"Parade" by Jake Goodman

Listen to it here. Come back while it plays.

There's something in this picture that's not quite right: I had a few nausea issues after the breakup (to be honest, I think the stress caused them), so my therapist and psychiatrist -- who thought they might have been caused by the meds -- cut all my prescriptions. Understand that I was thanking God for this; those damn pills were hampering my creativity and my drive to create. I was jumping for joy. And the nausea went away. My therapist and psychiatrist saw this as proof that the meds were the problem; I had known that they were a problem all along, but not this problem. The way I see it, the nausea went away because I was no longer hung up on my loss: I was finally able to create, and I took full advantage of the revival.
Lo and behold, the nausea factor has come back with a vengeance. I can barely even look at food this time around. But I'm still creating. Actually, since I got a loop pedal, I've been creating more than ever.
My thoughts have been straying back to that girl.
So don't tell me that there's something wrong with me. And don't tell me that there isn't. Because I know there is.
My brother's asleep right now. If he were awake, I know he'd bring me out of this and find some way to cheer me up. He's cool like that. But he's asleep.
So the poofing and squeaking will continue (inside joke).

Fraternity

This is what it's all about.

Another Round at Pinocchio's

Finally -- FINALLY! -- I've taken "Dear Michelle"(in its entirety, this time) beyond the confines of my home turf. Dad and Mario had their last show at Pinocchio's just a few hours ago. Once their set was done, Dad gave me the stage; I strummed up and belted out.
It was awesome.
On a vaguely related note: last week after I performed my "Dear Michelle" instrumental, I asked the barmaid at Pinocchio's, Tanya, for a piece of paper and a pen. As paper, she gave me a rather long receipt. So I wrote the beginnings of a song, stuffed the receipt in my pocket, and forgot about it. Only yesterday did I find the incomplete song and finish it. It developed into my last entry ("Better Days") -- though between the barmaid and I, the song will be known as "Tanya's Receipt".

On another related note: the guy who took the stage after I was done, Jake Goodman, is an AMAZING rhythmist. Check out his stuff here.

Better Days

Better days
They're all behind me
When I'd call you
And say "I'm coming home."

Better days
I hoped that they'd find me
But now
I spend my nights alone

Dreaming
It seems that you'll see
If you think back
To when you were with me

Back to our better days
Spent in a better place
Nights when I'd stay awake
Dreaming of your face

Back when I'd say I'm coming home
I loved you more than I could show
But now
I spend my nights alone

Better days
When you'd meet me out back
And kiss me before I could walk in the door
Yeah, you made it all right

Those better days
No, they're not coming back
And you couldn't even kiss me
Goodbye

Dreaming
It seems that you'll see
If you think back
To when you were with me

Back to our better days
Spent in a better place
Nights when I'd stay awake
Dreaming of your face

Yeah, back then, you made it right
And I could hold you close at night
But you're not coming back (x3)
And you couldn't even kiss me goodbye

With the Internet as My Witness

I've heard way too many times what happens to the average band: they release their first album...it's a hit...they run through the streets and scream when they first hear their hit on the radio...they play their first show...they embark on their first tour...something happens along the line where one of them, who was enough of a jerk already, hits his peak once fame has gone to his head...another one goes off and does his own thing...another one is happy with the money he made, and leaves with it...and finally, you've got the one who was in it for the music all along, and is left in the wake of the band's disassembly, the only one left who wanted to keep going for music's sake.
That's where I come in.

Right here, right now, with the internet as my witness, I will swear that if ever I am among a group of musicians, I will be there -- whether it be on a stage, in a studio, or on a tour bus -- FOR MUSIC'S SAKE. Because music is what I'm all about.

High on Music and a Little Bit Richer

Well, I made my appearance at Pinocchio's tonight. Quite the show. And I can't help but feel overpaid. Thirty bucks for an instrumental "Dear Michelle"? Come on.
But what an experience.

HOLY CRAP.

I'm gonna be hitting the stage tonight.
Why am I on the computer?
I should be warming up.

I'll get back to you all by tomorrow afternoon.

Renaissance Man

I went to the Bristol Renaissance Faire yesterday. Quite the adventure.
Within fifteen minutes of entering the Faire, my group stumbled upon a clearing with a low-branching tree in the center. A couple of nymphs were sitting in the tree, who I came to know as Autumn and Flower:

I have to say I fell tragically in love with Flower. Why tragically? Because I followed her around for several hours to capture more shots, and by the end of the day, she decided it would be fun to tie me to a tree with vines.

I wonder if this is common among photographers.

On the Road Again

Here it is. I'm bracing myself for the 16-hour drive to Chicago (not like I have anything to brace myself for -- I'll be sitting in the back seat with my guitar almost the whole ride).
But it's always nice to be on the road for a few hours, even when it does get claustrophobic.
Here's something: my dad and my cousin, Mario, put on a show at this place called Pinocchio's every Thursday. This coming Thursday I'll be taking the stage for a bit.
Wish me luck. I'll keep you all posted.

IIOII

A circle of glasses sitting on the floor. Nobody takes a pass, they're ready for one more. So I pour a round for all the boys and turn the music down. "I'd like to propose a toast," I say, "to the here and now. To wild nights, drunken fights, and using pots and pans for drums. To favorite parts and playing guitar 'til our fingertips go numb. Here's to never growing up!"
As we kick 'em back, I'm thinking that there's nothing in the world like drinking with my brothers, bound by blood or not. So we shuffle up and deal 'em out. We bluff and bet and laugh about our lousy hands as we take another shot.

Lost in the Music

I'm freaking myself out here.
I've finally found the groove I've been looking for for the past four years.
I had some good periods when writing my books, but never like this. I've been spitting out two songs a week. I kid you not.
I guess I've just had so much to get out there that it built up, and when I decided to learn guitar it exploded. Not the guitar. My creative reserves.
I'm absorbing myself in the six-string so bad that some people have called me insane. But then they hear my music and they say, "Oh. So that's what you've been up to."
It's beautiful.

Leaving You Behind

Yesterday
I thought I saw your face
Behind a window in Bay Terrace
Where we first met
And I don't know why
I just stopped and sighed
It's been like this every day
In the six months since you left

I dreamt today
Of a different place
As I sat on the rocks at Fort Totten
Where we used to go
And I watched the sun
Sink below the horizon
With a record of us beside me
All the pages I wrote

I think back and remember
My brother's words
How all these things were mine
Before they were yours

So I pick up the leather-bound memories
And throw them into the shifting tide
I'm leaving you behind

This same old town
It holds me down
With all these shadows of you
That make my footsteps slow
So I pack my things
I'm ready to spread my wings
I think I'll be better off
In the city of Chicago

Next time you go down to Fort Totten
To reflect on you and me
When you sit out on the rocks
I hope you see

The hundred pages of memories
I scattered on the shifting tide
To show that I'm leaving you behind