The closest thing to a home I ever had. We've been here for 10 years, and now this chapter in my life will close. It's sad when you think about it.
In my entire life, I will never be in this house again. I will never sleep in the room where I wrote every song that brought me to where I am now. I will never have access to the room where I wrote "LUCKY", "SHE NEVER GETS WHAT SHE WANTS"....etc. They are all disappearing forever now.
And tomorrow I'll be in a new house. Sleeping in a basement, starting a new chapter. It's getting time to start my own chapter though...
So goodbye house, thanks for giving me a home for the first time in my life! You will be missed!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Limoncello
O-o-o Limoncello,
the best potion I know
All the words that you give me
All the words you put in me
O-o-o Limoncello
you're all that makes her mine
She loves me when you're in her
When you leave, I'll never win her
So she's creeping, creeping, back to where her sober heart belongs
Then it's gone she's left without the taste,
or was I dreaming the way her chest collapsed in my face?
So take, one drink lets fake what
things she'll love me for
When she can't taste it
O-o-o Limoncello,
She's hot and cold each week
I'm all hers and she don't know it
when you're here she lets me show it
O-o-o Limoncello,
when you're gone we barely speak
Fuck "friends", she'll always be my lover
friends fuck when they can't find another
So she's creeping, creeping, back to where her sober heart belongs
Then it's gone she's left without the taste
or was I dreaming the way her chest collapsed in my face?
So take, one drink lets fake what
things she'll love me for
When she can't taste it
Now I'm living a lonely life
Limoncello, don't ever leave my side
Soon she'll be a memory and
you'll be mine until you're empty
you're empty,
so kiss me once, don't ever leave
Then it's gone, she's left without the taste
or was I dreaming the war her chest collapsed in my face?
I'm an idiot, idiot, idiot to think that we could have made it
But she loves me too, when she could taste it
She cares but oooo, She loves to fake it
What could I do with the love that it creates?
I'm an idiot, idiot, idiot to think that she could be taken
She'll love me too, when we're naked
--------
My favorite song on the CD I wrote because it still refreshes the angst, and pain I felt when I fucking wrote it. I'm staring at a bottle of Limoncello on my dresser, and I figured I'd write a blog about the song, and the fucking drink while I'm here. That bittersweet taste gives me a taste of depression and happiness when I taste it. It's insane, how many drinks can actually do that?
It makes me wonder when I'll finally be able to let the pain of my past go. Stop thinking of Sarah, the person it was written for. It's stupid, because the people to whom I've affixed the word "love" don't vivify some romantic scene in my mind, they only vivify the pain I felt. I remember a few good times, but I never affix happiness to them, I only remember them for the aftertaste.
Maybe that's why Limoncello goes so well with this song. Limoncello, sweet as hell, but leaves you with that hangover. It's the same shit with Sarah.
And the problem is our differences our discrepancies was my fault as much as it was hers. She said a million times "Dude, I don't want to lead you on" when she was sober, while a million times drunk she said the opposite. I knew exactly what the fuck would happen, because I had done this before. We would hang out, we would get drunk, we would sleep in the same bed. I wouldn't stop thinking about her until the next time I saw her. And then she kissed me and it was fucking perfect. It was perfection. And that same night we spent 4 hours in her bed just making out. For fucking real bro, no sex, just fucking making out. It was so much passion, so much love that didn't exist...WHAT THE FUCK!?!
This life hasn't been good to me. Everything I've ever invested hope in became a let down. I wonder when my day will finally come. I keep faith in God, and sometimes it's difficult, because shit just seems to constantly get fucking worse. But that doesn't give me reason to stop believing. When my band bailed out on me and I was stuck with a 300 weekly payment, I didn't give a fuck. When my car with 9k left on it got ruined, I didn't blame God. When my parents told me they were kicking me out of my house, I didn't blame God. When I lost my wallet that same week, I didn't blame God. In fact, faith is all I ever had in Him. Shit sucks sometimes, but why point the finger at God?
But is the answer to attempt to become that soulless rockstar? What the fuck do I have to lose? Is life going to get worse than it is now? Am I going to have less friends?
I don't view myself as a catch. I view myself as an accessory. It's such a dysfunctional idea to have about oneself, but it's true. I got shit to offer except loyalty and devotion. And I guess my looks since so many girls wrongly use the word "hot" to describe me. I've got no social status, few friends, and all my money being spent on pursuing a dream that looks like it's dying.
But it's all I've been taught in the past. For the fucking bitch I wrote this song about, Sarah. I was her fucking rebound, and she went right back to that woman-hitting piece of shit as soon as she could. We've talked twice over the last 2 years since. And I couldn't fucking let go. As a songwriter, I can never fucking forget because I'll have to play this song 365 days a year. She'll always be a part of me, as much as I fucking hate it. And it pains me when I think about it. I hope she hears it, and hears my pain in the song, and in my voice, although it's a happy pop rock tune.
And I hope in a year from now I'm playing this at Madison Square Garden in front of 20,000 people and she's sitting at her Queens apartment with that asshole and he's talking about his rap career, and they can be dying slowly instead of living. I asked her a year ago "are you guys getting married?" and her response was "DUDE! Don't even bring that fucking shit up! I ain't ready for marriage!" They've been dating 7 fucking years! How do you NOT know at that point!?!
So yeah this song is bitter. Cause every word of it is true. She only loved me when she was drunk. And that's all I am. A pretty fucking face. Girls love me for my looks, but down inside, I'm fucking useless.
So what do I do with this negative emotion? I harness it for positivity to change shit. Because all is not lost. I'm just losing. It's like the baseball team down 5-0 in the 5th inning, that's me right now. Do I sit and give up? No. In fact, I'm going to fucking give this a shot. I'm going to turn my damn dreams into a reality. I'm going to be a fucking rockstar, forget those fuckers that abandoned me, and take those who stuck with me to the top. I'm going to turn over this music industry. And if I fail, fuck it, at least I did what I had to do.
And so what if I fail? I'll go back to where I am now: Making $600 a week driving buses and finishing school. Who the fuck cares if I'm 32 when that happens? At least I lived my youth to it's fullest. You're young once, and I've wasted too many years. Here I am wasting time on the fucking computer again. I hate this fucking thing. I sit in front of it and I can't leave like a moth to the flame. And what am I accomplishing? Nothing. I'm accomplishing nothing. I'm getting out all my negative emotions.
And yeah, it's me saying a big FUCK YOU to Sarah. And to Jenna. Fuck both of you.
-Jenna for your fucking ability to "fall in love with me" in the summer of 2002 but then forget it all when you went to a prestigious fucking college and realized that me and my rockstar ways weren't good enough for your ivy league lifestyle. Fuck you and fuck Lucky. Fuck you for the sleepless nights, and the first taste of depression I experienced from October 2002 until July 2004. Fuck you for the 5,000 songs I wrote about you, which include LUCKY, and FREE and 6TH ATTEMPT. Fuck you for the fact that it's 2010, and because these songs haven't been released I still think of you, but can barely remember your face, or your taste or a damn thing about you. I just remember that you were. And this album, this band name, is all because of you. Fuck you.
-Sarah for your fucking ability to make me fall in love with you in 2007 when I got back from the Navy. For being every fucking thing I wanted in a woman, but then taking it all away. For those sleepless nights by my side where you wouldn't stop kissing me when I tried sleeping, but woke up and refused to kiss me sober. For those fucked up nights when I stayed at your house and you left me to go fuck your ex, and then come back and tell me how much I meant to you. For my idiocy in believing I could convince you otherwise. FOR MY IDIOCY FOR NEVER FUCKING TELLING YOU SOBER! For going in this half heartedly and believing that the right shit would happen in the end. For letting him take you back instead of giving you reasons why I could have blown this fucker out of the water. Dude, I feel tortured thinking of you. And I can't fucking stop.
And an apology goes out to Jeanine, who was incidentally my rebound for both of these girls.
the best potion I know
All the words that you give me
All the words you put in me
O-o-o Limoncello
you're all that makes her mine
She loves me when you're in her
When you leave, I'll never win her
So she's creeping, creeping, back to where her sober heart belongs
Then it's gone she's left without the taste,
or was I dreaming the way her chest collapsed in my face?
So take, one drink lets fake what
things she'll love me for
When she can't taste it
O-o-o Limoncello,
She's hot and cold each week
I'm all hers and she don't know it
when you're here she lets me show it
O-o-o Limoncello,
when you're gone we barely speak
Fuck "friends", she'll always be my lover
friends fuck when they can't find another
So she's creeping, creeping, back to where her sober heart belongs
Then it's gone she's left without the taste
or was I dreaming the way her chest collapsed in my face?
So take, one drink lets fake what
things she'll love me for
When she can't taste it
Now I'm living a lonely life
Limoncello, don't ever leave my side
Soon she'll be a memory and
you'll be mine until you're empty
you're empty,
so kiss me once, don't ever leave
Then it's gone, she's left without the taste
or was I dreaming the war her chest collapsed in my face?
I'm an idiot, idiot, idiot to think that we could have made it
But she loves me too, when she could taste it
She cares but oooo, She loves to fake it
What could I do with the love that it creates?
I'm an idiot, idiot, idiot to think that she could be taken
She'll love me too, when we're naked
--------
My favorite song on the CD I wrote because it still refreshes the angst, and pain I felt when I fucking wrote it. I'm staring at a bottle of Limoncello on my dresser, and I figured I'd write a blog about the song, and the fucking drink while I'm here. That bittersweet taste gives me a taste of depression and happiness when I taste it. It's insane, how many drinks can actually do that?
It makes me wonder when I'll finally be able to let the pain of my past go. Stop thinking of Sarah, the person it was written for. It's stupid, because the people to whom I've affixed the word "love" don't vivify some romantic scene in my mind, they only vivify the pain I felt. I remember a few good times, but I never affix happiness to them, I only remember them for the aftertaste.
Maybe that's why Limoncello goes so well with this song. Limoncello, sweet as hell, but leaves you with that hangover. It's the same shit with Sarah.
And the problem is our differences our discrepancies was my fault as much as it was hers. She said a million times "Dude, I don't want to lead you on" when she was sober, while a million times drunk she said the opposite. I knew exactly what the fuck would happen, because I had done this before. We would hang out, we would get drunk, we would sleep in the same bed. I wouldn't stop thinking about her until the next time I saw her. And then she kissed me and it was fucking perfect. It was perfection. And that same night we spent 4 hours in her bed just making out. For fucking real bro, no sex, just fucking making out. It was so much passion, so much love that didn't exist...WHAT THE FUCK!?!
This life hasn't been good to me. Everything I've ever invested hope in became a let down. I wonder when my day will finally come. I keep faith in God, and sometimes it's difficult, because shit just seems to constantly get fucking worse. But that doesn't give me reason to stop believing. When my band bailed out on me and I was stuck with a 300 weekly payment, I didn't give a fuck. When my car with 9k left on it got ruined, I didn't blame God. When my parents told me they were kicking me out of my house, I didn't blame God. When I lost my wallet that same week, I didn't blame God. In fact, faith is all I ever had in Him. Shit sucks sometimes, but why point the finger at God?
But is the answer to attempt to become that soulless rockstar? What the fuck do I have to lose? Is life going to get worse than it is now? Am I going to have less friends?
I don't view myself as a catch. I view myself as an accessory. It's such a dysfunctional idea to have about oneself, but it's true. I got shit to offer except loyalty and devotion. And I guess my looks since so many girls wrongly use the word "hot" to describe me. I've got no social status, few friends, and all my money being spent on pursuing a dream that looks like it's dying.
But it's all I've been taught in the past. For the fucking bitch I wrote this song about, Sarah. I was her fucking rebound, and she went right back to that woman-hitting piece of shit as soon as she could. We've talked twice over the last 2 years since. And I couldn't fucking let go. As a songwriter, I can never fucking forget because I'll have to play this song 365 days a year. She'll always be a part of me, as much as I fucking hate it. And it pains me when I think about it. I hope she hears it, and hears my pain in the song, and in my voice, although it's a happy pop rock tune.
And I hope in a year from now I'm playing this at Madison Square Garden in front of 20,000 people and she's sitting at her Queens apartment with that asshole and he's talking about his rap career, and they can be dying slowly instead of living. I asked her a year ago "are you guys getting married?" and her response was "DUDE! Don't even bring that fucking shit up! I ain't ready for marriage!" They've been dating 7 fucking years! How do you NOT know at that point!?!
So yeah this song is bitter. Cause every word of it is true. She only loved me when she was drunk. And that's all I am. A pretty fucking face. Girls love me for my looks, but down inside, I'm fucking useless.
So what do I do with this negative emotion? I harness it for positivity to change shit. Because all is not lost. I'm just losing. It's like the baseball team down 5-0 in the 5th inning, that's me right now. Do I sit and give up? No. In fact, I'm going to fucking give this a shot. I'm going to turn my damn dreams into a reality. I'm going to be a fucking rockstar, forget those fuckers that abandoned me, and take those who stuck with me to the top. I'm going to turn over this music industry. And if I fail, fuck it, at least I did what I had to do.
And so what if I fail? I'll go back to where I am now: Making $600 a week driving buses and finishing school. Who the fuck cares if I'm 32 when that happens? At least I lived my youth to it's fullest. You're young once, and I've wasted too many years. Here I am wasting time on the fucking computer again. I hate this fucking thing. I sit in front of it and I can't leave like a moth to the flame. And what am I accomplishing? Nothing. I'm accomplishing nothing. I'm getting out all my negative emotions.
And yeah, it's me saying a big FUCK YOU to Sarah. And to Jenna. Fuck both of you.
-Jenna for your fucking ability to "fall in love with me" in the summer of 2002 but then forget it all when you went to a prestigious fucking college and realized that me and my rockstar ways weren't good enough for your ivy league lifestyle. Fuck you and fuck Lucky. Fuck you for the sleepless nights, and the first taste of depression I experienced from October 2002 until July 2004. Fuck you for the 5,000 songs I wrote about you, which include LUCKY, and FREE and 6TH ATTEMPT. Fuck you for the fact that it's 2010, and because these songs haven't been released I still think of you, but can barely remember your face, or your taste or a damn thing about you. I just remember that you were. And this album, this band name, is all because of you. Fuck you.
-Sarah for your fucking ability to make me fall in love with you in 2007 when I got back from the Navy. For being every fucking thing I wanted in a woman, but then taking it all away. For those sleepless nights by my side where you wouldn't stop kissing me when I tried sleeping, but woke up and refused to kiss me sober. For those fucked up nights when I stayed at your house and you left me to go fuck your ex, and then come back and tell me how much I meant to you. For my idiocy in believing I could convince you otherwise. FOR MY IDIOCY FOR NEVER FUCKING TELLING YOU SOBER! For going in this half heartedly and believing that the right shit would happen in the end. For letting him take you back instead of giving you reasons why I could have blown this fucker out of the water. Dude, I feel tortured thinking of you. And I can't fucking stop.
And an apology goes out to Jeanine, who was incidentally my rebound for both of these girls.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Coffee house
So tonight after brief hesitation I finally decided to go check out the open mic at the coffee house.
I showed up late, around 9pmish. Apparently, the sign up sheet went around at 7, and I was a bit too late to have the opportunity to play tonight. I was a little disappointed but at the same time relieved. I wanted to get the general vibe of this place and enjoy musicians playing music because this is what they love.
While yes, the love of music enhanced the oxygen in the room, I had a qualm. These songs weren't originals. They were all covers. I was disappointed that nobody was sharing a part of them. It was all music that may have meant something TO them, but it didn't come FROM them.
It was mostly an older crowd with about 5 people my age, 2 dudes, and 3 girls who tried to cover up the fact that they kept checking me out. Of course, me being my usual reticent self, I hid in the back of the room on a stool watching as each person went up in front of the multifarious pairs of lazy eyes.
During most of the songs, people were talking. I was kind of upset about this, except for the fact that this is a coffee shop. People actually buy coffee instead of listening to music. I felt inspired by the love for music, but insulted for the fact that nobody brought their own material. It's true that unless it's something you do, writing a song is an incredulous task. Writing a song that people can actually listen to is even harder.
But watching this made me decide it's time to take some fucking action. I called the managers who have been dying to put something together for me.
I'm sick of being a nobody. It's time to change this.
I knew it when I was young, I was born to be fucking famous. It's time to become that.
I showed up late, around 9pmish. Apparently, the sign up sheet went around at 7, and I was a bit too late to have the opportunity to play tonight. I was a little disappointed but at the same time relieved. I wanted to get the general vibe of this place and enjoy musicians playing music because this is what they love.
While yes, the love of music enhanced the oxygen in the room, I had a qualm. These songs weren't originals. They were all covers. I was disappointed that nobody was sharing a part of them. It was all music that may have meant something TO them, but it didn't come FROM them.
It was mostly an older crowd with about 5 people my age, 2 dudes, and 3 girls who tried to cover up the fact that they kept checking me out. Of course, me being my usual reticent self, I hid in the back of the room on a stool watching as each person went up in front of the multifarious pairs of lazy eyes.
During most of the songs, people were talking. I was kind of upset about this, except for the fact that this is a coffee shop. People actually buy coffee instead of listening to music. I felt inspired by the love for music, but insulted for the fact that nobody brought their own material. It's true that unless it's something you do, writing a song is an incredulous task. Writing a song that people can actually listen to is even harder.
But watching this made me decide it's time to take some fucking action. I called the managers who have been dying to put something together for me.
I'm sick of being a nobody. It's time to change this.
I knew it when I was young, I was born to be fucking famous. It's time to become that.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Productively Pointless Day
Word...I'm pretty much waiting until we move. No, not the move to California! The move to our new house! Yeah, my parents got approved for an mortgage and they're moving to a new house which isn't far from where we are at. I tried telling them to move out west, but they don't agree! Whattt!?!
I kind of got a crazy shocker today when I started to realize that I'm actually going nowhere in life. Sure, there's the music. There's the band, but then I lose confidence when I start to see the millions of amounts of bands out there. The only way to separate us from the rest of them is for me to just fucking be myself, and the problem with that is I constantly lose sight of who I really am.
I expatiate through the different degrees of my character in both my words and in real life. One side of me wants to be the straight-edge, responsible kid who says "fuck you" to what society wants, and then the other part of me wants to be the heavy drinking/partying asshole who says "fuck you" to society wants. Well, the clarifies one thing: I don't give a fuck what society wants.
I've held myself back for too long at the risk of being "cocky". I'm unsure if I should begin getting a band together out here while I'm waiting, or if I should wait to move out west. The band thing out here, perhaps hired guns. I feel naked without a band. Sure, I could play acoustic shows, but like, who the fuck cares? My music isn't meant for acoustic. It's meant for loud and energy.
I think about the shows we never played. Opening for some big "flavor of the month band" that'll be broken up in a year anyway at the Crazy Donkey out here, and starting the show with the WHOA'S in SHE NEVER GETS WHAT SHE WANTS and the whole crowd just being turned onto the energy. I remember watching Cobra Starship play, Relient K, Copeland...etc. All these bands. Their opening songs seemed to be diffident at best; I couldn't even believe they were excited to be playing. But man, if we could just find musicians who had the right equipment and licks to play this shit, dude we'd turn that fucking joint upside down. The whole set would move with such energy and people would be like "HOLY FUCK WHAT A SHOW!"
The problem is down inside I KNOW I have what it takes to be famous. I know I have the ability to create my own style, be my own asshole self, and play my own music that will jettison me straight to the top. See, I'm no fucking follower like these erudites of the scene who follow every popular trend. I make my own style. I do my own thing. But I've been too reserved in that. I haven't been the old ROCKSTAR that I used to be.
Because I want it to be the surf look. I want to bring back the pooka beads, the shell necklaces. Fuck, I'll give myself a mohawk and dye it blue. That's who I really am inside. Part of me is afraid to let that side out, and I don't know why. Cause the truth is, I really don't give a fuck. But I act like I do. When I let my head get involved, I start worrying.
For example, this whole fucking post. What the hell am I writing about? I've done nothing today. I sat at home, practiced guitar, practiced singing, started learning a new language, learned some facts about our presidents...yeah, I'm a fucking nerd, I like being intelligent, believe it or not. I always want people to expect the unexpected with me.
I guess the final question is this: What do I do? Do I work with these managers and guarantee myself a spot in the industry, or do I do my own thing, and start from scratch?
At first I wanted to say "fuck you" to the money, "fuck you" to the industry. But then I realized, I can't do this on my own. That's what I'm trying to do. I want to keep the music alive, I want to sell 5,000 CDs, but I over analyze every fucking thing I do, and every thing I say. I'm scared to go up to people I don't know and talk to them. It's the same reason I HATE approaching chicas at bars and shit: because they've heard it all a million times before. How am I going to convince someone to buy my CD when there are 34098q34 billion fucking bands doing it because THEY CAN? It's something to consider...which way to go....
I kind of got a crazy shocker today when I started to realize that I'm actually going nowhere in life. Sure, there's the music. There's the band, but then I lose confidence when I start to see the millions of amounts of bands out there. The only way to separate us from the rest of them is for me to just fucking be myself, and the problem with that is I constantly lose sight of who I really am.
I expatiate through the different degrees of my character in both my words and in real life. One side of me wants to be the straight-edge, responsible kid who says "fuck you" to what society wants, and then the other part of me wants to be the heavy drinking/partying asshole who says "fuck you" to society wants. Well, the clarifies one thing: I don't give a fuck what society wants.
I've held myself back for too long at the risk of being "cocky". I'm unsure if I should begin getting a band together out here while I'm waiting, or if I should wait to move out west. The band thing out here, perhaps hired guns. I feel naked without a band. Sure, I could play acoustic shows, but like, who the fuck cares? My music isn't meant for acoustic. It's meant for loud and energy.
I think about the shows we never played. Opening for some big "flavor of the month band" that'll be broken up in a year anyway at the Crazy Donkey out here, and starting the show with the WHOA'S in SHE NEVER GETS WHAT SHE WANTS and the whole crowd just being turned onto the energy. I remember watching Cobra Starship play, Relient K, Copeland...etc. All these bands. Their opening songs seemed to be diffident at best; I couldn't even believe they were excited to be playing. But man, if we could just find musicians who had the right equipment and licks to play this shit, dude we'd turn that fucking joint upside down. The whole set would move with such energy and people would be like "HOLY FUCK WHAT A SHOW!"
The problem is down inside I KNOW I have what it takes to be famous. I know I have the ability to create my own style, be my own asshole self, and play my own music that will jettison me straight to the top. See, I'm no fucking follower like these erudites of the scene who follow every popular trend. I make my own style. I do my own thing. But I've been too reserved in that. I haven't been the old ROCKSTAR that I used to be.
Because I want it to be the surf look. I want to bring back the pooka beads, the shell necklaces. Fuck, I'll give myself a mohawk and dye it blue. That's who I really am inside. Part of me is afraid to let that side out, and I don't know why. Cause the truth is, I really don't give a fuck. But I act like I do. When I let my head get involved, I start worrying.
For example, this whole fucking post. What the hell am I writing about? I've done nothing today. I sat at home, practiced guitar, practiced singing, started learning a new language, learned some facts about our presidents...yeah, I'm a fucking nerd, I like being intelligent, believe it or not. I always want people to expect the unexpected with me.
I guess the final question is this: What do I do? Do I work with these managers and guarantee myself a spot in the industry, or do I do my own thing, and start from scratch?
At first I wanted to say "fuck you" to the money, "fuck you" to the industry. But then I realized, I can't do this on my own. That's what I'm trying to do. I want to keep the music alive, I want to sell 5,000 CDs, but I over analyze every fucking thing I do, and every thing I say. I'm scared to go up to people I don't know and talk to them. It's the same reason I HATE approaching chicas at bars and shit: because they've heard it all a million times before. How am I going to convince someone to buy my CD when there are 34098q34 billion fucking bands doing it because THEY CAN? It's something to consider...which way to go....
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Dear San Diego Chargers
Dear San Diego Chargers,
I am sick of being hopelessly devoted to you. I am sick of every year, you build me up with amazing, gutsy play. You make it look like a Superbowl winner during the season. You steal my breath away, and fill me up with hope and love that for once in my life, that something I've been devoted to, that I've been passionate about since I was young, could finally put the wind beneath my arms and lift them high in the air to yell "CHAMPIONS!"
And then come the playoffs. Unless you're playing the Colts, you somehow find a way to lose. No, the Jets didn't win this fucking game. The Chargers lost this fucking game. Like 3 out of the last 4 years! And now I gotta read 400 mother fucking posts from "Jets" fans on Facebook who seem to be spelling the word "Giants" wrong. Oh wait, no, they're just like every NY fan. It's easy to raise your hand and FACEBOOK status in victory when you only have to give a half-ass effort every year by hearing from your friend "Oh yeah, a NY team is in the playoffs!" and then suddenly you've been a fan all fucking year! Is that what I need to do?
No. See, because in my life, my emotional vicissitudes have provided few constants. The only constants are things that don't have to return the affection: ie: The Chargers/Padres. Both teams that emotionally abuse me worse than a piece of shit girlfriend. And like the devoted boyfriend (or girlfriend if you are a female reading this) I sit and take the punches.
The Chargers don't care how the fuck I feel. They don't care that all week I sit praying to God to give me a taste of what it's like to be a champion. Nate Kaeding doesn't give a fuck when he misses 2 CHIP IN shots but still attends the pro bowl. The asshole team getting penalties on almost every play doesn't think to themself, "man we've got some people that are in love with this team!"
So when do I learn this? I don't. I'm just like that girl that never had a father, that's always been subject to emotional and physical abuse from dudes since their nascent dating trysts. The Chargers break my heart after an amazing year, and now I get to be depressed and drink and cry under the football skies wondering if there will ever be a team for me! Or if there will ever be a team that loves me back!
Hmm, makes me think of my ex girlfriend now...Antonia. Ha, me and her were on off for about a year and a half, maybe 2 years. So was she the Chargers fan? Was I the football team that played for a few months and then had an entire offseason? No, she was a shallow gold digger, so that doesn't count. I went back to the girl for a long time because we had some insane chemistry and when we were hot, we were HOT. But when we were cold, we were evil to each other. It was the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever had, and maybe that's what made me feel such passion for the girl.
When we broke up last June, I was serious. For the last time. Every time me and her broke up, and then got back together in 3 months, there was something about her I was convinced I couldn't describe. I wanted to discover it. So we kept getting back/getting off...etc. What was it that finally drove me away? Her lack of passion. She wanted me to buy her shit, give her things, do things that I couldn't do, while doing nothing to reciprocate. I told her the only two things I ever loved was when a girl scratches my back or buys me ice cream. She never did either one. Anytime that I ever had thoughts of running back to her since June, I killed it with the idea that she was shallow as fuck.
But is that what it is with the Chargers? I love them because during the regular season they play like champs and make me BELIEVE that they love me too! I talk about them all the time, I'm fucking filled with happiness that MY team, after NEVER winning, FINALLY has a shot to take it all! And then they don't. And then they leave me for 8 months. And then they come back by playing at the top of their game. And then I start to believe again!
Oh love is such an abusive fucked up game. And it'll never stop. Every year I'll go through this cycle.
But what IF we ever win a Superbowl? Or a World Series championship? Then I'll just want more, right?
WHo the fuck knows. I'll never know that feeling because San Diego prides itself on being the best during the season and failing in the playoffs....fuck me...
Love,
Fred
I am sick of being hopelessly devoted to you. I am sick of every year, you build me up with amazing, gutsy play. You make it look like a Superbowl winner during the season. You steal my breath away, and fill me up with hope and love that for once in my life, that something I've been devoted to, that I've been passionate about since I was young, could finally put the wind beneath my arms and lift them high in the air to yell "CHAMPIONS!"
And then come the playoffs. Unless you're playing the Colts, you somehow find a way to lose. No, the Jets didn't win this fucking game. The Chargers lost this fucking game. Like 3 out of the last 4 years! And now I gotta read 400 mother fucking posts from "Jets" fans on Facebook who seem to be spelling the word "Giants" wrong. Oh wait, no, they're just like every NY fan. It's easy to raise your hand and FACEBOOK status in victory when you only have to give a half-ass effort every year by hearing from your friend "Oh yeah, a NY team is in the playoffs!" and then suddenly you've been a fan all fucking year! Is that what I need to do?
No. See, because in my life, my emotional vicissitudes have provided few constants. The only constants are things that don't have to return the affection: ie: The Chargers/Padres. Both teams that emotionally abuse me worse than a piece of shit girlfriend. And like the devoted boyfriend (or girlfriend if you are a female reading this) I sit and take the punches.
The Chargers don't care how the fuck I feel. They don't care that all week I sit praying to God to give me a taste of what it's like to be a champion. Nate Kaeding doesn't give a fuck when he misses 2 CHIP IN shots but still attends the pro bowl. The asshole team getting penalties on almost every play doesn't think to themself, "man we've got some people that are in love with this team!"
So when do I learn this? I don't. I'm just like that girl that never had a father, that's always been subject to emotional and physical abuse from dudes since their nascent dating trysts. The Chargers break my heart after an amazing year, and now I get to be depressed and drink and cry under the football skies wondering if there will ever be a team for me! Or if there will ever be a team that loves me back!
Hmm, makes me think of my ex girlfriend now...Antonia. Ha, me and her were on off for about a year and a half, maybe 2 years. So was she the Chargers fan? Was I the football team that played for a few months and then had an entire offseason? No, she was a shallow gold digger, so that doesn't count. I went back to the girl for a long time because we had some insane chemistry and when we were hot, we were HOT. But when we were cold, we were evil to each other. It was the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever had, and maybe that's what made me feel such passion for the girl.
When we broke up last June, I was serious. For the last time. Every time me and her broke up, and then got back together in 3 months, there was something about her I was convinced I couldn't describe. I wanted to discover it. So we kept getting back/getting off...etc. What was it that finally drove me away? Her lack of passion. She wanted me to buy her shit, give her things, do things that I couldn't do, while doing nothing to reciprocate. I told her the only two things I ever loved was when a girl scratches my back or buys me ice cream. She never did either one. Anytime that I ever had thoughts of running back to her since June, I killed it with the idea that she was shallow as fuck.
But is that what it is with the Chargers? I love them because during the regular season they play like champs and make me BELIEVE that they love me too! I talk about them all the time, I'm fucking filled with happiness that MY team, after NEVER winning, FINALLY has a shot to take it all! And then they don't. And then they leave me for 8 months. And then they come back by playing at the top of their game. And then I start to believe again!
Oh love is such an abusive fucked up game. And it'll never stop. Every year I'll go through this cycle.
But what IF we ever win a Superbowl? Or a World Series championship? Then I'll just want more, right?
WHo the fuck knows. I'll never know that feeling because San Diego prides itself on being the best during the season and failing in the playoffs....fuck me...
Love,
Fred
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Loyalty
Man oh man oh man....
I felt like I got stabbed tonight.
I always learn this lesson over and OVER and OVER again, but never follow it. Don't tell people anything until you're IN LOVE, then you can tell them all the crazy details. Other than that, it's shooting yourself in the foot.
Oh but don't I love living that way? I mean, I am a songwriter after all, I need all the emotion I can get, right?
Not when it's the "right" people.
And I'm hurt by the whole episode that happened tonight. There really isn't anyone to blame here except myself because I opened my big ass mouth too soon, as usual. I just hate the fact that sometimes, when I put in 150% as a friend, it comes out the wrong way, and I hate the fact that I may have lost a friend over it. It really does hurt me.
To me, a good friend is love, loyalty and respect. And I hate the fact that somebody could believe I am disloyal or a liar.
I felt like I got stabbed tonight.
I always learn this lesson over and OVER and OVER again, but never follow it. Don't tell people anything until you're IN LOVE, then you can tell them all the crazy details. Other than that, it's shooting yourself in the foot.
Oh but don't I love living that way? I mean, I am a songwriter after all, I need all the emotion I can get, right?
Not when it's the "right" people.
And I'm hurt by the whole episode that happened tonight. There really isn't anyone to blame here except myself because I opened my big ass mouth too soon, as usual. I just hate the fact that sometimes, when I put in 150% as a friend, it comes out the wrong way, and I hate the fact that I may have lost a friend over it. It really does hurt me.
To me, a good friend is love, loyalty and respect. And I hate the fact that somebody could believe I am disloyal or a liar.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Dreaming
I have big plans in California. I guess the hardest part is getting started.
I want to get back to music, have a band with real people who don't suck. I want to play shows, sell CDs to pay off the debt!
I want to be out as much as possible.
I want to make friends with everyone.
I want to be healthy.
I want to live life again.
Here I am sitting at home in NY. It's 8pm, its freezing out. I have no money, which in NY means you can do nothing at 8pm in January. If I was in CA, I could be at the beach, I could be in gaslamp, I could be doing anything except typing on my computer.
I want to get back to music, have a band with real people who don't suck. I want to play shows, sell CDs to pay off the debt!
I want to be out as much as possible.
I want to make friends with everyone.
I want to be healthy.
I want to live life again.
Here I am sitting at home in NY. It's 8pm, its freezing out. I have no money, which in NY means you can do nothing at 8pm in January. If I was in CA, I could be at the beach, I could be in gaslamp, I could be doing anything except typing on my computer.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Pshhhh
I dream in hyperbole. And when I wake up, I fall too fast. Going up is easy. Falling sucks!
I can't wait to be back west.
I can't wait to be back west.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Crossroads
Sighhhh....
When I first hear of things happening, other than FEMALES, I tend to let the effects trickle down. Sometimes it hits me after a day or two, sometimes it never hits me at all. For example, 3 different people I knew during the Navy died while young and NOT in a combat zone. 2 from a drunk driving related incident, 1 from an idiotic tryst at "quick draw". Still, I feel no remorse. Not because I am cold and heartless, but because these things don't HIT me. It may also be a combination of my life and the celerity with which people come and go; almost everyone I've ever known is already "dead" to me other than those who are active in my life.
So, I begin to question, when push comes to shove, where do I stand?
WHat it comes down to is the management team I was working with was suggesting numbers (financially) that they believed the could get invested in me, and how it could benefit my career. The number thrown around was $100,000. In case you can't read that correctly, it's one hundred thousand dollars.
I took in stride at first as more bullshit manager talk. I've heard it all before. I mean honestly, about 75 times last year "These labels are interested in you except you don't have a band...etc." Even my friend Scotty D who works at Epic Records told me "I've been passing your shit to dudes at the label, it's getting a ton of buzz. You need to get a band together ASAP."
Great, I'm the fucking hit song writer that has no band. Whatever.
Maybe this means something though. Maybe it's time for me to show the world the strength of believing in yourself and true ambitions. Maybe it's time for one band to come along with the music to make it, that strives to remain small in order to keep up musical integrity.
What does this mean for me?
First off, if they sit me down and actually make me a formal offer, it's going to be hard to pass up. But I want it to be my crowning achievement. I'll say no. Why? Because I'm fucking insane that's why. Because I love having music that I wrote, and having the rights to use it for whatever the hell I choose. I love the idea of having my own record label. I LOVE THE IDEA OF BEING ABLE TO HAVE FULL CREATIVE RIGHTS TO SAY WHAT GOES INTO MY MUSIC.
I don't want fame. Why? Because fame will fuck it all up. I will be the most lonely person in the world. I already know it. I will become suicidal. Because the idea of becoming a martyr or a musician who's life got cut short appeals to me. It escalates the importance of their music. If I stay little known, and refuse the big paychecks, I'm changing the course. I'm being me, I'm being true to myself, and I'm setting a standard for all musicians to follow: Don't chase fame, chase musical perfection.
It makes me think of other things. Burning passion I have inside of me. To get my ass back to California. To love the life I'm living. To wake up, see the sun, and feel inspired. To love BEING ALIVE <3!
I have felt about 150% alive the last week. Since deciding to move back west. I am ready to start over. To play music, to surf, to make awesome friends, to NEVER WANT TO SLEEP. I am ready to fall head over heels in love. Dude, I have an uncanny ability to be faithful/loyal to a girlfriend, and to fight all outer temptation! "OH YEAH, FRED?!? THATS WHAT ALL GUYS SAY!!!" Watch me pass up $100,000 and then tell me I'm like every other guy! Watch me stay loyal to who I am and then I dare you to fucking tell me I'm like every other guy. I don't want to sleep around, I don't want 500 girls, I want one who inspires me and I inspire her. She ain't out here in NY that's for DAMN sure! I want to bring out the best inside of me and stop wasting it on bullshit!
So lets see, $100,000 or opportunity? A chance at eternal youth. I don't have to grow old. I'M FINALLY LIVING LIFE FOR ME AND I'VE NEVER FELT BETTER!
I am getting ready to sell everything I own. I'm starting to see the pointlessness in possessions. All you need in life is love, and as absurd as it sounds, it's so fucking true. I'd even sell my computer if I had to. This life is meant to live, and I don't need all the extra bullshit to live!
All I need is music and words to survive. And I'm ready to abandon all the shallow "opportunity" on the east coast.
If you talked to me at 17 and told me everything I posted here, I'd be shitting my pants. Back then, this was EVERYTHING I WANTED. I would want to smack myself in the face for trying to run away from a huge cash investment, and doing showcases for labels.
But like I said, there's no fun in life in being like everyone else. I don't want fame. I want the good life. And I'm going to get the good life : D .
Love
When I first hear of things happening, other than FEMALES, I tend to let the effects trickle down. Sometimes it hits me after a day or two, sometimes it never hits me at all. For example, 3 different people I knew during the Navy died while young and NOT in a combat zone. 2 from a drunk driving related incident, 1 from an idiotic tryst at "quick draw". Still, I feel no remorse. Not because I am cold and heartless, but because these things don't HIT me. It may also be a combination of my life and the celerity with which people come and go; almost everyone I've ever known is already "dead" to me other than those who are active in my life.
So, I begin to question, when push comes to shove, where do I stand?
WHat it comes down to is the management team I was working with was suggesting numbers (financially) that they believed the could get invested in me, and how it could benefit my career. The number thrown around was $100,000. In case you can't read that correctly, it's one hundred thousand dollars.
I took in stride at first as more bullshit manager talk. I've heard it all before. I mean honestly, about 75 times last year "These labels are interested in you except you don't have a band...etc." Even my friend Scotty D who works at Epic Records told me "I've been passing your shit to dudes at the label, it's getting a ton of buzz. You need to get a band together ASAP."
Great, I'm the fucking hit song writer that has no band. Whatever.
Maybe this means something though. Maybe it's time for me to show the world the strength of believing in yourself and true ambitions. Maybe it's time for one band to come along with the music to make it, that strives to remain small in order to keep up musical integrity.
What does this mean for me?
First off, if they sit me down and actually make me a formal offer, it's going to be hard to pass up. But I want it to be my crowning achievement. I'll say no. Why? Because I'm fucking insane that's why. Because I love having music that I wrote, and having the rights to use it for whatever the hell I choose. I love the idea of having my own record label. I LOVE THE IDEA OF BEING ABLE TO HAVE FULL CREATIVE RIGHTS TO SAY WHAT GOES INTO MY MUSIC.
I don't want fame. Why? Because fame will fuck it all up. I will be the most lonely person in the world. I already know it. I will become suicidal. Because the idea of becoming a martyr or a musician who's life got cut short appeals to me. It escalates the importance of their music. If I stay little known, and refuse the big paychecks, I'm changing the course. I'm being me, I'm being true to myself, and I'm setting a standard for all musicians to follow: Don't chase fame, chase musical perfection.
It makes me think of other things. Burning passion I have inside of me. To get my ass back to California. To love the life I'm living. To wake up, see the sun, and feel inspired. To love BEING ALIVE <3!
I have felt about 150% alive the last week. Since deciding to move back west. I am ready to start over. To play music, to surf, to make awesome friends, to NEVER WANT TO SLEEP. I am ready to fall head over heels in love. Dude, I have an uncanny ability to be faithful/loyal to a girlfriend, and to fight all outer temptation! "OH YEAH, FRED?!? THATS WHAT ALL GUYS SAY!!!" Watch me pass up $100,000 and then tell me I'm like every other guy! Watch me stay loyal to who I am and then I dare you to fucking tell me I'm like every other guy. I don't want to sleep around, I don't want 500 girls, I want one who inspires me and I inspire her. She ain't out here in NY that's for DAMN sure! I want to bring out the best inside of me and stop wasting it on bullshit!
So lets see, $100,000 or opportunity? A chance at eternal youth. I don't have to grow old. I'M FINALLY LIVING LIFE FOR ME AND I'VE NEVER FELT BETTER!
I am getting ready to sell everything I own. I'm starting to see the pointlessness in possessions. All you need in life is love, and as absurd as it sounds, it's so fucking true. I'd even sell my computer if I had to. This life is meant to live, and I don't need all the extra bullshit to live!
All I need is music and words to survive. And I'm ready to abandon all the shallow "opportunity" on the east coast.
If you talked to me at 17 and told me everything I posted here, I'd be shitting my pants. Back then, this was EVERYTHING I WANTED. I would want to smack myself in the face for trying to run away from a huge cash investment, and doing showcases for labels.
But like I said, there's no fun in life in being like everyone else. I don't want fame. I want the good life. And I'm going to get the good life : D .
Love
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