I wish I worked at The Office next to Jim Halpert
Hey there! So. Today i'm one month sober. And that is a victory, right?! Some days are really hard for some strange reason. Like today idk why I keep thinking about alcohol. There is no urge to drive to a store and get it. Just maybe the repetitive behavior of taking the pint glass to the mouth and wincing because beer actually tastes like shit let's be real. Alcohol is a liar trick and thief. Answer me honestly when is the last time you heard someone say 'Man oh man the barley/grain/hops in this beer are so thirst quenching' WITHOUT glassy or watery eyes or a scowl on their face like when you see a boxer getting punched in slow motion. Am I gonna have to start the movement that beer is shit? Because I'll do it. Won't go over well in Nashville, St. Louis, Portland, and wherever else local grimace-liquids are sprouting up but going over right is better than well. I feel like Matt Bellasai should do a Wine Wednesday about how awful beer really is. Because you know it's true. Because you know it's true. I like how he'll repeat a line.
(jumps off soapbox)
I have to tell you I picked up my guitar from Glaser's today off East Iris and if that isn't the damn best place for you to take your guitar in Nashville I don't know what is. A week ago I picked up my Alvarez for a long-overdue set up, and I dropped off my Martin. The Alvarez buzzed too much and couldn't stay in tune. Picked up the Martin today (which is perfect like the day it arrived) and had the guy fix the Alvarez on the spot. Got it tuned a step down and sure there'll be a risk for buzzing but apparently that low E string was sitting way too low. And 2 dudes in that shop called me by first name. How's that for customer service.
Brother's in town and we hit the gym today and Burger Up for lunch. Headed to the Ryman tonight with some other company. Ahem!
Songs are so sweet. Progress is being made. In the past it took a Herculean effort to tap into the signal that a riff was carrying. It'd take me forever to write a song. It takes me less time now. I find I'm making more decisions now that I have more clarity and focus in my life. Maybe it's more confidence and much less fear. Less fog, usually much less fog. I am sure I'll be singing about alcohol among other life things on the next record and so as not to worry people but I'll be singing about suicide (again). Probably more literally this time. I'm finding out where one particular song is coming from and it's becoming clear to me it'll be a great loss if I don't - for art and honesty/integrity's sake - talk bluntly about how it feels to be suicidal, with the tremors and terrors and feeling like the thoughts you have are being spoken to you from someone/where else like you're some crazy person.
One of the great tricks? I think a performer can pull off is to go into a song's emotions, wear them for 4 minutes, and put the suit back in the closet. I know I'm well enough to explore these very, very dark places, sit in them and root around for awhile for the most effective lines - and come out of it and go back to my normal psychological level. It can be incredibly exhausting and in my experience discouraging because I can make attempts to go to the place I need to be to get the lines but sometimes the lines don't come. Labor of love, baby! The working titles for this one new song in particular are 'Lunatic,' 'Indestructible Suicide Machine' and 'Hysterical Suicide Machine'. And I laugh at just HOW melodramatic and far gone this all sounds. It'll be quite a damn work of art when I'm done with it and thank God rest assured I don't have thoughts about running and throwing myself off my balcony anymore but I can talk about it. I want to. I NEED TO. I need to be totally and wholly honest with you and myself. The talking about it is the damn thing that has helped me not want to do it.
I am actively seeking people who will read these blogs and want someone to talk to. Know that I'll be your pen pal. You don't have to comment publicly here you can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org