Finding air when the heart spins.

Note 1325
Be surprised at what kinds of things you can screenplay in your head. We are our own worst narrators.

Note 976
I left there thinking whole heartedly that I was strong as a bull, storming forward through timbers one hundred feet tall. It wasn’t until later when our minds began to subtitle the projections overhead that I began to realize the magnitude of the forseeable drowning. It was an insurmountable attack that left me staring aimlessly and defeated. I’d realized that my own stories became the deafening hum that kept me paralyzed.

“Certain events, which have actually happened, are horrible, but what is more horrible still is what hasn’t happened, what has never existed.” – Solaris, 1970

Panic // Going over to the enemy of our imagination.


Sometimes I sit in my car in front of my apartment watching rain break across the glass. The sound is repairing. I may even get lost in it, where I wonder if people think I’m weird for not removing myself from the immediate. It’s a medication like mental floss. It helps me to un feel things that I’ve known, like removing bandages that have long adhered around bound thighs. If it takes me anywhere away from the backsliding, then I tend to lean into it more.

It’s such a dark writhing of backwards composure. It’s your brain in reverse, then forward, then reverse, then slow motion and subtitled – followed by a sinewy commentary to extrapolate any details you may have overlooked. Just to keep telling your insides that you are wrong again. It’s your own horror performance that you cannot shut off. It’s an art of self sabotage that will chip away at the very hope of you being able to reduce your guard to points where you can at least shield off the hailstorm of things replaying in your head. To find yourself grasping for an intermission, a breath, and a lightning bolt of connection that will undoubtedly sever that assembly line of garbage you are lined up to feed yourself in the moments ahead.

Just please undo, that which is done. Wipe those fingerprints away, and begin to peel it the fuck back. Bleach the stain that lingers behind the eyes that you see when you lay down for the fight at 3am. Rewrite the ending and sew underneath it a hand written note that screams “Don’t worry, I’m here – I’m not far…it’s ok”.

Repair, reprogram, rewrite. Find that better ending that you ultimately deserve, and hold on to it with everything you have. Panic, fear and anxiety – are all only temporary, and you are to drown them as furiously as you can.


“Gaff had been there, and let her live. Four years, he figured. He was wrong. Tyrell had told me Rachael was special. No termination date. I didn’t know how long we had together… Who does?”  –Deckard, Blade Runner 1982

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.