I began working directly with David during the process of ADR (Automated Dialog Replacement), better known as “looping.” We spent a lot of time together on the ADR stage re-recording actors lines of dialog that were noisy or lines that David had rewritten as he condensed the film during the editing process. To help me cue up the the problem lines, I often used the original script; both to make sure I wrote the correct character name and its spelling, and also to make sure I wrote each line of dialog correctly. It was the most critical part of my job - cuing the lines we needed correctly, because once the actor finished recording the lines I requested, there was no bringing them back afterward because of a mistake I made typing the lines out. What was interesting about the Lost Highway script was how long it was compared to what ended up on the screen. The entirety of the unabridged story was in the original script, however, there were many scenes that were either trimmed much shorter or cut from the film completely. A whole center section of the script (the trial) was only alluded to in the final edit. What I began to understand about David’s storytelling style was that even though the script contained the entirety of the story (and I was told that David filmed every scene in the screenplay), he only used the parts that were essential to the telling of the story he wanted on screen. He strived to find the pure essence of the film. The screenplay and the photography became like a huge block of marble that David and his editor would chip away and refine until the masterpiece revealed itself. Start with the whole and remove some bits, then condense them together, then remove some more and condense, repeating the process until there was nothing else he could remove without the story falling completely apart. Removing every unnecessary frame until all that was left was its essence. 

David was a genius at doing that.

“Meditation is to dive all the way within, beyond thought, 

to the source of thought and pure consciousness. 

It enlarges the container, every time you transcend. 

When you come out, you come out refreshed,

filled with energy and enthusiasm for life.”

During our months together working on “Lost Highway,” there was one thing that could be predicted - lunch. David had a ritual at lunchtime. Before lunch he would order. Always the same order every day, never wavering. Much like his work uniform, eating lunch was a less important necessity. Food was merely fuel for his body to operate, and he didn’t want to distract his creative mind by wasting valuable time and energy agonizing over a decision on what to eat. So he ordered, and usually using the same words and the same tone and inflection -

“I’ll have a tuna fish sandwich, two bags of plain potato chips and an ice-cold Coca Cola!” 

Every day. Every day. Every day.

He would spend the first thirty minutes of our hour lunch in a darkened edit bay where he meditated. Every day, without fail. When he emerged, he was happy, at peace and ready to eat. 

I shared many lunches with David and opened up about my own meditation practice - one I had been doing since I was sixteen years old. And while my Kriya Yoga practice differed from his Transcendental Meditation practice, we both shared in the knowledge of the benefits sitting in peace on a regular basis has on our mental and creative health. He found a Zen like way of life where he eliminated unwanted distractions like ordering lunch, or what to wear every morning, and found simpler, more streamlined habits. Again, a master of Zen-like habits. Much more disciplined than I have ever been. I was impressed then and still am now of how he incorporated these very logical and smart habits into his daily routine. The David I remember was always pleasant to be around. I never saw him lose his cool. He was, as Dennis Hopper once described him “a boy scout… a very demented boy scout.” Though to me, David wasn’t demented at all. He was a man who had found freedom. Freedom to be unafraid of life. Unafraid of what others, especially critics, thought. Unafraid to explore the darkest nature of mankind while maintaining a spirit of light and love for everyone. Unafraid to create whatever his inner being wanted to create with no worry if it would be financially successful. He lived his life as an example for others to learn from without ever being preachy or self-righteous. 

He was, just simply, a lovely human being.

“Happy accidents are real gifts, and they can 

open the door to a future that didn’t even exist. 

It’s kind of nice sometimes to set up something to 

encourage or allow happy accidents to happen.”

One of my favorite stories about David I didn’t witness first hand, but was told about it shortly after it happened. David was working on a P.S.A. for (I believe) The American Heart Association on one of the smaller mix stages at DSP. The two mixers had worked on the minute long piece, adding sound effects and textures where needed. When they laid in the music provided for the piece they discovered it was a few seconds short. They tried everything they could think of to make it end where the final image faded to black, but each hopeful remedy created more problems. So they kept the music where it was originally placed. When David came in to review their work and make his own adjustments, he flagged the music landing short of the mark. After the mixers explained their reasons for what they had done and showed him different potential variations, David agreed to keep the music where they had placed it and said not to worry about it.

Later in the afternoon, when it came time to show the representatives of the AHA the finished work, a couple of dozen people eagerly crowded into the small mix stage. They were excited to be in the presence of the great master filmmaker and watched their beautiful little film come to life on the screen. At the end, they stood and gave him a rousing ovation, telling him how great the film was and how much they loved it… but that the music ended a few seconds before the picture went to black and could he…?

Without hesitation David stood and defended the film. 

“Don’t you see? It’s perfect! I meant it to end that way! It gives emphasis to the message by finishing in silence. It’s perfect!”

And the representatives all eagerly agreed exclaiming -

“Oh yes! You are so right! Of course it’s perfect! Brilliant! Thank you!”

David owned the mistake as if it were divinely directed…

and maybe it was.

“A filmmaker doesn’t have to suffer to show 

suffering. You just have to understand it. 

You don’t have to die to shoot a death scene.”

My ex-wife Shan once opined that David must have come from an extremely safe and loving family and community, because no one who was raised in the bleak darkness of pain and insecurity could ever want to go back to explore that world in the way David does. 

I don’t know this, but I believe David felt drawn to the mystery of his darker psyche, his macabre imaginative fantasies, because he knew that was all they were - dark fantasies. He could confidently explore these inner realms of mind and safely return to the “real” world afterward. He eventually learned how to take the rest of us with him on these journeys knowing that the ride was indeed a safe one. I propose that David Lynch was not a man filled with morbid darkness, but a man filled with light. 

And with his extraordinary light, he exposed the deep mysterious caverns of consciousness that hold and hide our collective inner demons. His films are thrill rides into these dark realms where we can confront those demons, and learn not to be afraid.

“In Heaven, everything is fine.”

One of my last conversations with David was as we were finalizing the mix on “Lost Highway.” He was outside having one of his smoking breaks. I asked him how the mix was going. David gazed at me with that same little birthday boy smile, and lovingly replied -

“It’s almost velvet.”

Happy 79th Birthday David. Light speed on your journey to the great beyond. Hope there’s plenty of pie and coffee out there. 

Save me some, please.

Timothy Boggs - January 20, 2025

Sometimes...

Hey kids! We've got a new song being released worldwide on 7/7/23. "Sometimes" is our most ambitious piece of music yet and is part of our "Karmic" repertoire (as opposed to our more funny/irreverent "Jesters" tunes). Sometimes has a more Eastern flavor (and I don't mean Atlanta or New York ), using sitars and Middle Eastern percussion as its base. Sometimes is the 2nd song I composed on my Breedlove acoustic guitar (my first and so far only) when I bought it about nine years ago. It's gone through many versions and transitions, finally evolving into what Larry and I have lovingly produced.  This song is what I consider "experiential." Listen to it in a darkened room, with eyes closed and a good pair of headphones. Relax and let Larry's guitar and sitar magic and my voice and words transport you into a deeper realm - a dream world of imagination - a multi-sensory experience.

We hope you enjoy our music and keep coming back for more. As I listen to the unfinished songs to come, I'm filled with joy, already knowing what magical music is to come. I can't wait to finish so we can share them with all of you. If you like what you hear, do us a favor and tell your friends and family. The more the merrier. As always - may peace, light, and love always be with you. Keep smiling!

T - 6/29/23

Hey All! I just discovered that when you leave a message in our "Contact Us" section, I can't respond back to you directly unless you send me your contact info (email, etc.). For direct communication with me, you can email me or Larry at :

KarmicJesters@gmail.com

So, Michael H. - give me a direct shout-out, and anyone else who cares to do so. I would love to hear from you.

Peace!

T - 5/10/23

Happy 2023!!!

So, we made it to another year. Who knows where this one will lead us. Looking back on 2022, I will forever see it as the year we began in earnest. We officially incorporated "Karmic Jesters, LLC" and started releasing music - yes, slowly (probably too slow for some of you) but you can't rush perfection... or even somewhat decent, or you'll end up with just plain mediocre (which is worse than bad... unless it's Bad Bad Boy.... but I digress!) 

2023 will start a new chapter in story of Karmic Jesters. While 2022 showed our more comic "Jester" side, 2023 you will begin to see/hear our more "Karmic" side. If you liked the Jester songs, I believe you will LOVE the Karmic ones. So stay tuned. I'll try to be better at posting other interesting tidbits - images, sounds, and words. And if you like what you are experiencing here, PLEASE tell your friends. We need all the support we can get so we can afford to create more. We are very grateful to all of you. After all, YOU are who we are creating this for. Thank you again, have a wonderful adventure wherever your lives take you. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

T - 01/04/2023

As some of you may know - I make my living as a sound editor for movies and TV shows, working mostly at Warner Bros. And as much as I love what I do in the sound world, I find I love writing and recording songs even more. I've had some time off from my paying work recently and have tried to put that time to good use. Time, you see, is our most precious commodity - The more time we own, the less we have left - such is the nature of life. So when I have what we refer to as "free time" (you'll find nothing is free, especially time) I try to make the best use of it. For me, I try to use my time creating - especially writing and the visual arts. I wish I could afford to write and record full time, and hope, with your help, that I will soon be able to do so. We at Karmic Jesters will continue to release single songs until we we have enough of a following to justify releasing our already completed album. If you enjoy what we are creating for you, please support us by either purchasing our songs/merchandise, or telling others about us (hopefully with positive reviews). I can't stress this enough - Our success is dependent on your support. Without it we will stay obscure and unable to complete the many songs we have in the works. And if you enjoy what we are presently producing I know you are going to LOVE what's to come.

Thank you again from the deepest part of my heart for listening. It is my greatest joy and honor to create for you. I am truly grateful. 

T - July, 13 2022

Hey fellow Jesters. Tim here. I just added a couple of blog buttons for Larry and I to communicate with everyone. Expect the usual silliness and inane humor we are not yet famous for... but may become infamous for... time will tell. I also set up a "Contact Page" for you to communicate directly with us. Please leave email addresses and any comments you want to make. We want this site to be fun and more interactive. This is all for our fans - our "Listeners." We aren't much without you. - like an echo chamber.  Let us know what you like and what interests you. Express your thoughts about life, music, art... or whatever. There are no rules... yet. Let's have fun. More music is coming and hopefully will now be released on a more regular basis. If you like the music, help us out by spreading the news about us. Share. In order for Karmic Jesters to be able to keep going we need to grow our audience. We need your help, and truly appreciate your patronage. I have the advantage of already knowing the music we are creating. I believe many of you are going to love it - not all of you, or maybe you won't love everything we release. But the music is diverse and covers many genres and subjects. All I ask as you keep checking in. I think you're going to enjoy the time investment. Peace All!

T - 07/03/2022