June 8

Glorious music at a wonderful sunrise beachfront. For you I have an unlimited surplus of respect. All of that dormant, untapped potential remains in storage (safe, sound). Draw from it like a syringe into the vein but not too much. Small portions of enticing moments. Riffing with words. I feel as though I haven't much explored. I have no idea which way I am facing but I have work to do for the band. The reason I am here. Might as well draw both guns and fire away. The target cannot elude such a barrage. There are battalions of ships at my back. (pirate flags). Fingers moving quicker each day as I self-teach myself into a new level of playing. Are lessons necessary for this instrument? They were. Are they still? I must just teach self more explosive theories. All of the notes in a mode. Where to hit them up and down the neck. 5-string symphony. make the magic moves and all else will follow.

there is a canyon to explore. and hollywood. huge bookstores. music shops. coffee houses where authors disappear without much notice. I am the author of my fate and there are so many improvements that can be made in preparation for huge crowds, beautiful women, hard drugs, body modifications, narcissism. We are in this together and we must build up all of our excitement. Practice bass spins on the lawn. Not to the ridiculous extent. Watch someone pull off a bass spin. No one will think it was stupid. Likely it would be the only memorable thing I can do on stage for the non-musician witness. Witness this sick shit. We will throw a hot box listening soiree. We will put all of our eggs in one basket. the basket is fortified. high walls all around.

Am I paralyzed by the amount of options I have?

There is work to be done. For myself. Of myself. On myself. I am executing ideas more rapidly than they can manifest. This is excitement. Get myself to a music store. I must find books to leaf through in my spare time that will improve me as a musician. As a person. Read. Read. Write. Learn. Grow. Draw on experiences of others as well as past. Learn Protest the Hero songs. Sing comfortably throughout the day. Find capo. Learn theory better. Grammar better.

I do not look down at you
Rather through a fog
The haze around your whole city
You've lost yourself in
the best way
Obfuscate
my remains
there are no clear lines anymore
Will you continue to follow that double yellow line into the ditch?
Never enough preroll
tattoo yourself in remembrance
of who you wanted to be

and who you now are

beautiful loser in the sun
burning up in the cosmos
there are particles
bouncing off your skin
some remain and invest
in living arrangements
there is not a place
I have solid evidence
beyond right here
right now

my mentors turned human
crippled and small
I realize there may be a
polarization of respect
I respected to earn new followers

your heart ache no longer hurts me
I deflect it off like a big mirror
you are more hollow than an empty canister
canteen in the wilderness of
alcoholic park rangers molesting backpackers
there are bears that will attack
but they will not eat your vegan bullshit
they are true animals
as are we
we all forgot our roots
and what we owe
forever
to the natural world

explore that canyon
find springs where girls frolic
in the sun
this summer at malibu
picking up where
I left off with someone else

june 7

Get away with little breaths
approaching a destination
the best scenery is not always
around the next corner
it is here to stay, involved in the womb
of the earth.
having a nice day are you?
there are happy people celebrating
their ended school year
college life I will be distanced from you
for now at least
until I am established
and found a clean break
to make and take a ride
from here to space

crying here with my dog
don't mind me
the couch is a place
to sink and sit and listen
we are trying to reach the outer limits
of this existence

june 6

1:54 am

Steam stirs up from old mug like yawning spirits, swirling up from their places of rest to enter our world and haunt and spook. But they are commuters. And I am nowhere near the target. There is a hole in my thumb from grasping the lawn mower. We are changing the game with incredible layered vocals and melodies. I search through the slime to become free and home free. My own biography. Must fabricate a wonderful and inspirational story. How many people will edit without my consent? Is it free information to use and consume? We'll see. For now I wait in the rafters. Tea is boiling. Charring skin on impact. Extreme jumps in confidence for both vocals and bass player but not necessarily at the same time. Incongruity. We expedite our demise with clever devices. Tobacco and peppermints. Talk of hard drugs and experiences of waterfront. Curious where the entirely family comes from. Is this how we will all be socially? Test the waters. Or simply dive in. Either way it will end in a splash. Damp feeling of gravity. We call it fate or some such. They are optimistic people but I don't have any heart to shout out my opinion. A dive bar in the jewish district. A million beautiful blondes but I only ended up having a good time when I had headphones on in the studio. Listening to the sound of my own voice, surprising me with a vocal talent I thought I lacked. This EP destroyed any insecurities I had regarding my voice. My throat is sore now because I went for the yells. The gift of punk. But only a swear word will be isolated and everyone will wonder what they heard. Try and try again. We ate their food and never thanked them. Feeling the pressure of the investment. Too professional to let me have any input because I am a pawn in their game. Fine. Cool. I have power over them. No one is ever truly powerless. Everyone has a better or best self somewhere and it is a great message to send out. Get off your ass and go live your dream because it is possible. Blaming your problems on something external is too damn easy. A scapegoat for a sedentary, safe, lifestyle. Without danger is without life. I'd risk myself in the pathways of bullets or tigers rather than joining the cubicle suicide watch, the doors open from top to bottom here, automatic with a switch.. Rocker girl with tight leather zip up dress and black hair. Crazy on you. Try me and try to see that we are more than audience members. I want to hold out for you and care about the dreams we can share. The others of this musical, rock and roll in the modern age, circus of drugs and drinks. Always thinking marketing. Always thinking about what is takes to make money. (What are you going to do with all of that money?) Just act. Stop thinking. Making my own money would be great so I can pay back all of my debts. They are seriously when they say buy us a nice place to retire to. Suddenly they'll pack up and head off into unknown directions. Had sudden fear never leave the house and let the yard swallow it up entirely. Upkeep is constant. Green is everywhere. I miss only the little things. Big thins are always there to summon when ultimately necessary. Split lip and spitting fire. I try to dance around my opinion because I fear I will offend those who I am trying to work with. It is an incredibly advantage for a band to have a strong sense of humor as well as a do-it-yourself demeanor... everyone is motivated toward a common goal. Suddenly we are too old to even KNOW any high school girls. We are dudes on a mission and somehow it has to all work up fashionably.

June 4

Get nostalgic about that blonde girl who was once captivating on a personal level but now it appears she is more of a ghost or a giant. Something intangible and so far away. Just like I will become in a sense. I don't have the golden brown tan washboard where my stomach should be. I don't have the blonde hair as well. The perfume scented eyes and the smile that spans across an ocean or two. Clean up the act. You are foreign and sexual deviance is totally fine over there. Crawl back, cradled closer to the fire in a beach house at ocean shores. We could chew salt water taffy, go-cart or run into the ocean straight. See how many strides we can take until our shoes get wet. I predict infinite. The world is full of surprises. I'm still a child and so are you. My breath is still taken away when I learn something new. There are so many specialists and so many subjects. Indefinite literature on the shelves. The stacks deep in the catacombs of public college libraries. Too hot and central for there to be any threat of outside influence. No revolution will be heard from that deep... We chase these elements, these huge and intangible demons of dreams... everything seems so far away or too hard. Where to begin. The moment we are closest to heaven or any concept similar is the moment of realizing that something once intangible, vague and huge, only an outline of an idea, an undiscovered dream, has become entirely possible and real. Rather than just an assumption of an ideal suddenly we are inside of it. Automatically from here we look back and see that it was so much closer the whole time and we regret not realizing it sooner. So many situations could have been remedied and mended. So many ignited bridges extinguished. A rogue wave, pushed by god's hand or poseidons trident, a squid with a large bird beak... put out the fire and scatter the ashes, we are all in this together and when will we realize our potential as a human race! Why must we continue to squander and steal and take short cuts. everyone is out for their own.. now more than ever. We destroy the world in the process. So yeah, fuck yeah I have a passion for natural foods.


---- 1:54 -----

There ain't a need for flashlights with a moon like this. Blinding like brights. Life is a huge unraveling fortune. Line by line like a papyrus scroll, depicting the mystery of events as they happen. Perhaps there is no end to the scroll and someone rigorous at the end continues to write and to draw up our future. Not god. I imagine an intrepid wanderer, alone and crazy. Coffee drunk. He is unshaved and curled into a cruel ball of human form. No posturing here. He is the future and he writes us all off but with all of the complications we present to each other, there is no definite conclusion. The story must continue because there are so many loose ends, always. Always long lost lovers, eager to rekindle the feeling with a new person but both ultimately unsatisfied with the results. Kids playing in traffic. Songs that destroy thought process. Pause everything and fall deep into the cadence. Travel song. Yearning for home. For a place to feel comfortable and warm.

The legend of the map.

wake up confused
in unfurnished rooms
I'd never be happy to drown
anywhere but in the sound
fall into the cadence
as it picks up the pace
the rhythm unchanged
landlocked and feeling hopeless
I needed the pacific ocean
to set my bearings straight
to fix my compass
there is no determined fate

hand over your pen
you're too drunk to write

everything can change in a matter of seconds
but I can't stay here when my soul beckons
to leave
to slip through open windows unnoticed in the dark moonlight
point anywhere on a map
they'll see the same moon
unless the air is too thick
for it to shine through
I'm living a dream but I'll still dream of you

hand over your rights
you're too smart to fight
against the tide

but I feel that magnetic pull
inside my skull
you say you want to wish it all away
come back to haunt you some day
 I am the ghost that persuades
you will follow me
across this country

-----

regain confidence in vocal performance as I am given attempt after attempt of secondary vocals. bury it so deep I'll have a hard time distinguishing. but it'll be there! 

June 3

Calendar days missing from the script. There are black squares where empty spaces with days and numbers, labelled... should be. My mistake for having spilled ink. Artists cry over spilled ink. There are many things to learn about me. I used to be a champion kayaker. I go in waves of rigorous vocabulary practice. About every six months the cycle repeats. Mostly when I am in a dark place without any feelings for music or art or writing. Simple and mindless exercise. Just like jogging but with interesting and potentially useless words. It is all building up my credentials as a human being. An English-speaking human being. There are others like me surely. I paint inconsistently. I draw with colored ink pens. Charcoal is one of my favorite mediums for art but I never really use it at the moment. In class I excelled at those contour charcoal outlines of the human form. No nude models for me or my class. Sitting with a sore neck on my new bed. To my left is my stereo with cd's stacked on top. A reading lamp. Pens and pencils. Coffee cup. I bought myself some groceries today. All on my own. But it was a strange feeling. I've had strange feelings.

Time traveling in the chrysler. Enter suicide doors but exit alive and refreshed. Running boards made for gangsters with pinstripe suits and tommy guns. We then flew over to the outback, memories bombarding at the old middle school.. threw a boomerang across the field but it mostly went straight, as we had no australian ancestry in our collective blood. We checked and cross checked. (fear of drug test limiting possibilities. time for detox. week long embrace of sobriety. flushing the body out with water and orange juice. glasses of tea and jog after jog after jog. there are no limitations. everything is possible.) Climb under the bridge and witness the new spectacle of planted shrubs and a giant tunnel. The tunnel under the road where we skipped rocks and challenged each other to childhood games. Hit the tree stump with a rock. Friendly people with glorious smiles. I am not higher than them. Unfortunately, a minor glitch of superiority could be felt. But why? Perhaps I did not see much change in them. My life is constant photosynthesis. The butterfly is not the goal. It continually mutates and grows more beautiful, intricate patterns of broader, more energy efficient wings. Fly free from that caccoon of a year in the desert. The year begins again in the deseret. Teeth screaming to be brushed. Floor mopped. Nothing matters but simple existence and a passive understanding of job opportunities left and right. Join a gym. Date a broad. Hobbies are found but must be fortified. Get good, really good, at collecting stamps. Playing the cards right and stepping into limelight where others have stood terrified. Stand tall with wide chest. Evidence of obvious exercise. Feel good look good. There is nothing that can stand in your way other than you. This nags at all of us as we fail to reach one goal or another, blaming ourselves. Blame fate. Blame the wind. I will whisper truths into your ears until you need hearing aids. My treble is bombast and bright. I am a barotone soul, slowly spiraling into madness. You won't forget that I said this when it all comes to an end. Strip the leather from the car seats. Boost your stamina with energy pills. Everything flows through the body into dishes containing all your DNA. There is no hiding from the pills you've taken. The holes you've drilled in your head. Your friends were bad influences but wished to open your mind, experimenting in the circumstances, the live now, think later, mindset. Blaring through our headsets. We are not empty. We are full to the brim and everyone is living well who matters. Pierce yourself in a million different places until the rush overwhelms you and you never need another man in your life again.

----- 2:27 -----

No fear of interruption. The silence at such late time of rest is uncanny. Having lived in college cities the last few years I am always expecting someone to be causing trouble, drinking or fucking their way through the night as I try to sleep and be responsible... save those nights for the weekend, idiots. But here it is deadly silence. The type that creeps into your spine and grabs a hold. I am comforted. No need for the remote stereo (sleep mode on there is deactivated). Tonight I will sleep in silence.

I recorded vocals (my own voice!) in a nice studio for the first time. Exciting stuff and I got into it. Losing time. Letting it fly by. That growl in the voice. Flat in parts. Beer to wash down the throat. Vodka to clear out the voice box. Tiny doses though. It was sunday for god's sake. Somehow I realized my potential as a singer and in this format the execution is simple and incredible. I don't care how buried these harmonies are, I've found a new confidence in my voice that could not have happened any other way.

---------

I’m sorry I brought the rain up with me. The distance nearly killed me. I slept through a deseret listening to dark side of the moon. The bass rattling my belongings, all tucked into too many boxes, crash pad versus comfortable living space. Neither are right or wrong. (natural wear and tear, caused by the elements and not malice.) Your body is on display. You showed yourself to all in the dim lit parking lot and did not care who you went home with. (go to his place. kiss him everywhere and see what he likes.) Vomit thought. Hate to think this bitter mess about a god person. (good). But the distance killed us. No hope for future. Maybe one day I’ll marry her. Ten years or something… but no, no… I don’t foresee that anymore. Everything is more difficult than that. My stomach churning. I wish I could hold her rather than air and water. Just as a clairvoyant works…. I miss waking up with a woman who has the same level of respect for me as I do her. (gross misunderstanding, the Shakespeare festival nasty language which changed the game back in the day). We’re all ghost. Wandering from place to place. Searching for home. There is a soft wind. We are all lost so often. We are the legend of the map. Get in my heart darling baby girl. You are so cold out there. I witnessed a spectacular blinding landscape, the rugged American dream, though I flew south for the summer. Ironies in the quiet studio space. Generate vocals rather than sing them. I spoke up and question authenticity… to no ears. Everyone ignores me and they go back to copy paste vocals for choruses… because it will fool the audience. Working with someone so picky must be awful… there was confusion. I am so sorry I haven’t been up to date. I’ve been working too hard. Changing my life and falling into place in woodland hills. I live across from a private school in an attached guest house. We share a wall but I hear nothing. They hear nothing. No problems. I brought down the rain and it washes the dried bugs from the hood of my car.