anchors & apron strings

last night I had another one of the dreams where I'm on stage in a fully realized band performing. I've had these so many times before and dreamed entire songs, set lists, members, stage and gear set ups, look and sound and vibe of the band. usually the people I tell about these dreams laugh and shake their head in disbelief.

anyway last night's group was called the Black River Witches and it was an amped up rootsy rock group. the faces of the members weren't as clear this time but we were in the throes of a raging twang and crunch of a number called "Anchors & Apron Strings" that was very epic and heartfelt. Obviously it was about things that hold you back, hold you down, and in the end - escape by any means necessary. I vaguely recall the melody but not so much the lyrics. I remember the feeling in my soul though as we performed it. it was pretty triumphant.

breaking the fourth wall

this is the point in the movie when I turn to the camera and start talking to the audience. or something like that.

it truly, truly hurts to not be doing the things you love.

years ago one of my best friends and I developed a new philosophy called The Brilliant Fire. in my 20's and born of this philosophy one of my personal mantras became "have a good time all the time." nearly double the years down the line a mantra is now "there is work to be done."

when year-end approaches it is human nature to review the past 365. I would say I personally accomplished (to my satisfaction) about 50 percent of the things I said I would. I was talking to Josh about this the other night and had understandably mixed feelings about this. the worst part was I realized I had set no goals (I'm not talking about "resolutions" here) for the coming new year at the time. I think that has changed.

the things I love to be doing, especially the thing I want to be doing most, are not impossible by any means. there are just too many ways I make it harder on myself than necessary. some changes need to be made for the better of it, independent of sensitivities and identities. once the viking helmet goes on and I devote my time to action and progress I am sure it will be at the top of next year's list of accomplishments.

the good fight, part 9.

I was talking to Ryan a few days ago about the price a person pays when they decide they aren't going to work for the man no more. there is a distinct possibility the price of freedom is a trip to debtor's prison. sure, I have some money socked away and every day I think of cashing in every last dime I have to go all in. but just to get back to zero? so I guess the price a person pays for sanity is their life's savings.

there are evil shadows cast by whisper knives born of glances toward the fields of green grass yonder, on the other side. you got to find a light to burn them out.

there is a good fight that goes on against the easy impulse to be bitter and caustic and jealous and all those things that topple saints. you taste blood in your mouth every day from biting your tongue and wish you could wash it down with a really good cup of coffee for a change.

you do find ways to be thankful, and the blessings are abundant in the grand scheme, but that doesn't take the pain out of your hands and back and stomach. you have to find a way to laugh about it. and not let the songs in your head and heart die, and keep moving because you know if you stop for a moment it will probably kill you.

you've got to make every day a good one somehow.

hold fast.

hold fast. hold fast, man. hold fast.

...

the Cathedral

it was a castle, a fortress of solitude, a crossover station for a meager few of the waylaid, a portal to creativity. it was a tower at the top of a hill in a shittown city. it was massive. I lived on the 2nd floor near the back. I only lived there a couple years under some strange circumstances and coincidences but some amazing things happened there. only a few people ever came to visit me there. the Modern Bohemians Club was born there one afternoon. I dreamed (?) up acoustic songs there in a way that never happened before that I still don't fully understand. this place was my recording studio. those songs were never finished or released. a lot of other things happened there too, and some other interesting people lived in the other parts of it. Poppy jokes with me all the time about missing my quiet times there...sometimes I do sometimes not. but I reminisce in my head about it all the time. here is a peak, for old time's sake.

lord of the dunce, part 2.

there are only 2 things in this world I am actually really any good at. TWO. the first one is playing the washtub bass. the second one is tearing apart buildings. I give everything else hell, I give everything else I try my johndamndest best effort for johndamn sure, with mixed results and/or failure in terms of success or accomplishment to my personal satisfaction.

I have explanations of this realization and how I feel about it and why I chose to document it but I am too brain tired to bleh out the words.