the keys

The keys are within you; you need only to find them.

your word of the day

It's all about passion, boys and girls. And being passionate. Finding that passion for that particular thing -- whatever it is for you -- and holding on it. Feeding it.

That is all.

*

The three visual artists I was ever real friendly with (2 guys I used to run with and 1 girl who broke my heart all to pieces) were all kind of ruthless characters. Brilliant, charming and ruthless. Fucking Capricorns all. Probably not, but it sounds better that way. I speak to none of them now. I like to find them online though, from time to time, to see what they're up to (they're all still in the game, big time). Creepy, right? And pathetic. Taboo even, in a certain sense. I still admire them all, but I think it's very likely that all of them think rather poorly of me -- if they even think of me at all. For various reasons and causes that I'm not real proud of. The one guy, a sculptor, I'm afraid he might think I owe him money, back from a deposit on an apartment we once held (which in fact I might, but I mean... hell); the other guy, the abstract expressionist (but also a hell of a draftsman and also a hell of an opportunist), I was friendly with at that particular point in time when I went batshit crazy for a few days and some ugly drama ensued; the girl who aspires to paint like this guy, well, I tried to give her those paintings back, she insisted I keep them out of some misplaced sense vanity, and I subsequently wrecked 'em in a drunken fit of rage and self-immolating despair. Then told her all about it. Nice guy, huh? For all of that, we parted on better terms than could have been expected, but then a few years later I drunk dialed her a couple of times, and for that I am ashamed because it is LAME.

But to hell with all that. What guy aint done that a time or two? (If you say it's you, I say you're lyin'.)

the word

1:49 pm

You need to think about this every day: that the word is what you're involved in, is what's paying the bills. And so it should pay the bills.

No matter what happens, your involvement with the word is key. Will be key.

The word has distinguished many a song. Never forget that.

*

It is an Alvarez Regent dreadnaught that I bought from a guy around here for $55. He had it advertised on craigslist last Friday along with a bunch of other guitars and parts of guitars and other junk.

Now, the first decent acoustic guitar I ever owned was an Alvarez. I think I must have traded it away eventually toward a better guitar. But I always liked that first guitar, even though the nut eventually came to buzz.

The guitar I got Friday has been put back together better than perhaps it first was, or so I like to think. The guy could certainly have sold it for more than he did. He could have asked more for it; but, that he didn't was part of the charm of the whole thing, the whole arrangement. It all seemed, as they say, meant to be.

The key thing is, these old Alvarez models have solid spruce tops and real rosewood fretboards. This is a big deal. A crack in the top of the guitar has been meticulously repaired (you can hardly see where); and the heel of the neck finely cut and re-glued.

The fucking thing has .012's on it and has had for over a month, according to the guy, and it seems solid as a rock. It's not a piece of junk; it's a real instrument, albeit a cheap one. And everyone's gotta have at least one cheap one, a beater. There is a certain charm to the cheap ones, a certain ineffable charm. Because if you can make it all sound real and right on cheap one, well, then you know you're onto something.

Yeah, it's my beater. But I could tell right away, in that way that you always can, from the very first E played, that the thing had some song in it. It's also my lone 6-string acoustic at this point. And I'm hanging on to it. I'm taking it camping next month, sure. Also, it means I can work on getting me fingerstyle chops together. Also, now I don't feel so antsy to spend 3x as much on a brand new cheap guitar. Oh no: I'd like the next 6-string I get to be a good one. A real good one. Like this one. Till then…

*

But I'm fucking kicking myself for ever selling off that old Taylor. How could I have? But I sure did. Because I quit, I fucking quit for years, I gave up, gave it all up, gave everything up, resigned, became resigned, gave in to my own complacency, chickened out, backed out, shut it down, shut it away.

And now I'm back.

And that is the great lesson: that you can come back, you can bring it back, you can bring yourself back, you can rise anew, you can return more powerfully than anyone could have ever imagined.

Like he said.

*

When I walked up to the dude's house last Friday eve, the dude with the guitar, the living room was pungent with the scent of incense, like he'd just smoked a fattie.

Too bad he didn't know exactly who he was dealing with. I'd have brought a six-pack of Coronas or fifty extra dollars, or what have you.

But I aint that lucky. Or at least, I wasn't.

stringent

9:27 am

It's hard. You've really got to be clinical in the way you choose to administer the discipline. Now that makes a lot of sense. I want to come in here and start writing right away, just to sort out my thoughts. It only took about 7 years to figure out that the Internet is for shit, just like TV. Except at least it can be read. No, see. It's just another tool. Like the man said, it's in the way that you use it.

It seems like there must be a perfect series of moves, that if I could just make the right ones, unerring, no false steps, maybe I could get to where I want to be. You have to be stringent in your administration of discipline. Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe it's that I need to learn that lesson, learn it and hold it once and for all, before I'm able to advance.

un poco triste

Today I feel a burden
of regret over
past apathy.

A gnawing awareness
of every day
I've wasted.

We live in dark times.
We crave absolution.
We craft dark rhymes.

The Devil will account
for every malefactor,
great and small.
 
The best
you can do
is whatever  

you can do
to keep a sense
of hope alive.

We live in dark times.
We crave absolution.
We craft dark rhymes.