Mazing

When nothing can explain

No word, verse, or refrain

That I would take your pain

Like the sun takes up the rain

Many things I have had

For only a certain time

Life that is lived is truly life divine

And when what is lost you can no longer find

Hope for peace and quick release the burdens on your mind

For the heart is fickle in its many ways

Changing on a dime or two in hindsight-present haze

And love, not a feeling, but a thought, a gift, a gaze

Closer, farther, sooner, later a path within a maze

Untitled: Part 1

Spotlight hits the stage as she walks the bulb-lit path. She sashays intentionally towards the the crowded club and draws the microphone near. Swiftly she turns and catches a glimpse of the water condensing on her piano player's Whiskey drink as he hits the downbeat.

Were it only a few years before there would had been no club or spotlight to speak of. The past had nothing remotely musical to offer. Nobody ever said it but really that is why her music was something special. Singing her perseverance, dancing her strength, and projecting her victories by mouthing words of cheap love to a melody. "Rich lungs," her manager says while putting out a cigarette, "she was born with them."

Jazzy rhythms pulse through the crowded club. A glass breaks followed by sarcastic applause of a over-dressed man with a thin mustache at the end of the dim bar. "I hope that was his drink," says the singer, "because that is my applause." He receives the remark sardonically bowing and giving her his half-witted attention.

Swelling and stopping her voice holds captive the moment in time. Beads from her dress tapping at the microphone stand while she masterfully shifts back and forth to the rhythm. Were it simply music the crowd could casually live in yet another night but this night is no longer their own.

To the Painters

This excerpt was written by Richard Howard from his 1979 book, Misgivings. I wanted to use his words to dedicate attention to the Gulf Oil disaster currently polluting our precious ocean.

On the United States, Considered as a Landscape

Not a building, this earth, not a cage,

these waters: the country is

a body, to be treated so: when

the weather is mild, think

of the past, when the weather is mean,

think of the future. Men do

thus, and evolve a metropolis

from litter: leaves, straw, floating

bottles and boxes, a mainland which,

like anything else, cannot

be made all at once to drop its rags,

suddenly to stand naked,

fully disclosed. Time- it has taken

time to collect in wide pools

even the beginnings, skeleton

and cartilege, arteries

and bladder: if our Sublime cannot

rise above such things as beer

cans and plastic picnic forks, it is

not all we say, it cannot

really be the God in which we trust.

Image borrowed from: http://oceanworld.tamu.edu/resources/oceanography-book/Images/ixtox1.jpg

Piece.

Entertain my soul

Through the sounds and the sights

Shine through the depths

Of this tar covered night

Local Game to Hall of Fame: Plight of the Local Musician

Since the beginning of musicianship the plight of the musician carries almost a mythical air in the realm of professional careers. Composers being selected by kings, virtuosos packing opera houses, masters traveling the world sharing their passions. It is all a fantastic dream of pure expression and world-mending benevolence. But what about the local musicians? When Beethoven was selling out cathedrals who was at the local Brü Haus entertaining everyone else?

Either way, all musicians are entrepreneurs. Some have boards of directors, marketing teams, advertising teams, accountants, tour managers, and those cute people who bring custom M&M's backstage, but the local musician typically doesn't.

History has shown that record labels were the behemoth force behind taking an artist or artists and supplying them with their multi-billion dollar team to ensure world-wide success for each and every one of them. This is still true to a certain extent, but in recent years labels have been scrambling for endorsement money, abusing artists, and suing 13 year old girls for downloading music. Here in lies the plight of the modern musician: the local singer/songwriter movement.

Singer/songwriters are nothing new. The roots of Folk music, Blues, rock, and essentially everything we know and love has stemmed from the scion of the inspired solo artist. Somewhere along the way something changed. The pungent aroma of band culture took over. Rock gods replaced the humble hymns of meaningful lyrics, simple stories, and poems. Electric instruments beckoned hells fire and mounds of cocaine brought a new meaning to the renaissance artistry of the musician. Now as a result we all have anxiety, depression, and another democratic president.

Here enters the local singer/songwriter. Pure entrepreneurship in it most raw form. The local songwriter has tons of marketing tools, distribution tools, and live channels which to send his/her art through. In fact, there are so many musicians sending out so much music that it is impossible to keep track any more outside of a generalized genre of your own personal liking. The only problem for the musician now is making a living in a saturated world market on the brink of complete media overload. There is a chasm that must be crossed from the everyday level of market media to the big leagues or the cathedrals, if you will.

Long story semi-less long: There is a misconception about how local artists make money in this day and age. Most people don't understand that most of them lose money manufacturing CD's, they make dimes off of their merchandise, and some venues barely even pay their bar tabs. Often I hear people asking how they can help local musicians succeed because they are changed, touched, or inspired by their art and I have a few tips.

The best way to support artists is the most fun way. Go to their shows. Packed shows are the life blood of the modern musician. Talk to the artists; get involved with them. Sign the email contact sheet. If you like the music, buy a CD. Go on iTunes and write a short comment. Tell your friends. Rinse and repeat. That is it.

May the best Brü Haus players become Cathedral packing world changers from the ground up.

Sarah Jaffe- Suburban Nature

Thanks again to CountryMusicPride.com for publishing another one of my reviews! This one is for Sarah Jaffe's newest album due out May 18th called Suburban Nature. A wonderful singer/songwriter album that I immediately enjoyed. Sarah will be touring with Norah Jones and Midlake this year in the US and Europe and just rocked South by Southwest. Great music, give it a listen.

Hierbajos de Primavera

Los rojos más brillantes,

profundamente lilas,

rosado contra verde

vida y prosperidad sin esfuerzo

Viento con cuidado que pasa

Quitando calor al día asoleado

Familias con sólo diferencias sutiles

un jardín de ellos sin amo

que Cohabita aún tolerando derecho consuetudinario

que Sobrevive silenciosamente entre ellos

La belleza puede estar en el ojo del espectador

Pero la belleza engaña al inculto

Para los hierbajos crecer es tan facil

Engañoso y divisivo

Las raíces atan estas bellas hojas magulladas

Alguna vez más fuertes a la tierra

Su presencia se multiplica rápido

Pálidas, amarillas, y demacradas

Las abejas de miel no necesitan a su flor

sólo existen para ellas

Su sangre de leche nunca se acumula

Miembros de una cuadrilla que usurpan agua y luz.

Puedo considerar este jardín y ver sólo flores

Sin hacer caso de los hierbajos, olvidando su traición

Para disfrutar sólo de lo que es hermoso

Convencido que todas las cosas deben terminar tarde o temprano

Dejando a los hierbajos entre las flores, el trigo y la paja

entre las oveja y las cabras

En este jardín sin amo

No regare este jardín

el suelo permanecerá removido y

este jardín hermoso de primavera todavía permanecerá ( TU PASION)

Pero estos hierbajos tiran de mí

Burlándose de mi entre ellos

Haciendo alarde de sus flores y extensión de su semilla

Lleva a mi corazón la calma porque la belleza puede perderse

Ya Conozco algún hierbajo de una flor

A sus secos escondites y altivas flores

que Vuelan de otros jardines desatendidos y campos olvidados

Mis ojos están abiertos hacia este jardín

de hierbajos de flores

Donde una vez alguien colocó cada planta

Y los Hierbajos entraron sigilosamente entre y por detrás

Hijos e hijas de negligencia y casualidad

Inclinándose ante sus sólidos patriarcas

Sin importarles su entorno

Quedándose con lo que las flores deben compartir

Los hierbajos no tienen ninguna alianza y sólo la independencia

Las flores se reunirían

pueden convencer a cualquier profano de su belleza

ya que aún viven para ellas

Convincentemente agarrando el tronco del hierbajo

Rindiendose su cola como la del lagarto que se escapa bajo tierra

Tiro como puedo de las raíces profundas y fuertes

al menos este jardín sin tantos amos aparenta mejor

Esta primavera.

Country Music Pride

Please check out my newly published review at Countrymusicpride.com. It is for the Sadies newest album, Darker Circles. An interesting album by a Canadian Alt Country band who just made their previous album with John Doe from the legendary LA punk band, X.

Check out CMP.com and leave a comment if you like the article! Thank you. xoxox

Spring Weeds

Brightest reds, deep purples, pink against green

Living and thriving effortlessly

Wind gently passing through

Brushing sunny day heat away

Families with only subtle differences

A garden of them with no master

Cohabiting yet abiding common law

Surviving quietly with one another

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder

But beauty is deceiving to the unlearned

For weeds grow just as easily

Insidious and divisive

Roots tie these bruised leaf beauties

Ever stronger to the ground

Their presence multiplies quick

Dull, yellow, and emaciated

Honey bees have no need for their bloom

They only exist for themselves

Their milky blood ever hoarding

Gangly limbs usurping water and light.

I may look upon this garden

And see only flowers

Ignoring the weeds, forgetting their treachery

To enjoy only what is beautiful

Convinced that all things must end eventually

Leave the weeds amongst the flowers

Wheat and chaff amongst sheep and goats

In this garden with no master

I will not water this garden

The soil will remain unturned

And this beautiful Spring garden

Will still remain

But these weeds pull at me

Mocking me despite themselves

Flaunting their blooms and spreading their seed

Causing my heart to well for what beauty may be lost

For I know a weed from a flower

Their dry hides and lofty blooms

Flying from other untended gardens

And forgotten fields

My eyes are open towards this garden

The weeds amongst the flowers

Where once someone placed each plant

Weeds have crept in between and behind

Sons and daughters of neglect and happenstance

They bow below their sturdy patriarchs

Without care for their surroundings

Taking what the flowers must share

Weeds have no alliance and only independence

Would their blooms be gathered together

They may convince any layman of their beauty

Yet they live unto themselves

Forcefully grabbing the trunk of the weed

It gives up its tail as a slinky lizard it escapes underground

Pull as I may the roots are deep and the roots are strong

This masterless garden at least looks better

This Spring

Smog Check

Bold green letters say "Pass or Retest" in capitals next to the trapezoid shaped drive-thru.

The partly clouded sky is open enough to let the new Spring sun out on this California day. This typical city in the middle of development is unaffected by the weather. Big Lots is directly across the street in an otherwise unused shopping center next to the main attraction: Del Taco. Small alternative holes in the walls don't seem to get very much business in this square center. Probably because Del Taco has better food quality, at least, that is the word on the street.

Bella's Hair Salon on the opposite side sits solemnly as the last shop in the three store strip. Only looking slightly less bizarre than the geometrically profound Smog Station beside it. Existing in sight by only the rickety marquee that bears the bold red letters of Bella's there are two backward signs only showing white plastic and a proprietary piece of black graffiti. The archaic word "Beepers" can be faintly seen in reverse on the bottom sign that sits just above the marquee's white stucco base.

Passion to Perfection

Writing for me has typically been a habit that I have kept reserved for moments where I am most distracted. College was the real proof of this. Memories of writing paper after paper with headphones in my ears is mostly what I remember. There were several moments where I would have my laptop glowing in the grandstands of High School football games or on a School Bus somewhere in LA. Imagine, writing a theological exposition on the book of Genesis while there were 1,000 screaming people outside of the South American Jazz blaring in my headphones.

Typically I find myself doing most of my thinking to a soundtrack or some other external occupation. Naturally I am led to think of the few things in my life that force me in the moment to actually focus solely on the task at hand. Working on my VW is one of these things. I have had very few moments in which my meager mechanical skills were required for this task but when it is demanded the music is off and I am engrossed in the oil soaked beast that I love.

Surfing and Cycling are another sole focus or soul focus if you will. Music has no place out in the water or on the road. I find that when I am surfing or cycling I have a rare moment to be completely attentive to the task at hand. They are both relatively extreme sports and demands one's full attention.

Performing music is something of the same in my mind as well. There are so many options for distraction but performing music requires the ability to make the distractions inspirations. Sure, there are moments when the mind drifts and that dude gyrating in the front row triggers a lack of focus, but the best musical performances are nothing like that to me. The best musical performances for me are the ones that take you outside of yourself. All the technical aspects of moving your fingers and projecting your voice become natural extensions of yourself. Kind of like surfing in the dark. Once you are up it is nothing but instinct that moves your arms, your legs, and your voice. Instinct that you have created though years of practice mixed with a magic that only inspiration can bring.

Far too often the monotony of practicing so many different things that you love can be overwhelming. Devotion to any craft takes a certain level of passion and risk and so when I am spread thin there are moments where I have to rely on being distracted once again. Excellence will be demanded of all of us at some point or another whether it is at a concert, in the water with waves and people that demand excellence, or when writing a paper for a good grade.

Find yourself in the distractions you encounter. Limit them and consider them but when push comes to shove be sure to be around people who demand excellence, practice your passions, and enjoy the moments when practice makes perfect.

I constantly try to remember that practice never makes perfect. Never have I met a successful person who has accomplished everything entirely. Success is not stopping it is a continual climb from plateau to plateau.

Breathing is our most practiced activity. Everything else we work on will lead up to our last breath, which I believe will be the first breath of perfection.

In the Name of Dawn

Crack of light before dawn

Bright light of hope

Traveling in sight and in feel

Outrunning sound

Bone chilling beginning

Moon take that back seat

Drag, drag my heels back

Reluctantly

Not the first morning

Not close to last

Change feels colder

Taking cautious steps back

Sunlight always comes

Considering the day

Prideful moonlight

Fades sheepishly away

Decisively run

Despite the black ground

Sprint quick in darkness

Eyes heaven bound

Only Friend

Defy the temptation of reputation

Classifying individuals is impossible

Arranging judgements like dominos

Secrets only hold together card houses

We break free

Silently

Affections shower

Springtime rain

Hear the drops hit grassy blades

See the lines on window panes

We blend

Blindly

Dominos fall one by one

Anticipation and fun

The cards are on the table

Encourage-able

The end

Certainly

Hitch's Pre-Valentines Tips

Last night as I was looking for a movie in my small collection found the movie Hitch. I do not know how I acquired this movie, not being a collector of Will Smith movies, or "romantic comedies," but I had an idea. I decided it might be interesting to see what tips Hitch has for the single folk or better yet what tips, Kevin Bisch, the writer of Hitch has for my blog-loving friends.

Please note: all statistics and quotes are directly from the movie. There are no sources or fact checks for any of the below statements. Let your heart decide.

14 Tips from Hitch Himself!

1) No woman wakes up in the morning and says to herself, "God, I hope I don't get swept off my feet today."

2) 60% of all human communication is non-verbal, 30% is your tone, so 90% of what you are saying doesn't come out of your mouth.

3) No matter what, when, or who- any man has a chance to sweep any woman off her feet. He just needs the right broom.

4) You can not use what you do not have. So if you are shy be shy. If you are outgoing be outgoing.

5) "You" is a very fluid concept right now.

6) In case you didn't go to High School hitting is a good thing.

7) 8 out of 10 women believe the first kiss will tell them everything they need to know about the relationship. *This was the only tip repeated twice in the movie.

8) Life is not the amount of breaths you take. It is the moments that take your breath away.

9) With no guile and no game there is no girl.

10) You can't really know where you are going until you know where you've been.

11) Women can always tell when you're not being real with them. Worst thing you can do is try to fake it.

12) Women relate dancing to sex. If she asks you [to dance] you cannot say no. Elbows 6 inches from the waist 90 degree angle. Don't bite your lip. Stop it.

13) The secret to a kiss is to go 90% of the way... and then hold.

14) Because that is what people do. They leap and hope to God they can fly. Because otherwise we just drop like a rock wondering the whole way down: Why the hell did I jump?

So good luck out there tigers! You are now completely love savvy. You have 2 days to bag the person of your dreams. Just don't forget the final tip in Hitch: Basic Principle- There are none. Now that is what I call entertainment.

Don't Haiti

February is all about the lighter side for me this year. I am going to resist every urge to be a brooding artist, a sullen lover boy and an afflicted fight guy. My pleasure will be in the sublime virtues of our daily lives. Benefit after benefit of practical awe-inspiring benevolence.

This decision has been a long time coming. I have been preparing for months. Defrosting this heart of stone is no easy task. Seriously... I just thought of this last night and it just happened to be the last day of January. I was sitting at my car pondering and I thought something that happened this weekend.

Hate, as I was reminded this weekend, is a very strong word. For instance: I said, "I hated Where the Wild Things Are." That movie was grossly depressing and I don't personally consider depression entertainment. I didn't really hate it; I just didn't like it. Until I was called on that I really did hate it though. I had no good feeling for that little brat or those pathetic monsters. (Even though the CGI looked really cool!)

Haiti was another subject that breeched my thoughts. What has happened in Haiti is undeniably a scene of complete disaster. I can't help but to compare the devastation to that of New Orleans's Hurricane Katrina. Suddenly, my new interest in being positive kicked in. New Orleans went through a terrible disaster, but many amazing progressions have come about since this disaster that benefitted Haiti now during their time of need. Green technology has made a grand entrance in New Orleans. Have you heard of the Trash King of New Orleans?? Have you heard of the Holy Cross Project?

My personal knowledge of New Orleans and even Haiti pre-disaster was quite minimal. However, reading a bit more, both of these places will benefit from these tragic events. Truly, lives lost in horrific fashions, especially those of natural phenomenon, will never be understandable. There is nothing upbeat or positive about that. My hope is that Haiti will now have the support from the world community that it has needed for so long to change. I am also proud to be a part of that change and around people who are driven to lift up the Haitian community.

There are fundraisers in the works. As soon as I get media... it will be posted. Here is to an uplifting and inspirational February!