READ BETWEEN THE LINES!

Seems to rain
Every time I think your name
Every time I'm driving through these hills
It's getting late

Spell it out
Give me something to write about
All the time I'm driving through these lights to you
They're turning red

I know that I just need friends
And to figure out the dose
And I know it has nothing to do with you
It never does
It never does
It never does

When it rains
You're quoting from my songs again
So I read between the lines again
These lines again
Does it ever end
It never ends

Easy
Easy
Easy on me

Easy
Easy
Easy on me now

If you like
If you can bear it
I'll keep driving down to see you
Through the hills
Through the lights
Through rain
A traffic jam

Between the lines
Between the lines
Between the lines
Between the lines
Those lines

Because happiness never feels the way you think....

Does it?

I'm not sure... well I am sure... I'm sure what's missing... I'm not aiming for cryptography here, well, I am by nature ambiguous (never ambivalent, though), but really, I got ho's in different area codes, that read this shit.  I insinuate; they infer.  Humans are born with the ability to communicate on such a sophisticated level, these languages, systems of infinite combinations of patterns of strings of constructs of sounds made by closing the back of the throat, rounding the lips, flapping the tongue, and exhaling.  Sometimes through the nose.  And sometimes the mouth.

We also, naturally and by nature, kinda think everything's about us.

And sometimes it's got nothin' to do with ya, Sally Mae!  In fact, this is all fake, okay?  I downloaded those music from youtube, and I'm really a man.

But for story's SAKE.

I don't think there's any possible way Brandon (which is actually his real name, which is kinda dumb, but kinda not, for reasons that I will shortly address) has seen this blog, because he doesn't read, and because he doesn't care.  And he's the only one I've said anything bad about and it hasn't even been bad.

But if I can't keep it real here, what's the point?

I wish I was born here in Nashville.  Or somewhere nearby.  I wish I knew the same people my whole life.  I still could've pursued music, it's the perfect place for it... Granted what I do now is a little different, but songwriting, singing, and playing the piano, is always music.  It couldve gone any direction, stylistically... or would it not have?  I mean would I have come out the same person somehow, regardless?

Ughhhh if a tree falls in the fucking forest.

I'm just so sick of starting over.  I'm so sick of reinvention.  I am the phoenix.  And I am one thousand years old. 

Doesn't it feel good...

...To just get hammered once in a blue one?

When I first started playing out, at these crunchy no-alcohol havin' open mics, I would bring a handle of vodka in the trunk of my car, stick it in a shopping bag, and try to discretely temper my tea with it amongst the audience and waiting performers... that was redundant... amongst the audience OF waiting performers, is more accurate... and, that's a paradox... amongst the crowd, of seat-filled, waiting performers, without being noticed... I'd go through an entire bottle pretty much every 3 go-abouts.  But that only lasted a bit.

Now I'm a teetotaling ascetic and when it's time to work, record, or perform, I won't touch the stuff for months beforehand.

And man it felt good to just get sloshed and start a dance party in the bar tonight.  One of my favorite things to do. 

how dare i try to impose my stupid thoughts
subject the world to my dark soul
its all so ugly in there

nobody wants to see that shit

and nobody wants to live it

F it.

Oh, I need some company.

My Valentine's Day was spent in one of the local cafes, where other lonely's were downing their liquor and drowning in it.  I thought Brandon would call me, but I think we might be over.  I think I scared him away.  Or pushed him away.  Or something.

He doesn't understand music and he doesn't understand passion and he doesn't understand me and that's the bottom line.

We got into another fight over the weekend because I wouldn't play my songs for him and his roommate.  Well his roommate didn't ask me to play, and, he wasn't in the room.  But he was in the house.

SO I DIDN'T WANT TO...

I played Chopsticks.

He got mad.  Said life's a joke to me.  Said I'm a joke, actually.  Really.  I'M a joke.  REALLY.  Who works at a furniture shop here??

F it.  I had a long day.  It was freezing outside.  And I lost my mittens.

Perspiration

Days like these, I miss having a TV... Sometimes inspiration comes at the tail-end of the Drone Zone, zonked in the crib, in nothing but a T-shirt and some knee-high socks, with a cold can of Progresso and maybe some gas station nachos and cheez, and a Saturday night marathon of Dr House...

I think of these days as the glittering tail,
The performance is the great ball of fire,
On it I'm riding clear across the sky,
And anyone lucky enough to see
Anyone lucky enough to catch me
Anyone lucky enough can wish and wish and wish
Just to be there when I fall.

Jolly Old Saint Valentine

He sure ain't no friend of mine...

I think this Brandon guy hates me...

He hasn't asked me out for today or anything.  I guess I have been kind of MIA.  I have my reasons.  Still.  Thought we had something going.  I hate holidays.  I hate any day that's supposed to be any way.  I don't need an excuse and I don't need a reminder.  And I don't need anything and I don't need anyone.

Cheers.

The sun is setting, hey,
I like to let it get dark in this room
I like to let it set

The seven day candle burns and burns

I saw the light,
I saw the light
And I felt so gleamed on and white
And I felt so permanently loud

And I've never felt
so still,
so dancing,
so free of clouds

Six, lucky Six

My throat's sore y'all.  I'm drained as fuck.  I'm on fire though...

Remember at the casinos, at the craps tables, the guys screamin', "COME on, thirty-three, C'MON twenty one, double threes, double threes, give it to me Fifty One cooooome on five an-uh-one, COME ON SIX!!!!"

I feel like I'm sitting in a palm afire...

All the drunks and gamblers and whores are lookin' down at the table and watching me spin, they're laughing and hooting and hollering and leering and sarcastically cheering along for a six and they're gonna howl with mirth if I land it and they're gonna hoot even louder if I don't.

Here I am bitches.  Get your hand off that lady's ass.  Sir, get your drink off the table before she spills.  Lady, there's lipstick on your teeth.. still there... SECURITY.

Six, bitches.  Six.