1:51 - 2:11
Who is that stranger hovering five feet over your back porch? They are not attached with strings. They are not hanging. Neck broken. Tongue blue and poking out through teeth clenched teeth. Severing ties and wounds grow bigger without healing because modern medicine has a cap. Not everything can be fixed with duct tape yet you try to reattach your common sense. Lost limbs, ghostly sensation that it is still there functioning and grotesquely friends have to watch you flail around your stump in attempt to pick up a beer. I have a phantom limb. Its the one that comes out of my chest and pushes things away from me without my knowing. Like a shield. My heart is safely behind my bones and brawn.
Free concert at a coffee shop. Good music. Pretentious indie folk. Orchestral. Then some sort of half ska half rap hip music. It turned into a dance party and the shit was catchy. Then indie. Acoustic chords and sounds. A nice little voice and multi-instrumentalists. Then a more punk folk deal. Some yelling into the mic but absolutely solid harmonies. High ones. Really good. I'll see them again at the clubhouse down the street. MIxed crowd. Paper machete bird masks, a man painting a bird on the back wall, positive bathroom graffiti which I find obscene and unsanitary, next time ill just piss on the wall out back. the one that every pisses on. girl with pink hair. a lot of prescription glasses, tattoos and flannel. the underground indie scene of tempe is rich and diverse and the music is good. i will attend more things like this, mr social with his short hair. networking man its all about networking, but something in me stirs when folks discuss the future. my future. your future. oh yeah we might need someone to fill in for our summer tour. can i wing this? what about the stoner band, or the hopes of further HBO specials in California? what about growing some balls and writing a solid emotional acoustic set. the type of music that shifts something inside of the listeners. like the turning of a dial. a response. autonomic. something moves around and the person shutters as a cold ghost passes through them. their hand stands up on their back and they change their evil ways. its about confidence and simply going for it. not caring what they think. its about the success. the brooding corner shopper who never sings in front of crowds is suddenly alive and victorious. practice enough. four times a week. and get better and better. make the music and then things will happen. where will you go in seattle. could you live alone? in the filthy city that so many rap about. could i become the artist i wish to be. the genius. the genesis of all of my ideas. where can these pieces fit together best for me? here, not so much. but i'm not jumping on it. i had shots at open mics in portland, even tacoma when i still lived at home. but no courage. no back up. now do i have that wild compulsion? do i have the wide eyed motivation to create change. to create things in general and make the most of a dulling and sedative life. my lifestyle is slowly turning me into a cave troll. someone who cowers where there is sun or pretty women. the types of things going on all around me that i can't change but wish to have a part in anyway. im comfortable feeling so left out. because to be let in is to give up on my ambition which i wish to keep with me and take to the grave (carling rolling around in his grave). comedy genius. musical genius. artistic genius. literary genius. relationship guru. math professor. club owner. detective. famous actor and director. screenplay author. camera man for comedic shorts. mountain climber. if i could be all and do all.... its not about prior experience to show others, hey ive done this a million times, its about the courage, the investment into life and expansion.... to just plunge in. dive into the deep end where you can't dream about the bottom. the end. it doesn't exist. its just the here and now and its forever and always and if you dont jump, even contemplate it for a second you will forever regret the time lost in your hesitation.
