Is there a hole forming somewhere essential inside of my body? I feel it now as I have before. Life in the studio is grand. But there is outside world that I am no part of. At the moment. Switching out miscellaneous acoustic mics. Spitting snus into red party cups. Twisting around ice, small chunks partially frozen, cruising down muggy streets with intentions to find an elusive coffee shop. I wanted to explore. To go on an adventure. Ended up at Warner Center, which seems far now but will become progressively closer as my radius expands with a black car and an engine. A sub in the back to bump tunes and drive around looking for trouble. Or guitar parts. More likely guitar parts. Getting drunk and working on the album is one thing but the expansive loneliness fills up more of me than I would like. All of the interpretations aside we set up mics and try to take long enough breaks where we all can watch meteors land and gladly step aside from their fiery destinations. Witness heart-warming family miracle as they all are in each others presence for the first time in as many months as their are bodies. Two boys, two girls. Bachelor pad. Living minimum. Loving minimum. Feeling needed as that extra ear but 'fresh ears' apparently means a bong hit. Nothing negative, I'm just in full realization of how much fun some old friends will be having tonight, together. I am only a cog in this wheel. I've tried to get out and see the world. The area still so unknown.... I believe I am facing south right now on the couch in the master control room. I will not double check now. If I am right I get credit, if I am wrong it will emphasize my confusion. I see help wanted signs. What do ya'll want help with? I will be some type of hermit. I have barely ran into passable women. Anyone to hold a conversation with and ask for sushi. (Use the waiter as a wingman. But that could back fire. Make a joke of it.) No way would I stay mad very long if I got pranked out of a good date. Just trying to get laid the old fashioned way. With a ring and a dream, so many options to choose from but no one self-medicates harder than when they are completely alone. Will anyone ever come to my attached guest house and deal with a snorting english bulldog and some smaller type of dog named after a sports team I dislike with me? Have a trailblazers hat from december. Zero accredited high fives. We are all in this alone. The wine and balloon show was called off because another man filled the shoes. We are not a one-hit-wonder 90's band. 'At least they had a hit.' but there is something electric in that idea of playing a music festival in front of 40,000 screaming lunatics. (While he records acoustics, will he need any lighting?) Great memory of different chord fingerings, he never has to deal with the standard guitarist issue of looking straight down at his fingers... This is to his extreme advantage. He can work without much thought other than how whatever he is playing sounds... Strangers in a stranger city. They finally arrived and the house is beautiful, mostly unfurnished, two dogs become brothers and the pieces fit like a puzzle. Aside from a back spasm and a rigorous recording regiment. I am tired because I drained my energy cruising over cracked sidewalks and down curving hills (sometimes no sidewalk at all). Watched a squirrel run across the road, said 'be careful, buddy,' and cruised on. Suddenly, a cosmic type of jaded loneliness returns again. But then again... I am under no wings. I have my own path to fly. I am emotionally invested into this album because of the time I've spent vegetating, listening, reworking and shouting out ideas for parts or shutting down ideas for parts. Living a musician dream. but there are still elements missing. such as a car, a girl, and a sense of direction. Just looking for trouble in all of the wrong places. Rather than fly things up, I'll probably just slide boxes under my comfortable queen-sized bed. No one will know where I am. Neither will I. Shopping centers with many screaming children and disgruntled mothers.
* * * *
sinking into pleasant, cheerful departure from standard songwriting. Same eerie lyrical deliver yet someone gave them indie pop lessons, they went through boot camp to make it a more presentable album. Although I agree it is incredibly infectious, if not catchy as hell. Beats underneath interesting lyrics and voice. (your mom's got a liquor head.) distract yourself in that same cadence, as other times. Hard pressed to call it a bad habit as it always ends in positive refrains. Music is a life saver.
