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.
10.10.2008
10.09.2008
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.
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.
10.06.2008
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.
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.
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