XOSOS

Ever have so much to say you end up saying nothing at all? I've been staring at this empty post window for two days now through a steel sharp net of emotion..every time my tongue comes out to talk, it darts forward and brushes against it, and bleeds.  Is it protective, or is it reflective. I use this blog primarily to say what I want when I want, and it just so happens that I mostly talk about music anyway. So I put the two together and try to reach out and touch somebody with wit laughter or venom. Sometimes I inspire someone to talk back to me, but usually not. Blogging is lonely activity for lonely people. I've got my blogging friends who I am thankful for, but to tell you the truth, after two years of writing, sometimes more for you than me, networking to the best of my ability given my glowing lack of a grasp on social networks....shit.

Its become just a constant neverending plateau of lack of proper dedication to the craft, lack of any musical inspiration on most days. (Hell, I'll give you an example...I just went to see Pearl Jam,took pictures from the front of the front at Madison Square Garden....WHO gets to do that for free and write about it? Guess what , the high from that experience lasted until the ride home, it took me 7 days to care about reviewing the show, while I danced around the murky puddles from the shit storm of my life right now.) and the rewards ad up to about 6 comments a month. Shit, my best friends hardly read this thing. Maybe its because they know what to expect. The experiences and throwaway opinions of an angry man who has always thrown his grenades in a rubber room.

This place is like the room in the basement I never built for so many reasons. Not rubber, but close. Sometimes I just wanted go down there and blast music from real speakers until the paint peeled and then scream and punch the wall like a fucking teenager until the emotion dissipates...but its not there..it never became real...so I started to come here more often to be the man child that I am, who can't balance a checkbook but can muse about sharpie guitars until the hair ain't high, boost morale and throw a few smiles your way. Right now, I'm dodging mental uppercuts and most days energy just drains out of my pores. Right now...i feel I can only complain out into the ether for so long, especially if its about something I am far more passionate about than most everyone I know. Right now, I can't force it.....when I'm inspired and not tired, I'll write.

  I'll just say this...my boy turns 4 tomorrow, and some things are more important than a rant or a rave about anything except the wonder of childhood, and what a saviour of joy that feeling is.