In Spite Of It All

I didn’t sleep well last night, all on the account of our raggedy-ass phone call. I got up in the middle of the night and walked around in circles. The sun refused to come up, the stubborn sky remained gray from all the wild fires burning up California. I knew it was a Monday. I can feel Mondays even if I’d lived in a cave for the last year and had no access to a calendar. It smells, tastes and has the stench of a Monday. I don’t even work anymore—so it really doesn’t matter what day it is——-but it’s definitely a fucking Monday.

Music. I love all kinds of music. But as the saying goes, “There’s only two kinds of music—Good music and bad music”. But music like all art, is subjective——-So who’s to say what’s crap and what’s God smacked?

Music and writing have been good friends to me over the years. It consoled me, taught me lessons about myself and others, its given my blues a place to call home, its made me laugh and awoken the devils and angels haunting my soul. It’s my Kryptonite to stave off all of life’e bullshit–it’s given me a tiny glimpses of nirvana. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever sale one of my songs or stories and I suppose at this point it doesn’t really matter all that much to me. I’ve never written anything with the sole purpose of being published. I just enjoy the process of writing, dropping my fishing line into the abyss and seeing what I reel in——it’s always a mystery and fills me with a sense of wonder. A lot of my stories and songs are catch and release——Damn, see what I did there with that clever lil metaphor twist?

Here’s what I think. I think we should be kinder to one another. We should be supportive and encouraging. We should find ways to be complementary and positive. We’re all just fumbling around with ideas, emotions, words, melodies, rhythms and vibrations. We may not be on the same vibration, but we can be there for one another at some level. You’re the one who turned me on to the vibration concept. I believe there’s some truth to your theory. Those closet to us are the ones who vibrate at the same frequency. It’s something that once experienced requires no explanation.

The world is full of critics and nay sayers. So, am I asking you to offer only “happy” input in regards to my music? I guess I am. And if you feel this is phony—Well maybe it is. Art is a lonely pursuit and artist need supporters and benefactors. I’m sure you can come up with many reasons why this is hypocritical or of no value. You are entitled to your “truths”.  But for me, find good things to say or say nothing at all. And in return you can expect nothing less of me. And if this rubs you the wrong way, then I think it’s best to no longer send you projects—-I respect your opinion, although it differs from mine. 

P.S, Van Gough painted like a three year old. In his lifetime he only sold one painting. It’s hard to believe in yourself until the world believes in you. I think ya have to let go of what the world thinks. 

“Thank you, in spite of it all

For the good, the bad, the rise, the fall” 

VU

“I’ll be me, and you’ll be you

In the music, find me, I’ll find you”

VU
Love ya always brother, 

Anti Love song-song

Don’t Call It Love, My Favorite Mistake

Life is funny

Kinda sad, kinda strange

When the one you love, and marry

Aren’t one and the same

Call it addiction

Call it a drug

Call it poison 

But don’t call it love

Life is crazy

Kinda weird, kinda dumb

If the one you give your heart to

Turns out to be the wrong one

Call it a dream

Call it lust

Blame on hormones

But don’t call it love

Heard about love

In poems and songs

How can something that feels so right

Turn out to be so wrong

Let’s go down to the chapel

And, tie the knot

Maybe it’s love

Maybe it’s not

Here’s to wedding dresses

Here’s to wedding cakes

Here’s to love

And my favorite mistake

Here’s to love

And all the hearts it breaks

Inventing Colors

Art is everywhere, but most only see it when it’s put in a fancy frame, installed in an art show or defined as such by pretentious critics’. I do love art. I love Bukowski and Kerouac….Their pens like divining rods, separating raw sewage from raw beauty.  Some people breakdown playing the piano into a math problem, into intervals and the frequency of notes on a page, but that’s missing the point of playing the piano. Why paint by numbers when there’s so much more waiting outside the lines. Doodle, scribble, close your eyes and let the music flow through you, out of you, into you——like a new color that’s yet to be discovered. 

The Forgiveness Song

This one’s for all the old couples who stuck it out through the hard times.

I’m tired of you

Being tired of me

I’m tired of me 

Being tired of you

Once again

You forgive me

Once again 

I forgive you (2X)

Your my friend and lover

I’m your lover and friend

We’re still together

Cause we’ve learned how to bend

Wrote you a love song

Wrote me a letter

Some loves fall apart==but

We’re better off together

We can take bike

We can take a bus

Enjoy the ride 

Don’t get in a rush

Come on to bed

Don’t make a fuss

Shut off those lights

I’m gonna make ya blush

I’ve been wrong

A few times right

You’ve been right

A few times wrong

After all our trials

And tribulations 

Our loves like a sweet song

Playing on a country station (2x)

Gave me a kiss, and a hug

Gave ya a hug, and a kiss

Turn tears to laughter

Cause it’s better than being pissed

Doubts and questions

We’ve had a few

But, you still love me

And, I still love you

We can take a Harley

We can take a bus

Enjoy the ride 

Don’t get in a rush

Come on to bed

Don’t make a fuss

Shut off those lights

We’ll polish off the dust

I’m gonna make ya blush

Still Not Feeling My Our Age

A tune about old folks loving life and having fun, cause fun isn’t just for the young ones. Stay Young at heart.

“We don’t stop playing cause we get old, we get old because we stop playing” George Bernard Shaw

Fuck Nashville

Dedicated to all those songwriters who’ve been written off, underestimated and overlooked. It’s for the outlaws, freaks, rebels, mutineers and renegade poets.

Turn on the radio

Country station playing crap

You can keep your country hip hop

And your cowboy rap

Chasing trends

Chasing dreams

Everyone trying to be

The next big thing

It’s all flash and flare

Manufactured stars

Songs spit shined and sold 

Just like used cars

Ya heard it in a song

Swore it’s’ written just for you

Pedal Steel crying

 Voice ain’t pretty, but it’s true

Heard it at the Ryman

And the Grand Ole Opry

You’ll know it when you hear it

Cause it sounds like country

These days, I swear

Johnny Cash couldn’t get a record deal

That’s why I’m here to say 

Fuck Nashville

This towns built on music

Child of gospel and blues

Country music is simple

Three chords and the truth

Call me old fashioned

Say I’m an old fool

Cause I still play Merle

Guess that makes me old school

I’m headed back home

This town don’t care for me

Play my music on my front porch 

With my friends and family 

Turn on the radio

Country music, is this what I get?

Every song sounds the same

Different twang, same old shit

Heard it at the Ryman

And the Grand Ole Opry

You’ll know it when you hear it

Cause it sound like country

These days, I swear

George Jones couldn’t get a record deal

That’s why I’m here to say 

Fuck Nashville