june 18

headache washes away in gentle waves, falling on small rocks made smaller. I met an angel. I met the devil. We had our ashes mixed up and shared close breathing. Crawl space under the back deck where, hideously, animals end up getting caught and dying. Too morbid for this late monday. Woke early to the sounds of rustling bushes. Clanking of dishes. The involvement of others in my own life. We are separated by a thin wall. We both can here all. Sleep on the ground, bro. Casanova with your convertible chevy. Sunglasses made specific for your face. Warped tour nostalgia. An insanity that has no boundaries. Campgrounds farther than the eye can see. The idea of returning seemed so damn casual this time. Instead of checking in. We checked out. I ran. I lifted. I ran again. Light boxes and cataracts. The double plexi, standing on cracking ice. Shelves of it across the atlantic to crash barges into. Read a bit. Visited the bank. (remember the slip of paper in my backpack). headache lead me into a daze and I am forcing the words. My apologies world. I cannot continue. Sleep is necessary. I will write in the morning.

June 17

With coffee and velocity backing me, there is no telling my destination today. (happy father's day). Imagine the possibility of meeting beautiful women to share the covers with. Listen to fan click. Explore unfurnished houses, still frames of wooden beams, mansions on the inside of coves at the end of a peninsula on a lake. Feel the heat from my faulty wiring. The lights flicker when I plug too many things in. I have the bed and the availability but no one would like to join. "problem with living alone is I would get bored and lonely" says the pierced lip singer. he has nothing to worry about, singing in his hollywood closet to stay fresh. Wouldn't it be nice, though, to have some strangers to talk to? Let's discuss ethics and how to handle bouts of depression. Two beautiful blondes in a mercedes, they shot me looks but I was on the phone with an old friend, somehow I had to let that opportunity slip. (What would I have done!) I know they overheard me say, with long legs in shorts, tank tops or ripped muscle shirt, I imagine a flannel design somewhere in this, 'but I don't talk to anyone anymore. and that's fine. I just want to get good at everything and people sometimes are just distractions. Think of all the people you've already met... Need any more?" (here I embellish the idea, embossed by a setting, me talking pretty outside the reading/learning/success center with my tail between my legs, pacing back and forth from shade to sunlight, I watched them drive away with a sad smile. Wondering, through the tint, what they thought of poor old me. Poor old infinite stardom rock band me, pacing in the sun, apparently talking to someone important... they made two passes while I spoke. First I sent good vibes, a tingling smile, something crooked with the right angles in attempt to make them stop dead in their tracks. A look that says, I will hang up this phone call with god immediately if you come home with me now. The second pass was a more quiet, anxious, resignation. I understood my first visions were hallucinations and I would end up alone on this phone again. Unsettled and spiritless in the hot, farmer's market, sun. The clogged artery sun. the shopping center sun.) There was hot caffeine in my blood then as well. Just as the doctor ordered. But where now are the beautiful ladies to use this energy to talk to? Would you like to get some coffee with me? You're wonderful. Have a nice day in your high and mighty palace that only rich boys with old money can enter (safely). We are the dissenting villagers outside of your castle. Drawbridge up. The knights with money for gifts are let it while everyone else sleeps. Go ahead, ghost ships setting sail. We are the mutiny on the sea. The captain walks the plank and everyone ends up dying, adrift and directionless, at sea, a giant body of water, that swallows insolence without mercy. There are people who deserve it. Cut me off, stranger. I am a defensive. (I can hear an owl in the morning fog). I wonder what exotic or toxic creatures await me at the beach. The future beach. That golden tan, body-building dog beach... bikinis and heat. there are no rules here. Too many dogs. Don't drink the ocean water. Will I meet that famous singer? Will I take home an actress and brag to my friends? Is my wife out there?

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12 hours later. And this is where my life begins. 

June 16

Under the shadow of the bodhi tree, meditating perfection and visualizing aspects of an entertaining live show. Impossible visions if mottled with vodka-sweat or thc-attached braincell mutation. Must be clear and tired. Laying vertically spinning nauseous with the pace of the world magnetic pull spin. Noxious gases, realizing the religious experience everyone must feel when entering space. But there is no sound for a muslim call to prayer. Like one man summits everest (sigarmatha) with the doobie brothers playing 'jesus is just alright' every step of the way the last few hundred feet. Hours of work to achieve these feet. Sheer altitude and exhaustion. Must take a step every few minutes to conserve energy. At this point you are in another dimension and the mind races to capture enough fuel to make it without allowing the amassing snow to sound comfortable. Blood turns to ice and inhaling is potentially disastrous due to icicles forming in the lungs or the throat. If they don't melt they will pierce through vital organs. Becoming a snow man. every winter. Come to life and melt.

I visualized where I would be in six days. On stage again. A real stage. Real music. Real people. Lunatics and wranglers. Try to steal my heart out from under me. But I'm here for art and for fun and for parties and booze. Let me live out my healthy fantasies under the beaming sun. There is time to careful preparation and spark notes. There is time for improvisation and sweating bullets that rain down onto the audience like hail storm. Everything will be just fine for me. I've made enough friends. There are enemies here everywhere. Must not let any of them penetrate our defenses. We are a solid army. We all visualize the experience and the lights and confusion. Confetti cannons aimed at our heads. Let's forget we exist for awhile and fall rhythmically into the cadence. The same one kerouac felt with his bop musician days 80 years ago. The same one hunter thompson explains during his times on motorcycles in gangs. Surveying gangs. That same pulse that keeps drums beating somewhere in the jungle forests. Thick tribal beats that no one in the modern world understands anymore. We are immune to all of that.

June 15

Looking back on my art. My god I'm out of practice. Like coping out of print vinyl in a used section of amoeba. (Mother, go to your ocean. It is so close. I was invited to try surfing. Your cousin. My mother's cousin. My aunt? Or also my cousin. Blood? Migration?) There is a pass and a twenty minute divide. No job allowed in this household full of choked laughter and awkward blessings passed between the more tense individuals. Sibling rivalry and a shit-talk father. Sometimes they all get like that. Having much less to do than talk about achievement. No more room for achieving. Jupiter has engagement rings. No one know how hard you tried to take it back. But we are here. The studio. Do they want to relocate once again? Or is there something in the air that everyone breathes? Quitting the cigarettes. Making him anxious. We want to practice they want to discuss things. Keep the meetings separate or separate your face. Good heart soul and you are a grand dad of electric speeches. Going off on tangents others seem to lose track of. I try my best to be polite and to be respectful. I wish nothing better for them but I feel like they've all strained themselves to move out here, friendless. A house is not a home. I am also lost. Similar mindset in my skull. Where are my friends? Will anything happen other than a closer band with the band? I haven't even talked to anyone else. Margeritas and fajitas by candlelight. Watch the dogs wrestle like a television match. Worthy to bet over. Herald your cloaked masking tape. hear my gregarious hamstring. there is no meanig here, boy. you are less than on your own suspended beneath the two largest suspension bridges. pass out while writing I wonder if i can get again a complete thought. eyes are closing and this is entirely too difficult to maintain

June 14

7/8 jam for fifteen minutes, lost in translation, the inevitable cues tying us together in sonic profusion. We use big words with big mouths. Count your teeth with the tip of your tongue and make sure you are all put together for that twin sized bed. Remember you shared one with me? And did you? Watching fear and loathing in candlelight, enlightening voices, we clogged our arteries with each others hearts. Too much for such a small bed in a small room with concrete floors. (the other painted her ceiling on adderral). First night waking naked next to her, spilling my guts the night prior. The morning, over coffee and awkward feeling of betrayal. No I did not try to take advantage. We were both immune to each other. Falling over ourselves in embarrassed appreciation of one another, including self-deprecation. (these days, what use getting drunk in a closed environment? the damage will catch up with us eventually. hydrate. stay warm. sweating and emotional. we cannot keep this pace up forever and ever.) Then again. This pace will not change. It may never. I remember warm scenes from nearly two years ago. We were kids in love. College treated us like angels. The low end hurt our eyes but we survived. I wish you the best. Jewelry being your attribute. Something money making and lighting up lives in marriage and counseling. You are being sent good vibes right now. I speak to you candid, as we traversed to the coast with a keg. Put a sweater and a hat on it and took swigs. I was the responsible driver yet again. I have done this before. Have a nice day again. Your hair looks great and your atmosphere is smoothed out like a hairpin turn. Or a switch back from a desert trail. We chase our tails between our legs. Hallucinate the rain and open our mouths to it. "I can offer you fresh ears" Let us bask in the glorified remembrance of days high in mexican restaurants as the only customers for miles surrounding. Let us get inside the cadence again. Let me pull apart the seems that separate me from that time. The fabric of time separating. We annoy each other. My god it worked! I'd be happy to wake up in your arms one night a year and 3/4 ago. (just cuz I dont wanna war with you dont mean go warm up the barbeque). I'd be happy to fall into that scene for a moment of lapsed consciousness. (listen to bus driver). sweeping loneliness. I am stuck in a room with a spoiled dog who barks at me simply because I am in here. Go ahead and do your worst. I am immune. Someday this will pay off. I don't have doubts about my place here now but I wonder when I will meet people. For now it's all bass. It's music and it is preventing death by malnourishment. I can still hold you in my arms in my dreams. I can still feel you breathing on me. I am here and you are there and we can never go back to that black dress dorm room fantastic. Pouring baking soda on the ground. Drinking around back. Campus security have no power. Smoking until the fire alarm squeaks then batting away at the smoke from the door. How the hell did I get here? Last time I check I was living in Broadway. - - - - - but it is still easy to change from resting to waking state than the opposite. any sound keeps me awake when I try. but every sound wakes me up early in the morning. a ridiculous hour day and have I spent it well. jinx me to fail at a bass solo. but I'm sure I won't. you said it. I am prideful. It can't happen. Cover it well. Play it 200 times before the show. Same with the synchronized singing parts. wearing water plugs for those. sleeping at the studio again. did I pay money for a good reason? expensive cost for a nice dorm room. a bachelor pad. bustling musician. off to band practice. never came back. left his shit. I am too tired to stand or play or sing anymore. my voice was wrecked earlier. I wish you were here to share this twin bed and tell that it is okay I am not at home.