me too, i think

I just got back from Madison, WI. I spent a week there with my band mates at a friend's apartment and it was not at all what I expected. Being from New York, I am inclined to think of the Midwest as cornfield after cornfield, full of people who don't believe in television and who voted for Bush twice. I am not wrong to assume that, because it is that. But what I did not expect was the incredible little city of Madison that sits there awkwardly, surrounded by miles of the middle of nowhere.

Madison has a lake with terrace where you can sit with friends and pitchers of beer. It has fabulous eateries and an enviable weekly farmer's market. It has gorgeous architecture and nice people. It has an art museum and countless skate spots. It has street musicians record stores. You can walk everywhere. And you want to.

It is always nice to be pleasantly surprised.

The experience, even just the mac & cheese pizza, was worth the 16-hour drive I endured yesterday. The drive was grueling, but it also gave me a chance to talk out mostly everything in my life that has been bothering me with Andy. We kept each other awake discussing the band, tattoos, family issues, relationships, our own convoluted psyches, life, death, you name it. I made leaps forward toward making a number of life decisions, whether they regarded getting my lip pierced, buying a new microphone, or giving a new relationship a chance.

Now I am in White Plains and I am wondering where to go from here. I have a vague idea of what my goals are. Finishing a record, moving out, booking a tour, generally opening up to people. They all seem so out of reach, but somehow I know that they are closer than they feel. All these little spokes in the wheel, these Sorting-Self-Out tasks, are becoming more and more visible in the proverbial sideview mirror of life all the time. Cheesy, maybe. But I just back from Wisconsin. It's been a cheesy week.

No more puns, ever, I swear.

Anyway, I am ready for life to hit me like a ton of bricks.

Any day now.

a change of pace

I think that for a year, I will move to some exquisite, unsung European city, take a lover, have a profound sexual awakening, and write tacky poetry about my body's likeness to flowers and waterfalls. Then, when I come back, none of this will even matter anymore and I can start from scratch.

introduction

There isn't all that much to say yet.
How about letting the music speak for itself?
(At least for now.)