I’ve always known I would write. In 4th grade and 6th grade I was chosen to go to Young Author’s Conference while living in Indiana; both stories were about orphan boys looking for homes; I’m adopted; psych majors can ring me up for a last minute term paper on that one; I have them printed already $49.95 and I’ll commit typos so it looks authentic.
In 6th grade I wrote a story in class called ‘A Future Christmas’. In this modern upgrade, Santa in the future, around 2030 I think, was stressed because his elves were on strike, Mrs. Claus had died the prior year from a stroke, he was a sugar junkie drowning in pancakes and I think Rudolph was having some health issues. Looking back, if my kid wrote that, I’d send him to Tommy’s Holiday Camp immediately or at least have a good cry and seek Buddhist intervention; the story is laying around somewhere; I’ll transcribe it as it as profound and prophetic as the book of Exodus.
Over the years as I have cracked open again and again writing has always been there but over the last few years music has gained some turf in the inner life real estate of my soul. I wish I was a lot better of a musician but we are where we are. I seem to want to do everything, like many artists; I do know the first four titles of my my albums once I can get the music out of me without driving up sales of ear plugs in my building; this is exciting and flips me back to the times of LP when album art covers were part of the music experience. Itunes has put a big petrified poop on that. So now, on the pre dawn dusk before filming the promotional trailer for Frenemies, I want to compose the music. And this is where I get amazed at how naive I can be in life; when I look around sometimes I feel the world is ten years ahead of me, like going through the excitement of recording a song; of making a living at acting; of expressing the wonderment of being in love like a five year old at Disney World; I like that as a person and artist because it keeps life fresh; keeps expression in its own flavor. So with music I feel like a three year old who has just seen a puppy for the first time; I want to pull its tail and poke its butt; that’s me and music; I am amusing combination of naivete and wisdom that when they grind, I end up running naked outside my apartment or similar such tremor.
I am a lousy patient; I don’t like being under the weather; I’m already moody as the surface of Mars dipped in the Atlantic Ocean so making me sick stretches my moods like taffy and everything gets exaggerated or shrunk according to where the virus sits in my blood stream; I have energy and yet I am forced to be idle. I watch TV. There’s a religious channel on my cable and every once in a while when flipping I see ‘Defending Life’ (which is about strategies for pro-lifers to push their agenda and bug the shit out of unsuspecting uteruses) and I get excited and switch to it because I mistake it for ‘Defending Your Life’, the Albert Brooks comedy from the 1990’s which I love. I fall for it every time; I may call Cablevision and have them block the channel. That and all news channels. I have not been paying attention to the 2012 election cycle, which began in 2006 it seems, or 1914, depending on your point of view. It seems, from quotes I read from some of the (Republican) candidates, we’re dealing with complete sociopaths and/or morons. Harrowing. Starting to feel sick again…