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. 

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.

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.

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.

One-night stand or no demand?

So I met a guy here last night.  And by "met a guy" I mean met a guy that I'm actually kind of into, went out with the guy, had drinks with the guy, and slept with the guy.  That's what I meant, by "met a guy."  So now I'm gonna have to retract.  I didn't in fact meet a guy.

I met a guy.  At this bar downtown.  I went there after spending the day bar-shopping.  Which is like window-shopping and bar-hopping combined... as in shopping around for a possible gig at one of these places... which was kind of a bust, I think... Right after Christmas, depressing lonely Nashville Christmas, when no one was on point or seemingly interested in answering my questions... For the most part, they've been pretty helpful down here, so far, even though a lot of the helpful advice has been-- ya want a gig?  You should play country then... Sigh... Anyway.


I went to this bar downtown after the day bar-shopping-- not looking to shop, just wanting a drink for a change.

And this guy Brandon introduces himself and I go sit with him and his friends, who were pretty cool, with some exceptions, naturally, and they were just about to leave to go to a party at one of their places, and invited me to come along.

The party was kinda nuts, I mean the people were kinda nuts, it was Brandon's friend (uhhh insert name here)'s place.  He's a musician, like everyone down here (except Brandon) and there were a lot of weird little jealousies and rivalries and weed and booze and weird sexual dynamics and mismatched seeming couples and like, in other words, a party...

But the Brandon guy- cool as hell.  And cute.  And me- wasted.  And... something... And actually, whole night- kind of a blur. 

All I remember is that at one point we were making out in the kitchen, and then, he's giving me a ride home, and, I thought we'd been flirting and like, making out in the kitchen, but, maybe I made that part up, because he just goes- "Is this your place here?... Okay, good night." 

???

Maybe it's like, a Tennessee thing?

Is that it? 

I don't know if he asked for my number even, but whether he did or not, it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, as I currently don't have a phone. 

Actually... come to think of it... I think we made plans to hang out...

And, I don't bloody remember them for the life of me.

Goddamnit.