An actual dream i had on January 29 2008:
In The Woods
I recommend that you listen to this recording
with headphones on.
It will enhance the experience.
The Beat
Entry from Tuesday October 21 2008
Lansing, Michigan.
Right in the heart of The Mitten.
Mac's Bar.
I was told Miles Davis lived in an apartment
right above the venue for about 6 months.
The show went well.
The opening bands were okay.
I had dinner at a 24 hour diner called Theio's.
It was right next door.
After the show, a couple of DJs set up on stage
and a rave-themed dance party had begun.
There was this cool kid there wearing a black shirt
with a lighted computer-like gadget attached to him.
He let me swing around these neon colored balls.
Andy Mellon and I started hanging out
with these two girls: Sahar and Suzy.
Suzy had a real groovy way of dancing that looked real natural.
I realized, as I was dancing with the people all around me,
how attractive it is to see someone dance.
I love watching.
It's sexual.
But it's more than that.
The body was meant to move to music, to rhythm, to a beat.
It's one of the most elated human experiences.
The world moves in rhythm with itself.
Since the day your heartbeat began,
you've moved to your own beat.
Watching Suzy and Sahar dancing, I felt connected.
I felt comfortable.
I was right where I wanted to be.
In Mac's Bar.
In Lansing, Michigan.
In America.
On Earth.
In the Universe.
Living.
Existing...
Lansing, Michigan.
Right in the heart of The Mitten.
Mac's Bar.
I was told Miles Davis lived in an apartment
right above the venue for about 6 months.
The show went well.
The opening bands were okay.
I had dinner at a 24 hour diner called Theio's.
It was right next door.
After the show, a couple of DJs set up on stage
and a rave-themed dance party had begun.
There was this cool kid there wearing a black shirt
with a lighted computer-like gadget attached to him.
He let me swing around these neon colored balls.
Andy Mellon and I started hanging out
with these two girls: Sahar and Suzy.
Suzy had a real groovy way of dancing that looked real natural.
I realized, as I was dancing with the people all around me,
how attractive it is to see someone dance.
I love watching.
It's sexual.
But it's more than that.
The body was meant to move to music, to rhythm, to a beat.
It's one of the most elated human experiences.
The world moves in rhythm with itself.
Since the day your heartbeat began,
you've moved to your own beat.
Watching Suzy and Sahar dancing, I felt connected.
I felt comfortable.
I was right where I wanted to be.
In Mac's Bar.
In Lansing, Michigan.
In America.
On Earth.
In the Universe.
Living.
Existing...
Entry from Monday May 12 2008
11:30 pm
Listening to:
"Burning Photographs" by Ryan Adams
"Machine Gun" by Slowdive
"Perfect" by Smashing Pumpkins
"Asleep" by The Smiths
"Counterfeit Rules" by Snowden
"Faces Down" by Sondre Lerche
"Jams Run Free" by Sonic Youth
"Poor Misguided Fool" by Starsailor
"That Was The Worst Christmas Ever" by Sufjan Stevens
I'm at Rick's Cafe in Virginia Beach
with a clove and a cup of coffee.
I'm reading this book Love Is A Mixtape by Rob Sheffield.
It's a memoir about a music journalist who loses his wife at age 31.
For some reason I can relate to him in an unusual way tonight.
I feel his loss and his late night experiences alone. (pg 175)
He has a very detailed memory of his life
just before and after his wife dies.
After 1 am, insomniacs start to fill up the booths.
Rick's brings in the rugged type (young and old);
Vabeach natives satisfied with their outcast status.
A few sit with company
but most sit alone with coffee and cigarettes
reading, writing, thinking, napping,
and sometimes just sitting there
like they're repressing something that refuses to come out.
There's an atmosphere here that I can connect with very well.
One would rather spend time at a place like this
than at home where there seem to be more distractions
and reminders of things that need to be done
or things already done that don't need reminding of.
The seat I sit in...
I know that someone else has sat in this same seat
to relax, reflect, or repress.
I can feel their reasons for being here.
I take comfort in knowing this.
Misery loves company.
11:30 pm
Listening to:
"Burning Photographs" by Ryan Adams
"Machine Gun" by Slowdive
"Perfect" by Smashing Pumpkins
"Asleep" by The Smiths
"Counterfeit Rules" by Snowden
"Faces Down" by Sondre Lerche
"Jams Run Free" by Sonic Youth
"Poor Misguided Fool" by Starsailor
"That Was The Worst Christmas Ever" by Sufjan Stevens
I'm at Rick's Cafe in Virginia Beach
with a clove and a cup of coffee.
I'm reading this book Love Is A Mixtape by Rob Sheffield.
It's a memoir about a music journalist who loses his wife at age 31.
For some reason I can relate to him in an unusual way tonight.
I feel his loss and his late night experiences alone. (pg 175)
He has a very detailed memory of his life
just before and after his wife dies.
After 1 am, insomniacs start to fill up the booths.
Rick's brings in the rugged type (young and old);
Vabeach natives satisfied with their outcast status.
A few sit with company
but most sit alone with coffee and cigarettes
reading, writing, thinking, napping,
and sometimes just sitting there
like they're repressing something that refuses to come out.
There's an atmosphere here that I can connect with very well.
One would rather spend time at a place like this
than at home where there seem to be more distractions
and reminders of things that need to be done
or things already done that don't need reminding of.
The seat I sit in...
I know that someone else has sat in this same seat
to relax, reflect, or repress.
I can feel their reasons for being here.
I take comfort in knowing this.
Misery loves company.
The Funeral
Entry from Monday, October 27, 2008
11:35pm.
Listening to:
"The Funeral" by Band of Horses
"Colorblind" by The Counting Crows
"Cannons" by Jeremy Enigk
"Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzales (originally by The Knife)
Music is the only thing that keeps me sane.
It moves me in many ways.
It teaches me to love and adore,
to hate and regret,
to feel and hurt,
to capture and release,
to think and let go.
My whole life is embedded in the music I listen to;
all my experiences are wrapped in these songs.
Every time I open one up I am connected to the people in them,
and the places I've been.
My heart is heavy right now.
The uncertainty of the future.
The person I'm becoming.
The reputation I'm making.
I've done so many things I can't take back.
I've given so much of myself I can't get back.
I should be grateful of all that's been given to me,
all that I've seen.
I'm missing something.
Every now and then,
I feel it.
I'm like a plant missing sunlight.
Moses, my cat, lays next to me satisfied.
I was gone for a week,
out of town.
My parents were in Florida seeing my Grandma in her last waking hours.
Moses was left in the house by himself.
Being back home, he is at peace now.
He needs me.
I love him.
We're connected.
To be needed by someone gives me a good feeling.
I want people to need me.
But sometimes I need someone.
11:35pm.
Listening to:
"The Funeral" by Band of Horses
"Colorblind" by The Counting Crows
"Cannons" by Jeremy Enigk
"Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzales (originally by The Knife)
Music is the only thing that keeps me sane.
It moves me in many ways.
It teaches me to love and adore,
to hate and regret,
to feel and hurt,
to capture and release,
to think and let go.
My whole life is embedded in the music I listen to;
all my experiences are wrapped in these songs.
Every time I open one up I am connected to the people in them,
and the places I've been.
My heart is heavy right now.
The uncertainty of the future.
The person I'm becoming.
The reputation I'm making.
I've done so many things I can't take back.
I've given so much of myself I can't get back.
I should be grateful of all that's been given to me,
all that I've seen.
I'm missing something.
Every now and then,
I feel it.
I'm like a plant missing sunlight.
Moses, my cat, lays next to me satisfied.
I was gone for a week,
out of town.
My parents were in Florida seeing my Grandma in her last waking hours.
Moses was left in the house by himself.
Being back home, he is at peace now.
He needs me.
I love him.
We're connected.
To be needed by someone gives me a good feeling.
I want people to need me.
But sometimes I need someone.
IHOP and Rachael
Entry from Sunday January 13, 2008
It’s about 3am early Sunday morning.
Phil, Caitlin, and I are at the IHOP by Pembroke Mall.
It’s lovely when the right combination of people get together for food and conversation.
The three of us balanced each other out.
We shared stories, stories of our families, and our childhood upbringings.
We shared ideas and philosophies for the future.
We critiqued each other’s mannerisms and behaviors.
We vented our frustrations.
We analyzed the music business and talked about our aspirations.
We argued.
We played Uno.
We didn’t leave until about 630am.
After having nights like that with people,
I always leave feeling more connected to them.
I create a special love for them.
Later on that day I was driving down Dam Neck Road heading towards
I had just taken a right on London Bridge Road when I saw a lady with the hitch hiking thumb out.
I decided to pick her up.
She was wearing a thick blue flannel jacket and had on worn-out faded blue jeans.
She looked like she was in her 40’s.
She seemed really frustrated.
She told me she had walked in the wrong direction.
She was really thankful I picked her up.
It was very cold out.
She works for a guy dealing with firewood.
She likes to listen to Staind.
I put on The Shins “Wincing The Night Away”.
I asked her how long she had been in Virginia Beach.
She didn’t answer.
Then she started crying.
I didn’t know what to say.
She apologized.
I said it was ok.
Then she told me she had just broken up with her boyfriend.
I asked her how long she had been with him.
She said not long.
I dropped her off at the house she wanted and that was it.
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