Wednesday, December 24, 2014

2014 - and all of the excess

Great highs and terrible lows…
the constant in 2014 has been more.

More productivity than any year prior
more violent outbursts

More empathy for the troubles of others
more mistakes made

More rumbling laughter from deep inside
more days spent longing

More inspiration 
more desperation

More people to remember 
more people to miss

2015 is coming 
so much to get done

Run for public office on the platform of a new 8 day week… 

four days on, four days off.

Thursday, July 31, 2014

How To Hit Home Runs

So fickle... Such a process. Life is as daunting as it is cool.

Understanding when you're successful is important and easy to miss. The desire to grow, progress and achieve can put up a miraculous set of blinders, keeping you from seeing the rapidly changing minute to minute.  Luckily success itself is a great reminder to stop and smell the roses. Understanding "The Why" is tricky to wrangle and requires focus to obtain. 

What makes one song any better than another?
How about one movie?
One government?
How about one god for that matter?
What makes a way of life the Right Way?

Why do some things resonate with millions, while others can't seem to get out of first gear?

In conversation, I'm enjoying a playful exchange with my father. The matter up for discussion is morality. An ambiguous noose around our collective necks making us feel bad for nights we had and thoughts we never asked for. Without even the decency of a nice dinner to reflect on later. We travel through several angles and points of view, neither of us attempting to "out think" the other. A verbal game of catch occurs on a topic that could undoubtedly become 

In time we arrive at this pearl of wisdom.

"I'm not gonna strap a bomb to myself... but I might beat the fuck out of someone for hitting a girl."

Perspective is more than everything... It's the only thing we've got.

Friday, June 6, 2014

Iced Tea Isn't Water - Episode 1 - Language

An opinion about The Life Narcotic

A maddening sickness lies at the heart of my condition. 
I'm poisoned by the nature of blindness.

I take no satisfaction in "Progress" or material gain. 
I'm too broken tired and justified to lust for money.
I will not work for rest.

I want to be overwhelmed by my misfortunes; to toil endlessly in the fields of my own excrement. 
It never happens. 
I'm too aware of the simple truth of it all… I earn it. 
Day by day, hour to hour, second to every second as I lazily play a part in a broken narrative that our fair author has no intention of finishing. 

Were this a film we'd not rent it again. 

I don't want to be impressed by your wit or charm or even conciseness.
You don't have to tolerate mine… that much is clear. 

I'm watching an Ant crawl on coco brown skin. 
He is not planing for the day he has done enough.
To actually be in love with your survival, what a thing.

A voice coming from the walls shouts hard and direct… something about fairness and how entirely possible it could be. Give up the bag, the hang, the ammunition, the loaded gun. Find a heart inside your mind and fall in love with stillness.

I want to see you at the ocean 
smile instead of saying words

What's my opinion?

The atom bomb is the word
the truth is caked in vomit
on the walls 
under your fingernails.

How do you know if something's truly bad? You smell it. 
It would be rotten to blame people.
To blame decisions. 

Who in their right mind would ever decide against cold beer and BBQ? 

The sun is hot and trying to tell us something.

Stand still in the sand and burn
Burn fast and bright as hell
Talk less
say more.

I am looking long and hard for the American Dream.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Bisexual Biplanes and the bipolar elite

 Preoccupation is a terrible bother. A gangrene foot that if left unchecked will consume your entire leg. It is vicious, cunning and around us at all times! Anyone caught in the throws of masturbation as  a deadline rapidly approaches will attest to the gripping power of dicking around. 

{break for coffee}

 In fact even your loyal host is burdened with this terrible affliction. As I type this (my next editorial masterpiece) I'm skillfully avoiding the self imposed deadline I set for myself at the beginning of 2014. Twelve albums in twelve months… thats the goal. It sounds simple enough in sentence form but the really of course is much different. As intended the task is shedding light on a nugget of truth the deep recesses of my mind has been snacking on for years. 

I am an undisciplined mess.

{Break for email}

 Three months into this endeavor and again it falls on the twentieth day that the spark of motivation begins to catch flame. A panic sets in that I might not live up to my word. The thought sends riveting pain down my spine(is that my ego taking over the operation? Impossible to know for sure, i'll have to conduct more research). I begin frantically combing through the drips and drabs I've recorded the previous three weeks only to find that on it's own this is not enough to release. So it's back to the archives to try and find some moment captured when my brain was focused on the task at hand. Some beautiful moment of undisturbed creativity that will bring this entire mess into focus. 

The March gods are kind and I have something but how long can I go on like this?  Surely the well is going to dry up and I will be forced to use the time allotted for fresh ideas and hard work! Nothing like being faced with actual failure to make you realize how much you deeply want to succeed.

 At this point you might be wondering what any of this has to do with the title of the article you're currently reading… are you? Tell the truth... did you already forget what the title is? Well fear not brave reader it all comes back around in the home stretch.

{Break for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Facebook}

 The title of this article is simply a witty reference to a bunch of white noise gobbledygook I've run into these last 30 days. You see, while I've been perfecting the art of procrastination I've gathered a startling amount of information about missing planes and the veracious appetite the news media has for unique stories (BREAKING NEWS! We have no further information), I've seen through the ruse of a Want-To-Be porn star posing as a University student fallen on hard times and between the latest slutty pop tart gossip and the fake deaths of character actors I have gained knowledge, spent time and energy on all this nonsense without so much as an attempt to acquire any of it. 

I had a heart felt conversation with a good friend recently about his need to be medicated… it's a wonder we all aren't at this point. 

In truth, we mastered the art form of distraction long before the modern era of comfort and technological dopamine. If you took it all away in the blink of an eye you'd most likely find me laying on a patch of grass staring up at the clouds thinking wonderful thoughts about the way she moved in that dress and the smell she left behind. 

This life is a stroll and we're all patiently waiting for the last minute to arrive. 

We use the extremes in life to motivate us. The words "have to" get thrown around like a mantra when in fact they most often are an excuse to do what we want in that moment. It's hard work… all of it. 

Being efficient
Being a mess
Being punctual
Sleeping in
Getting laid
Getting sober
Cleaning up
Being a slob
Getting angry
Finding joy

The excuse of linear time is only going to hold up for so long. We are not our age, we are not beholden to a series of events. Focus on a single thought today, for a minute or ten or even an hour if you can and I will do the same. Finish something you've had on your mind and bask in the glow of a job well done. Log out of all your accounts and count the time it takes to log back in tomorrow. Leave the TV off and take the battery out of your phone. It will all be waiting for you when you need a fix.

Now enough of this distraction… I've got an album to finish.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Musician and The Officer

Friday January 3rd 2014 approximately 1:15 am 

Two people remain in the front car of a Coney Island bound D Train, One A 6'2 Caucasian NYPD officer, the other… me … A 5'2" Puerto Rican rock musician with a missing front tooth and slight limp. Positioned at opposite ends of the car for 3 or 4 stops the thought of passing up this opportunity becomes ridiculous. I do what any forward thinking fearless (slightly drunk) freedom fighter would, I rise from my seat and begin to walk across the train. 

The first seconds are tense. As I approach his posture stiffens, instinctively his hand lowers to his pistol, it's subtle… he's trained for this but I have instincts of my own. I crack a smile and relax my shoulders throwing up my right hand as if I was flagging down my cousin across the street. I say "good evening" and the conversation begins.

"Officer, I'm sorry to bother you but I was wondering if I could ask you a question, You see, I'm a professional musician and one of the primary skills necessary in my work is to facilitate a connection between the audience and the art, with that in mind I couldn't help but notice how tense this car got when you stepped on, what I was wondering was in your experience what is the best way for a civilian like myself to engage an officer in a humanistic way?"

I was met with a blank stare…

"You mean like, talk?" He said simply, in a heavy, defensive captain of the high school team cadence.

"Yes! Exactly, how do we get past being fearful of each other?"

He paused for a second to think it over.

"The way you just did."  He said "Most times you see us and think something is bad but we aren't bad."

It was a simple answer with simple wisdom. A strange feeling came between us in this moment, we both knew I was the more "Intelligent" "Articulate"  perhaps even "Educated" person and he let out an honest revelation.

"If you didn't come talk to me I would have thought you were trouble."

"is it the outfit?"

"A few things, you were moving a lot and singing to yourself, you've got weird drawings on your pants… you don't look like other people and it's late"

"Fair enough, It should be easier than this shouldn't it?"

"What happened to your leg?"

"Cerebral Palsy, I've been like this my whole life. This is my stop sir, thank you very much for talking with me"

"Take care of yourself."

"Stay safe."

"Thank you."

As the doors closed and the train sped away I looked out to the other end of the platform at the staircase. It seemed so far away but I knew that reaching it would be as simple as walking, something of course thats never been all that simple for me. I put my head down and trudged forward through the slushy mud that New York City snow becomes. I'm sure it was cold on the walk home but I didn't feel it. We were humans together, that Cop and I. I got the distinct feeling that we both wished that happened more often.