He was always way cooler than that Oates dude anyway.

Feeling kind of lazy, so I am going to let the pride of Utah, the Neon Trees, speak for me tonight.  Here's a clip of them jamming along with Daryl Hall (Daryl fucking Hall!) and pals on a 2010 episode of "Live From Daryl's House."  Something original (and more vulgar) to come soon, I promise.

Hope you all enjoy the song


"ANIMAL"

Here we go again,
I kind of wanna be more than friends
So take it easy on me,
I'm afraid you're never satisfied.
Here we go again,
We're sick like animals, we play pretend
You're just a cannibal, and I'm afraid I won't get out alive
No, I won't sleep tonight...

I want some more
So what are you waiting for?
Take a bite of my heart tonight.

And here we are again
I feel the chemicals kickin' in
It's getting heavy, and I wanna run and hide.
I do it every time
You're killin' me now
And I won't be denied by you
The animal inside of you

Hush, hush, the world is quiet
Hush, hush, we both can't fight it
It's us that made this mess
Why can't you understand?
I won't sleep tonight...

Take a bite of my heart tonight.

When your walls fall down.

There have been so many times in my life when I can't really work through my own feelings.  In the past, I would often climb into a bottle and try to figure it out from there.  That never really worked out for me, but it took me a while to realize that.

Since liquid comfort is no longer a viable option for me, what else IS?

Music.

I am a firm believer that there is a "Seinfeld" quote that applies to almost every situation in life.  But the same holds true for music.  If you search the back of your mind thoroughly enough, you can come up with a song for almost every occasion.  

So here's tonight's song.  It's pretty obscure, but the overall message is positive.  And awesome.  It reminds me that I can't exist in a vacuum.  And I REALLY can't cut myself off from the people I've surrounded myself with; more specifically, the friends who love me and support me unconditionally.  I can build up all the "walls" I want around myself -- but they fall down.  And they SHOULD fall down.  

We often hide ourselves behind walls, whether metaphorical or physical.  But, in order to start fresh, we have to break them down and expose ourselves.

I've come a long way in the past six months, and tonight I really feel like knocking a few of those walls down.  It's okay to be pissed, to be hurt, to be vulnerable.  Rather than surrounding myself with walls, I've surrounded myself with friends; people who I care about, and who care about me.  

I'll shut up now, and leave it to the songwriter.  Click on the song title for the video.

"WALLS FALL DOWN" by Bedouin Soundclash.

When the walls fall down on your old town

Then, you begin.

See, I had these walls built up so strong

They were built when I was young in wars I've won.

But if I'd have known, stone upon stone

It was so tall I could not see beyond my wall.

But all walls fall down....

And when walls come down on your old town,

You begin.

A bit unassured, I've been insecure

I climbed up to the top,

And I saw the world I lacked.

But my first stone cracked;

The foundation collapsed

I'm standing on the ground in stones

I've found that all walls fall down.

All walls fall down

And when walls come down on your old town

Then, you begin.

I'm the governor of the land, from where I stand.

I'm beneath a shelter built by many hands

But there is a store, and I've locked the door

With the people I once was, I made a war.

But the walls fall down like a stone falls down

My walls fall down, but no man's a stone.

Set the Fire to the Third Bar.

Started a new job on Wednesday.  Beginning a new job with 18 hours notice can really throw one's rhythm off.  Not that it's a bad thing -- not at all!  But it's just been a very "uneven" week... uneven sleep patterns, uneven/erratic eating... shit like that.

In the realm of math and science, we often look for a "constant".  Pi.  Planck's Constant.  The square root of two.  The golden ratio.  Whatever -- a known value that we can use to anchor an equation.  We NEED to anchor the fucking equation, right?  Of course we do.  How else would we be able to pick through all the nonsensical shit and figure out the variables?

Exactly.  We WOULDN'T be able to.

Life has been throwing variables at me for many moons now.  I like to think I'm somewhat resilient, that I can let 'em bounce off me.  Off my head, off my heart, and off my soul.  That hasn't always been the case -- in the past, every now and them one of them would nail me in the balls and knock me out of the game for a few minutes.

Lately?  Not so much.  I have put myself in a better position to look at the equation, figure out the variables, and come up with a logical answer.

How?

Have I found a constant?

Yeah.  I think so.

Back to that term, "anchor."  Maybe that's what I've been looking for.  Something to hold down that ONE LITTLE TINY SPOT OF NORMALCY that I find every now and then.  Even if shit is flailing all around in the periphery, just the knowledge that ONE corner is nailed down makes me realize that the rest can thrash around all it wants.  Because it ain't going anywhere.  It can't, right?  Not with that anchor holding it down.

So, what's the constant (the anchor) in my case?  What's holding everything in place?

It's a combination of a "what" and a "who."

THE WHAT:  A friendship.  A deep, profound friendship.  And the knowledge that this friendship is constantly (there’s that word again) growing every day.  So reassuring.  

THE WHO:  My new favorite person.  A kind, caring soul who I can talk to about anything.  Who I can call & either dump a whole day of frustration on, or share the details of an awesome day.  Either way, her response is the same:  a calming reassurance.  Because this is someone who has my back.  And this someone?  I plan on keeping her around for a rather long time.

When I talk to -- or see -- her, it brings a reassurance to me.  And this reassurance has been missing for a long time.  One of the key components of our awesomeness is that she doesn’t judge me or critique my choices, even the "questionable-at-best" ones.  And that’s just fucking huge.  We have similar outlooks on life.  We value the same things.  We truly and deeply care for each other.  

We laugh at each other.

We GET each other.

I hope that she would say some of the same things about me.  My guess is that she would.  I hope that I bring her the same reassurance and peace that she brings me.  I’d be horrified to find out that I wasn’t giving back to this, especially seeing how much I’m getting out of it.

You know what my favorite thing that she brings me is?

Warmth.

I’m not strictly referring to the physical warmth that hits me when we’re embraced in a hug, although that feeling is fucking epic.  I mean a warmth that travels over phone lines.  It transcends distance.  It can come from a text, a phone call, a Skype chat, or even just a fleeting thought of what a wonderful person I have in my life.  Shit, I feel it right now as I’m typing this.

And that leads me to a song that I’m gonna try to use to wrap this all up.  

The title of the song is the same as the title of this post:  “Set the Fire to the Third Bar.”  Contrary to what it sounds like, it actually has nothing at all to do with arson.

The songwriter, Gary Lightbody, grew up very poor in Northern Ireland, where he was raised by his grandmother.  They lived in a small flat that was often drafty during the harsh Northern Irish winter.  The only source of heat in the apartment was a small electric heater -- the old-school kind that has three adjustable levels of intensity, or “bars”.  On the coldest of nights, Gary’s grandmother would tell him and his siblings that as a special treat, she would “set fire to the third bar” of the heater in order to keep them extra warm on a night when they needed it.

I’m sure that besides the physical warmth that the heater provided, it gave them warmth in their souls to know that someone was providing comfort for them.

Obviously it was pretty profound to him, as he was inspired to write a song about it.

Tonight, and every night, someone is providing some long-distance comfort to MY soul.  I hope she knows how much I appreciate that.  Thanks, V.  

‘Night, all.  Peace.

(HERE is the link to the song)

"Set The Fire To The Third Bar."

I find a map and draw a straight line over rivers, farms, and state lines

The distance from 'A' to where you'd be is only finger-lengths that I can see

I touch the place where I'd find your face

My fingers are in creases of distant dark places

I hang my coat up in the first bar

There is no peace that I've found so far

The laughter penetrates my silence as drunken men find flaws in science.

Their words are mostly noises; ghosts with just voices

But your words in my memory are like music to me

After I have travelled so far

We'd set the fire to the third bar

We'd share each other like an island until exhausted, then close our eyelids.

And when dreaming, we'd pick up from the last place we left off.

Your soft skin is weeping a joy that you can't keep in.

I'm miles from where you are;

As I lay down on the cold ground,

I pray that something picks me up & sets me down in your warm arms

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPKDfBdxkMM

"Set the Fire to the Third Bar."

Annus mirabilis et coepta nova.

This is probably going to veer off course a few times, and will probably be pretty long as well.  Buckle in, kids.

I had dream about 6 or 7 months ago, right before I relocated.  I was playing basketball in front of a pretty large crowd.  It was pretty late in the game, and I had a perfectly clear, wide-open shot at the basket.  Guarded by nobody, I paused for a few nanoseconds and gracefully threw a perfectly arced jumper.  Beautiful shot.  It was going in, man.  Nothin' but net...

Then, a defender from the other team appeared out of nowhere and smacked it down.  I turned toward him in surprise, but that surprise turned to astonishment when I took a look at his face.

It was me.

I blocked my own shot.

Pretty fucking symbolic, right?  I immediately thought so.  I chewed on this dream on the way to work that morning.  What’s really going here when I’m not on this basketball court in dreamland, but rather moving forward through my own real life?  What's with the blocked shot; was I getting in my own way -- too deep inside my own head?

I started out by taking inventory.  I was existing (not living, merely existing) in a marriage devoid of most of the key ingredients:  love, mutual admiration, respect, affection.  I was working at a job that I had grown resentful of.  I was living in a town that -- albeit quaint -- was never going to feel like home to me.  I hadn’t picked up a pair of drumsticks in years.

A few weeks later, I was gone.

Naturally, I was accused of “bolting” and “running away”, but that’s not how I saw it.  A reboot.  Not necessarily a re-START, because there were people and places and kittycats and other things that I wanted to keep in my life.  Just a reboot.

As for right now?  I couldn’t be happier.  I am truly at the happiest, most peaceful point in my adult life.  There have been rough moments since the reboot, and there are probably a bunch more of those to come, but I stand by my decision.  It was mine, and mine alone.  Nobody decided this for me, or even with me.  There are a couple of lines from “Time Stand Still” by Rush that come to mind...

I’m not looking back; I want to look around me now,

At some more of the people and the places that surround me now.

In the last six months, I have done a lot of “looking around me,” and I have made a conscious effort to “surround me” with people that I love, care about, and reside on the same wavelength as.  And it’s great.  I am playing music with great friends, and the epic fucking importance of that cannot be understated.  Performing musically is something that I’ll never allow myself to walk away from again.  There’s something else I’m doing that is equally important.  But I never truly realized the importance of this "something" until now.

Call it self-reflection, introspection, rumination, or whatever.  Equally important by any name.  I have begun studying myself. And I have learned more about me in the last six months than I ever had before.  By learning these things, I feel really well equipped to deal with setbacks and fuckups.  I feel much more able to enjoy the good things and to control my anxieties and my hang-ups  I have finally learned how to let things go.  I am in the driver’s seat for the first time in my grown-up life.  But I do love having passengers.  And right now, I have some really fucking cool passengers riding with me.

Speaking of passengers, I picked up a metaphorical hitchhiker recently.  Someone I’ve know OF for a long time, but I never really had a chance to GET to know her.  For the purposes of this blog, we’ll call her Sarah (mostly because that’s her name).

Sarah and I had been developing an electronic friendship for a few years now.  Usually just a few sentences at a time, but we were fairly routine & regular about checking in with each other.  Most of the time it was just a quick recap of our day-to-day lives, jobs, pets, relationships, kids/stepkids -- stuff like that.  I enjoyed hearing from her.  Each and every time.  I didn’t know her well in real life, but I could see from the wording of her e-mails/messages/texts that she was a good person.  Sense of humor, love of music, ultra-liberal (much like this blogger), empathy for others... all of these were readily apparent.  Plus, she is absolutely gorgeous.  Incredibly so.  The most in-fucking-credible killer body I have ever seen.  That is not an exaggeration.  If I were to design a girl in a genetic engineering lab (which I have not had to do yet, but not ruling it out), she has every physical characteristic I would check off on the order form.  I will refrain from getting overtly graphic here, but trust me.  Every.  Single.  One.

As you might be imagining by now, I quickly started to develop a crush.  Even as an unhappily married man, I kept it in check.  We were both involved with other people, and I respected that. But she started crossing my mind more and more.  Little flutters in the heart every time I saw a new message from her waiting for me.  

She reached out for support during a recent breakup, and I did my best to let her know that she had a friend in me that she could confide in and look to for support.  She was going through some real tough shit, and I felt awful thinking of her hurting like that.  Subsequent conversations led to us casually talking about grabbing a drink or a cup of coffee, and chatting in person someday.

This casual meeting finally came to fruition on a rainy Friday afternoon on the terminal day of August.  And it was nice to catch up.  Fantastically fantastic to see her in person, to give her a hug, to talk face to face.  We were joined by a third, which kept the flirting in check (it did not, however, keep me from picturing her all sorts of nekkid).

Our coffee date lasted a few hours, and we did not leave the restaurant without making plans to hear a band (roughly halfway between our current geographical coordinates) the following Wednesday evening.  I tried to act all sorts of casual whilst making these plans, but my head was spinning.  Me.  And Sarah.  In a bar.  At night.  Do I have a shot at making this something more?  Sure, I want to.  But should I?

Wednesday night came, and we confirmed plans.  I eschewed the Giants’ season opener (not a tough choice) and drove to meet her.  As I was close to arriving at the bar, she made a casual Bukowski reference in a text.  Impressive, right?  Well, I liked it.

Hellos.  Hugs.  Draft beers.  Jazz.  Laughing.  Stories.  Smiles.  The occasional gentlemanly kiss planted on her beautiful, soft, alabaster hand.  The night ended too quickly, and I soon realized that I hadn’t even contemplated my goodnight strategy.  Another hug?  Mutual peck on the cheek?

I’m glad I didn’t overthink it -- or even think about it at all.  I ignored my fear of rejection and I grabbed her and kissed her.  Not a little smooch.  I kissed this girl like we were on a fucking plane and it was about to crash into the fucking ocean.  The culmination of a few years of texting, Facebooking, etc. boiled down to what I would easily classify as the best first kiss of my life.  More kissing followed.  Goodnight, Sarah.  Would love to see you soon.

Got a text the next day.  Two words:  “I’m smitten.”  So am I, Sarah.  So.  Am.  I.

We let it develop a bit.  As I mentioned, we are physically two hours apart, but lots of texting, talking, and Skype dates.  Saw each other when we could.  When we couldn’t (which was most of the time)... well, I’ll just say she became the leading lady in my spank bank.

As long as I’m making crude sexual references, I am going to go ahead and quickly make this point.  This young lady and I have a very strong sexual chemistry.  I mean, this shit is magnetic.  I have always been very, very shy sexually, but that shyness is just flat-out missing here.  I won’t go into detail, but I just cannot keep from kissing her -- among other things.  An amazing attraction that I have never experienced before in my pathetic sex life.  

Ok, back to the story (I know you’re all hanging on every word).  Things sound great, right?  

As of last night, it’s over.

I never thought that "breaking up" after TEN DAYS of long-distance dating could hurt, but I was initially pretty devastated.  We were both visibly emotional.  She was upset enough that I could tell it was really hurting her, too.  And I hated to see that.  I hate to picture someone who (whom?) I care about sad for any reason -- especially this someone.  But she was wonderfully gentle about it, which just made me respect/admire her more.  She didn’t lead me on by dragging it out.  She didn’t just decrease the frequency of contact and leave me hanging not knowing what the fuck is going on.  I appreciate that, and I think I made that clear to her.  The conversation ended on a happy, peaceful note, and we’ve been in contact on and off all throughout today.

Naturally, not much sleep last night.  Not necessarily sadness (though of course there’s SOME sadness), but lots more of that rumination I mentioned earlier.

What could I have done differently?

I’m a romantic, and I am physically/verbally affectionate.  I’m ultra-emotional.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  Shit, BOTH sleeves sometimes.  I love to shower my friends (whether male or female, platonic or intimate/sexual) with affection, praise, and genuine compliments.  I try to be as selfless as I can with people that I care about.

And I had finally found a girl who I felt truly deserved those things.  (You may or may not remember that my track record with the ladies has not been so good).  Expressive is the way I wanted to be with her, and I sure as hell was.

What happened?  What did I do?  Did I dote over her too much?  Did I come on too strongly?  Too much too fast?  Did I try to spoil her too soon?  Was I too lovey-dovey and googly eyed?  Did I push too aggressively to join her in bed (not in a sexual way, but in a snuggly/spoony way)?

I’m probably guilty -- to a certain extent -- of every one of those.

But you know what?  I don’t think that’s what caused it.  I really don’t.  So, for once, I’m not beating myself up and constantly thinking “DAMNIT!  Where did I go wrong?”  I really don’t think it had anything to do with me or my actions.

I think it boils down to the fact that she saw where this was going -- or at the very least where it had the potential to be going -- and just felt she wasn’t ready for this.  Not just not ready to be with me, but not ready to be in a relationship, period.  Not ready to be someone’s girlfriend. How could I fault someone for that?  How could anyone find any fault in that?

I’m not sad.  And that ain't a case of denial; I'm just really, truly not sad.

And that's not just because I’m not at fault.

Let me explain.

I would venture a guess that a very large percentage of breakups end with the breaker-upper saying “I reeeeally want to still be friends?”  Shit, I’ve said it.  Do you think that people really mean that when they say it?  I would bet that they very often don’t.  

Well, Sarah said it last night (she didn't actually stretch out the "e"s in "really". That's lame).  Because she was so emphatic about it (and also because I know that she is such a sincere & honest person), I could tell that she honestly & truly meant it.

And that is why I am not sad, my friends.  That is why.

Because the friendship aspect of my very short-lived period of dating Sarah has been super ultra wicked mega fucking amazing.  (Anyone catch that Gigolo Aunts reference?  I knew you would, you adorable little indie hipster kids, you).  She’s an amazingly good listener, and there are times when I really, really need that.  The fact that she is so trustworthy and non-judgmental makes me feel like I could -- and can, and will -- tell her anything.  Our mutual interest in music -- both being spectators and participants -- is awesome.  

(I don’t know if any of you have experienced this, but when you’re around somebody that truly loves the same music as you, it’s almost like sharing a secret language with them.  Does that make any sense?)

Those are a few of Sarah’s qualities that makes her such an amazing friend.  There are more.  And I’m sure that there are some I haven’t learned yet.  Shit, I hope there are.  I am looking forward to getting to know her better -- and that’s mutual.  I'm sure of it.

So yeah, it sucks to lose the romantic aspect of our relationship, but it would be such a kick in the balls to lose her as a friend.

As I mentioned above, I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.  Season premiere of SNL (which I thought was awesome, BTW).  Lots of thinking, lots of scribbling down notes for the blog.  But when I fell asleep, I had a great dream.

I don’t usually have recurring dreams, but there are a few that creep in from time to time.  One of the themes that comes up often in my dreams is college.  It's always early in the semester, a beautiful fall day back at the house with my fraternity brothers.  And it’s always SO vivid -- I can actually smell the smells (a unique mix of stale beer and regret) of that disgusting-yet-lovable house, I can feel the leaves crunching under my feet as I stroll across campus, I can sense the youthful, eager freshman enthusiasm of all the first-year students around me.  

Last night, I had one of those ultra-vividly realistic college dreams.  It was the first day of classes, absolutely perfect outside.  A little breezy.  I went from lecture hall to lecture hall, talked to friends old and new, ate shitty dining hall food, and played pool in the student lounge.  Mundane, but fun -- because college was one of the best times of my life.  I enjoyed every second of it, and I clearly still enjoy revisiting it during REM sleep.

So it basically seems that this was no different from my usual dreams about being back at school, amirite?

No.  This one was different.

Sarah was there with me.

In real life, this makes no sense.  We didn’t go to college together -- not even in the same state.  But in my dream, it was a perfectly normal thing.  She was supposed to be there.  She belonged there.  Nobody was surprised, nobody viewed her as a stranger.

In the dream, after classes we walked home together -- but not to my fraternity house.  We had our own place, right off campus.  It was small but neat, plain but cute.  We plopped down on our couch and watched TV.  I had my arm around her, and her head was resting on my left shoulder.  We were comfortable.  I was smiling.

And then I woke up -- smiling for real.

Is there symbolism here?  Certainly nothing as obvious as me blocking my own jump shot in a fucking basketball game.  And one of the reasons I decided to blog so long-windedly about this was to try to find out what this dream symbolized.  (I had a journalism/creative writing professor who always said “Don’t just sit there and think about the answer; keep writing until you’ve written your way to the answer.”  I didn’t think that made any sense when I was 19; now, in my  mid-30s, it makes a SHITLOAD of sense.  I do it often).

And I think I have written my way to my answer here.  If you’re still reading, feel free leave a comment if you agree/disagree.  

College was a happy time & place in my life.  When those days of yore creep into my dreams, it reminds me that I am currently in a very happy place in my adult (real) life.  No, things aren’t perfect, but they’re a hell of a lot better than they were.  Always improving.  The small things don’t get to me like they used to.  And the big picture is looking better every day.

In my dream, I was spending time with a good friend that I care about, and who cares about me.  That makes me happy.  My friend Sarah was part of my crowd of people that I cared about.  She fit right in.  In real life, same thing -- I have this "new" friend who I am truly enjoying getting to know better.  Not so much symbolic there as representative -- straightforwardly representative.  No matter what it was, I would dream of her every night if I could.  It was pleasant.

Maybe there’s more to it than that.  I don’t know.  Thoughts?  Please?

I think it’s time to wrap this up.  That was probably boring as hell to most people, but if you read -- or even skimmed it -- thank you.  

As I already mentioned, the day after Sarah and I had our first kiss, she told me that she was smitten.  I was too.  And I still am -- more than likely, I probably always will be to some extent.  But in a different way now -- a way that is better for both of us.  I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with having/showing affection for your friends -- same or opposite gender.  She’s a wonderful person with a beautiful soul, and I am so happy to have her as a unique friend.  She’s lovely, inside and out.

My goal:  to someday look her in the eye, and truthfully say “I love you” and mean it in a non-romantic (but deeply friendly & amiable) way.

Peace and love as always,

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot.

"I Woke Up in a Car" by Something Corporate

Great song about being lost and finding yourself in a different (better) place/different (better) frame of mind -- no matter what it takes, you can find yourself in a better place, often with a different cast of characters.  Metaphorical for my reboot, I think.

Great lyric from said song:

"I met a girl who kept tattoos for homes that she had loved

If I were her, I would paint my body until all my skin was gone."

"Kick Drum Heart", by the Avett Brothers.

As I said earlier, I will often just post a song that I think is cool and worthy of a listen.  If you have a second to listen, please do.  If not, that's OK too.

G'night.

Welcome.

I have been told that writing shit down is very therapeutic.  That's why I do this.  

This is a new home for my previous blog; I am working on moving the archives of the old one over here.  If you ever commented on the the old blog, that is why you (should have) already received an e-mail invitation to follow me here.

For those of you who are new, let me tell you a little bit about who I am.  I am a musician, a part-time father, a filthy liberal scumbag, an agnostic, and pretty often a contradiction.  

I don't reveal my real name ("dude", "man", "bro", and "you douchebag" are all acceptable), or my location, etc.

I love meeting interesting people and talking about random shit.

I can't promise you that you'll find this blog interesting, but you WILL find a ton of swearing.  A fuck-ton of swearing, actually.

I think that strangers are very cool people.

I am in my mid-30's, and already twice divorced.  My first wife was extremely emotionally, verbally, and (unfortunately) physically abusive.  My second wife was a rebound marriage.

Deadspin and Wikipedia are the two best websites of all time, IMO.

I enjoy skiing, music (the playing of & the listening to of), cooking, my kids, my pets, and being an insomniac.  

I have met some very cool people by picking them up while they were hitchhiking.  

I use a Mac.  

I love listening to music, and I have very eclectic taste.  Often, I will post songs that relate to the topic at hand -- or sometimes I will just post a song for you to check out.  Please feel more than free to share songs/bands that you think I will like.  The more obscure, the better.

I do my best to not argue (or even discuss) politics with close friends/family, but when I hear negative statements about LGBT rights, I do not back down.  Fuck that.  That's my hot-button issue, and I will argue it all day long -- with anybody.  There is a very specific reason for that, and I will tell you all about that soon.

I suck at sports, but I enjoy Gatorade.

If you happen to stumble upon this blog on your own, welcome.  I will do my best to be interesting. Like I said above, I will often simply post songs that fit my mood, or random non-sequiturs.  

Peace.  Namaste.  A salaam aleckem.

THIS, right below, is a great song.  

"Lake Michigan" by Rogue Wave