monk trane

gaudi in spain and mozart at 8 (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8180648.stm)
and Bird, Monk, coltrane, davis....
the construction, musical architects
chiseling music, tearing apart the structures from inside
from out
playing with the whole mess

recording. the space of sound. each section with its own place.
the discipline. absorbing the material.
practice. coffee. work. everywhere work. don't stop working. then you die young. though you might anyways. theory. history.
being inspired again.
love smashing me all ways
i see her naked wrapped under the jazz
triads stroking my balls

think about clapton's first sight of hendrix.
underground jazz clubs, jamming all night

if you just let things pass and don't dwell then they slip away and, of course, you might miss some things and maybe the big ones will claw on a bit longer which can for certain be a good thing...but maybe you'll just drift along and life will be nice and slippery like water

stick on stars

the times are strange, like fog in the summer on the beach on a hot day and earthquakes that you can't feel while you're working. doing funny things. illegal and downtown brown. talking the heads. no braces for crooked days. i'm made up of phases and this blog is sometimes not good, doing too much writing is not good, cus i tend to go inwards and it soon becomes boring, but fascinating cus you can keep peeling away. but in the end you get somewhere that doesn't seem to matter much. then you keep pushing outwards and you lose yourself and then that becomes boring. everything becomes boring to me i think. at some point. then i start boiling in phases again.
the machines turn, the gears churn, i get caught up and learn about some things on somedays.
people are telling secrets near me. gossip like. it's strange.
hanging around all men or women.
hanging around in the workplace.
hanging around at school. - the way you keep your friends and make them. the way you talk and what you do.
hanging around at home.
where's home?
at home.
but this isn't your home anymore.
time to get away.
this music is too good tho. this upbeat stuff.
these beats and this feel good.
but it's fresh. this is what i'm heading towards. i want the fresh.
like coca cola in the 1950s.
man, the tides crashing in the corporate cultures, where are the waves?
i'm losing it.
i'm losing my edge.
-lcd soundsystem
family issues and formations of people, quite feelings in the night, a pillow and nightmare kleenex. wet dreams, stick on stars on the ceilings.

jesus

you're such an asshole.
if you don't sing it out you got nothing.
oh well

look

there's still a lot of confusion with this living.
but people are going on with their lives and that is big.
some inspire, some scare, some get you working, some get you sad, some get you happy, some get you livin. when somebody is free around you that is big, even if they are sad. when somebody is happy around you and it is scary you should beware. their smiles are often made of paint.
phases come in phases.
simple realizations are shit out after a complex digestive process which includes a great deal of gas and discomfort.
--i will not be happy with my existence unless i am playing music, unless i have the time to dig into it.
figuring out the self is strange because you always think you know and then you realize you never really knew. but then you realize you always did.
being alone, being uncomfortable - you are forced to come to terms with what it is you want. At some point this happens. What makes you happy? What do you want to do? What do you LOVE? What will you not be happy without.
music, music, music
So, in your mind you form a Want. Then you begin to create a movement towards something. Perhaps a movement towards nothing, but perhaps towards something more exciting. an alarm in the morning and a boxing on mondays; a book a week and less time on the internet. more time at home, less time at home. more guitar, more blues, more singing, more running, more research, more recording.
my Irvine years were special because i hated where i was and that forced me to chew up a couple pieces of What I Was.
At some point i will realize more powerfully that this is all really happening. that I'm living and breathing right now; that there is no such thing as tomorrow and no more waiting and no more growing. there is the doing, there is the deed, there is the action of the moment. beyond this we touch only the robes over a naked body.
time drowning in my laptop
time drowning in my drive
time drowning at the gas station.
more discipline, less seriousness
get to it xandre
you lazy

supposed to be

she should be in the midwest where there are hot rains and white winters, where she can jog, inhaling crisp air.
she should be home.
he should quit his job.
he should leave the country.
she should stay in the ocean.
where somebody is supposed to be, where they are comfortable, where the air blows your life like a ballon instead of sucking it up like a lemonade through a straw. where somebody isn't supposed to be - where you find your why's and what's and whatever's, with the stretching to fold you into your bed in the evening and wake up hungry and unsatisfied. where you are - licking from the plate, hanging on, sucking up smoke, fingering a dream or two, drinking vermilions.

is there a state where we really know the comfort we need... or want? i know that i can depend on my constant shifts in perspective, my waves of insecurity and white waters of certainty. i know i can ride and sometimes i realize something is good. sometimes i realize that that something is bad.

there's a glorious rain outside my window right now. i'm warm and i've done nothing all day.
it has been wonderful.
good night.

some

are wild.
they hold odd notions in their crowded souls, pushing away columns and stones and antiques, making room for the new and fresh...
But this is an overcoming which is no good, albeit for a time it serves its purpose.
i often throw aside the most important things, forgetting what makes me love myself.
i must be happy with myself. we must love our Self. ourselves. so we do something here and there. i talk to Louis and try to learn spanish. i realize i can be more direct, i can be more secure and blunt. i can say what i want to say. i can walk with my back straight. i can smoke grass in the afternoon and play piano to the ceiling with a microphone.
we all deal in different ways. perhaps it is boring to treat everyone the same, to expect the same, to get the same same same same all the fucking time. let's adapt. let's use different words, let's transform, let's go somewhere new...let's do this and that.
i will always be pushing forward even when i'm drinking coffee in the morning at the breakfast table. something is pushing me, even when it stops. it waits. i know not what it is. but it goes. and goes and goes.
i love life
and i love my koala.
i wish her good morning and i wish all my friends and all the good people a strange and fantastic day.
...pushing slightly into the cushion of the extreme...