Spank

Sharks and boots

Well, I got the boots cobbled. Fifty bucks. But brand new boots. Onion River Cobbler, downtown Winooski. The show at the Monkey House is finalized and quickly approaching. May 15, 7:00 PM. I need to get some posters out there. The shark didn't sleep and now I've spun this magnificent web of bullshit. Way to go. Three things I need: celibacy, singularity, sobriety. Not that the opposites of those are too bad in moderation, but when they are maxxed out, strange shit can happen.

I've been feeling quite void of feeling. Wrote, or improvised, actually, a twenty minute song in which I said "I haven't been so happy in a while, so happy that it made me cry. But that doesn't mean that I haven't been there before." Then, I realized that I haven't been so sad in a while that I've cried. Static. Taciturn. Ugh. I took a drive yesterday morning that brought me into Westford, VT. Had never been there. Left my house at 8 AM. I needed to think. I try to get lost on purpose, but I always find my way home. This time I returned to Burlington via the same route that took me out. Full circle. I still love this state though. Can't beat the beauty of spring. Time to stop wasting moments. Get back into myself.

Always Happens

Sharks need to sleep.

An electric night

Last night was a very charged evening and one of those that makes you remember why you are alive, why you love what you love, why you are doing what you are doing. I think these moments are more alive in spring because spring is more alive. It's hard to feel alive and charged in winter. So I was sitting around, writing letters on my new (old) typer when Eli called, wanting to grab some tea or coffee. He was sounding better than he had in a while--a result of having spent five hours in the darkroom previous to calling me. Sometimes it kills me how easy it can be to be happy and at the same time it can be so difficult to actually get your ass in the darkroom or on the stage, etc. It's those pesky jobs we all have. There should be some government funding for people like me that just shouldn't be working full time. I'll work part time, but not full time. My life is full time work. Anyhow, he housed a huge bowl of food and then we sat trying to figure out what coffee shop to go to. Radio BEan had open mic, Muddy's was closed (Monday), Uncommon grounds has a sterile ambiance, I wanted coffee so Dobra was out...so maybe grab a coffee to go and take a walk? Not so. Then the lightening came. This made plenty of sense since it was to be warmer today than it was yesterday. Cold air mass, warm air mass--you know how it works. So we decided to nix the walk we were planning and just sit up on Eli's porch. Third floor, bird's eye view. But we drove to Radio Bean, one block down. Lazy bastards. Anyhow, we get there and there is the Ryan Fauber Band playing. A drummer with a basically a snare, bass drum, and hi hat. A pianist playing very, very, very sparse accompaniment (think two fingers each hand, hands in octave--not that there is anything wrong with that or I am being snobby, just explaining the scene). And Ryan Fauber, spitting amazing poetry in a sort of...well I guess I can't make comparisons. But at one point, a very native Vermonter with a banjo on his lap looked at us and said, "This guy's words have some depth to them. They have some heat." He was right. And the rain kept on falling. If the sky can drop it's weight like that, I wanted to as well. All this self-inflicted pressure. What is the need? It is only proving to stifle, stagnate, strain, stupify, etc. It was during those few short songs and the few that the banjo player turned out after that that helped me remember. To quote Janis Joplin,
"Music is supposed to be different than that. Music is for grooving, not for putting yourself through bad changes. You don't need that shit. So if you're getting more shit than you deserve, then you know what to do about it." I don't think I do. But last night I remembered why I make music, because it is truly an organic manifestation of what we feel inside of ourselves. It is the inexpressable. The words create a meaning in our minds through association, memory, and what we've learned, but the inflection, intonation, breath--that shit can't be defined and we can't explain why music makes our bodies and minds feel so good. We just can't explain it. But it's good that it exists because I don't know if I could exist without it.

Signs of Spring

I'm almost through the day without a headache. Why is it that time DRAAAGGGSSS by on Friday, but it passes like the crack of a whip during the weekend? I have noticed, though, that one has quite a bit more time on their hands when time isn't consumed by cooking or eating. Lots of time in the evening. Which is good since I ran into my buddy Paddy on the street today and proceeded to get the ball rolling on playing a show at the Monkey Bar in Winooski. I will need that evening time to practice, practice, practice. I like to call it playing--less daunting that way. I also noticed that he was very comfortably dressed. I hate office casual. I want to wear jeans and shirts with holes in them. I feel stifled. Not a good feeling.

Signs that it is spring in Burlington:
1. College students sitting on their proches
2. Dog shit everywhere, melting out of the snow
3. Less dangerous at intersections where snow once obstructed views
4. Church Street is bustling
5. Rebecca wants out--no more job, please

Fasting, slowing, springing, falling

It's spring. Really, according to the calendar and the weather. Not too shabby for Vermont. Time to get moving again. I've decided to jumpstart my spring with a fast. Drinking juice now, but will cease and desist when my precious supply runs out. I am a self-proclaimed food addict. This is HARD. No joke, I'll be meditating and suddenly the thought of a pizza pops into my mind. It's obviously an obsession--one I am trying to break. But food is so good!! Coffee, too. Another little addiction of mine. Probably a result of 3.5 years wearing the green apron. I suppose there are worse things to be addicted to. This is day three. Day one was wrought with hunger pains and a slight caffeine headache. Day two--not hungry at all--MAJOR caffeine headache. Last night I enjoyed an amazing surge of energy that has carried into today. No headaches, not hungry. But I want to eat for the sake of eating. Like I'm addicted to the action of chewing and swallowing. They say that eating disorders are a result of a person trying to gain control over a life they have no control of. I think this is similar, but coming from a more spiritual side, rather than self-destructive motivations. I'm hoping that (as all the books say), I will start feeling very clear-headed and inspired/creative, etc. I don't want to stop until I go a little loopy.