March 23, 2006

Page 8
While grabbing at my toothbrush, I pondered the possibilities of ever being able to enjoy all work undertaken in my future as much as I enjoy brushing away. In squeezing the paste onto the bristles, a sequel to the former expression entered my consciousness, why do the bristles on my toothbrush always start bending in one direction after a month's use? Does this happen to everyone? What am I doing wrong? Why do I always have to do things differently than others?Isn't it odd how modern this activity is. I wonder how in the 1800's there could be such romantic stories as those I've read when they had no use of the essential hygienic ingredients we use daily. Is that not the perfect example of true love existing, without any preconceived or pretentious image. Unfortunately for me, I can't shake appearance from being the number one priority in maintaining attraction to someone. To elaborate, no matter how long I've come to know and/or learn from an individual, it seems keeping a likeness for them solely depends on them looking the part. If they slack in this department, I am guaranteed to follow suit by sliding out of relations. Without having personal choice, I am instinctively repelled by any sign of weakness or ugliness, maybe its my way of achieving what I personally lack.
To this point, my distance from relations can be attributed to depths beyond merely my squimish looks and cold appearance. Rather the blame can be shouldered on a strong inclination to hold my independance. Its a momentous and overpowering feeling to know that someone holds nothing on your happiness. And yet, through a guilt weighing on me and carried around in everything I do, I sense that there exists an undescribable and overbearing joy in being completely vulnerable to another person. In me exists a strong desire to be enthralled with another, but I'm wary of being enthralled just to be enthralled. Eighteen years is long enough to realize that we as human beings were born to be bored of the present, cling to the future and add more value than exists to our past. Its why we persistently doubt and question our current path, when right in front of us is seemingly the right choice and direction, we prefer to venture our minds into the daring and risky alternative. It gives us hope that we can be happier, that this isn't it for us. We can bring back what the past now is to us, but never was then. But, when the taken for granted is ripped away from the present, how quick we are to realize that in the truth of our soul this is what we wholly aspired for, over anything else all along. And we bleed a terribly desperate yearning to have it all back as before, over anything else no matter how lucrative.
Again, at least this is how I reason and convince myself that I'm content where I sit and solely keep my focus on a potential music career. And so the weeks carry on, same ins, same outs, bland and lost in betweens. No other formal distractions, high school was now come and past and there was no need for preparations to attend College/University, not for me. Obviously, adults around me will quickly misconstrue that acknowledgement, but thats of no value. There's no misunderstanding that all the top Universities are all for having me, but I'm not having them. To me, school only teaches you how to make more profit at the expense of others. Fortunately enough, I picked one of the few professions that doesn't require some $40,000 piece of paper to tell some geezer that I can do the job he should already know himself whether I could do. No four years lost only to start all over again, this time deep in the red. No, I won't be walking around with no false pride, I know the free ride a library card, common sense and an open mind will get me. Like I said though I'm not political, so I'll drop it already.

March 20, 2006

Page 7
Pushing the night by, my head is thrashing as I peer into the mirror located in the bathroom, off my bedroom. I take in the image of that googleyied, off kilter and unattractive face that I had no say in receiving. On this occasion it is looking especially grotesque adding the boozed out affects contributed from the night befores intake. The picture impresses a foreshadowing of a rock and roll cliche. My biography has already been written: the child who received no attention from peers, so he threw all his energy and time into an outlet that would allow him to express his frusturations and distance himself from relating to his oppressors. Furthermore, when time allowed he grew his hair long to conceal the typical ugly Thom Yorke like mug and to show a discontent with society's cares. Yet as he ages he will voluntarily become one whom the general public will throw all their care into for a day or two. The kid who couldn't communicate on equal ground with the opposite sex, whom he's always valued more than his own life, will suddenly no longer need to communicate at all to have them tugging for his every glance. The only mystery or unanswered question is, in the face of all this how will he react or handle the life altering change.
For now that question can definately be left unanswered, why build things up before they happen. To this day in my time here, I haven't been in an official 'relationship' yet. Hell, I haven't even had sex, but truthfully although it may all be my reckoning to this point, I see none of it as essential or pressing. No value is placed on remaining this way - Christ, I view sex as I do chocolate bars, it doesn't matter what the first try is, I will no doubt try all kinds before deciding which I want to invest in for life - rather I've thrown my head around enough words and sights to know how much fabrication and disappointment is uncovered by entering into relations. Despite this, the yearning for girls who never appeared receptive was excruciatingly painful and these moments in front of my reflection, only threw wood on the fire. But, as quickly as I got away from the mirror, I could shield the pain by giving myself wholly to ideas and real life, as I defined my musical activities.

March 12, 2006

Page 6
The most unattractive thing in this world of hypocrites is agreement. Understand I'm not addressing that anytime two people come to a general agreement they've lost me. Rather my discontent is placed on those individuals who have a constant and continious tendancy, or analyzing more closely maybe its a very unblessed trait to tackle any subject or issue by simply hopping on the backs of others and nodding their heads, either simply to avoid confrontation and having to open their minds or to show a false connection with the inquirer. Agreement is so contrived and overused, which is unfortunate considering it leaves me personally believing that the guilty party has no thoughts or conviction and that they are simple and will continue to live a pre-scripted life. Before I'm made out to be situated as 'political' let me clarify that although I might be against general authority, I detest preaching an uprising or questioning the moralities of everything and prefer to leave that in the hands of my enwrapped buddies. My point, is just a preference for throwing out an alternative version to everything in my interest bracket. I am completely drawn to the unknown and someone who challenges me, who stands up for their mind and opens me up to learning more about them as well as myself and the subject at hand. One should never settle on simplicity, the world offers to many interesting and unique people for such a base take. Let me find that person who knows more than me, questions my beliefs, disproves my word and I'm head on content to not be content, there's a need to keep learning because there's too many subjects available to get bored. For some reason, I aspire to always chase the one who disagrees with me and I can't get along with. I'm endlessly searching for an intelligent and interesting conversation and that obviously cannot be found in an 'okay' or 'Yes, I agree', which led to the realization that if someone doesn't challenge you, you've got to challenge yourself. Playing off this sentiment, I've come to understand why I'm so intrigued by reading. A book puts you in your place, it makes you listen and intake, without allowing you to change the contents or run your mouth off about information you already know. A book can offer answers or maybe even more questions, and if neither, its simple to find another which does. Also, it opens information and knowledge at your own pace and in your own comfortable environment. Most importantly books display their full mind and hold nothing back.

March 10, 2006

Page 5
Reality is short-lived, as the show presses close things dissolve into a smokey bubble around me and the boys. Obviously, we are still to early in our tenure to handle or remotely tackle the nerves of the pressure to entertain and the possibility of failure without an enduced substance. Its a strange concept but it rings true, usually people will take drugs to lose themselves and control to a degree, but in this particular situation the roles are reversed. I use to maintain control and ensure I am myself on stage. Otherwise, I would become a vegetable or a freak, as the nerves blow a pre-existing self-consciousness into complete failure. An altered state allows me to focus solely on what I have to do, it eliminates the concern for one of the two major factors in every performance, the crowd. Without that barrowing down on my shoulders, I can give them everything my ability posseses and become that kid practicing in my room alone on a friday night.
The call is made, we're on. There's nothing romantic or electric about our entrance, if the venue wasn't so small it might have proved a challenge in finding the stage (that scene in Spinal Tap hits my mind), the crowd expectation and commotion was that null. Than again, that's the scene I've always known as the most powerful intro from all the top performances I've been to. It can most accurately be portrayed in words through a description I once read of a Bob Dylan emergence "without a word or announcement a small figure swathed in a woolen muffler climbed the stairs behind the stage and walked to the microphone. The crowd let out a shriek of recognitionas Bob Dylan strummed a few chords on his electric guitar and adjusted his harmonica brace". Even still, that doesn't do it justice, you've got to be there, there is no substitution for the experience. Of course, we weren't hit with such an eruption when the sparse crowd noticed the presence of our figures moving to set positions, but we did have their attention and increasing silence. Upon reaching for the strap on my Gibson my concentration fell entirely on my purpose of being there, the music. There is no means of beginning to describe the ecstacy we were feeling as the show unfolded, unveiling more and more evidence that there was no falsification within our soundcheck, it was a perfect depiction of the direction for the nights show. As we proudly concluded and clamored off the stage, a sickening pain hit the root of my stomach, as it all came back I realized the crowd was subdued and less than enthused with all we had thrown in their direction the entire show. This was presently interrupted as we were approached and thrown countless compliments by a few local label A&R reps fixated on what they had witnessed. There mouths were easy to read, they were watering to hear more and to hear us recording in their studio. But, in the middle of an already finished conversation, my thoughts drifted back to reading into the crowds reaction, they didn't buy into it and it seemed we had moved not a one of them. Just then Jim Mear from 'so and so records' threw out the word 'euphoric', it hit like a rock crashing against my temple, with each syllable he dished out I was struck with another reflection of the negative response received from those that mattered. This was becoming an all too familiar scene. Understandably, we had the right people in check career wise, but again, we had expectations in ourselves and they didn't involve money. It was so early in, we had been a band for just over two years and yet we were already having to question whether we would be undeservingly getting to that next stage, what did this mean, did people not get us right yet or were we sellouts? Hope began to spring up that the critics recognized our ability for longevity, that it was only a matter of time before people began giving us attention and heard our music for what it truly is. Besides, so many of my personal favourites took time to grow on me.

March 09, 2006

Page 4
Whenever I enter a record store I am always drawn to the magnets situated on the albums of every artist that I idolize or have a strong personal biased towards. This means that after I file through the section of 'New Music' I will automatically direct myself towards the letter and shelf positioning of each artist I thoroughly scanned through on my last visit. Its hard to put a finger on, but its a hypnotization. No matter how aware I am that there will be no new discovery or untouched album under any of these names, like its an exciting responsibility I adhere to the practice each and every time. This resultingly means first hitting 'A' with my most adored musician 'Adams, Ryan'. His music creates life inside me and brings my head places the sober world won't allow, I owe so much of my musicianship to that one man. Anyway, behind his tagged name, nothing I haven't heard 84,000 times. Next up, 'Badly Drawn Boy' and so on and so forth. This is one of the few places in life where I fall into complete comfort and lose track of time. In a recored store I discover time endless, as I uncover album after album of music that needs space to be heard and appreciated thoroughly. Simultaneously, I become antsy and endure a thrashing heartbeat, anticipating all the new sounds that I will uncover and discover in a short period of time. But, it becomes overwhelming, enter the nerves on which albums to choose and which I must leave behind for the time being. I sense disappointment in questioning wrong selections and harping on the belief I'm missing out in what I left behind. God, I can't break the sense of urgency in needing to hear it all at once and NOW. Music is life. Anyway, the record shop is one place where I walk out feeling shallow or guilty if I'm empty handed, so I pick up 'Amy Millan's' solo debut effort and we strut back into reality.

March 06, 2006

Page 3
Luckily enough, at present I'm grounded. This thought encircles me as we pull into the heavily cracked concrete parking lot that later on tonight will be ears to the kids most extensive vocabulary's in dismissing our performance and singing hail to the contrived act which follows us. Despite this, we won't conform, we can't, this is our sound, it's who we are, we can't attempt to fit in, I fathom our efforts at being like everyone else would only come up lame anyway. That complaint struck from nowhere on me, but its not irregular of late, this seems to be our most legitimate problem since our conception, building a fan base in large proportions, besides we aren't exactly the best promoters. We'd rather spend an extra minute perfecting a song than spend that time informing people of where they can hear it. For our benefit important ears in the eyes of the industry had heard it and knew we were heading in only one direction with it and that was longevity, instead of a quick punch with no muscle to back it up. Unfortunately, at the moment, the kids were all stuck with the present and so their search was fixated on the excitement of a flashy 1-2 combination, but that shit wasn't about to knock us out.
And as if a higher spirit heard my metaphor I walked out of the noon heat and into the faces of my fired up bandmates. We speedily readied our gear and kicked into a few numbers for soundcheck. Things were dynamic, the boys were electrifying, there was one of countless vibes felt that we were at a whole new level, spot on and no one could grasp or overtake our sonic superiority as a unit. Soundcheck to us was to this point always a pinpoint indication of how the actual gig was going to go, so tonight was going to unveil us at the top of our game.
Without the need to make adjustments our time became vacant as usual until the show. Tonight we were on at 9:30pm and it was just past 4pm now. In knowing we wouldn't be playing for the next 5 hours, I turned my attention to my other interests, listening and/or talking about music. My good buddy (and our drummer) 'Jay' was all for heading to the nearest record shops, so we kicked our feet towards the back door of the dark and hollow club. As we hit the now clouded Beantown sky, Jay reinforced the sentiment felt in our playing "that was something else in there, eh man?" A remark mentioned in need of clarification or confirmation on my part. This band is always looking to me for answers like my word is bond. I'm an equal part, it was what you felt it to be, my word brings no more to the performance. In hindsight, attempting to categorize what happened has more to do with personal perception than with reality. "you know 'Nevermind' is viewed as one of the best albums of all time, but when it comes down to it, its synonomous with one song, ask a typical music fan to name a song other than the mistakenly interchangeable name of that disc 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' and I bet 9 times out of 10 it will be a struggle. Now the reason for there sustained notoriety has a lot more to do with the mystery and tortured soul that was Kurt Cobain, leave that song and take him out of the mix and you've got nothing. But, the reason they won't ever be remembered as a one hit wonder like Blind Melon per say after Shannon's passing is because outside of 'Nevermind', Nirvana messed with that sound and created quality and value in whole different fields than the one they invented on 'Nevermind'". That was my personal perception. "so, what your getting at is by not looking to fill everyone else's hunger, they inevitably filled everyone else's hunger through creation?" Christ, like usual, I have no idea what the hell I was getting at, I was just stating something I saw as intriguing dialogue to get off hammering on about our soundcheck. "Yeah, they played by their own rules and it killed them at the same time as it made them more alive than ever before". We strolled up to Wes's Lost Records Shop. A place to find the rare and independent in Boston.
Page 2
We veer off the freeway and I become fully aware of our surroundings, we are nearing the ever familiar but never dull sight of downtown Boston, Massachusetts, my neighbouring home. Today it is witness to a gig for my band, something which has become more and more frequent of late. Truth be told, I lied to myself in my comment earlier, I am becoming a someone. In being the lead singer/guitarist of a phenomenal band, I am not shy in disclosing the fact that I am the pivotal ingredient to carrying this band and the entire music industry as a whole to new unfathomed heights. I possess a unique and highly treasured voice; not in volume, strength or durability, but purely based on an ability to express lyrics in a believable manner stemming from throwing out the emotion needed to have the words be what they are. To boot, I am a sensational guitar player. By throwing this knowledge out to a passerby, I understand how one would quickly jump on me as being 'egotistical'. But, as I see it, there's no point in hiding behind a curtain, I am what I am. In fact, can't it be received as more egotistical to be humble in the face of this, leave the belief internal, because then your just encouraging and pleading for more and more praise, so others can convince you of something you supposedly don't know. Not my route, I'm damn proud of what it is I maintain in my possession. You know, if somethings a life interest of yours and you've spent every conscious moment putting more of yourself into it, don't ignore its existence. Don't be shy because if you spend enough time pretending its not there, well soon enough you'll lose touch and it will disappear. This is me, its what I am, so I fully embrace it. But there's more to it then this, as a group of four, we have a dynamic together which cannot be carried or matched through individuality, the sound only is what perfection we make it by combining our strengths and weaknesses. The other three are in check with our sonic and deliver there incredible instrumentation individually to allow the entire beautiful ship to steer on past the water we believed our maps to hold. There is no doubt or hesitation to the fact that as a band we are going somewhere.
The van takes a left and just then on the passenger side window we pass 'The Pill', a premiere music venue held tightly in the Boston scene. Holding its stage is the pinnacle and epitome of success to me,.. how did I come to this definition? Well, it has always been fixated in my mind as the one moment in my entire future career where I would come to grips with my dream becoming a reality. Endless moments in my 18 years of existence have been spent imagining the feeling and emotion that would overtake my body simply by walking onto the checkerboard elevated floor of its stage and have my eyes take in 1,000 strong welcoming our entrance with a rousing ovation and my knowing full well they were there for one reason and one reason alone and that was to see us perform. But we weren't performing there on this night, we still had some work to put in before gracing that floor. No, on this night, we were the opening band for yet another rock and roll act I knew we would upstage at a dingy joint simply titled 'Braddicks' with a meager 200 capacity. But, there's not a crumb of insult or complaint in my head undertaking this. We fully accept our current position and take it for what it is at this moment in our lives, which is a lot. Being driven to soundcheck for the show, I fully recognized that tonight's gig would be filled with fans there to see the headlining band, yet while that may ring true, it was guaranteed there would be a number of local critics and label A&R's present to confirm their committment to praising us. Yeah, at present we were being hounded by the labels about reaching a deal and making a record with their name on it. However, we were in no hurry to sign. The understanding of us 'going somewhere' didn't do it for me, we could be there now, it wouldn't make a positive difference to us. This wasn't near the top for what mattered, we were aware of our abilities, hence we knew soon enough things were about to rapidly change and our present beings, willingly or not, had a high possibility of being affected and/or changed. We weren't attempting to make a stance on commercialism or the evils of money. Rather we wanted to soak in the struggling and sweating to make it stage for as long as we possibly could before the lid flew off, we aspired to mature on our own instead of being forced to. Also, we were all well educated in Music 101 and knew full well of sentiments such as Kurt Cobain's statement that 'the most exciting time for a band is right before they become really popular'. Presently we lacked responsibility and obligation other than those we placed on ourselves, and that brought a level of satisfaction we knew a signature would evaporate. There was a worry that the image of it all was much more glorifying than it actually happening. I didn't want to achieve my dream because it was a dream, it wasn't supposed to happen. To my dream, reality could only deliver a blow and than what do I hold so dearly. Other factors playing in our patience included a firm knowledge of how the music industry works, we didn't want to 'play and be played' at the same time, so there was a lot of apprehension in finding the right deal. We heard and read enough to know the band has little leverage in its first record deal, so we wanted to pit the labels against each other, and generate enough interest to call the shots on some major signing points. Also, on a more personal note, I was petrified as to the consequences on the creative process upon signing. Not so much that we wouldn't have control over the direction, alternatively that I would lose all sense of direction. My writing talent to this point all stems from an ability to protrude a subterranean view of an excrusiating reality that is my life. And while aware that the pain won't subside with success, fear's raised in somehow losing touch with having the right perspective or reasons for expression to a general public on a different level of experience or thought.

March 05, 2006

PART 1

Page 1
I hate that standard formula of starting out a story by describing in elaborate detail the surrounding scenery - how the leaves on the maple tree rustled this way and that with the push of the stormy wind or how some rare flower was slowly transforming colour with the change of the season coming on - bluntly, it gets you off track before you've even gotten on track. It's become common practice for me to ignore the first few pages of every book I pick up, read them just to read them and to say that I've completely endured the entire contents, held within the covers. It's simply filler, pointless; I mean who ever even remembers seeing those adjectives when the story has passed. An intriging and inticing story can always be unveiled in the first few lines, just get into it already, stop pissing around.
My head is a thinking machine, it doesn't stop, at the moment this was the current idea running through as I peered out the passenger side window of some make and model van my mom was driving, at some view not even close to what those books described. I was in my element zoned out seeing the land pass by without actually caring to see the land, just as long as there was more to come. A linked idea and understanding hit, but before I could verbally express it, I had to change thoughts for a minute and spend that interlude deciding whether I should keep it internal or share my insight with my uninterested but caring mother. Knowing it would have no resonance with her past the point of the words being said, but battling with my understanding that what I had was worth seeing air, I let out "do you know why true musicians don't drive even when they get their licences and start piling up the vehicles, rather they are always being chauffered around?" There is always an urge to break silences, although I often feel a sense of guilt and regret for words spoken immediately following the conversation. That's because it never sounds as it did inside. The blame can squarely be placed on that first silence-broken-pressed conversation I have with anyone. After the initial encounter, future attempts are aimed at getting one back for the last weak attempt to put out something valuable, and rather than impress I seem to falter further, until they just start cutting me off or finding an out.
"because they need that constant comfort and ego serving re-assurance that they're something special and deserve special treatment", my mom hit back. To guess she would have such a strong opinion. It startled me and had me questioning whether there was some background related anger or resentment she had on the topic. Doesn't it give off such a queer feeling when out of nowhere someone you inquire upon shows an outburst of opinion or expression that you never expected they had in them, everyones got personal demons and its these times I believe to have discovered one of theirs. "Well I'd say you've covered 90 percent of em, but no, a true artist remains idle in a vehicle because they relish the opportunity to take it all in and grab what comes to them. On the road is where most musicians get their truly inspirational ideas. All the greats have taken the same position I'm in and soaked it in for all its worth, cause you can't pretend to see the sights holding the wheel. They got to have the ability to be free and have their minds wander. Dylan himself once remarked 'you can have some amazing hallucinogenic experiences doing nothing but looking out your window'". I only say 'Dylan' to my mom anymore, she knows enough of the man and all his myths through me. Silence follows, but comforting from my mom in this situation, as its expected out of her after hurling my hypothesises. So, I continue, "I know I'm nowhere near being anyone now, but mark my word if I ever make it somewhere's, I will never own a vehicle or drive around myself." Does that even make sense! What's the damage anyway, my mom was out of the conversation and on her daily errand-run mind before that came out. Don't we all do as to my last words, use our vast free time to carelessly express how we would react or behave if given a beneficiary situation, choosing morality and good hearted decisions because we know if we continue to aim our time so pointlessly we'll never even have to consider how we will never be given the opportunity, fuck it if we're all hypocrites. Please mom change the subject, before I dwell on this absurdity any longer. Why did I even mention owning a vehicle, what really does it matter, I don't care whether I do or not, yet we're all guilty of pretending to care when we don't, we feel we have to, to show we're complicated and diverse people. In reality, when it comes down to it, everything is simple and our cares even more so, but who wants to expose that we are truly selfish individuals, enter our fake selves. Enter my truly selfish life.
for jordan.