Summer is at an End

Well, this is it (I get the feeling I've started off several entries with those words, but I'm having trouble remembering).
School starts tomorrow. I've got to get my act straight. (I've said that a few too many times. It's slightly discouraging.)
(Am I using parentheses too much?)
(I'm sorry. I'll stop.)

Takeoff.

I feel set on a road without guidance.
Circa 2004, I began taking bass lessons at the Music Zoo here in New York. The first time I met my teacher, Anders, I didn't know what to think of him. He was kind of crazy("aren't we all, though?" I had corrected myself), but I soon saw that I had a lot to learn from him musically. I progressed under his tutelage, and discovered more than a teacher behind that curtain of purposely disarrayed hair. We had grown on each other. I had found a friend in this man who, when he could see I was down, gave advice and consolation that I could trust; who shared the joy of my good days; who cracked jokes to soften my serious edge; who gave my fingers wings.
There were days, of course, where Anders couldn't make it to the Zoo, and I was assigned to other teachers there. I never worked as well with them. It always seemed for both parties involved to be an "alright, let's get this over with so I can leave" thing.
On the long car ride back from Chicago, I anticipated telling Anders during our next session about my performance at Pinocchio's; to show him what I'd recorded on my new loop pedal; to throw high fives and laugh and walk out feeling that I'd done him proud. But when I unpacked the car and got on the computer, I saw that Anders had sent me a message. I was shocked and tremendously disappointed to read that he'd left the Zoo behind.
It seems I should do the same.

Here's to the good times, making music in that claustrophobic little room. They'll be sorely missed.

"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.