The amount of time we have pales sorely in comparison to the amount of living left to be done.

Distracted...

I've been trying to write lately. Not blog writing, but fiction... but I can't concentrate. I am even having trouble concentrating enough to write this blog. Every single sound that happens is buzzing in my head and stealing my attention from what it is I want to say. Then, being irritated by it makes it even harder to write.

People bickering, the dog, the cat, the mailman...not to mention all the other things I have going on my life... are distracting me from what I really want to accomplish...to write something really really fantastic that will touch people. But I will never get there if I'm so distracted. Never. What can I do??

Thoughts processing.

The world is standing still right now, and yet the scenery is blasting past my eyes creating a blending tapestry of vivid and tantalizing color. There isn't any way to describe what I'm feeling without stepping into boundaries that I'm not quite sure I am prepared to breach. Happiness is a strange thing for me--almost like a man born without arms or legs who suddenly wakes up one day with a fully functional set of limbs.

I used to know happiness. Now that it's returning, I am not quite sure how to handle it. I feel guilty for feeling happy. Does that make sense? Once in a while, I get this sensation of guilt in my gut telling me that I shouldn't be happy because I don't deserve it. Truth is, everyone deserves to be happy. It's our right... at least in this country, anyway.

We should all just do what it takes to feel good before we die, because for all we know, there is nothing after this. This is all we get. Not that everyone should go "skydivin' and rocky mountain climbin'" but we should at least relax and let the world revolve around us for a change.

Life Behind The Guitar

From another blog dated April 15th, 2008


In such a vicious age for rock and roll music, it's a wonder that anyone even tries anymore. Stepping out onto a stage in front of a group of people who are not only unaware of the value of such a thing but also extraordinarily protective and selfish about music is like venturing beyond the trenches into no man's land. You will dodge bullets and, before you succeed, you WILL fail.

So why do we do it? It's simple: We don't have a choice. Something beyond us selected us and said, "This is what you're going to do," and without even realizing it, we accepted that quest and have thus been at it ever since.

You're at a concert, or a local venue/bar and there is a band on stage. You immediately listen to see if you approve--and wait for someone to make a mistake. Have you ever considered what it might be like on the other side of the guitar?

I'll tell you what it's like. It's as if you have torn open your breastplate and have exposed your heart for an entire roomful of people to see...and have left it wide open to be spit on, praised, rejected or ignored....etc. So much heart goes into what we do, and it's not because we want you to love us, or give us your praise. It's because we have to do it. Some of us are doing this because we love it so much that it hurts. We want so badly to reach someone with our music, our lyrics... our creation.

It's so hard to get anyone to even listen anymore, but we're still out there spilling our blood onto the strings of a guitar and smearing it in with our fingers. We sing until our vocal cords are swollen, calloused and weak. Yet, people aren't listening.

Is it going to stop us from doing it? Never.

I live behind my guitar and I breathe the vibration. It's an escape from a world that has become so concerned with itself that it has forgotten about what's beautiful about it. It's a vacation from perfection and an adventure into the sin that is melodic copulation.

To you, I may be just another local musician trying to become a rockstar, and if I were watching from the outside I would say you were right. But when I'm up there underneath the lights, whether you're listening or not, I'm belting my entire being into the void and the gratification and vindication that I get out of that is enough for me.

So what can I say about life behind the guitar other than if you've never been there, you can never even BEGIN to fathom what it's like. There's something about it that nobody else can ever understand.

Life Is Beautiful

"Life is beautiful."

I heard a song the other day in which the singer, with more emotion than I can duly express, said those exact words--and what tickled me about it was that I agreed with the sentiment. It almost reduced me to tears, because it has been far too long since I could truly feel that way.

Music can have that effect on people. When you hear a song that overwhelms you, it's almost like an epiphany--like finally discovering a treasure that has been right beneath you all along. I love music for that reason. I love to play it, and I love to hear it. I'm going to repost something that I posted a while ago on another site...to kind of give you an idea of what it feels like for me to play music for a room full of people.