Monday, February 05, 2007

panic! at the fuck you

jeff buckley - everybody here wants you

you knew what was comming when you told me you'd try.

standing up is so much better when theres someone standing beside you to model yoruself after. to no vain extent, just posterity. and maybe alittle consistency. whats a copyright worth to the dependable. they've got bigger problems. nothing like a unearthing lack of dilemma to really fuck shit up. in so many ways my own fragility has been my worst enemy. in so many ways my fear has turned myself against me. predictable i guess. its not like fear rode into town looking for a hot game of cards, a fast girl and pint of the landlords finest. its had an agenda since we first met. we should all be aware. of any man who keeps his fears at hand. or normally somewhere between the shoulders and the skull. normally so tightly suqeezed and safe there doesnt seem to be any room for a neck. i received a massage the other day. an older woman. had been practicing massage therapy for upwards of 15 years. said she had never worked on a person with more knotts. she was in shock at how tense i was. figures. i guess i have been alittle over concerned with the softwood lumber dispute as of late. (oh and a few other minor situations in my life, such as, oh, work, relationships, health, relationships, work, laundry, work, relationships, sushi, relationships, work, my car, work, relationships {replace work with: Making the next record, writing the songs, deadlines, touring, travelling, performing, singing, my throat, writing, fans, emails, demographics, album sales, numbers numbers numbers} {oh and replace relationships with: Tam, mom and dad, matt and all my friends, being away from them. being around them. spending time with them. being there for them, KEEPING them}) all in all i'm a lucky son of a bee sting. HA. theres really only two ways to approach this. i can over compensate for a staggering lack of confidence by over asserting myself, shooting off round after round into the pitch dark, cause hey, at least i was shooting. or i can rest alittle easier and know that as long as i work hard and keep focussed i'll end up alright. jesus that looks so fucking good on paper. if you really think about it, just about every self respecting individual, who, when applying the basic principals of hard work and consistency will end up, at the end of the big life machine, in good shape at worst. that being said, i have such a tragic nack for panic. i noticed it today. it revealed itself in such wonderfully gay poetry. (this is the part where i tell you what i'm talking about, but just for the hell of it i'm going to change the subject untill i feel like going back to telling you about the panic story.) i'm really actually upset about something. after having witnessed much debate about whether or not the BRITISH "Office" (popular and rather histerical television show) is more funny (funnier) than the AMERICAN "Office" (adaptation of the original british 'office', just made more stupid (stupider) for fans of fox news, walmart and nascar who concidentally happen to live in the greatest nation on earth. hehe.) having finally watched the US "office" i have come to the conclusion that they're both pretty funny. and arrested development is still so much more good (better) than both. anyway. back to my story! where were we> oh yes, weak weak poetry. and panic. so i've taken up swimming. and for the past several weeks now i wake up every morning with matt at 6am and go down to the local rec center. its has already yielded tremendous results. i'm clearly in the best shape of my life. however i've had quite a problem with it all. and i havent been able to shake it yet. when i'm in the water, i'm not scared of it. but for some reason i have this sily fear of sinking. NOT drowning, but sinking. what this does is, while swimming laps, it causes me to paddle alittle overzealously. pretty much near frantic swimming. and as a novice swimmer i shouldnt be swimming in the fast lanes already. but i seem to be the fastest swimmer in the pool. in no way a good thing. in no way a productive thing. i didnt say efficient. just fast. with numerous breaks for breathing. oh yeah, i'm still having trouble breathing with my head in the water, not in, just out. still figuring that out. and today, this morning, as concentrated so very hard with my head down in the water, stroke after stroke, trying to slow myself down, relax, and breathe out while paddling, i realised how much of a struggle this was. and in almost every other aspect of my life how much of a struggle this is. pacing myself. my best friend matt, has done a triathalon, is not a triathlete, but has done one. he's bigger than i am. not overweight, but bigger. has never been the fastest or the strongest, but has never missed a beat in his life. the most consistent athlete i've ever seen. can run 15 laps around a track and each one will be within 2 seconds of eachother. likewise, almost every aspect of his life is very well paced and balanced. this is not an exhortation for you to find someone fantastic in your life and model yourself after them. this isnt even a brainstorm on what not to do. this is just my findings and where i think i need to improve. ha. vastly. in so many ways (not all ;) ) i find myself jumping head first into whatever it be, at top speed, and then running out of steam shortly after. basically the hundred yard dash. i was always really great at that growing up. and would pass out shortly after, having given it every ounce of strength in my body. a perfect example of how i do things, i once tried my hand (well more my feet and legs) at the 200 yard run

Saturday, February 03, 2007

nobody knows

Her heart is yours for the breaking
Her soul is old
You'd never know she's an angel
Cause nobody knows how fragile she can be

Her hands are yours for the taking
Her lips are cold
You'll never know she's an angel
And nobody knew how fragile she could be

So thankyou, for not looking over me
I do, wanna come If you're calling me
And you knew, where to run when it was getting too rough

When you fly away,
Come back or not,
Take me away with you.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Mid Week Boys Club

some songs

picture of jesus - ben harper
apple candy - ben lee
12:59 lullaby - bedouin
alala - CSS
fucking boyfriend - bird and the bee
i wish - babyshambles

I have cold feet. Not the literary kind, just the actually, cold, kind. I've been unstoppably feverish as of late. Jordan fell out of my car last night. (It was mid-week-boys-club last night) he got so drunk, that while I was driving he decided to get out. He smacked his head on the pavement pretty bad. We have MWBC once a week, whether we like it or not. It’s healthy. My best friends that I don’t live very close to anymore, we make a point of seeing each other once a week, or we’d never see each other. Even though it just turns into a drunken debacle, it’s still two of my best friends and I, since grade school. I can’t believe how imperative my friends have been through all of this rubbish. The people I have in my life are the most incredible people in the world. They keep me strong, they keep me sane, and most of all, they keep me stable. Reminding me of what’s important, what’s not, what’s real, what’s fake, what I need, what I don’t, and most of all, how funny it is to watch someone ESLE jump off a dumpster into a shrubbery. My left nostril has been runny and sniffley for a while now, so it’s producing quite an array of boogers. I find a lot of people really just don’t like boogers. I don’t mind them. They’re exciting. The weather back at home here has been incredible. Sunny and significantly above zero. I’ve been wearing a t-shirt and open hoodie for a few days now. But that’s also because I hardly change what I wear. Normally every 3-4 days.

My head’s been down for quite a while with this whole music thing. And it kind of scared me yesterday. Not that I don’t have the time to take to do the dishes, or walk my dog, or see an old friend, or just watch curb until I fall asleep on the couch, its just that I choose not to. And instead, spend countless hours guitar in hand, or in front of my computer or at the jam space. And I think I just get scared that all this will lose its element of fun. I think most of the time, its just that lovely little feeling of impending doom. I don’t think I’ll ever buckle under pressure, but I just feel like its taking over sometimes. So many things to do. So many. So many people to please. So many people to keep from being mad at me for who the fuck knows what this time. I guess I just never want this to stop being fun. I never want to forget what it is I want, and I never want to forget what I’m doing this for.

I don’t’ want time to run out. I really don’t want it to slow down either though. Maybe if I can just find a moment I can appreciate. Maybe those 3 minutes around 4.15pm when the sun is at its last angle of light, orange almost, and still warm enough out for me to drive with all the windows down. And as I descend on the city, sun in my face, warm air blowing, it almost seems like the muscles in my face know without hesitation what to do. And a smile takes over my face like the unveiling of an awkwardly beautiful piece of art. Gnarly teeth and all. I think then, I would choose to just pause. Freeze time. like zach morris always did. And just take a deep breath. Maybe cry a little. (No one would notice, they’d all be frozen) I hope I never ever forget where I’ve come from. I hope I never ever forget what really moves me. What really makes me feel. I hope I never ever forget what I’m capable of, and what I need to do. I know I’ve gotta do something. Even if its banging nails, I wish I could just know for certain. I hate instability. I like security. Certainty. Stability. I think. Well, I should probably get back to music. Its not gonna write itself. Long time no see. Don’t be a stranger. Me.

things i miss, to the sounds of 12:59 lullaby:

nintendo wii
red scope
outdoor contained fireplaces
any sort of stone masonry
italian food
red scope.