all you create and all you destroy

As human beings, we are creators of nothing. We are organizers. Whether we achieve this by invention, or education, or politics, we all seek to organize the best way we can. Everything is traced back to God-given matter, it is what we do with it, how we choose to organize the pieces we touch, that makes us unique.

We use words that make it sound like we have really created something, but our language has allowed us to be rather generous when it comes to personal credit. "You created a mess" for example. I didn't create a mess- I didn't create the shirt that's on the floor, or the sock that's hanging from the closet door, none of the actual things that make up a mess. But I suppose it's neccessary to have terms like these to shorten our explanations for why we let what is ours out of our control.

When I write a song, I'm not creating any new words or chords. I'm piecing together what already exists in a new way. And I call this collection of words and music a song. It's my way of organizing a bit of the chaos around me- that's what I've been given. And this new organization of the old is why you can hear a song you've never heard before and have it sound familiar, hit something inside. These common elements are certainly not exclusive to music- the old, the already in existance is why we share universal questions and feelings, and often solutions to basic problems- the family unit being essential to literal survival, for instance. So whether it's writing a novel or solving a math problem, all we're really doing is rearranging our bit of chaos into something of order, something that one can understand, satisfying our instinctive need to organize.

Make that 16-12.

Make that 15-12

Make that 14-12.

And I was totally there at the Garden, screaming my team to victory. It was awesome.

Make that 13-12

I love my team

Blazers are 12-12 after stomping the Nuggets tonight. Yeah. Buddy.

don't turn your head back over your shoulder

I know where I am and where I'm going and I'm still lost.

all by yourself

Music is enough to get me through the day, but it is not enough to save me.

It's a bandaid, a spare tire, meant for temporary relief. Not that it is a temporary pursuit, just that it fills the space temporarily (and not entirely) that is meant to be filled by something else. Something more. Something real.

walk down that lonesome road

Today was easier, for some reason, than most of the yesterdays in recent memory. Instead of feeling like this had to be the hardest things would get, it was more like the hardest was finally almost over. On to new difficulties. I know there will be more hills to climb, even mountains, but this one I'm on right now... I'm pretty close to the top. And it's all downhill from there. So I'll hold my breath a little longer, I'll wait, a little longer. Because this is almost done.

Audience Participation

One of the Portland radio stations does a "celebrity playlist" thing and, evidently having a very loose definition of "celebrity", I've been invited to be a part of it... providing me with the opportunity to choose my "five favorite songs" to be played on the radio. It's comforting to know that even though it will only be a brief period of time, there will actually be something worth listening to on the radio next week. In my "professional" opinion.

Feet First

I don't know who all is following the weather conditions in the Northwest this week, but I am.

There was a taping for a special tv broadcast thing for this Christmas compilation CD that benefits children's hospitals that I'm involved with this year in Seattle, so I drove up Thursday to be there for that (and by "I drove", I mean "I was in the car while somebody else drove"). Mom came up Saturday for the actual taping, I met Sanjaya, hung out with my Steves, and stayed in this strange hotel- Not strange scary, strange... artsy? very Seattle, I guess. Tiny elevators. Definitely not Marriott.

Me and Mom headed up to my aunt's house north of Seattle to hang out and shop for a couple days after that. And get our hair done. We were all over the greater Seattle area on Monday, and I have never seen it rain like that. Neither had the locals, apparently, but it was seriously bucketing all day (in the end it got 2nd place for record rainfall in a day for the area ). We were involved in a minor vehicular cosmetic issue on the freeway, but that's off the record and no big deal. We watched the news that night back at my aunt's, and learned that a 20 mile stretch of I-5 was CLOSED (at Chehalis, for those of you who know where that is). Shut down. Completely flooded. Kind of an important freeway to have open. For me. This week. So there was no hope Tuesday of getting home, which was fine with me. Off the record.

It's not like an accident, or even a tree falling on the road- you can't really clear water off, and it means that all the other alternate routes around it were out as well. Then the next closest alt. routes were shut down by idiot drivers who thought that their car was magic. We got varying reports of when I-5 would be open again, none of them promising. The flood waters finally started to recede today, half an inch an hour, but even so the reporters were heard to say things like "unsure of the structural integrity" and "concrete strewn about the freeway like Legos in a child's bedroom".

With our options limited, Mom and I headed out this morning with an atlas and took the very, very long way home. Seattle to Salem, via Yakima. That adds about 250 miles to the journey, for those keeping track at home. But it was a pretty drive, I saw new places, we had good weather (until we reached Portland), we're safe, and I was kind of in the mood for an adventure.

Not that I would wish it, but the whole thing was kind of exciting. Home is kind of anti-climactic.

I'm just a little black raincloud, pay no attention to me

It is amazing to me that some of the most destructive forces are difficult to distinguish, due to their close resemblance to common sense. Doubt. Worry. Fear.

I have a tendency to live my life in a very all or nothing fashion- completely in or out, high risk/high reward, with as little grey area as possible. The thought is that if you're right, you look brilliant and didn't waste any time getting there, and if you're wrong, downside you're probably screwed, but upside, ideally, is that it's easier to correct a wrong decision than indecision. On good days I move forward full of confidence, filling my head with thoughts of inevitable success and lying to the world about my own infinite insecurities. But on most days... most days I wake up and don't want to. I go through everyday wishing it was over, and that's no way to live. I don't recommend it.

It's not that I doubt the initial decision to come home to pursue music full time. Lately, though, I've been wondering if the way I've gone about it was right. Is right. I did so well in the beginning about not thinking of all I was missing. I wonder if it would have made a difference, staying.

I've buried everything so deep for so long... I wonder if I ever really had a chance. I wish so many thing were different. And I see everything I am, and everything I'm going through, and I know it's no one's fault but my own that I struggle. You can't cut yourself off and keep people at a distance then wonder why you're lonely.

So I'll go through the motions, listen to my sad songs, curse someday and be here until change has mercy on me.

Order

I like moving into new phases with the album development. This week's phase is "Figuring out the order of the songs". It's frustrating, for reasons both known and unknown. I'm really particular about song order in my playlists, so trying to decide an order with my own songs reaches a whole new level of... particular.

Also on the menu (the proverbial menu of tasks moreso than an actual menu with food items) is going through and making notes about each song, things that work and things that don't. Lucky for me, I believe my perfectionist leanings about my record slightly outweigh my being intimidated by those working on it. All about the balancing act.

Good Gravy (another Thanksgiving story)

When you begin your day with world conquest and end it with apple pie, there's not much that can go wrong in between.

Winning anything is fun, but beating my eldest brother in a serious game of Risk was particularly satisfying. This while running back and forth to the kitchen in preparation for the spread that would occupy the rest of the day... Holiday plans were a little different this year without Paige and Whitney (we missed you!) and the rest of Paige's family that had provided countless pie options in years past. So instead of our usual feasting ritual at home, we joined the bishop's family at their home with a few others.

Managed to land a seat at the adult's table- another small victory- and soon discovered the beauty of sweet potatoes, which, incidently, don't taste like potatoes at all. I was initially a little wary of the color (we're not big believers in color when it comes to meals), and then the name (Potatoes? And sweet? Both, together?? And why orange? Potatoes aren't orange.) but decided to be brave and try new things. I went back for seconds. Nothing on Logan, who I believe went for fifths, but I had conquered the world that morning and he didn't make it to Day 2 (sorry Logan- world domination doesn't leave much room for compromise), so in the universal scheme of things I'm probably still up for the day.

In an effort to keep this an upbeat entry, I'll end it here. Happy holidays, everybody.

elusive change

I think I'm living the definition of insanity. Who's with me?

album preview

So I'm not into promoting myself at the kaleidoscope (that's why it's here), but I thought that whoever reads this might be interested in some of the new tracks that will be on the album due out in February. They're posted on my Myspace page. Just early mixes, but they sound pretty good.

www.myspace.com/courtneyjonesmusic


Enjoy.

another useless late night

It's amazing what you resort to when you can't sleep. For me, it's imagined conversations... one wants to be prepared, right? I think of how to approach things, and what to say for countless situations, a vast majority of which I'll probably never find myself in. And even the ones that do come to pass, it's not like I have the confidence to say what I want to.

That's really a distraction though. Because if I think, if I really think about where I am and the decisions I've made, I could drive myself crazy. I'm falling apart. I keep thinking this is as hard as it gets, that the light at the end of the tunnel is just about to appear, maybe I missed something. Maybe I missed something. Someday gets harder to live on every day. But I suppose everyone asks how much longer.

like shattered glass

So many reasons. So many reasons I have only a handful of relationships I care about keeping. Days like today remind me why that's a good idea, and discourage keeping even those few.

insomnia

If I go to sleep, I have to face tomorrow.

going nowhere

I was supposed to be on a plane today. Bought a ticket and everything. I really, really wish I were using that ticket.

game on

So this is part two of however many of the power of perception blog. My basic thought here was two related matters, put into slightly different approaches. Or something. First, who really gets to decide who we are and how we come across? Does a jerk know they're a jerk? Does a flake know they're a flake? When does who we are fly out of our control and into a social vote? Second, how we act and what we say is a reflection on ourselves. We know our own justifications, we know our excuses, but a stranger overhearing you doesn't know anything about you except for the one statement they hear. If you tell a joke, they'll probably think you're a funny person. If you said something funny, it probably wouldn't be a stretch to say you probably are somewhat of a funny person. If the stranger hears you say something catty and rude, you are probably somewhat catty and rude, because you said a catty and rude thing.

I think there's something to be said for gut reactions, initial impressions, etc. And unbiased look. It shouldn't by any means total who you are as a person (& there will always be context to consider), but there's no escaping that it does matter, again, probably more than we would like.

jury dooty

Here's what I would like to say to the jury duty people:

Hello? Hi, my name is Courtney Jones and I recieved a jury summons (for the third time this year) about two weeks ago and this is my attempt to get out of it. It says I'm supposed to respond within five days and I obviously haven't done that. I was in LA when it came in the mail and got back a couple days ago, but haven't called before now because, well, I'm not really the most dependable person when it comes to deadlines set by other people about something I don't understand, and in addition to that, have a seemingly unexplainable aversion to making phone calls. I talk to my attorney more than I talk to my best friend. It's nothing personal.

So anyway, I'm calling to let you know that I am an incredibly disorganized and unreliable flake that no one in their right mind would want sitting on a jury anyway. I've left stuff in hotel rooms after checkout twice in the last month, and have left my purse in four restaurants in that same timeframe. I can't show up to work on time to save my life, and the only reason I have what resembles a real job is because my dad hired me to answer the phone, which, see previous statement, causes ridiculous anxiety in my life. I only took what resembles this real job because a) I owe my dad bigtime for the money and time he's put in to my blossoming music career and b) I need all the money I can get. See, I'm a free-loading college dropout living at home rent-free because I just couldn't cut it in the real world. I've paid tens of thousands of dollars into my music to date, and am on the line for tens of thousands more, which, not surprisingly, I don't have. So in addition to constantly living under the pressure of spending tens of thousands of dollars of my and my parents money for something that odds are won't pan out to be even remotely profitable, I was a bit scatterbrained to begin with. In addition to music expenses, of which there are many, I also have pending legal and dental expenses and haven't taken care of my 2006 taxes yet. Basically I have very little chance of achieving even a remote amount of sanity.

Even if my brain functioned like a normal person's, I have no transportation to get me to the opposite side of the county at 8:30 in the freaking morning (have I mentioned the insomnia yet?). Not only do I have no car, I have no license. Parents both work, I have no friends that can take me (I'm rather limited when it comes to friends to begin with), there's no bus that goes that direction and no taxi within a 50 mile radius.

And even if on top of all that, if I was able to make it and for some reason was put on a jury, I am in the state of Oregon as much as I'm out of it, which wouldn't do anyone any good. I'm already booked, and I don't think that convincing people to pay me for missing gigs because of jury duty is going to fly.

So, unsympathetic jury duty nazi that only answers the phone between 8:00am and noon PDT, I'm really of no use to you. Please find someone else to fill my place (like, I don't know, one of my parents (who you can reach at the same address), since neither of them has ever received a jury summons). Really, you've given me more than my fair share of attention. Okay. Goodbye.


Think that'll do it?

life on the road

I'm currently enjoying my free internet, compliments of Valencia Marriott. I really will get back to the previous observation on perception and other such things, but for now I'm feeling a different direction.

Courtney's pros and cons of hotels and travel:

Cons
-looking like crap when you check in
-semi-unpacking
-travel food
-impatient drivers (in and out of the car)
-constant togetherness with travel companion


Pros
-awesome random tv you wouldn't watch at any other time
-no crappy job for a few days
-tiny shampoo
-endless supply of clean towels
-lobby cookies

car

I'm leaving in a few hours to make the lengthy drive to LA, where I'll be for about a week. I promise to follow up on the last blog, just don't have the attention span for it right now and still need to finish packing.

The power of perception

I think there is less difference between what we are and what people think we are than most of us would like to admit.

Rest in peace

Here lie Time and Conversation
I raise my eyes to see the sun
I'm on my knees
in the cemetary trees
Is it too late to save me?

Wasted hours of contemplation
Never brought me further than I am
Lost in rows
of written in stone
Is it too late to save me?

Alleluia

Can we avoid a confrontation
and still speak to matters of the heart?
A passing glance
at an untaken chance
Is it too late to save me?

Heart as heavy as headstone
Beating in a hollow chest
No one here for comfort
As my fears are laid to rest

Hold me close, Imagination
and bring me hope to spite the pain
Life is time
for the victimless crime
Is it too late to save me

Clockface

Back from LA, whoopee.

Haven't been feeling the need to share irrelevent life details since I got back. Probably because to sit down and hope to write anything of your life, no matter how cryptic you try and make it, forces you to accept your own reality. And you can mask it, use creative ways of saying things or even use someone else's words, but you face your own reality just the same. And I frankly haven't been feeling up to that. Because I don't like my reality. I like where its going, I like its potential, the track I'm on. But the right now, the actual day to day life and consequent situations are so motionless it's maddening. So I've been losing myself in music, and tv, mindless but occupying nonetheless. Can't think of any better way to kill time.

REM

So here I am, trying to think of something profound to write, and I have "Shiny Happy People" stuck in my head. Hm. I suppose that'll work for tonight.

Poetry, pt 2

Okay.

With music and poetry, there are those set aside as the greats, the classics, and are immune to any sorry criticism I assign to the art in general. In music, for example, it's the Beethoven, the Mozart, Bach, Abbess Hildegard von Bingen, etc. In poetry, it is all the aforementioned greats in Whitney's rather vocal response to the previous kaleidoscope entry.

I was of a more contemporary mindset when I made my claim that 98% of poetry isn't all that great. I still hold that a majority of it is crap, but a majority of songwriting is crap too. People have lost a sense of the beauty of language, and have gotten into the business of manufacturing something commercial (or lazy), rather than create something of worth.

Music and poetry both suffer from similar ailments in the world- some is far more beautiful than most will give it credit for, or take the time to understand, but there are also those songs and poems (novels, movies...) that are heralded as "great" and are totally over-rated, sometimes just plain weird. It's not my place to be on the front lines of preserving the beauty of language, but it bothers me that so much mediocrity is so readily accepted by the consuming public, as far as any art is concerned.

We live in a society of wasted words. With songwriting I do my best not to contribute to that, but I am nothing great. And I don't claim to be.

Inadvertent thoughts on poetry

I've hit a new kind of writer's block. Lyrics and music generally come at the same time, paired up in some unexplainable way, and it's very hard to break out of the original music I have in my head. I did have a few months of true writer's block where nothing was coming a little while ago, but this is different.

I feel like I'm writing great lyrically, but the music sucks. Totally forgettable, sounds even worse when I try to put it to the piano. And what are lyrics without music? Poetry. And I am NOT a poet. To my view, about 98% of all poetry is just lazy songwriting.

Something's off.

I saw a sign

Bean Truck
Pull over at Bob's
we want beans

(hand-written cardboard sign taped to a streetlamp me and my mom saw today)

For some reason that struck us as being really, really funny. Thought I'd share.

Flipping ties and radio

I couldn't bring myself to sacrifice humor entirely for the sake of being polite. So I'm here, at the kaleidoscope.

I was attempting to talk to our resident health nut who will remain pointlessly anonymous about, well, anything, when the subject matter turned invariably to food (or in my view, the lack thereof). She was excited because she had found someone to guide through weightloss (which I commend her for) via internet, and explaining to me all the benefits of a total fruit/veggie diet, mostly fruit. Somehow it came up that this unknown internet woman with a weight problem was generically spiritual, which prompted the following statement from our aforementioned slightly anonymous health nut: (refering to Adam and Eve) "...that's when their life span began to decrease, when they introduced meat into their diet". Reflect on that a moment. I know- I'm not making this up. And what I wanted to say was "Actually, I believe the fruit was responsible for that one."

I couldn't think of a graceful way to end the conversation at that point and not be totally awkward about it, so I just kind of smiled and made a mental note to skim over some Genesis later. The other funny of the day came flipping through the radio stations (while I'm there, I will never understand what my dad is looking for exactly on the radio... he'll flip through a bunch of crap we've never heard, finally come across something decent that we know, and skip over that too because "I can listen to that anytime!"... ?). Anyway, I'm getting off topic really easily tonight, so he was flipping through stations, and do you ever do that and catch some random sentence fragment that out of context (or maybe in- will we ever know?) makes next to no sense whatsoever? Our family still quotes "Hostility" from that very thing about a decade ago. Tonight, it was .... something rap that I'm sure is the number one song in America right now... *flip* ...some country crap... *flip* "All confusion has been eliminated" *flip* some Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes... Wait. Hold it right there. All confusion has been eliminated... Seriously? Well that's pretty cool. I couldn't wait to rush home and tell somebody. But really, it was one of those moments where you look around to anyone that happens to be there, wear the "did you just hear that?" look on your face and laugh about it. Maybe you had to be there. Maybe you were.


Tie-flipping statements? Does anyone remember those?

There are those every once in a while who come up to me after a show and tell me how they could never do what I do. How they would be so scared to get up in front of people and be so vulnerable in a spotlight. Personally, I don't think they give themselves enough credit, but I also think there is something to be said for finding what it is you love to do. It took me a little time to grow into music, but really has become a relationship, and I feel my strongest when I'm performing and right after I write a good song.

But these people see me at my best. What many of them will never grasp is how much I struggle in the day to day things. I feel like I walk through everyday holding my breath, trying not to let anyone else know that I'm usually on the verge of panic. Every night I think about the conversations I had, and kick myself for all the stupid things I said. I'll get off the phone (the rare times I use it) and my hands will be shaking. I don't know how to shop for groceries, or drive, or do my taxes. I have an incredibly guilty conscience and cut myself off from society entirely too easily. Until this job, I had never been successfully employed at any one place for longer than three months, maybe two. And the only reason I still have this one is I don't have a choice.

Just trying to find where I fit. Can't live on stage.

Another month, another bus pass

School starts tomorrow for three of us here, with Logan moving to the downhill side of high school, Madison finishing up middle school, and Mom headed back to the second grade. And I start working 25 hour weeks instead of the previous... well... it was supposed to be 40ish (I don't know how anyone does music with a real day job- it's a nightmare). I'm all for a change of pace, usually am, so this week will be good. I can sleep in a little more, only totally hate working for five hours a day instead of eight, and have two easy stress-free logistically simple shows to look forward to this weekend (with really good food involved for one of them).

I'm in a good place right now. Yes, I wish a lot of things were different, but I'm still in a good place. Now that we're in the fall, I have shows booked for the next couple months, then Christmas shows and various other holiday festivities, then my record comes out a) February, beginning of or b) gets pushed back a little because a label is involved. All the time I've been doing this and this last week or two was the first time I've ever had any real time frame, any real idea of time it will take to be successful in the real world. These next 6-8 months will really determine so much about the rest of my life, my label, management, etc... this is the launchpad I've been waiting for. I have a really calm sense of exciting inevitability about the whole thing. Hooray.

Finally got some time and quiet (both of which are absolute requirements) and wrote two songs yesterday. One of them I've been kicking around in my head for a couple weeks, but the other one was a very new concept. I close my eyes when I sing, and after one of my shows this week, my Dad said I should write something explaining what I see when I'm performing. My dad has offered many opinions on material ideas over the years, but this was the first one I liked so I ran with it. It turned into a here's-some-idea-of-what's-going-on-in-my-head type of thing, going back and forth between reality and my own imagination. It was really fun to write. Because I know I sound crazy, and it doesn't even matter. There's a fantastic freedom that comes with writing what you could never say or explain in casual conversation. Puts it all out there and still leaves it open to interpretation.

It wasn't something I was planning on, but I even found the opportunity to use the line "eye to the kaleidoscope".

Courtney on Youtube

I was a little late in jumping on the Youtube train, but South Carolina came along...

Anyhoo, here's a song from my set a couple days ago:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNAxCNOxkP0


Enjoy.

When is your life supposed to start?

Between the stages

I can't put today's show into words and hope to give it any justice at all. The sound guy knew what he was doing, had plenty of time for soundcheck, gorgeous day (hit or miss with outdoor gigs around here), there must've been over 100 people sitting there before I even started. Walked on stage, did my thing, and sold a ton of merch. The crowd was so receptive, so talking to them about the specific songs came easily. I know when I put on one of my better shows, and this was definitely that. It's the middle of an incredible week- I still feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water, but good things are happening here.

Lingo

For those keeping track at home, today was a deceptively important day for my music career.

Suddenly my independent release is most likely not going to be independent, which is a very good thing for me. I officially got the last piece of this let's-get-Courtney-signed-to-a-major puzzle in my corner today (okay, I realize I just mixed a proverbial saying and a boxing metaphor, but it's my blog, so deal with it). I don't want to name drop because it's generally narcissistic, but it's kind of hard to explain otherwise... The sound engineer Mark Needham (Google him) is giving me a definite break on his mixing cost (getting him on the record is another story), and his manager called my dad today and talked about- VOLUNTEERED- shopping the record before it was even in hard copy. I believe the phrase "that's what we did with the Killers" was used. Since they've done pretty well, I feel I'm in good hands.

What does a sound engineer do exactly, you ask? Well, the producer lays down all the instrumentals and cuts it so all the best pieces run as one continuous track (makes it sound like you were brilliant on the first attempt). The sound engineer, or mixer, gives each instrumental or vocal track its volume levels, makes it dynamic. If you've ever listened to a song where you can't hear the vocals or any one thing is too loud, that's the mixer's fault. The last of the big three is the mastering, which basically polishes the whole thing and brings all the songs to the same volume for the record.

But back to the fun stuff- I have everyone in place as of today to put this record out on a major label. I'm on the launching pad- I'm so incredibly close to making this real. And today wasn't the day I got signed, or the day I sold 1,000,000 albums... but today was important.

131

Bowling makes me happy. I don't know why, I'm not particularly amazing or go particularly often, but we finally went bowling today as a family (like we've been meaning to do all summer) and it was really fun. And I have a new high score. Me and Logan are forming a 131 club.

Low point of a very good day was being reminded that I have to go to work again tomorrow- gross. Besides forcing me to see morning many days in a row and being incredibly boring, ..... no, that's probably it actually. It's not that I hate working- I've had to get past feeling like I'm losing musician street cred for having a day job- just MY job. I guess I like to feel like I'm making progress, and with what I'm doing, I go in every day and do the same thing over and over, no change of scenery... there's not a single thing I enjoy about it, now that I'm going there. I have to wake up early, dress nicely, catch the city bus, sit at a desk, answer the phone, make phone calls, stare at a computer screen with internet that blocks anything fun, and seven or eight hours later, go home and handle music stuff. On a related note, I am all caught up on current events and rule at Microsoft Hearts. I also know my state motto- do you? Googled my name today and wasted some time with that, which was mildly entertaining. I get my hours cut next week, which will help, but seriously- work pretty much sucks.

But bowling is fun. And I bowled today. And scored 131. And saw myself on the Jumbotron at the baseball game- twice! (I'll explain later).

Long week ahead.

Guess I'm kind of commited now that it's technically Tuesday.

Saturday is a special day

I love it when I have a good show. Shows are a lot like middle school birthday parties- you get all excited, and then right before you worry that no one will come... as it was, I only started with 20 people in the room. The beauty of performing with my eyes closed on nights like tonight though, was by the end I had about 80 people. Hooray.

There were four or five people there because I had been recommended by their mom, friend, neighbor, donut lady, etc, which is really encouraging. You also get those I-had-never-heard-of-you-before-tonight-and-now-I'm-buying-your-CD people. Anybody there feels good.

It was a good night, I felt like I sang a lot of stuff better than I usually do. It's remarkable that this doesn't get old. Sure the loading equipment in and out of the car, bickering about setlists, arranging rehearsals, and promoting yourself gets old. But the actual performance of the music you spend so much of your life writing, practicing, promoting, teaching others, spending thousands of dollars producing... when it comes to the actual, live performance- that never gets old. And I'm to that point where in an hour and a half of music, really hour forty five, I like every song. I think I made some less than intelligent statements between songs (banter is still a little hit or miss), but playing the music... nothing like it.

We played some new stuff, which I always enjoy. I don't know how much my band guys enjoy being handed a song Tuesday and then have to play it Saturday with very little notice, but I for one like the spontaneity of it. I'm not the kind of artist that writes a song and spends months (or even weeks) hammering it out to perfection in rehearsal. Obviously you want to have a good handle on it, but I make a point of getting new music into my live show as quickly as possible. People are very forgiving of minor performance flaws of something new because it's cool to be among the first to hear a song.

Busy week next week, but I'm not going to even worry about it tonight. Probably not tomorrow either. One day at a time.

Goodnight, Beethoven

I love this time of day. I suppose it would be more accurately described as "this time of night", but if that were entirely true we wouldn't say there are 24 hours in a day, would we?

Anyway, I'm just sitting here in my room like I do at the end of most days, listening to something I can get lost in, usually of a melancholy nature. Right now it's Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, which I absolutely love. Before my sleeping habits got completely out of control, I would do my best to get through the day quickly in order to arrive at this time of night (or day), where everything is quiet. As long as it's dark and everyone else is asleep, nothing is expected of me until morning. For one who lives with so much sound, I need the silence. This is my time. It's really quite peaceful.

I suppose there are many reasons I'm drawn to music. It's a fascinating thing, to be carried away by sound alone, where even words become unnecessary. People seek out music for so many things... they seek it out to feel justified in their anger, to be amused, to be uplifted, to lose themselves in the struggle or triumph of someone else's life, to find someone or something that understands. That's something, isn't it? When you find a song that describes your own life so accurately it borders on otherworld? Music is a lifeforce that understands like nothing else, a vibrant living thing. We're all seeking validation. In retrospect, it seems only natural that I would have to find in something else what I lacked finding in people. There's a beauty there, a way of capturing life and connecting with the soul on some higher, unexplainable level.

Maybe it's just me, I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter. Music makes me feel like I fit somewhere, like I can contribute something of value to the world. So that understood, I have no hesitation in devoting my life to it.

Initial exploration (Welcome)

I'm not sure where to begin exactly. The difficulty starting out is rooted in its very reason for being- I need an outlet. Chances are if you're reading this (which you obviously are) you know a bit about what's going on in my life, at least to a certain extent. I've spent so much time over the past year or two ruled by my decision to pursue music and all the pretty ties that come with it that it's been hard to find breathing room, a place where I could offer a window into my world without fear of repercussion. A place that's truly mine, where I can write what I want to write. I've felt so heavy lately, living surrounded, where everything I do and write has to be done with a big pro-career smile on my face.

I have to watch everything I do, and say, and write, to make sure it moves my career forward, shining every musical detail in a magically positive light. And I'm tired of it. That's not real.

So here it is, everybody. A space free from obligation, name-dropping, diplomacy, and all other forms of painting things the way other people want them painted. I will complain, I don't seek pity. I will celebrate, I don't seek congratulations. Your pity, congratulations, and anything else that is yours is yours to give, and I expect nothing. If you think I really have problems, give me a call, we'll talk through it.

The kaleidoscope is fair warning that this is the world according to my view, right or wrong and for better or worse. Welcome. Enjoy your stay.