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. 

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. 

Ludwig Van.

Currently listening to his Siete. 

Audiorgasm.