Waiting For My Day

I used to post a lot of songs on my blog, back in the day. Most of them were good songs. And they always had a point. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and yes, feeling a lot of things I haven't been feeling lately.

Much to the chagrin of some friends, I might be pulling away and heading in a bit of a different direction. And, as we humans are wont to do, when we get to feeling happy and lucky and all that jazz, we tend to like to remember God. As bad as that may sound, I think it is true for most of us - we blame God for bad stuff and thank him for good stuff. Regardless of reasons - let's not forget it's Commercial Christmas time, either - I've been in a bit of a spiritual mindset lately.

Along with many of the other things going on in my life, head, heart, and etc., this song that I'd like to share has been in my head, ears, heart, and etc. a lot lately. I think it fits quite nicely. It's by a not-so-well-known-anymore singer/songwriter named Jason Harrod, who always slays me with his songs. He's become more and more an influence the more and more I listen. And this song begs me to listen. And I do.


Mothers and children all around on a Monday morning,
The air is cool and clear.
I am too alone to be part of this suburban scene.
I am just an observer here.

I'm sitting here thinking, "Is this my inheritance?"
This dusty gypsy atmosphere,
This dust I'm breathing in is someone else's skin, not mine.
I grew up far from here.

Today I answered some primal call.
Found myself looking at the sea.
I can never get enough of this big ocean loud and rough
With the sighing sifting melody.

Right here is beauty like I have never known,
And I'm carefully placed here, not some cast away,
But I'm weary and aching for my home,
And I'm waiting for my day.

Longing in starlight,
I'm too stricken to move, too impatient to sit,
At the same time strong and weak.
I am loved enough to be part of this eternal scene.
Thus I am bold enough to speak.

And I say, "I used to read the Bible saying,
'This I know, this I know, this I no longer know,
This I no longer really care.'"
What's that matter anyway, that was yesterday.
Tonight I have belief to spare.
So much belief that I get scared, yeah.

Right here is beauty like I have never known,
And I'm carefully placed here, not some cast away,
But I'm weary and aching for my home,
And I'm waiting for my day.

... To Be Jolly ...

Ugh. Man. The cold finally got me! After several fierce battles - all of which I won - and even a poor showing by the old immune system after a night of too much adult beverage consumption, I was still standing. Like a spartan with shield and spear, I was ready for the next go-round.

Then it got warm and rainy (bad sign #1: weather change).

Then I didn't get much sleep for an entire week (bad sign #2: not enough rest).

Then I was so busy I didn't have much time to exercise (bad sign #C: fitness regimine disrupted).

Then I had a lot of fun, but the emotional kind of fun, fun that makes you feel and think and maybe be a little nervous... all on top of finishing off the busiest week of the year at work (bad sign #4: stress level increase).

Add it all up: Dusty's sick for the first time in a long while. Damn.

But I'm still jolly!

Tis The Season

Tis the season to be jolly, and jolly I am. Frozen, but jolly.

Things go well, as things have been tending to do here lately. I had a busy - BUSY - week, and a busy weekend, but it was good. And I did catch up on some sleep (I know Hank, I know... either sleep or don't, but you can't catch up). I spent my weekend with wonderful friends new and old, playing music, playing games, enjoying good company, laughing and just generally enjoying the whole deal.

I made one mistake. I bummed a cigarette (ok, two) last night, and of course proceeded to smoke it. Had to get my one last jones. The proceeded to destroy my throat, which subsequently dried up into the Sahara. Last night was miserable, only because I had a lot of trouble sleeping, and when I did finally fall asleep, I slept in fits and woke up frequently to cough and hack with my dry throat.

So today brings much medicine - I spent $30 in meds on the way to work this morning - and good warm tea. Hopefully I can fight this winter cold/throat destruction off quickly. We shall see.

Nevertheless, no other complaints about a wonderful weekend. Just remember - don't let me bum a fag off of you!

Bandaged Hand in Hand

Good times. That's what I can say for now.

Work is hell, but fun, and when you work with good people who you like (and who like you, I suppose), that makes hard work all the better. Working with good people is the way to go. Sometimes I have to remind myself that after everything that went down at my last job. Nasty, rotten peoples ova dat way. Good peoples ova here.

What else? Music, music, music, and more music. I need, Need, NEED to write more. I have a dozen ideas storming around my head, all kind of raring their heads at different times. Nothing is down yet. But goodness, I need to get some things down on paper. And the business of music - don't get me started! Things are finally working and moving along, but it's hard work. I love it, it's tough but so far so good, and worth the effort. Just wish I had more time!

What else? My personal life is good. Moving in some positive directions! So... now... D, don't think... don't think... don't think D!

Anything else? My health is good. And that's a good thing.

Concert tix on the way, Coheed and Dropkick, whooooo!

Isbell on the stereo. Can't beat that.

Fingers on the keyboard. Working.

Back at it. Good peoples ova here.

I Am An Exit

I don't blog enough. Sometimes this poor site becomes a release for the bad, and never enough of the good, and lately things are going good... maybe even great.

Winter can be such a tough time, for so many people. It can be for me, that's for sure, but other than in early November, things have been excellent this winter. I am overworked but not totally overstressed. I have way too much to do with the music stuff, but it is so much fun I don't mind.

Winter is one of those great seasons where life is preparing to be reborn. Some view it as the end - the death of the year - but it's cyclical, so it's not really the death, but merely the completion of the circle of another years. And circles are continuous (thank you geometry), so we know that spring is coming, and life is preparing to be reborn.

In much that same way, some people use winter to labor over what is ending, while others use it to prepare for what is coming. This year has been so much of the latter for me - preparing for another good, possibly great year.

Let me share one small thing with you, one of the many reasons I am excited about the rebirth. I am working on getting my music online - ONLINE! - and the process has been fun, information, and most of all, carries with it a sense of accomplishment. Soon I'll be able to sell music online, linked from my own website, and even on iTunes and other electronic music sites. How cool is that?

I'll have to make it a point to come back often, and share my stories, good ones, for your enjoyment. This blog is my exit. But so many times the road you veer off of on the highway of life makes for one helluva great detour.

I Am Fuel, You Are Friends...

Not that anyone other than two friends reads this stupid blog, but...

I had a great weekend. Saw the Avett Brothers on Friday night in Bloomington. That was one of the most fantastic and fun shows I've been to in a long time. Other than jerky hipster douchers, the show was great.

Saturday, we nailed the shed, pun intended. Roof is done, dude. Come spring, we'll rock out the rest of it, and the Guv'ner's Mansion will be open for business.

Saturday evening was fun, too - hanging with good friends, watched a great movie, etc. It was a good time. We pizza'd when we should have french fry'd, but we still had a blast.

Sunday was what it usually was - laundry day. I also got a chance to pick up my room and clean house a little. And of course, as is usual on Sunday, we got in some quality Football and WoW time. That's right... sports and geeks. Deal with it.

Sometimes I Rise, Sometimes I Fall...

You know, I don't like having to be asshole. Not all the time. But, you know... learn to think for yourself. If I could ask just one thing, it would be for others to stop and think.

So I said something impolite to a co-worker. It came out wrong - I believe the words I chose were "Use your brain" when someone asked how they were supposed to figure something out - but damn. It doesn't hurt to think critically every now and then, does it? Isn't it good to try and exhaust some options before asking for help? Again, I wouldn't mind so much if I wasn't asked every five minutes for some answer that is two clicks away on a desktop.

I've always prided myself on my ability to think quickly.

I just wish others would "follow" by example.

I heard something clever last night while watching the IU basketball game. On a commercial break, there was an ad for IU and the speaker was a ladies field hockey player. She said that her dad always told her there would always be two things under her control - her attitude and her effort. I have of course heard that before, but it stuck in my head last night.

I so obviously am burnt out. My attitude and effort are sorely lacking. I need a break.

The In Between Is Mine

I still remember when "I Am Mine" first came out. The first Pearl Jam single in years (if you don't count "Light Years" - which most radio didn't, it seemed), it blossomed on the airwaves like a virus out of control. I instantly took to the song, not just because I was a Pearl Jam fan (read: obsessive maniac fan), but because the song had meaning.

"I know I was born and I know that I'll die. The in between is mine."

Today, I am reminded by the hopeful caution in the song. Winter is a time, frankly, for death. The cycle of life winds down, returning things to the earth so they can decompose and become fertilizer for the new growth to come. Likewise, for me, winter is a time of reflection, where, perhaps, parts of me die, where memories of the past year pass on and break down to become something else in the new year.

It is a process. Sometimes it is a painful one, sometimes a pleasant one, but always it is a mindful one. I can look back on this past year and count many, many things that changed and altered the course of my life, in some small or large way. New friends, new loves, new jobs, old friends, old loves, old problems. New opportunities. Blown saves.

The saddest part of my reflection time this year is seeing how much I lost hope in people this year - and despite some pretty positive evidence to the contrary. Friends helping friends out - be it a drive to the root canal/hellbringing dentist, or a hand on a hammer, helping to build something big for us small town poets. I have some great friends and family, and truthfully, they are not the problem.

It's everyone else. I've always seen other people as inherently good. I don't believe man is so fatalistically flawed (as some would have you believe) that he is solely evil (and can only reach goodness through the bridge of an intermediate deity). I believe in the good of humanity.

Maybe that is why this year was so hard - seeing so often that goodness shook off, in order for someone to make poor decisions and bad, evil choices. And it isn't just things that inconvenience me - yes, people who run stop signs in front of me really piss me off, but that's a small thing.

Last night I wrote a devestating song - sad bastard music, as Barry would say. But, you know... I thought about how one friend is sad that his girlfriend didn't even have the heart to tell him she didn't want to see him anymore. She just stopped calling, wouldn't answer, either. I thought of another friend, on the verge of what might be a messy divorce. I thought of yet another friend, and the deceit and hurt he had been through, culminating in a divorce.

In his pursuit of selfish desires and pleasures, man burns and destroys all around him. Bridges, doors, keys, rooms, all burnt to ashes. Look at what you have wrought. The hell your actions unleash so you can... what? Get a little satisfaction? Leave that to Jagger and the Stones.

It is about time that human beings started acting like human beings again. I am reminded once more of Emmanuel Levinas, my favorite philospher, and his notion of encountering humanity in a person's eyes. A need that screams out - see me, feel me - recognize my humanity.

See me, feel me. Touch me, heal me.

It's about time we looked in the mirror, and remembered what it was like to be human. And then go out and be it. Human.

Destined for Nothing? w/ They Don't Compare

Does that it make you suffer because you have to die? Is it best to live a lie?

That’s the question that Bad Religion asks in their song, “Destined For Nothing.” I don’t know the answer, really. I am doing my thing, observing my friends and family going through the motions… and seeing that some of the motions aren’t healthy.

I don’t like to watch my friends hurt, whether the hurt be financial, romantic, winter blahs, loneliness, stress. And I feel for them – I have definitely been through all of the above. And, in some cases, sometimes those things are healthy. We grow in the tough times, so they are somewhat necessary from time to time.

But sometimes these things seem like too much for us to take. I hate to see others at that breaking point. I hate to be there myself.

As much as it sucks sometimes – for ourselves, and for others – we can’t always cover things up. Sometimes you’ve got to throw off the shroud. Just know that in those times, you have friends who do love you and care. It is easier to share than go through it all alone.

That said - the good guys and gals covered - I have to vent about something else.

Fucking people make me sick. Listen, we all make mistakes. I find myself qualifying my opinions all the time, and maybe I do that too much. Maybe I don't stick hard enough to my guns. And in those cases maybe I am part of the problem.

But life is tough enough without people looking to cheat, steal, and stab each other in the back all the fucking time.

I think to myself, how can I trust anyone? I want to be close to something dangerous - want to be with someone who can be wild, out of control, unhinged, and on the edge. I want our relationship to exist there. But how the fuck can I ever trust someone else like that again? Finding diamonds in the rough is rare, and the rest of the people walking around either don't meet my sometimes-too-lofty standards, or are so fucking shallow and evil as to not merit my time or consideration.

Sometimes the evil ones get you (me) anyway. They're sneaky like that.

Mom and Dad always taught me the Golden Rule - particularly mom. And I've read plenty about Jesus and turning the other cheek and loving your neighbor.

And I don't see much of those three rules in practice. Anywhere. Yes, even in my own actions.

We are a selfish, fucking excuse for a race of creatures. Like Ed Vedder said in "Rats" ...

"They don't scurry when something bigger comes their way, don't pack themselves together and run as one. Don't shit where they're not supposed to, don't take what's not theirs, they don't compare."

They don't compare. WE don't compare. Sorry fucking human race.

Listen. If you take one thing from this whole post, take this: be kind to one another. Try it some time. It just might spread. Try and think how you would feel if x and y and z happened to you... and avoid doing x and y and z to anyone, especially the people you love.

Be a human being. See the humanity, the emotion, the fucking soul in someone else's eyes.

And respect it.

Can't Wait For Election Day...

And I couldn't. I couldn't wait for election day. I was up early, and off to the polls... which if you haven't heard by now, were poorly handled, stationed, etc etc etc in Indiana. I stood outside in the morning 40 degree weather for an hour. The woman behind me had on sandals. She mentioned more than once, or twice, or thrice, he dismay and idioticy at having chosen sandals on this morning.

I waited, then I took my three to five minutes and made my choices. And then, like the rest of America and her Americans, I waited.

And I watched Wolf and Anderson on CNN tell me how it was going. I feared. I hoped. And then...

Rewind. I haven't had much hope in humanity lately. I've been sorely - SORELY - disappointed in the actions and attitudes of most of the people around me. Some of them I associate with, and I have grown more and more Sartre-ian in my apathy and disgust for these people. Others are just the assholes in front of me on my way to and from work, driving ever so slowly, erratically stopping, sitting at an open roundabout for 3 minutes because they are too stupid and confused to know to drive into it.

I lost hope. I lost patience. I examined my own life and my successes and failures, and wondered if I measured up to my standards and to other people's standards.

I also took stock of many, many things. I rediscovered goodness is people, too. I had great friends and great parents and great people around me.

But I needed a hero.

I think we all did.

And we needed a cause. My generation, specifically, needed its cause. Our Vietnam. Our Aids. Our Abortion. Our WWII. We have become far too apathetic and cynical, because Gay Rights and Iraq were not enough for us to rally behind, not enough to give our young lives a sense of purpose, meaning, and accomplishment.

No. We needed our moment.

And then...

Last night, we got it.

I have never been more proud to be an American than I was last night and am right now. I have always had a fierce patriotism in my heart, because this land has let me accomplish so many things, and, truthfully, has tolerated so many of the things I love, and yes, hate. We live in the greatest nation, a flaw nation, but one without equal. Only our fears, prejudices, hatreds, and nagging need to judge and damn all those around us holds us back
.
Well, last night, we struck a blow againts apathy. Against hatred. Against cynicism. And yes, against Sartre-ian Nausea.

And even though as Barack Obama walked across the stage, I felt a twinge of fear... I felt hope.

Now I just hope our hatreds don't get the best of us. Already this morning, on the devil of all mankind, the internet, I saw a classmate from high school declare our nation now embroiled in communism and a place where hard work wasn't rewarded, but that our rewards are stolen from the righteous and given to the unclean. I remember this student from high school. He was a good kid, and by all accounts a good man. I remember him having the Confederate flag hanging from the back of his mud-slingin' truck. I wonder if he has ever thought of a black American as anything other than "nigger."

That made me pause. I make racist jokes all the time. And I am ashamed, and always have been, of my own racism. Racism is taught. You aren't born with it. And if I were to say I wasn't a racist, I would be lying. I know the words of hate, and I say the words of hate. But I do truly fear the places the words lead. And while I am flawed, I hope that that fear, and the knowledge that I can do and be better, will lead me to be a better person than I am today. My parents and family have been the most wonderful, loving people I have ever known. My friends and colleagues have been the same. Still, I hope one day, if I have children, i can do better by them in this way. I hope I can teach them to be more tolerant than I, even as I myself was taught by my parents to be more tolerant than them.

Still, I know as full of fear and racism as I can be and have been, I struck a blow from my heart against my programmed mind. I fought off the Nausea, the fear, the apathy. And I will continue to fight.

I am proud to be an American. I am proud to have graduated from a redneck, racist High School, and I am proud of the people who, like me, escaped it. I am proud of those of us who strive against the apathy and the nausea.

I am proud of Barack Obama. I am proud of our country, the one we will continue to build and lead and grow together. I invite you all to celebrate this most historic of days with me.

I ask anyone of my generation to finally put their selfishness down and to revel in this day, in this victory. We took one small step towards change. Now, please, let's keep moving forward.

Now... get out of my way, damnit. Learn how to drive!!!

Taking Back Control, pt. 2

So, here's what you're getting... 95% totally, brutally honest (some secrets you just don't tell, lol):

Name: Dustin C.
Age: 28
Residence: Self-owned Home in Plainfield, IN
Occupation: Ecommerce Manager
Vehicle: 2005 Jeep Liberty Sport
Debt: between 5k and 10k
Salary: between 25k and 35k
Height: 5'5", sometimes 5'3" and sometimes maybe slightly taller
Weight: Anywhere between 175 and 195 lbs., depending on the season and how active I've been. Right now, I'm getting svelt.
Hair: Brown, fading, receeding hairline, short
Eyes: Blue, usually with black horn-rim glasses

Likes: music, playing music, writing, reading. Too much music to list. Playing guitar. Singing. A little bit of travelling. Brown County Indiana. Sex. Adventurous sex. Spending money on music. Good dining. Cooking. Fishing. Hiking. Indiana University Basketball. Watching IU hoops. Watching hoops in general. Shooting hoops. Other sports. Geek stuff. WoW on occasion. D&D on much less frequent occasion. Battletech on less frequent occasion. Firefly and Serenity. Spaced. CSI - the original. Zombie movies. Musical Rom-Coms. Collecting music. Long, uninterrupted drives. Being philosophical. Late night chats. Beer. Whiskey. An occasional cigarette. Light to medium to heavy exercise, usually three to five times a week. Open-mindedness. Exploring religious thoughts. Big questions. Barack Obama.

Dislikes: traffic, driving, driving in traffic. Tense confrontations. Anger issues. Crazy women. Bad sex. Hard drugs. Slobs. Lazy people. Sloth-like people. Hateful people. People who can't drive. People in general. Bitchy people. Judgemental people. John McCain.

Things I think I think:

My parents are the most amazing, smartest, kindest, hard-working and loving people I know. They are still together.

My parents set an impossible to reach goal and standard for my relationships.

Hard work really can and does pay off.

I like music. I am not on drugs.

Sex is an awesome, intimate experience.

Sex is only as good as the least-experienced/least-knowledgable person involved in the act. Thankfully, open-minded persons can learn.

God exists. I just don't know much more about him than that.

God is love. I used to think this. I am not so sure anymore.

I have slept with too many people. Only a few of those people really touched my heart. I feel incredibly guilty about this. Other times I just feel horny.

Guilt is my closest internal friend, next to hope. Hope wins out. But they battle a lot.

I am a nice, sensitive guy. Get over it.

I am not obsessed, clingy, or desparate. Please, you don't be, either.

I love starry night skies and the ocean. I am not gay.

I love to write, and should more.

I am too uptight, and will probably die of a heart attack before I am 4o. I am working on extending that lifespan, by exercising, eating healthier, and trying to chill the fuck out.

I like things simple.

Nothing is simple anymore.

I am old-fashioned in many ways. And modern in others.

Technology is killing us all slowly, in many, many ways.

Back porch music is best.

Back porch friends are best.

I have a lot of what I would call back porch friends. At least 3.

I have remained unmarried while most of my friends, and exes, from college have been married, been divorced, had kids, and/or any combination of those three.

Yes, I do get lonely. If that sounds pathetic to you, piss off. You get lonely too, so stop acting like you are better than everyone, or, you know, better than me.

"Hard To Imagine" is the best Pearl Jam song, at least in my heart.

I believe in the human soul.

I am afraid my dad and mom will both be dead before I either marry or have children. I have way too much guilt over this.

I have been far too lucky in every aspect of my life... except relationships with the opposite sex.

I have still had some very blessed and rewarding relationships with the opposite sex.

I do wonder if it is me.

Most of the time I am convinced it is them.

I have done some bad things that I know I shouldn't have. But I am still here. There have been mistakes, but nothing can be done about those. Each day I am born anew, and can forgive what I can't forget.

I like athletic girls. I like small breasts. I like flat tummies. None of that matters in my heart, just in my pants, and then, it's kind of just icing on the cake.

I am attracted, physically, to a lot of different "types" of women.

I am convinced I will settle for someone I am not emotionally or physically attracted to.

I fight the urge to settle.

I hate the urge to settle.

Time is running out. To settle or not.

I can play a mean guitar, man.

I like to think I am a lover. I fight off my guilt and self-doubt to achieve that. For my adult life, since I graduated college, I have become better and better at that.

I would say I am a good, honest, loving person.

I have a lot to offer someone, in almost every aspect of life.

I am complete by myself. I only hope for a shared life experience with someone else that is as wonderful and deserving as... well, me.

Despite that, chemistry, emotion, and attraction all play a part.

I am not crazy. I am normal.

It sometimes takes a lot to admit internally that I am not alone in this. I think most people are crazy.

I do think humanity is broken.

I think we live in a golden age of brokeness, sin, and selfishness.

I am very selfish.

I try my hardest to not be selfish. I hope that it'll catch on.

I love everyone, inside. I just wish some people would be nicer to me. And that some people wouldn't drive in front of me.

Taking Back Control

So... I was "stood up" last night. Which is really no big deal and not anything that hasn't happened before. Maybe it was karma for keeping someone else guessing, or for some other shitty dating thing I've done. I am not perfect, and while I generally try and treat people they way I'd like to be treated, I fail sometimes. We're all human, we've all been screwed and we've all screwed over someone else. It happens.

But, sitting in front of my PC last night, I began to think... I thought about two things, really. First, that dating sucks, and modern options for dating suck. And second, that I should make a form/post/whatever that was 100% brutally honest, and that anyone applying to date me should have the both read it, and fill one out the same way.

This morning, on my drive into work, Bob and Tom (the radio show) were talking to a mormon comedian who had tried the online dating thing. Then the comedian talked about speed dating. He mentioned that, hey, if you like getting rejected once a day, try speed dating, where you get rejected 30 times an hour!

Dating sucks. Well, no, scratch that... trying to date, beginning to date, however you want to say it... that sucks. Knowing someone, spending time together, getting to know each other... that stuff is nice. But the getting there sucks. The finding someone who is willing sucks - on both ends. It's not always me, and it's not always her.

The thing that pisses me off - and yes, it really does piss me off - about last night... I have no idea what made this person decide to be a bitch and blow me off. What I thought was nice and polite - and yes, I know, I am apparently way too nice and way too polite - did that turn out to be "clingy" or "desperate." You know, that's bullshit. I emailed to confirm a date the day before, then texted a few hours before when I got no response. The last communication I had before that said feel free to call me. Maybe that is too passive. But do you crazy ass girls really think that much about this shit?

I swear, some people are way too fucking insane for my tastes. Girls are pretty much all just bat-shit crazy - either it's too clingy this, or they are too clingy that. Either I am not Jesusy enough, or too much. I cuss too much, not enough. I'm too clean-cut, or not enough. Or they're too clean-cut, or not enough, too Jesusy or not enough, etc etc etc. Girls... you are all nuts. Women, you are all nuts. Ladies... damn, you crazy.

Stay tuned... I am so doing a dating application post.

Happiness is a warm, yes it is...

No, there is not a word missing in the title. Go listen to the White Album.

So, I just read a pretty basic advice colume on Slate.com - Dear Prudence (again with the White Album!). I dug her advice to a sad, self-loathing but otherwise normal person. Well, actually... I didn't think it was all that great, but the book she reference, the Happiness Hypothesis, well, I checked that out and thought it looked good.

For reason, this caused my brain to flash a big neon sign inside my head that said: HAPPINESS!!! Which lead me down the path to my whatever and ever, amen, type of thoughts on love, life, liberty and said pursuit of said wonderful thing, happiness.

This, in turn, made me think about my social life. Made me recall, and want to relate, that I have a date tonight. Including the gut feeling that said date tonight will not happen, because I haven't heard back from an email I sent yesterday to confirm said date.

Which lead me back to last night, thinking about the Firefly pilot episode, where Book and Inara discuss the captain, Mal. I'm going to paraphrase, but the scene I'm refering to went kind of like this:

Inara: Why are you so interested in the captain?
Book: Because he remains suchs a mystery. Why are you?
Inara: Because so few men are.

I don't know why, but the essence of that conversation really struck deep at my heart, yesterday, and at why I feel so lacking in the relationship department. I want to be mysterious, and want someone to find me that way, and, likewise, want to find a girl who is mysterious and who intrigues me.

If Shakespear said "know thyself," a quote I put a lot of weight in, I wonder if that leads to happiness? And, likewise, wouldn't "know someone else," too? Maybe not. I am babbling here.

The point is, happiness is subjective, from the point of the person wishing to achieve happiness. I think we'd all list that when attempting to find a partner/spouse/mate/friend.

To achieve that with someone else proves to be quite the chore, however. And no book is going to ever fix the communication problems between the sexes or between lovers/potential lovers. What may to me be a simple reminder and a way to finalize plans may seem to someone else as desparate, pushy, too interested, or some other strange way of contact.

It is in those moments when Richard Cheese is the, albeit short-term, answer to happiness.

Alone, listless...

Things go, and as far as things go, things go well. Maybe better: things are going well.

Not that I thought otherwise, but it is a LOT of hard work trying to get things rolling in the music biz. Thankfully I have finally got some shows set up and it seems as though some of my networking efforts are paying off, too. I've got to hope I can repay some of these favors sometimes... I suppose that's why I keep going to shows.

I have been supremely busy. I think about friends I haven't talked to recently, and others who I've been ignoring. It's tough. My schedule has been packed full of stuff. I routinely only get one night during the week to myself... and now, because of all that is happening, that turns out to be my practice and updates night.

There's that word, that has been popping up some much recently in my thoughts... "routine." I usually am giving advice to friends on how to break up the routine and monotony of their lives. And even though I am not in a rut -this is a self-inflicted, and very needed routine - it's getting a little old.

Which says nothing of the lack of time for, or simply lack of, a social life. To say the least, I am bored. And I hate being bored. Routine and busyness leads to stress, and though I love making my way in the musical sense, it is stressful. I wish I had a way, and someone with whom, to disconnect. But that's asking for icing on the cake, I guess.

I have such a sneaking suspicion that things are going to get worse before they get better, on the homefront and in our country. Holidays are always tight for me, financially, and I'm getting to the point for I need to make some changes in my household - be it ridding myself of a roommate, or finding a way to create some space, or whatnot. It's also getting to the point where the free and easy work, for the musical stuff, is running out. It looks like my next steps will be paying to join organizations, and organizing a trip or several trips down to Nashville (TN) to start trying to break into publishing. That means money.

I need a secretary. A sexy one. And a rich one.

Gets up, lights a cigarette he's grown to hate...

God, I need a cigarette. Now that I have decided to quit, for a very good reason - so I can sing - it is hard to actually quit. What was easy - has been easy so many times before - is a damned chore now.

My lack of a good smoke (or ten) has made me a bit... twitchy and grouchy. Last night, I was thinking... "well, I'll write my way out of it." Didn't really work, but was a good idea. Besides, it is good to unleash, in the written sense, from time to time.

I heard a great line in a song this morning. "I am an impressionist." The song was about a painter, but the lines that followed, describing seeing something and painting one's take on it, made me really consider how that applies to me.

We are all impressionists, to some extent. But my storytelling - my songcraft - is decidedly less so, I think. Maybe I should try to be more impressionist. Less detailed.

I read an article this morning, in the Indy Star. It was actually an interview with the Pacers basketball coach, Jim O'Brien. Obie mentioned reading a book called The Last Lecture. I looked it up on Amazon. Very, very cool concept. Sometimes, professors are asked to, or just do, give a "final lecture" at the end of their semesters, to impart wisdom and things of great import to students they (likely) will never teach again. Well, in the book, this certain college professor, Randy Pausch, had recently found out he was terminally ill with cancer. So, then, he decided to give his final lecture - his actual FINAL lecture, knowing that, yes, this is my last chance to impart wisdom, to leave my legacy. The book sounds like a fantastic read. It also sounds a bit like Tuesdays With Morrie, and excellent book written by Mitch Albom that I would recommend to anyone.

I thought this was particularly coincidental, considering my "stage speech" post from last night. It has a certain existential twist to it that I find delectably evil.

The sad thing about books like those, and times when people try and remind me that "all will be well" or to "live life like no tomorrow" is that it is hard to sustain that kind of energy throughout every day of your life. I like optomism, I do, and I can play that card, usually, most any time I want. But that doesn't mean that sometimes it doesn't ring false. It does ring false, sometimes, in other words.

Change and growth are inevitable.

I wonder what my last words would be, what my last lecture be. Would it be full of the kind of metaphors for living life to its fullest, the ones that sometimes fill me with hope and other times turn my stomach?

I think it would be full of stories and songs. And I think most of those stories and songs would be good, positive, uplifting, hopeful.

Yes, I view myself as a songwriter and as a storyteller, and sometimes when I think of that, I think that I deal in lead, like a gunslinger. That's because sometimes those songs are driven by and made to resemble a bullet straight to the heart.

That's only because that is what matters. I deal in dreams and hopes and fears and love because those are the things that move and drive my life. I write how I write and sing what I sing because that is the fuel that, well, keeps the ember burning, to borrow from last night.

I am reminded of the scene in Almost Famous, where William is on the phone with Lester Bangs, and Lester reminds him that, "we're not cool." I'm not cool. I am an ordinary, lonely soul, documenting what that feels like so you've got someplace to go when you feel lonely and ordinary, or when you are on cloud #9 and want to stay that way.

I deal in lead, people. If you're not ready for the bullet, then you better get out of the war.

Won't let the light escape from me...

I should be in bed. In fact, I was. I just couldn't sleep. As is so often the case when I don't fall asleep quickly, my mind begins to think. And that means love, god, and etc.

I said a little prayer. More like, asked a few questions, the same one from, what? 2, 5, 10 years ago? Does it ever change?

So I said my peace (piece?). Then turned over, and had a little vision. A stool, a stage, a mic and a guitar. Out there, the faces, maybe just one of those faces, of someone I have loved, another love crashed and burned. Or, perhaps, someone who loved me who I didn't love back. I asked myself, on that stage, how I would introduce a song (any song, really) about love, love found, love lost, love whatever.

What would I say to them? To Jessyka, Katey, Jess, Dana, Becca, Melissa? To Tara, Rachel, Kathy, Stephanie, Bethy, Lynette... to any of them, past, present, future, almost, never was?



It is funny how love works. Its funny how we, as human beings, turn it into such an impersonal, inhuman thing. There have been times when I have loved, and really, truly loved. And sometimes, that love hits a brick wall. There have been other times when I am that brick wall that someone else's love is smacking against, futile and twisting and empty because I am not reciprocating.

We really are callous, selfish people. We tell one girl that we love her, and she disappears for 6 months - won't call, won't write, disappears of the map. We tell one girl we like her, and she seduces us, sleeps with us, fills our head with hopes and dreams, and then disappears... dead? Or just too chicken to say she doesn't want to see us? Does it matter? Does it hurt any less? We do this while another girl over here needs us... while one won't stop texting, while one won't stop calling, and while one won't stay out of our business. We ignore them, we ignore their feelings, even as we bitch, moan, HATE, HURT over the fact that these other girls are doing those same things to us.

Now, change "we" and "us" to "I" and "me." Change "one girl" and "another girl" to "you" and "you."

Or take your pick of a handful of the people connected in each of our lives.

Life isn't hard. But love is hard. And we make it harder... we add religion, jealousy, past relationships, a lifetime of hurt and hope and dreams that no one can live up to, no one can cure. We pine for those that don't want us, and cast aside the ones that do want us but whom we don't want. Everyone has been the hurt and the hurter.

And maybe this is what God means when he says that man is evil. It sure feels like it.

I sit and I think... maybe I ask for too much. Maybe I want too much, or what I want isn't what I should want? But I am selfish. I haven't dated a girl who was my type - one quick crash and burn fuck-up aside - since college. Of the handful of girls I have dated, and yes, cynics in the audience, of the handful of girls I've slept with, too... I haven't wanted, loved, needed all of them. I manage to destroy and hurt the ones I don't want and need... and I managed to let myself get hurt and destroyed by the ones I did need, I did want.

Have you ever felt like, if only you could've loved someone more? If only I could've loved more, then so and so would've stayed, would've loved me more, would've worked out. DO you have any IDEA what that fucking feels like, to stand there with your broken dreams, bloodied, defeated, dead on the floor? Have you ever cried so fucking hard that you lost your breath, that you almost passed out for lack of oxygen? Have you ever hurt so much that the only way to sleep was whiskey, vicatin and sleeping pills, all together?

I have. And that is where these songs come from. That's where they are going. That's what they are about, the lives we lead, the pain we cause, the joy we hope for. Love is a wonderful thing, but it's a wicked thing, too.

Maybe that's why I write. It's the only way I know how to humanize love. It's the only way I know how to deal with my best friend falling for my dream girl, for my close friend feeling tossed aside, for my roommates too busy with their girlfriends to hang out anymore. Mostly, it's how I deal with what is left inside of MY hopes and dreams.

A tiny glimmer, a small spark... lies deep, deep down. Ashamed. Afraid. But hot. Burning so hot it hurts. And God, wherever and whoever he is, I thank him it is there, even as I wonder if/why he punishes me for these broken attempts at capturing some kind of Eden here on earth.

I won't let that darkness swallow it. Won't let the light escape from it. But it IS hard. And ever time I see your face, or your face, or your face, I am reminded by how easily you cast me aside, how easily I cast you aside, all in the name of sex and god and love and happiness.

Ashamed. Afraid. But hot... still. The sad thing is something, some time, has got to change. Have you ever watched an ember in a fire? How beautiful it is with its orange glow? What becomes of the ember? If you add to it, it flares to life, becoming a consuming fire, hot and bright. And, if you don't, it dies. If you don't it dies.

I don't want to compromise. I don't want to settle. And neither do I wish to be selfish. Neither do I wish to be callous, uncaring, a brick wall.

I will not be ashamed. I will no longer fear. I will go down fighting... with guitar in hand, with throat sore from singing and roaring, with fingers bloodied and bruised. With heart on sleeve. If the ember dies, so be it. I'm going to make damn sure you don't ever forget the glow for the time that it lasted.

I suggest we learn to love ourselves before it's made illegal

So... things are... different. I can't complain - I had a good weekend. But, you know, nothing happened, other than me talking with Cory about the same shit we've spent the last two weeks discussing. He doesn't have any answers yet. I don't have any answers yet. And while I want to punch Cory for A) being vaguely stupid and B) because I am jealous of what success might mean for him (not about the "who" - I couldn't care less about who it is, it's that thought of it being the thing we keep searching for, to final grab it and have the "fairy tale" junk work for once).

It's just that this curse of what I want - sometimes, what I think I need and, sometimes, what I think I deserve - can't be laid to rest. I want to take things easy, to release my expectations, and let come what may. But then I start to think... why should I lower my expectations? Just because I haven't met someone who can live up to those expectations, why should I lower them? I stop, then, and think, "well damn... it's not like those expectations are that high." And, they aren't.

One could accuse me of having my head up in the clouds. And yes, I have made my fair share of mistakes. I don't ask for perfection. Only... substance. Conscience. Taste. Moral value. Self-worth.

I don't want a consolation prize.

The queen's prize awaits...

Ok, so yeah, I didn't announce that this is "GbV month," and it is not, and I did use the lyrics of another band to title this entry, that band being GbV and not Pearl Jam. Sue me.

Last night was fun. I busted ass on the elliptical at work, then jetted home and got cleaned up. Cory and I talked set-lists for our upcoming shows, grab a bite to eat, and the practiced. It was soooo good to practice - not just with Cory, but period. And I think I may have found a key to get me back into performing... I really enjoyed singing last night.

Really. Cory had a copy of a show we played as Souls Harbour with Chris and Kim, and while there were moments that were fantastic, there were moments where it was decidedly less so. I sounded good every once in a while - good, but not great - and simply terrible most of the time. The rest of us weren't really much better, except for Chris, who somehow got the shaft and didn't get to sing as much. We watched enough of the tape to cue up a song that I can't remember how to play, don't remember the lyrics for, and have someone lost the sheet where all of that was written down (damnit). We had both had enough just listening to snippets by then, so we moved on to actual practice.

The thing was, I was astonished when I opened my voice to sing. I mean, here I was, listening to myself (albeit 4-5 years ago), my voice all pinched, nasaly, out of key and off pitch. And then, now, I open my mouth to sing, and voice was... it was startling how much I have improved. And, I mean, this is something Cory has pointed out a few times recently, but I don't think I had anything to compare it to. To be honest, I still thought I sucked as a singer.

Not that I am Josh Groban or Nina Simone or Nancy Sinatra, or even, you know, Harry Connick, Jr. No, I am just me. But I am enjoying that fact that "me" is a much better singer than "me" was five years ago, and you know, probably two or three years ago.

C and I banged through 14-16 songs, just trying to get a grip on what sounds good, what would make a good set, what we both felt comfortable with, and, you know, what wasn't in the key of A. Apparently, I have written a LOT of songs in the key of A major. Damn. But oh well, songs is songs and that's what I do.

Not everything we played worked, but enough of it did that I am really excited for the upcoming shows in Bloomington and Indianapolis.

The queen's prize awaits, and she better be ready, because it is back, improved, not new. This is old soul kind of music, acoustic rock and roll in the grand traditions of our forefathers (Pete and Uncle Neil, I am looking at you).

For those about to rock, we salute you.

Sometimes I rise, sometimes I fall

This has been one helluva crazy week. Monday meant Heroes, which was brilliant as always, but which also included Joe berating me for not calling him to hang out more often. Mike pretty much told Joe straight up that the reason why so many of his friends have been ignoring him is because he is "mean" and "a dick." Okay... true, but awkward. I simply pointed out the fact that I've been busy like a mad honk mah-fah lately... also very, very true.

Tuesday night, I ended up going over to see Mom after work. The purpose for the occasion was a lesson in balancing my finances (mom does this for a living, I wanted to make some changes, so it made sense to discuss this with her), and we did do that. Of course, though, Mom wanted to talk growing up and relationships and my current state of mind, just checking up on all three. It was a nice time - i didn't expect less, either. I love Mom and get along splendidly with her. Still, I had to pick something up to eat on the way home 'cause it was too late to cook and eat. I'm trying not to eat out, and trying not to eat late. Double fail on Tuesday night then. Monday, too.

And... Wednesday, too. We got free tix to the Pacers game last night. I felt guilty for not wanting to go. Yeah... like 4 people from work showed up. Sad. But I did have a good time. Only issue was, I didn't eat before I went (nor did I exercise at work, either). I have been bad this week. Didn't exercise last night, haven't brought my lunch all week, even though it's prepared at home. I just keep forgetting it.

If this damn day every ends (work-wise), i can go lift and run and do my fun little exercise stuff. And then Cory is coming up. Which means we are probably going to go grab a bite to eat.

Epic Fail. I am epic fail.

There are about a hundred things going down this week, and a hundred more every week this month. Which is both good and band, because the winter is when I feel the most lonely, on average. It's like, summer is for horny people, winter is for lonely people, and hey, I can be both! No worries, though, things are good, if a little too busy. We take what we can get.

My mind is at ease, and it's also not changing about much. Not sure what that says about me. Not sure I care. Listening to Sublime right now to close out my day at work, as it is, looking forward to this evening, so it's all good.

Memories Like Fingerprints

It never ceases to amaze me what little things can do to make me feel. I have never denied that I am a mercurial individual. Lately things have been great, steady and charging forward with life. I have dealt with a lot of stuff lately, internal and external, and feel like I am emerging from the crucible of my own doing to become a better person.

Regardless, I do still hurt and can still be lonely. Yesterday, I sat down to look for a couple of songs I had written a long time ago. They were not where they were supposed to be – my songbook, which is a shambles of its once former glory – so I had to search through many a dump-pile, folder, and loose stack of papers in search of them. I never did find them, but I did come across so many songs I had written that I had forgotten about.

Putting aside for the moment how embarrassed I was at some of these songs – I have always felt my writing needs to take a quantum leap forward, and the juvenile nature of the lyrics I saw yesterday made me ill – I was reminded how often I wrote of loneliness, despair, broken love and broken relationships.

There were songs that I had written in some of the darkest periods of my life – just after my engagement was broken off, right after my grandmother died, the times after my girlfriend moved out of my house. The sad thing was the common thread that bound them all together.

I question everything, and blame everything on myself.

Making matters worse – ok, not worse, because I am not feeling bad or down, just odd, like I need to add something else to the crucible – I have been reading a book about Guided By Voices, a band from Dayton, Ohio. In it, at a certain point, the lead singer and creative force of the band is talking about growing up in a small town. He talks about how, growing up in a small time, people are expected to get married quickly, settle down, get a real job, have a family.

This of course is exactly what I wanted right after high school. I wanted to marry my high school sweetheart, both of us from tiny country towns. When I went to college and my world blew up, things changed a bit between her and I, but soon I had a new goal – get married to my college sweetheart, have jobs, have kids, have the house with the white picket fence. That dream ended, painfully, enough to fuck me up for a few years.

But my small town kid, small town dreams remained. So I met the woman that wound up being my last serious relationship. We fell in love. She moved in, all the way from Pennsylvania. My dreams seemed attainable again. I even took steps to make sure my heart and head were ready to take such a big, life-changing step. In the end, impatience, fear, financial strain, and a dozen other things added up to such a weight that we couldn’t sustain the relationship.

So, as I laid down to sleep last night, all these old songs were running through my head, and this story about small town relationships was running through my head, which lead me to have the most amazing, fucked-up and vivid dream I have had in a long time. Seriously, it was odd and very, very revealing – too much for the internet, that’s for sure. Suffice it to say, though, when I woke up I was in a Toad The Wet Sprocket mood. Listening to them right now, in fact.

As I pulled myself out of dream-world, and shook off the sleep, the questions, blame, and guilt began. For what has been a pretty good couple of weeks, even a pretty good month and year so far, it was kind of an odd feeling. It was amazing to me how the little things I had looked at yesterday had elicited such a strong reaction.

I know I doubt myself far too much. When it comes to relationships, I tend to blame myself for every failure and every mistake. But that is not the way it really is. Everything is a two way street – friendships, romances, even the relationships we have with our parents. The good times, the bad times, they are all what we make them and what we make of them, together.

When I look at my life, now, I see that life is what I make it. My past is what I make it, too. My future, maybe that is what I make it. I hope so, I think so. It is so easy to lay blame to me, or to god, or to others. But it is much better to look at those things as lessons. If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough, if you’re gonna fall down you gotta get back up – that’s the way the song goes.

My dreams, they haven’t all come true. My life hasn’t turned out the way I planned it. Sometimes I wonder why. But most of the time I see that as a blessing, albeit maybe a blessing in disguise. I could be bitter, resentful, and play the blame game and bring myself down. Or I could choose to see things in a different light. I mean… it sure has made for some good songs along the way.

I do still want my silly small town Midwestern dream. It’s part of what I know, part of who I am. It’s ok to want that and dream for it, too. And yes, I still think about past loves, I still miss them, I still get lonely. I still drink myself silly and make an ass out of myself some nights. And, still others, I sit down with a guitar and sing lonely lost songs about lonely lost loves, and I sing them to those lonely lost loves. And each song makes my voice – internal and external – all the more stronger.

This life… it’s worth walking through that crucible. It’s worth a little pain and a little regret. Because it comes with joy and goodness, happiness and highlights. The reward of life is getting to live it, and what comes with it each and every day, and all the things you get to see, experience, and feel, from day one until the last day.

Besides, I’d rather be a cryin’ little pussy than a faggy goth kid, any day.

Reaches for her, and the water turns to red hot... won't be long to be burned, burned again.

It has always been a little rough to be a heart-first individual, and... many times, I just don't cut it. Sometimes my heart gets the best of me.

Other times, though... I don't let it get the best of me. Those are days when I choose to listen to my head, rather than my heart.

Oh, in the situation I am thinking of, I have listened to the heart before. And what it got me? Wasted time. And I've tasted a life wasted... I am never going back to that shit again.

No, sometimes some things that strike deep in are hearts are just like sirens of the deep... sirens that call us, and call us, and call us, only to lead us to our doom, to bring us into cold, freezing waters, raging out of control. We freeze or we drown or our heads get crashed upon the rocks.

Do I want something wild, uncaged, free, untamed? Absolutely. But tempered by time, maturity, and wisdom. It is one thing to be scared, cowardly, never taking the leap of faith. It is another to be brash, reckless, destructive with lust, love, vigor.

No, both of those paths lead to time wasted. Balance. Balance in all things.

Balance. Balance.

Like a mantra, like a river. That is the lesson I come away with when I look into the eyes of the siren.

It is easy to want to reach out. Just remember sometimes the water turns to red hot, and it burns. And the siren calls another sailor to her trap, and to his death.

Waits for a present something

So... things are... good. To a point. I couldn't put my finger on anyone thing that has been a BIG change. I'm exercising and eating more healthily than I have in a long time. I am trying to save money. I am working on relaxing, centering myself. Reading. Playing more music and less video games. Spending time thinking about big questions. Expecting less and less of God... by easing my expectations on him, perhaps he eases his expectations on me (somehow, this seems to work).

I am contented. I would like to flip out, especially with the emerging economic crisis. But, you know, we are fucked no matter what on that front, so... the best I can do right now is just try and save more, be more frugal with my money. So that is a goal.

But there aren't many things I could really change... because I am in such a state of flux right now... it's not change for the sake of change. It's forward motion.

I am finished (for now at least) with waiting on a present something. Even if these steps are baby steps, I am putting one foot in front of the other. Life is what happens while you are living it. So long as I can be healthy and have fun, why wait?

God, what do you say?

So… the other night I had a dream that I want to relate. In the dream, there was a hero. He looked a bit like me. As I watched, I discovered the world he was in was our own, but in the future.

In the future… after the second coming, the apocalypse, Armageddon, the rapture, whatever you want to call it.

As I listened to him talk to a passerby or a companion, I know not which, he described what had happened. God had returned to our now (not the dream-world now, but this current day and age) to call his faithful home, and to judge and punish the wicked.

The unfortunate thing was that so many had lost faith in the one true God, and had worshipped so many things other than him – their own “Christian” religion among those idols they had raised up – that very few truly faithful people still existed. Many of these people immediately turned on God, spewing hatred and evil, while others held on to the beliefs they had always had, claiming this wasn’t the true God, not the one they believed in, but some imposter god. The other people, those who had been neutral or aligned differently in their religious outlooks in life… most of them stayed that way.

It was a dark time, but would only get worse. God decided to cleanse the world of what was left. This he had decided to do with an army of angels, that surely no human could withstand. What he hadn’t counted on was the spirit and fire of human will, not to mention the selfish, devious lengths any human would go to “win.” As such, most of the remaining people allied themselves with all manner of demons, devils, evil creatures and malevolent spirits.

The combined army of humans and devils was too much for God’s angelic army. The war raged on and on, destroying the natural beauty of the earth, leaving it nothing more than a wasteland. Eventually, the will of humanity won out… and God’s angel were all either killed or expunged from the earth.

The remaining people then began to war with their once demonic allies, for control of the either. God looked down, and sighed. Many humans remained that had tried to remain neutral, and still more were born of the wicked humans who turned away from evil ways.

The hero was one such child… a person born of evil but turned to goodness because of the amount of evil in the world. He was a crusader.

His words to his listener, this passerby or companion, were harsh, true, heartfelt.

“God is not dead,” he said. “God simply failed. He failed because he gave us power, the power of choice and the power of will. Maybe we both failed, God and us. He still exists, and he is still a being of love, and even now, he cares for his children, even the ones he failed to destroy.”

“We live in a new age, with no rules, with no Christ, with no boogey-men preachers that tell us how to live, with no book-thumpers who make us feel guilty for the choices we make. It is a world where survival of the fittest rules. It is a world of humanity for humanity’s sake. To be good is simply enough. To be evil is simply enough. To be neutral is enough. There are lines drawn in the sand.”

“Today is what we make it. Tomorrow is what we make it. It is my choice to walk this broken world, bringing hope to the broken, bringing justice to the wicked. I serve the true god, the god that failed, the god that wasn’t strong enough to protect and correct his own creation. But the old prophets disciples got one thing write. Christ was enough to teach us all that God does love us. So maybe he was our savior after all? Doesn’t matter now. What matters is what we do this day, what we do tomorrow, and that we try not to kill and curse everyone we cross in our path.”

“Maybe one day we’ll right our own wrongs. To hell with what anyone thinks. It’s time to live for the sake of living, to hold on to goodness.”

The hero turned to walk away. The passerby or companion raised a fist, and in this fist was a knife, and he lunged to stab the hero in the back.

The hero spun and shot the listener dead. He spat on the ground. He looked up to the red-black sky, the scorched sky, and then looked down at the scorched earth.

“It is my choice to walk this broken world, bringing hope to the broken, bringing justice to the wicked… bringing peace, love, and goodness to the deserving. I am broken and serve a broken god… but each step brings hope….”

The hero walked onward.

I woke up later, and wondered to myself… was this a dream, or reality?

Am I the hero, or the listener?

Am I dead, or truly alive?

Is this all dream, or reality? What wickedness controls our daily lives? Where is the hero with hope for the broken, is this, the most broken of ages?

Should I go back to sleep?

Oh, and I listen to both sides of my head...

Today has been nothing short of surreal, at least in my heart and my head. I couldn't tell you why I feel so devestated today, but I know that I do. I tried explaining to a friend/co-worker, and he understood the sentiment, anyway... and had some good advice.

I do wonder if the heart of my issues, right now, is the same disease that I've been worried about so frequently, lately... a loss of faith. I just don't believe in anything anymore. God, love, faith, sex, music, people, healing... I don't believe in them.

And as bad as it sounds, it did all start with another girl, another heartbreak. Oh, this one was quick, for sure, and didn't hurt as bad as some. But that is part of the problem. It was like I went through 3 months of a relationship in 3 days.

A friend of mine calls me a man-whore. Only half in jest. I surf the internet, looking for something, anything, that'll spark my heart. I've tried not caring. I've tried just letting loose, being confident.

I wonder how many people can see how soulless I am?

There is a fight going on, but the part of me that is shouting, "you are good, you are worthy!," the part some would say is from God, telling me he loves me... is losing. I just don't give a damn about much of anything anymore... and even music is losing it's meaning. I can barely stand to play my guitar.

I wish I could cut out this cancer, whatever it is... but then again, I think I'd half to cut out most of me to kill the cancer.

This must be what growing old and losing hope feels like.

I will hold the candle, 'til it burns up my arm...

I am at war today. I need a break, badly, from anything and everything negative. I need to not be told how flawed I am. I know I am flawed, I've lived with it for damn near 28 years. I know I fall short.

Where did this come from? I am not sure I even believe in God anymore, and yet I have always believed in spirituality. It seems as if there is a war of good and evil raging in my soul. I want to tell all my friends off, I want to disappear, I want to start over, I want to be angry, I want to hate myself, and I want to blame me for all of it. At the same time... I want to apologize, I want to be good, to do good, to please God.

It's said that God doesn't punish us (any more, not New Testament, JC as savior Christianity), but that we punish ourselves, or that it's the work of some devil. I alternate between thinking God hates me and thinking he doesn't really exist.

There is a lot of love in my life. I try to constantly remind myself of that. I might not have all the kinds of love I want, but I do actually have most of the love I need. If, IF, God is love afterall, then maybe I can say he has provided some light through the darkness. And, truth be told, the darkness and the light... well, it all just depends on which direction I am facing.

I've got problems by the boatload, most of which a few friends have been hammering on lately, however unintentional or intentional that hammering may be. I have little to no money, and need money to do the things I want to do. I am lonely. I am tired. I feel unappreciated. I feel like I am walking on eggshells. I am paranoid. I am in debt. I am unhealthy.

But that is just looking in one diretion. I have a wonderful, loving family. I have some pretty great friends. I have a nice place to live, food to eat, clothes on my back (not that the necessities are good or bad - they're just essential; still it is nice to have them!). I am employed. I have a few fun hobbies.

The world doesn't come with rose-colored glasses. I take things hard, but life really is hard. And, while I feel unhinged, like the feelings inside me are being pushed there - by some kind of spiritual warfare, that good and evil are fighting within - I know it's not all me. I wish there was something more I could say. I have things good, but that still doesn't mean I need a break from getting kicked in the balls every damn day by friends, love, bills, finances, etc.

I still wouldn't mind a break. Really.

I will walk with my hands bound...

Right now, I feel like my hands are bound. I can't even play a fucking video game without pissing someone else off. I mean, what the fuck? I do not want the world to revolve around me. I am sincerely trying to take a look at myself, and every day I am trying to take some time for personal reflection. The odd thing is, some of my friends have really thrown some hard curveballs my way, and I am apparently striking out left and right.

I am only human, only a man, only a normal, ordinary guy trying to find my way, right my ship, all that other bullshit cliche stuff I could write here.

I just want a fucking break. You know? Some fucking space where I am not a fuck-up in the eyes of someone, an asshole in the eyes of another, getting told how I missed something here or there, being held to some unholy fucking high standard that Jesus would fail trying to reach.

One friend. One friend who hasn't been stepping on my balls lately. Ok, two. Musicians both, they seem to be the only people I can find solace in at all, at least in my social circle. I feel my relationships with two of my closest friends (not those two) deteriorating rapidly, all because of standards and all else and whatever.

I was raised to respect other people, to not kick someone when they were down, and to keep to your word. I don't run off and chase trim and leave my friends high and dry... and I would never think about doing it, either. Not if I gave my word. And I did my best to not get angry, to bite my tongue, and it's all over now... and then someone else comes along and punches me in the balls.

I am in debt up to my neck. My career feels like it is getting nowhere. I ain't get older, skinnier, funnier, better-looking. I have worked so hard all my adult life to control my problems - to be less intense, to not give into anger, to be a selfless person, to love instead of hate.

And... today, I hate myself, and want to be angry just so I can find some fucking peace.

God, if this is what you meant by back breaking toil, I guess I must be a sinner, because I am really sick of all of this, and lately, it seems like it is all you keep giving me.

All the love that she had was just wood that she burned...

So, in my normal routine, I am reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, and, with a bit of time on my hands last night, I dived right through two and half chapters, waiting at an auto-place to pay $130 to replace my car battery.

One of the things that Miller makes it a point of saying is how broken humanity is. And you know, he's right. Highlighting that we can't change what's wrong with the world without recognizing that the problem is us... as in me, I am the problem. And you, you too are the problem... but this is my blog. You deal with you on your time, buddy.

Anyway... yeah, how selfish are we? CS Lewis wrote a poem that Miller highlights that contains this line: I never had a selfless thought since I was born.

Neither have I. Not really, but pretty much. I mean, how often do we do good things, not because it truly delights us to do something good for someone else, but because of the recognition we will get out of it?

As I am reading this book, and examining my own broken spirituality and broken Christianity and the mess that my heart/mind is in, I was thinking about how I have changed, and how I had changed. The thing is, though I may not feel "lead" by God, or driven by the spirit, or whatever jumped-up mumbo-jumbo voodoo that you want to claim is how it works... the thing is, despite my distance from that, I still think I do a halfway decent job of not being selfish all the time. I bend over backwards for people. Too many friends have told me that, sometimes, I just have to do what's right for me.

I've had relationships destroyed because I was bent until I broke, and left broken, feeling used. I get stressed and frustrated at work because I help and help, and sometimes no one helps me. I won't yell at my roommates when they don't pay their share of the bills on time, and I end up in the hole in the bank, or running out of money and having to live off of a credit card.

I'm not pointing out I can be selfless for recognition purposes. What I am saying is, it strikes me as odd that though I may not being the perfect model of Christianity (which I never would be anyway) and while currently my spirituality is pretty dead (that, then, is the part I truly worry about), I still apply the lessons of selflessness - ultimately, of love - throughout my life.

Love may be the wood that I burn up for myself, but at least I don't let it get all stacked up, moldy, bug ridden and wasted. Or something like that.

More on this later...

No trade-backs

I had an interesting conversation yesterday evening. The setting: helping my friend Scott play a gig at a sorority on the campus of Indiana University. Apparently, said sorority (whose name I don't remember) was friends with a fraternity (again, don't remember) and those boys were there helping out. Scott is also a member of that fraternity, and to give him his due credit, he was right, they were not all total douchebags. Only a few.

Still, I marvelled at the youth, the arrogance, the hubris, the total lack of self, some of these "men" epitomized. There were more polos and khaki shorts than you could shake a stick at. As for the girls... I was very proud of that particular club, because not all the girls were thin and blond and super attractive. Most of them were average or just a shade on the pretty side, and a few were a shade on the other side... or worse... not at all bad or ugly... just not what you would expect from a place like IU where the greek system is ruthless, heartless, and soulless.

Those were my impressions when I went to school there, from 1999 until 2003. I was glad to see both a frat and a sorority moving in a positive, more-normal-people-friendly direction.

As I was saying... I was there to play guitar and help back up Scott. One of his frat brothers introduced himself and we began talking. He seemed like an alright kid, maybe a little confused and maybe a little less than a rocket scientist, but generally a very nice kid. The thing that shocked me... he had SOOO many questions for me.

What's it like in Indianapolis?
Why aren't you working in your major?
Why do you live with other people?
What's it like working a real job?
Do you ever miss college?
Did you party much when you were down here?
Did you party much when you left?
Why are newspapers dying out?

There were many more questions, maybe not phrased exactly the same way, but just inquiry after inquiry. Many of the questions all seemed to point to one simple thing - responsibility after college, or life as a real adult (however you want to phrase it, that's what it came down to).

And you know what? I gave him answers. I tried to tell him that it'll be completely different than college. And I thought the whole time, "kid, you don't know how good you have it right now."

I hope I maybe imparted some wisdom to the young man. I hope maybe I prepared him for the future, the real future, not the one where they (high school teachers and counselors, parents, etc.) tell you that you can be anything you want to be when you grow up - but the one that really exists, where the only things anyone cares about is that your ass is in your chair 5 minutes before work begins, and your check is in the hands of the power company and mortgage company the day before it is due.

All in all you are just another brick in their wall.

So what is it that moves you, and keeps you from being ordinary? That's the task you have to focus your free time on, so you're not just another number.

The man upstairs is through with all of this noise...

... and I'm through with screaming.

Is the man upstairs listening? Does he care? Does he care how I approach him, how I reconcile years of denial, how I admit to moments of utter brokeness and bitterness, often directed at him?

God is a curious being, for sure, for sure.

I am constantly plagued by big questions - why here, where going, what doing, who with, et cetera. It's been a while since I threw off the blanket of my protection, tore down my walls, opened up and ran free. In short, I haven't stopped to smell the roses in... a while.

I could and do sometimes complain all day - I'm overweight, overworked, underpaid, underappreciated, used, taken advantage of, live in a world of idiots who can't drive a car, have o time, et cetera. But, I am tired of looking through pessimistic eye glasses. Tired of looking through lenses that only see one shade.

God knows, as I've debated with him so often before, that there are many shades of grey. There's not just clean and dirty - there are many subtle levels. The difference I'm wanting now, the change I'm seeking, is to start focusing on the lighter shades of grey, not the darker ones.

Life can be sinister. Life is hard, to be blunt and cliche. With the situation I am living in, I feel stuck in a rut. I have not the time nor the financial power to break out, so I've got to find other means. I have always said that the best person to break one's self out of a rut is ultimately one's self. No magical romantic love affair with a woman is going to make it happen (neither is a magical love affair with a man - because if it would, it might be worth compromising my morals and personal preferences... just kidding). No magic paycheck is coming. No lottery. And... no hand of God is reaching down to get me back into school, to build the perfect wife (and make us in love and compatible), to fill my wallet with cash and my bank account with positive numbers.

No. God isn't doing that. He breathed life into me, smacked me on the ass, told me a few things, and sent me on my way.

So it's up to me. But it would be nice to know He's listening. 'Cause I am so through with screaming.

It's ok, it's ok! You don't have to run and hide away...

So yeah... it's ok, you know? Not much more to say than that... things are pretty good right now. Work has been busy-busy-busy. I haven't had much time to exercise lately. I haven't had any time for music lately... and I lack a little of desire in that regard.

All in all, though, I am ok. I am a work in progress, and right now, the progress is slow.

I worry about the same things as always... love, happiness, financial matters, music, where I'm going with my life, where the journey is heading. Yeah, I need a vacation. But things aren't that bad.

There was a time in my life when I faked myself into an era of positivity... which then begat it's own positivity. It was a spiritually motivated time, and though my heart was much more of a barren, rocky wasteland than I let on (oh, the emo imagery in that statement...), I acted like everything was all ok, and acted very positive.

A funny thing happened. I became more positive, and not fake-posi, but true-posi. Good vibes. Good times. Connections.

Yeah, I can look back and say there were some bad times, and that some people took advantage of my giving, caring spirit at the time. But I was truly happy, and less stressed.

And if I don't stop the stress level from rising in my life, it's going to kill me. No joke.

So... here's to fake-quasi-positivity, and the hope that it turns and returns into real positivity.

Familiar, yet, can't seem to place it...

Sometimes, I forget how much I like a certain song, or a certain band. I recently read an article about a band called Over The Rhine (on the Aquarian Drunkard music blog), just a short, fun little interview. And it of course reminded me how amazing floored I am by the work of this band, these two people, this husband and wife songwriting team. Lennon and McCartney are good. But so is Over The Rhine... and sometimes in my eyes, and more importantly my soul, equally good, or even better.

So... why haven't I listened to them in forever? Past relationships. What a waste. I can't listen to one of my favorite bands of all time because of an ex-girlfriend? Well... if you were there, you might understand that. I mean, we met on the band's message board, went to several shows, had little rituals wrapped around so many songs.

But... fuck it. If I'm going to do this singer/songwriter thing, I've got to get over my emotions... so I can dig into my emotions. Time to exploit this pain, dammit.

The journey continues on and on... I need to keep on strumming.

And listening to great music that inspires me.

And... stay away from girls.

I'm Still Alive

So... maybe I shouldn't be so callous... or shouldn't think of becoming more calloused. I mean, there are only so many punched one can take before it doesn't hurt anymore, before pain becomes all past tense, before your dreams die and you just do what you can to get by.

I don't want to just get by. But, then again, I don't want to deal with any more drama than I have to.

The thing is, when the dynamic is working, I have a truly wonderful group of friends. They definitely are a support system.

And... I am still hear. Maybe with a growing collection of scars, but still here, still standing, still fighting for some of the things I believe in.

I haven't given hope... just trying to redefine where it is aimed at.

I Can See For Miles and Miles

Ah, what a strange, dynamic world I live in. My ruminations on these things probably aren't worth much, but... I am nothing if not a writer. So, I'll tell you my b.s. opinions and you'll tell me yours, and together we'll drink 7-7s into the sunset. Or something like that.

So, I brought in my "burnt CD wallet" (a CD wallet containing only burnt CDs) from my home/car into work a week or so ago. This gives us a myriad of listening options at work, and those who know me know I can make one helluva mix tape, so there's some really good stuff on disc being played in my office.

The problem - more than I remembered, a vast majority of discs in the collection are mixes I either made for a particular ex-girlfriend, or are mixes made to reflect my mood at the time our relationship began to fail and spiraled down into the depressing, hurtful, and sometimes hateful thing it became.

So my artist's tears drip down in my heart as the blood machine works, and yes, yes I am so sick. But Marah still makes me smile wistfully, Blue Merle makes me think of the Columbus Zoo and driving around Ohio, and Over The Rhine still makes my heart flutter. Through it all, so much music is the soundtrack to my life, it'd take a hundred discs a year to explain it all.

Gatsby's American Dream say it well: thinking that I can make this right, in fact I know I've got to make this right... I'm done fucking around with the guilt engine.

Or the D.B.T.'s, who mean it when they say "This Highway's Mean" - because sometimes it is. Sometimes we can't be "Bothered." Sometimes the glass is only "1/2 Full." Sometimes life leaves you "High and Dry" - - and you wonder if you'll ever feel the way those songs make you remember feeling.

Some days, when the girl you like won't call, and you wonder if she ever will, you really do with you'd be done fucking around with the guilt engine. 'Cause that fucker runs overtime, all the time, until the wheels come loose and you're dead. All the rhetoric in the world can't save your ass when the big hand comes to take us all away.

And whether or not God is up there and listening at all (and like Billy Corgan, I really wonder if he is), that doesn't matter to me right now. What I want is to feel the way I want to feel, and someone else holds that key, and she won't open the lock. I wander around in my existential conundrum, but wandering and wondering gets us nowhere. Cliffs surround, walls close in.

Change comes slowly, quickly, never and not at all and all at once.

It just doesn't add up. And that's why math is dead to me now.

Behind Blue Eyes

No one knows what its like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what its like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They arent as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
Thats never free

No one knows what its like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

But my dreams
They arent as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
Thats never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what its like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

... out, out, out! Damn you Pete Townshend, get out of my head!

My Brain... via "Baba O'Riley"

Out here in the fields - you know, I grew up on a small ranch. Small town kid. A classmate of mine died just yesterday... and everyone from my high school crawls out of the woodworks. It always took a tragedy to make us all see eye to eye.

I fight for my meals - I've been pretty damn lucky so far, and haven't had to do this too much. That said, I am way too damned broke, and it ain't getting any better.

I get my back into my living - you can say that again. Jobs kill me, I think. I start out loving it, then end up hating it when stress takes control. There is no escape. I used to think the bible was silly, what with all it's toil and hard work stuff... now, not so sure.

I don't need to fight - but I always do. Now, I just wish I had something worth fighting for.

To prove I'm right - yet, unfortunately, the thing I want to fight for, I can't. The things I want to do, I don't have the fortitude or the guts to do. I am, to say the least, shallow on the inside.

I don't need to be forgiven - God and I have been having this argument. Damn him, he always wins...

Don't cry, don't raise your eye - I don't cry much anyway, not anymore. I gave it up after shedding far too many tears for two or so women. I should've learned the first time.

It's only teenage wasteland - damn right it is. Angst, envy, lack of patience, anger and hate, misplaced love, broken hearts, tortured artist soul... all here for the world to see.

Sally, take my hand - still looking for a Sally...

We'll travel south crossland - I'd love a vacation. I need a vacation.

Put out the fire, don't look past my shoulder - ah, but I never, never want the fire to go out. I stoke that bitch all night long... and still, she burns me.

The exodus is here - I've been waiting a long time. A long time.

The happy ones are near - thank God for great friends and wonderful family.

Let's get together, before we get much older - but no, we're all becoming damaged goods. We all got baggage now. It makes life interesting, for sure. But we ARE getting older, and yet things remain the same. Still waiting on that exodus.

Teenage Wasteland! It's only teenage wasteland - yes, it all comes back to this... hope, love, faith... disappointment? Again?

We're all wasted! - well, I'm not. Maybe I should be. Never was my thing.


I'll stick with the Teenage Wasteland part, thank you very much.

I don't need to be forgiven!!!

This month... brought to you by The Who.

Out here in the fields
I fight for my meals
I get my back into my living
I don't need to fight
To prove I'm right
I don't need to be forgiven

Don't cry
Don't raise your eye
It's only teenage wasteland

Sally ,take my hand
Travel south crossland
Put out the fire
Don't look past my shoulder
The exodus is here
The happy ones are near
Let's get together
Before we get much older

Teenage wasteland
It's only teenage wasteland
Teenage wasteland
Oh, oh
Teenage wasteland
They're all wasted!

all my rivals will see what i have in store

So the cycle begins... again.

It struck me that the last time I played the guitar like that... was in another, similar situation. A similar feeling - a nexus of time and confusion and wondering what's next. I asked God if he understood. I don't think he does sometimes.

I also wonder... is it ok to come back in the good times, and to shy away in the bad? Why does that happen? I don't want to pray, or be faithful, just when I want something.

But there it was, again, last night (and... again this morning)... that wonderful something. Those moments when melodies drip from fingertips, where terse lyrics bleed into verses and chorus. And sometimes a middle 8.

I look at my friends and their lives... I see their successes and failures. I still think each one of us has a purpose.

I wonder when I will stop running from mine.

So simple, to pick it up and just play. Maybe not so simple to write something meaningful... but it is amazing how when you forget about it, it reminds you in the most special of ways. Like just before bed on a Tuesday night.

A detuned string and a disenchanted lullaby. A broken heart and an unchained melody.

Somedays, it's all there is to live for. That is always enough.

And though I wrestle with him daily - God and his mischieveous plans for my life - and can still thank him for the gift of song.

Fills the pages...

I like this verse from the Say Anything song "Yellow Cat (Slash) Red Cat" -

I watch this dude each night, same table, who creates and crumples up. His eyes are wide from sipping endlessly his endless coffee cup. He feeds me quotes, that lonely goat. I watch him grazing by himself I will not stop him when he rambles; I’m becoming one myself.

I'm becoming one myself. That's an interesting thought. I haven't blogged in a while, I know... I've been too busy, too heartbroken, too angry, too happy, and too busy again, all at once, for the past two weeks. Maybe can throw too drunk in there a time or time - hey, while we're young, right?

I will not stop me when I ramble...

I will hold the candle, 'til it burns up my arm...

Damn. I am trapped, and I feel like I am suffocating. I do not want to lose what might be the greatest love I've found - or the recognition of such potential - and I don't know how to keep that from happening.

Patience. Time. I am scared to death, but now I'm scared for different reasons. I know what I feel in my heart, that what burns in my chest, is true. I recognized the potential for something great, and now it feels like it is slipping away.

I think about all that has been said... that she's such a sweet person, that we've been down some very similar roads, that we've both been hurt and have had such heartbreak and loss in our lives. I know she said she'd never want to make someone feel that same way.

Being open and bare is just simply terrifying. I understand that, so very much. Being so close to something that feels so wonderful, though... losing that is terrifying.

I just worry that time will not bode well... that it might put out the fire, or that it might give rise to too many complaints... that instead of being taken at honest face value, I'l be demoted or dismissed for myriad reasons beyond my control. I am scared I am being picked apart in her mind (not her heart) right now, that somewhere a small devil is convincing her that this is bad, is teaching her to ignore the goodness and the wonderful feelings that accompany the fear of something new and so quick, the fear of another heartbreak.

I will not break her heart, and I will not make her look like a fool. But can I tell her that? How can I say something and not seem like some lovesick idiot? It is one thing to be in love, and that is not the case here at all. But it is the case of seeing the potential to be in love, there and waiting. You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait, it's a game of give and take, right?

I don't want to miss this chance. I know deep in my heart that this is what I've searched for, waited for, prayed for, and paid the price for. To step so close to it, and to feel it slipping away... is suffocating.

I just want to breathe... to talk, to exhale, to share more thoughts and feelings, to be scared together, for different reasons.

God, you know my heart. Help me through this.

Come Back

If I keep holding out,... will the light shine through?
Under this broken roof,... it's only rain that I feel
I've been wishing out the days,... come back

I have been planning out,... all that I'd say to you
Since you slipped away,... know that I still remain true
I've been wishing out the days,...

Please say, that if you hadn't of gone now
I wouldn't have lost you another way
From wherever you are,... come back

And these days, they linger on
And in the night, as I'm waiting on
The real possibility I may meet you in my dream
I go to sleep

If I don't fall apart,.... will the memories stay clear?
So you had to go,..... and I had to remain here

But the strangest thing to date
So far away
And yet you feel so close
And I'm not gonna question it any other way

There must be an open door
For you to
Come back

And the days, they linger on
And every night, what I'm waiting for
Is the real possibility I may meet you in my dream

And sometimes you're there
And you're talking back to me
Come the morning I could swear you're next to me

And it's okay.

It's okay.
It's okay.

I'll be here
Come back
Come back

I'll be here
Come back
Come back

I'll be here
Come back
Come back

(thinking of you... hoping and praying for the best)