I rarely run from red.

Note 1304
It makes me smile to be surprised with the good words. Even though we occasionally map out what we think our heads want to hear. I’m glad to feel the electricity when it’s on. I crave it when it’s not. I hate the walls and gaps and long stretches of pummeling that just happen. That’s just how it goes. Grief challenges you to not only hold your breath during the storm, but also to fall softly.

Note 1299
Anxiety is the fucking beast and doesn’t have any rules, often charging forward at his on pace. The reins tangle and before you know it you are lip biting your own decisions. If only we were so perfect to prevent that.

Note 1302
Sometimes your own heart has to do the punching.


When it finally ceases to haunt you.


Some people are better at hiding the disasters, and some wear them like a story across their forehead. You would be surprised at how you will come to know the looks and the mental flinching of personalities when someone has went through any sort of trauma in relationships. Which in actuality, pretty much covers all of us in the functioning world. We all handle it differently on layers and levels, depending on how an individual is wired. I tend to be like a sponge and absorb things very fast, so much that they leave long-lasting fingerprints that never really shave away completely. I know some minds that don’t even shudder around anyone, ever. I wonder if people like that are more like monsters on the inside, somehow staving off the ability to show empathy about anything except for what is the “absolute now”. Some carry it more everyday and some slide out from underneath it all.

I have definitely had struggles with letting things go. I can, and have had unsettled emotions in the past for months and for even years. Love, hate and discord all play and string together more than anyone would think. There has always been this dance that they do. It’s a process, there is grieving and all that – we all know. It’s the cookie mix in the bowl that you cannot ever seem to get all out, but eventually you end up washing whats left away. It’s inevitable, it’s sad, and it feels like too much wasted time. But when it arrives, like an insect that lights on the back of your neck – it delivers the utter and most profound, loud impacted detachment on the human psyche that I know. The art of simply not caring anymore. When it finally ceases to haunt you, it unhooks from your conscious and then and only then are we able to close the chapters. And maybe this time you have to be the monster. Anger is the tool that can fan the flames and eventually snuff them out.

You have to fight in the end to reel back what they took, and use it to rebuild and reprogram things that were lost. It’s always a fight. You will struggle to regain it. And anyone that tells you differently, has not fought enough of those battles. Yet.

A: Dear snake, I ask why that you would hurt me?

S: I will never hurt you. I am always beside you. I offer everything comforting, and loving. I care unconditionally about being close to you always.

A: I don’t exactly feel safe with you. But I know that you care. I will be ok with that.

S: *bite *swallow *leave

A: Why did you bite me, and leave marks that will never go away? Why did you swallow and devour the things that I thought were sacred within our minds? Why did you hide so far away when I needed you the most?

S: I’m a snake.

Touch this angel in a clutch of snakes.


“When man is happy, the meaning of life and other eternal themes rarely interest him. These questions should be asked at the end of one’s life.” – Andrei Tarkovsky, Solaris 1962 

“I wish I would’ve screamed fuck you more often instead of being considerate of your feelings while you failed to give a damn about mine. So…fuck you, better late than never.” -Should Haves, R.H. Sin

The guardrail will take you home. 


“I was beyond fear and despair.  I was further on; no one had ever gone that far. I touched her neck with my lips, then went lower down, to the little hollow between the tendons, that was smooth as the inside of a seashell.” – Stanislaw Lem, Solaris

A 1000 ways to Fall.


Note 1038
The Fall air is cathartic. I get it, probably more this year than the others. Kind of like having your elbows bent back as far as they can go, and the wind makes the day easier. I leave for 4 days out with a band from Australia over the next week. As long I keep moving I can untie all the bullshit that tries to hang on. Stay charged. Stay extremely direct. Remember that all of this will be overwritten.

Note 1035
Unloading gear last week in an alley outside the venue, a band mate approaches me and says “Hey dude your ex is here”.

I simply replied, “which one.”

Note 1029
Sometimes there is so much going on at one time you really have to marvel at the fact that you don’t begin to start throwing things. Armor up, big eyes on. It’s all in the center of your chest, that is what matters the most. When you achieve the right amount of momentum you will come to realize that in fact, all along, you will shed this. It’s ok.

Note 1027
You keep pushing and eventually it will break, and it’s only a mess if you see it that way. I’m ok with the fallout (even though it reminds me of swallowing glass), I’m pretty use to it. When you look back and understand that all the lackluster merit that was exposed in that personality, the layers that were pulled back, the whole underneath it all – it makes much more sense that you just go ahead and wire yourself to that street light pole, weather the strong air and totally observe that everything that is of any worth at all in the big picture will find its way to where it needs to be. Own your actions, wear them well because even though you may be good at playing dress up for the puppet show – people see the lines. They will read those lines. In between all of them it’s like a lit marquee. And occasionally that flowing story spilling out of your ears is more fitting for the grit behind your teeth than the polish on your nails.