I'm thinkin' like...

I feel like a Marvin Gaye song right now.
Out of place among the cowgirls.

Who makes ya money, uh-huh who makes ya money?

An adscreen popped up and told me if I smoke cigarettes I may qualify for a free electronic cigarette.  Free stuff's always good.  Another one told me I can really turn 97 dollars into 6797 dollars.  That would be SWELL.

And hell's belles.  I'm SORRY, truly, that I've been like... in my own little world and blowing people off again.. and seeming mysterious again.. it's just that I'm working my ass off and I've like found religion in the art and I can't, I can't, I just can't keep up with things and it's not that I don't know that they are... important.  I just.  I just.  

As We Roll On...

Another rehearsal, another unbelievably happy day.  As We Roll On.  With the same cast of characters.

I've been video-happy lately.  Cuz there's been a camera around.  But I'll be back to just blogging and cartoons now... For now...

Between the Lines

Rehearsal Time:  Happiest Time:  Song:  Between the Lines

-Take 2-

CAST (in order of appearance): 

SmartPhone................................................................................BleepBleepBleep

Me.....................................mysterious back of the head, on piano and mic (obv)

AP...............................................mysterious rhythmic shadowy figure, on drums

CM...............Mysterious Maestro, (OTS), on bass, mixing board, and steadycam

My Face.

Now this is what friends are for.... I feel less bonkers already.

Oh, wow, I'm not alone....

Bloody Mary for Grownups

Okay now this is what I call seriously fucking with oneself.  I don't know I got home tonight, and like, I've been seeing this guy Brandon for a little while now... irrelevant... well.. I'll catch up about that... he's been keeping me busy... rather, I've been keeping him busy.  And waiting.  A lot.  Cuz I'm finally getting my shit together with my music.  I really am.  It's incredible.  I have a band.  They're all amazing.  I just wanna do my stuff, and it sounds so good, and one of the guys knows the owner of this place, the Bluebird Cafe, and said... he might offer us a regular spot there... Gulp. I don't know.  Fingers crossed.  It's all coming together.  But.  Anyway.  

I feel kind of tripped out tonight.  Everything, just, Brandon, asking, so many questions about me, about my past, and old relationships, and, he didn't ask if I've ever been married... of course he didn't-- and like... I was looking in the mirror, after washing my face, and I'm seeing how many lives and how many souls and how many hearts and how many just NON-HUMAN, just BASE, ELEMENTS, inhabit this creature I am... it's not just Chloe in there... it's all my, my fire, my water, my SADNESS has a SPEAR, my GREED, my MENACE, my DEMONS, my DEVILS, my SECRETS, my broken flowers, my helpless and terrified id, my capricious and engulfing lust, and these animals, and the witches... that live in me.  

I'm not on drugs, mind you. WATCH FOR YOURSELF, and tell me you can't see it too... The cat, even, she was staring at me as I was sniveling there in the mirror and then she pounced at me that wasn't me, until I said I'm sorry I'm sorry and I started crying and then she stopped but she was looking around behind the toilet and stuff for whatever it was that she had just seen...

Just watch. 

Doesn't it make nice good background ambience?  Just Like.... the ideal Screensaver?  

Relaxing?  Like a painting in a motel room?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Girl's Night, Dressed to Impress

See.  I can have fun.  And I can have friends.  And I can look hot.

World, meet Sandy, my new friend.  Last night we fucking went out.  The woman knows how to go out.  I went to her place and she lent me clothes and we fucking WENT OUT.

I'd told Brandon I'd meet him at this bar (not the Rockstar) and I came with Sandy.  And I danced with Sandy all night.  In front of him.  And then I went home.  :::devilish laugh:::

But seriously.  Rehearsal in the morning.  Had to.

When ya nail it--

When you nail it, when you get it, when it feels so good, when you're all in time passing the ball of energy back and fourth and trading fours and murdelizing...

When you nail it, write some more. 

Superhero.

I look like this.  Right now.


I play like this.  Not yet.  Not yet, no.  But.







When I think about my music... or when somebody asks... I can't call it... anything... I can't describe it... CLASSIFY.  It sounds pompous, but I don't mean this that way.  It's just... I think of myself as writing, as writing the way any of them would write.  The gods.  The greats.  I am writing symphonies.  I'm writing CLASSICAL MUSIC.  I don't know.  I'm just writing MUSIC.  That's all. 

What prevents scarring.

The demons come, they came to me last night.

When the demons come they want to ruin my face and they want to ruin my hands.

Demons are like heat-seeking missiles; they charge for the whitest light... I hurled myself against the gate, and bled, my face is covered in huge scratches and I hope they don't scar.

The demons come from the people dearest to you, your favorite light. Sometimes they are powerful and they overwhelm you, possess you, as they leave the person across the table... The person across the table says, Wow. All the pain and worries... you just made them go away... We spoke and now they're sitting in the ashtray.

Yes, you say. But you feel on edge... You feel sad... You feel exhausted... And two days later, you find yourself in so much pain and filled with so much darkness and rage and you feel them trying to siege at the person across the room. The person with so much light.

But you fight them... So you fight yourself... You watch yourself try to destroy you. The demons want to ruin my face, and to ruin my hands, and they wanted it so intensely I hurled myself against the gate, I scratched my fingernails slowly and deeply down my face, I punched the concrete and banged my head on it 15 times.

The person across the room didn't want to take on the pain; he stood there and watched and didn't stop me once.

I don't know if they are gone; I don't know if he, is now on edge, sad, exhausted.

I only know my face is covered in bruises and deep scratches. And it hurts to play the piano.

Does anything prevent scarring, can anything keep it from scarring me now...

Commandment II: Push. (a.k.a. Pushy Girls)

Nobody likes 'em.

Trouble is, nobody likes to work with 'em either.  Or work period, really.  Especially with girls.  They wanna just hang out with 'em. 

So henceforth, if you are a girl, who likes to work, and wants to get things done, you're gonna have to be a little pushy, and ergo, you're gonna have to get used to not being liked once or twice in a while.

Ludwig Van.

Currently listening to his Siete. 

Audiorgasm.

Oh, the places you'll go.

I'm antsy... I'm sort of bored... and lonely.

The town all around me is full of life and here I am in this small room, clunking away at the keys again.  Black and white and black and white and loud and soft and up and down.

I could've gone for lunch or something today with this girl Sandy I met on New Year's Eve.  She's cool.  She's got a two year-old son and she works at Rockstar Bar.

And I could've gone for dinner again with Carl Jr.

But in spite of everything I'd rather be here right now.

what's in the mystery meat?

treated by a kindly young gentleman to some kind of vegan burger this evening.

i don't feel good.

....i remember seeing comedy from the 70s where the guy was complaining about soy by-product in the canned dog food.   what happened to popular opinion.

his name is Carl.  You'd expect a man named to Carl to know a good burger.  

me and Carl are over.


CLEARLY.

this was my face when he asked me out again:

I wrote "I'd rather be fishing" there, but I didn't have another quarter to scan it again.

Clearly.

Just Can't Get Enough

Roses are red, violets are blue
I feel like a vagrant enjoying the view
I can't seem to settle, I can't follow through
And I can't seem to get quite enough out of you.