May 26, 2016

A Quick One

Hey everybody

What a week... 

Mixing up a little bit of everything, storms, sickness, work, and a whole lot of planning.

of course writing and rewriting. (a little more than half way through my 2nd full novel idea and that comes in goes in terms of my creativity for it. this week I did get a wave of inspiration about it so yeah!)

Everything is about planning. 

The guys and I in the middle of creating a brand new show. And though I don't have a lot of specifics to share, I can say it'll be something like I have never done before. And that's really exciting. I feel motivated. I feel creative. And ready to share everything we have been working on with the world.

endless possibilities

till next time. when I will  pick up this tour story. that's intertwining some of these disparate characters with a larger story. ended up taking more time than I thought. and a new The Weekend Playlist... wooo. also hopefully start this podcast I've been dreaming about.


much love


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May 21, 2016

Black Ribbons pt 2

The next twenty minuets found me standing outside the motel. Making a few calls on the phone down my list: Dad, Girlfriend, friends back home, and finally any thing I was missing for work.

I was in the middle of texting my girlfriend, about what she did last night when the driver pulled up. 

"Ruh-ne?" he yelled out his passenger window phonetically stretching my name out to it's recognizable limits. 

When I grabbed my case, he popped the trunk and pointed his thumb, before tapping the Bluetooth connected to his ear.

He was mid-way through a sentence when he turned around quickly and asked, "The Metro?" 


And he was back on the phone, as we took off.

"I'm just tired of it man. She thinks..." he paused for a minute, listening to the other person as we wove through the city, "Yeah, yeah. The sh** she thinks she can just take from me. Take. Take. Take. All she's ever f*in done."

We hit a red light. And I tried looking out the window, block after block of tinted windows, banks, law firms, basically 'Nothing to look at,' I sighed. 

I didn't want to listen, but there wasn't much else going on.

"Ok, Ok, but listen to this remember last Christmas? We did a whole cross promotion thing, and I'm set up for the interview and she's gone man. I mean vanished from the building...

"Yeah... and it's not a big deal, I'm thinking, they need this done... exactly, let's get this over with.

He turns the corner slowly and we hit another batch of traffic. I'm waiting for a text from Rachel 

- you won't believe this car ride I'm on babe.

"So I do the interview they give me gift bags to give to the team. And they give me this extra camera like one big bonus for doing the interview. Yeah, so later I give everybody their bags and don't think anything of it until like 8 months later...

The car comes to a sudden halt. And the guy turns around still talking to his friend and points up ahead at the line of cars and mouths "2 more blocks"  as his friend is talking "almost."

"Then guess what? She's on about the camera after a meeting... She says, she deserved the camera. And I'm just thinking, what the hell are you talking about? You are serious about a stupid digital camera... Yeah don't you have a phone that can do all this? Just real dumb stuff like that all the time.

"And, and, and," he stumbles, "the real thing is, I don't care about the camera. It's not like I stole it from her. Just, yeah it never even registered that this would be a thing. You know... This?"

We creep up for two more agonizing blocks. As he goes on and on about this fight he is having with a co-worker. Though I eventually learn somewhere just past the start of the 2nd block, that they were more than co-workers.

It's a mercy when he finally sets the car in park.

I pay him. And he doesn't look at me. 

I start walking away from the car towards the venue when I remember the bass is in the truck. And for a second I start to run back, but I see him there. Still yelling about his fight to his friend. 

I tap on his window, "I forgot," I didn't even finish the line while I'm pointing to the trunk. 

And the driver gets startled. I don't know if he didn't recognize me or maybe it was too unexpected. 

Little things. 


So many problems come from little things.

to be cont.


ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtubefacebook and twitter

Dave Brubeck Quartet - St Louis Blues- Belgium 1964

May 13, 2016

Black Ribbons

White. A single wooden side table held a heavily used coffee maker, and a few pamphlets. The only things on the wall to break up this ocean of white: a red plastic clock and a pastel work of wild flowers framed in a dull gold

At the front desk, unaware or uncaring about my presence, a slumped young redhead played on the computer laughing to herself.

I was at least hoping for a place to sit. 

I set my bass down at my feet. Checked my phone for a text. 

the driver: 20 mins

Maybe I should go back to my room... Is that enough time for a nap? For a good moment, I was in another zone. Waiting. Looking at the clock on my phone trying to decide what I should do.

When her voice cut through the quiet-empty, "you in a band?" The desk girl was pointing down at my case.


"I was in a band for a bit," she shrugged, "guitar... We fought a lot... Didn't like it."

"I...ugh, well" I hadn't really expected her to say that and it left me stuttering awkwardly, "it can be tough sometimes I guess."

"Tell me," she said. And leaned deep over the counter pulling out a pair of scissors from behind the monitor. She kept her eyes on me. Reaching under her desk, and pulling out a spool of black ribbon.

I laughed, "tell you what?"

She held the spool between her legs, and opened out a piece about the size of a forearm and snipped, "how tough is it for you?"

"It can be like any job I guess," I started.

She raised her eyebrows. Pulled out another piece. 


"There are bad days."

Pull. Snip.

"But I wouldn't..."


"What are you doing?"


She smiled, "Just a project I'm working on. Go on."

"I can't really imagine doing anything else," I finished. 

Watching her continue to cut the ribbons. And lay the strips of black across her desk. One after another. 

One a little shorter. The next longer.

She told me about her band. About how she was always butting heads with the drummer. And how she thought it was all connected to some incident involving Tiffany from Middle School that neither was supposed to talk to, and a back seat of the mini-van. And though it never got heated and they never fought, the practices became fewer and fewer. Their chemistry was colder. 

And one day,

"...she just didn't call anymore. And that was it. Like I still see her," she put down the scissors on to her pile of black ribbons, and stared me straight in the eyes, "we even saw a movie together not too long ago but... we don't even talk about it. The band I mean. Just... it was done."

the driver: hit traffic. another 20 mins.

"Tough," and wondering if there was still time for a nap.

to be cont.


ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtubefacebook and twitter


May 5, 2016

Reflections from a Hotel Balcony...

What will I do from here? 

The question circled along with my finger around the edge of the railing. Cold steel. 11 stories up in middle of the city at dusk. 

In the air were sounds of cars going by. The quiet murmur of people. Bits of yelling. Laughter.

Lives unknown. 

Conversations of wind.

And what do they do? Geniuses? Freaks? Dreamers? Builders? Destroyers? The violence and love hidden away inside the small distant undefined lines that are the faces, costumes, people.

A strong wind came in, and I turned my neck left and right. And  that now familiar pain moved from the base of my neck down. Spread over my shoulder towards my elbow, and finally landing at  my left hand. 

What will I do from here? 

My eye caught a glimpse of orange. It flashed under a street light and fell into darkness. Than again under the next light. 

A woman? A hat maybe? She stopped for a moment under a third post.

Her dress white. She was small. Brunette. And that was as much as I could tell. She was another distant thing. 

A I say a thing, because I can know nothing at all of her. Her life is too big to fit in so small a frame. That I saw her and thought she was like summer. That she could be anything. Tells you nothing of who she really is. And as I wondered, it came to me. 

For her, I was a distant thing too.

11 stories up. A man. Small. On a balcony. A visitor no doubt... but a musician? a writer? for all she knew a doctor or politician? 

And she saw no pain in the shoulder. No questions of myself.

No strange thoughts that would keep me up till 4 am writing in a notebook. 

Melodies of dreams she could never know about. What do I seem to her? What would she call me? Her. Who could also be anything. A doctor. A dancer. A fortune teller. A politician. A business woman. She might be the one with an answer.

So I asked - What will I do from here?

For a moment more, she stood in the light. And from out of my building, two more ladies came out to the street. They waved to each other. Saying hello. Hugs. And off down the street. Moving from lamp to darkness to lamp along the sidewalk.

A strong wind came in. Carrying the sounds of cars, a siren, and the noise of people. Maybe an answer in there too. But I couldn't tell. I am too small a thing.


ps. as always like, share, subscribe and if you want to talk you can reach me on this blog, youtubefacebook and twitter

mood (Pathetique) Sonata No. 8 Op. 13 II. Adagio cantabile: