POEMS : 2011

2011-01-02

After the show

The ghosts of ridicule

The temptation to rebuild

To apologize to the phantom crowd

To say

I never meant to be so bold or proud

To rehearse again

The rehearsal

To step back on the stage

In an empty room

And pick out the tiny pockets of the past

And hide in one

Disappear into a moment that's gone

When you could never understand what it's like

To be seen

Even as a thousand eyes

Fell upon you

Like an unforgiving storm on the precipice of oblivion

---

2011-01-03

I still dance naked

in front of infinity's mirror

The reflection of lights

without underwear

Time spinning backwards

Held up by strings

Constantly cutting

But I still have my wings

I'm flying over

States of unrest

I'm still just a drifter

Without any nest

Looking for shelter

Inside your arms

Love is the crop

Insanity farms

Phantoms are picking

Us out of the earth

Flung up to space

Thru the legs of rebirth

Soldiers of fortune

And children of fear

Crying for mothers

Still dying here

But I still dance naked

I'm still alive

Though the death mongers

Would not have me thrive

I do it from love

I do it from grace

The beat of the spirit

The tune on your face

When you still smile

And when you still laugh

The dirt of our lives

In love takes a bath

And when we emerge

Renewed, fresh and clean

You are a princess

and I am your king

And we still dance naked

Infinity's mirror

In you I see

My hate disappear

In me you see

Your heart getting clear

And then we fall out of the sky

---

2011-01-04

Thoughts on art

Nothing should be wasted

(it's all waste)

(it's all wasted)

Hunger is good

Hunger is profound

But it can destroy

It's good to be hungry

But not starving

When things come from your animal survival

They hold more weight.

They are necessary

All the best things are necessary

Nothing is necessary

To survive as an artist

You have to be willing to bet your life

You have to be willing to surrender it all

And fall off the face of the planet

Into the cosmos

Into the face of the clock spinning backwards.

You have to be willing to live in a garage or along train tracks or in a mansion or a submarine

You have to be charged with infinity but confused about everything.

You have to be a clown and a king.

These are thoughts on art

Though I have no thoughts or art

Just a will to start and bleed

And maybe that's all it takes

A touch of nihilism goes along way

It's good too

To be a little bit suicidal

Not enough to actually do it

But enough to not care what happens to you

For you have to throw yourself

To the wolves

And they will show no mercy

As they rip your throat out

It's good to be able to smile

As if it's what you expected the entire time.

But then too

You have to trust

As if a child

As if your prayers will be answered as if the horrible things are still somewhere out there and in the distance

You have to feel protected(at least some of the time)

And still aiming to value life enough to breath more value into life.

You have to be beautiful when you are ugly

And ugly when you are beautiful

And amongst the cacophony of chaos

Amongst the city screaming it's indifference like a train through your skull

Amongst the billions of galaxies beyond this one and the billions more beyond

As the universe is expanding

Into what?

You have to believe

Somebody hears your whisper

Lying in the dark alone

Waiting for sleep to come.

---

2011-01-07

In the dark of grave yard chatter

In the light of freedoms call

In the heat of any matter

We travel as equals or not at all

Bloom disgust and class divide

I saw it written on the wall

The only way we can survive

We travel as equals or not at all

You can't be in greater comfort

As my pain prevents your fall

The truth will come and tell us brother

We travel as equals or not at all

And when we get to where we're going

Past the divide past the stall

Past the wind that's always blowing

Travel as equals or not at all

You might have a greater income

Or you might be dumb and dull

But either way I won't leave you

Travel as equals or not at all

So help me too in my slumber

If I'm blind in madness hall

If I'm deaf amongst the thunder

Travel as equals or not at all

Lift the way forget the ransom

Free the chain and kick the ball

Let our love take us higher

Travel as equals or not at all

And down the road

And thru the sky

And on the tracks

Hear the gull

Fly above us

Without worry

Travel as equals or not at all

I hope your road takes you homeward

And may you always outrun the law

If I'm with you we will always

Travel as equals or not at all

I will catch you if your lost

I will catch you if you fall

Yes if I'm with you

We will always

Travel as equals or not at all

Yes if I'm with you

We will always

Travel as equals or not at all

---

2011-01-17

We are melting

On ridges

Our bodies on hinges

Folding together

Melting

Like rainbows or catipllers

Or ghosts or pop songs

Melting into the ears

Like silence in dreams

Or madness which screams

Over rivers of

Faces of death

Melting into shadows

Looming

Forgotten together

Dead beats beating

Birds made of iron and rust

Melting into the earth

Headless sculptures

And dust

Melting your lust into a bust

Goodlooking and poised for the future

Aliens and sand people

Harpoons and winos

Geniuses misunderstood and fading

In their time

All melting into cities

Unforgiving surge of new people

Pushing them out and thru

We are melting

Into new forms

Different than human and yet human still

We bleed for the corpse of yesterday

Though their ghost begone and their song

Only a whisper now nobody can remember

or recommend

Melting into the grey dawn

As the new sun

Lifts up

To help the world follow thru

With it's promise

Of melting.

Bike riders

Joggers and the rest can't help or escape

The people and their dreams

Are melting

And falling into the river

Taking them out beyond time and danger

Taking them out to safety

Taking them to the end

Where they have melted into the melting

Melting again

---

2011-01-22

Inside of me there is a begging bowl

Empty as the sun pretends to be

And as I drop to whisper in it's hole

A random spirit comes to visit me

And you will say goodnight to every man

The ones you touch as with a phantom hand

Upon new skin and desert tides of love

You have begun to play with death again

Lost beneath your fiction a phantom glove

Will you come alive as the light within

And we can weep but not from sadness now

And in your field for dreams, the endless plow

To escape this body and mortal place

To ascend beyond the reach of your will

To wear for now an angels loving face

To be of earth without the need to kill

And so you paint your name on twilight skies

And so you transcend the realm of goodbyes

And all is forgiven for a moment

And in your charge the will of god is found

And all is enlivened and silent

And in your hope, the hope of man unbound

And now you've gone beyond the reach of life

To liberate your heart without a knife

---

2011-01-22

I woke up at 430

How are you?

I've split up with reality

I like the zoo

Let's go live in the monkey cage

Let's just hybernate

Thru the winter of our dusk

Twisted up like fate

I wish we could talk some more

But your words truly splinter

And tiny shards like wild cards

Change for me the center

And tiny shards

Like wild cards

Get stuck inside my brain

And on the tracks

I move thru fields

On a burning train

Horses follow

And homeward doves

Chased by crows at night

I look to you

But get struck blind

By the gift of second sight

Let's collect our misery

In houses made of bones

And cover them with hide and skin

And call it all our own

And let's pretend that we are them

The ones still throwing stone

At the wall

That's never there

we ricochet alone

Bloom disgust and highway greed

Survival is a trick

You turn and burn and look away

From the children who are sick

Is god a loon?

What will become

Of this story as it lives

With feelings real

And souls that steal

What bodies can't forgive

The elders say

They've had enough

They're ready to move on

But they want to see the children

Who will dream and carry on

Thru the maze of suffering

Thru the rooms of loss

If you make it

Thru the void

A hand ,a coin, you toss

Heads you win

Tails you lose

The world is made of chance

God is mad

And for our food

He wants to watch us dance

Yes god is mad

And for our food

He wants for us to dance

---

2011-01-23

I am perfectly upside down

Midnight is noon

Dreams are real

The sandwich is a submarine

And I am twenty thousand leagues under the sea

Right by the moon

A bird in a tree

A child of dance

On infinite tip toes

An old man and rocking chair

Understanding at last

Why the wind blows

A fallen leaf

Spinning by withdrawn eyes

I dance for them all

Though they may not notice

And so I am the dance

Dancing itself

Beyond rays of sun

Into the hand of oblivion

I wait for you to come

---

2011-04-06

The first six days of Hong Kong

1

The thousand year old egg

We had almost finished our brown noodles

His had just green things on top

Mine with mysterious clumps of fish meat which I avoided

In my exhaustion

They became beings

They grew feet

They had little minds and they ran for cover whenever my fork would come plunging down

Two older Chinese men were drinking beer and eating brown noodles

And encouraging us on

We were in an alley

And even in the dark

The boxes of trash were like street rainbows in cartoon land

The flight over was sixteen hours

And in that time I took ambien and Xanax

And still felt like I didn't really sleep

But do remember wandering the isles of the plane and even visiting the restroom in bare feet.

(gross I know but strange things happen when you allow yourself to dream while awake)

But back to the noodle shop

I couldn't keep my eyes open

The stress of packing from the night before for this

the beginning of four months on the road

The fat kid who cooked our food came to our table

He said

You want thousand year old egg

Peter said I'll try it

My mind began racing

Someone had told me

Never eat the thousand year old egg it's gross

But I remained silent

The fat cook sliced it in two

The Chinese men were chuckling behind rows of empty bottles

The fat cook passed me half

I waved it off

But Peter without hesitation

Amongst the laughter and obvious dare

Just shoved this green and black thousand year old egg in his mouth and swallowed

I waited for repulsion to take over his face but all he did was

Say

It tastes just like an egg

And proceed to finish the thing off

I couldn't believe it.

I said to the two Chinese drunks

He's very brave

They laughed and said

He's not brave

He's crazy

I agreed

Peter said

I don't know why you guys are laughing

It tastes just like an egg.

2

Blow up

The first show ended up being in front of twenty or so people

In some warehouse in the boonies

On the fifth floor

Squatters having taken over the third floor

Where I was aloud to paint

Eight or so biggish canvass for an art show locked in abstraction

We bought huge amounts of art supplies

Spending exorbitant sums

Always rolling the dice at oblivion and then ducking into the corners of distraction and prayer

Delusion and the need for mercy or some master plan

The day started well enough

Meeting reign lee in the lobby

She took us to a radio station where in the cold spit of dawn I whisked thru a couple of numbers triumphantly.

But where the day ended

My pedal boards

Blowing up

Smoke pouring from transformers

Under cages of mystery and expertise

And Brian drunk out of his mind and speeding

In my face and everyone else's till I told him to step off

He kept saying tonight we ride

And I could feel my sober spine stiffen up

As the red lights flickered in the nearby hood.

3

The acid kicked in

Finally wound up in front of a roomful of enthusiasts

It was a little cafe called the kulture klub

And the pa was a mono signal so when I asked for more vocals

Reign lee said just turn down your guitar but despite sonic limitation

The show really rocked. Largely because the audience willed it to rock

And so I fell inline with their collective vision

With the ease of a feather slowly falling from a high rise

In safe anonymity of the cool evening darkness looming all around.

It's moments like these I live for as a performer.

Moments like these I'm never guaranteed and often take for granted.

Jet lag was on full throttle and the heaviness of my eye lids protracted new lines of exhaustion onto my already beat down visage

But I let my lids fall

And snuck past the exhaustion easily to the source and the soul of my music

And sung the pain of the day and of the days behind and the days yet to come into some of the worn out words.

And I could've played all night and the crowd really wanted more but I left them that way

Cause there was yet another gig to do starting at midnight just down the street.

Thru the chaos of the crowd all hungering for euphoria and oblivion.

The day started sleepless at seven am

A breakdown of loneliness and self hatred

Even the hotel breakfast was difficult to deal with as I walked past the eyes in the room I wanted to disappear

My mind thrashing me about

Scattering me over all the plates in the room

I was consumed by the room

And I let my mind stomp me as I scarfed down my food.

We had to put up the art show in And also take the pedal boards to be fixed

During the day

We wound up at a bakery called And immediately I wanted to abandon everything

It was a essentially a coffee shop with very little clean wall space.

And right away I could see the futility in what we were attempting and also the energy it would take

But I figured out the most painless and really the best way to display what we had

And then set about losing myself in finishing the artwork I started only the day before

Suddenly then I was in my element

Dancing with the muse in a foreign land

And the creative energy sparked the others and so they got creative with their hanging duties and after a few hours we actually had a pretty cool little art show up and running

The guy who ran the place was an ex English hard ass who has rep as a dick and seems to hate Asians. 

He cussed out our driver before even saying hello to us for only trying to help unload our work.

But we got passed all that with the momentum of creative spark.

And i forgave the situation as it fostered from me new work I liked.

Useless as it was.

With only a few hours till the art show we took the pedal boards to Kowloon. (It's called the dark side in Hong Kong.) 

Where we found the only guy in Hong Kong who could fix the blown out transistors

It really was a kind of miracle and he really was a kind of saint.

Back to the hotel

Already late

Met up with Brian

Already drunk

And then we made our way back to the art show

Which was a complete bust

The dude in charge cursing us under his breath for being late

Putting the blame of the failure of the thing on our tardiness

Claiming many more people were there but left cause we were late

But we weren't that late and we were scheduled to potentially perform at the time we arrived

At this point though it wasn't about getting into it with the freak out king

But rather damage control and exit strategy

And the kulture klub waiting

And a small victory just ahead.

4

Macau

Woke up and told Brian he had to sober up

It's all or nothing

Either get it together or we gotta split company

He agreed

And we had a make shift meeting

In the early part of the day

A true dawn for him and myself

God was in the room as we discussed the need for redemption

And tapped into historical avenues of recovery and spirit

Tears were shed and connections were made to each other and too our own souls

My own desire for sobriety and to be of service

To my brother was restored somewhat

And proper cycle of my path, revealed

God works in mysterious ways and it may seem that he is dead non existent or just doesn't give a fuck but in moments such as these I feel his benevolence and power.

If it's delusion then so be it cause in this world I can't get through without his love.

They packed up all my paintings and I packed up my cameras and things

And then we were off to Macau

For another art show and gig

Angry dude at the first art show left Brian a message that if our shit (my art) wasn't out of there by two

He'd chuck it all on the street.

His violence and hatred amped up to epic levels

From who knows what but it can't be from us being a little late.

We didn't respond to his negativity the night before or rather we responded

With soul and kindness essentially leaving all his violence in his atmosphere

Like ninjas

Where it festered and probably kicked him down every stair case in his mind.

So by the next day he had no choice but to go psycho.

In any event they got all the art

And through ridiculous stations we managed it all on modern race car yellow ferry to Macau

It really was a sight to see

The three of us with the benefit of Chinese workers ethics of service and generosity

Transporting all these massive paintings from one place to another

Quite a few miles away and across a body of water.

It's like the paintings became living things on a field trip in the world

And wherever they went, an art show was had by all who passed them by.

In Macau the art show and gig were in a bar and grill

Connected to a massive casino in literally the biggest building by volume in the world.

We hung the show along with big paper pieces that had already been nicely hung that were sent from LA weeks ago.

Clearly we were in a different scene than the day before.

The energy of these people was fantastic and the will to make this event special, evident.

The show hung we priced the work

Hours spun by and then I played to emptiness and indifference or baffled and afraid curiosity amongst pockets of real enthusiasm, appreciation and love. Strange gig which I did not let defeat me but rather leaned into and kept finding moments of authenticity and magic.

I leaned into the songs and converted disdain into curiosity

And curiosity into enthusiasm.

Being out here is like starting again.

And really it's great

I accept the challenge.

After the gig

The art show was a living thing

And I took photos and then a funny thing happened

The paintings started to sell.

5

Hot Streak

First day off

The night before after our show we wound up at some club

Full of hookers and painfully loud horrid house music

I lasted ten minutes before bailing on the scene and finding my way to a seven eleven

And then to our flea bag hotel called the metropolitan

The beds hard as slates of rock as if your sleeping on a hidden commandment which states thou shall not sleep here

But in spite of that I fell onto my spaceship and took off into the land of dreams almost instantly

On the back of a mammoth roach

Riding thru the streets of Macau as I slept

Taking me up the hills into cathedrals in the sky and then thru the secret passages

Of low down street surrender and murder

At one point I was in the back of a limo doing giant bumps of blow off Bryans hand

But this was only a dream.

We had high hopes of seeing the historical things here

Maybe even bungee jumping with a camera on my head off something that looks like the space needle

We had hopes of doing high minded things

Visiting art galleries and the tombs of forgotten kings

But we wound up at the casinos

Doing what people do in Macau

Throwing our money at chance.

Bryan and I sat down at a two hundred dollar table

(the lowest minimum around)

(About 20 us)

And I lost hand after hand

Burning through two grand in no time

It was an unbelievable run of bad luck and i decided then and there that gambling was for suckers

Then we hooked up with Peter

And wandered around playing various games we never saw before

Figuring out the rules and then laying down our bets

My luck started to change

And I got a few more chips back

Then we found this new game called dragon/ snake or something

A coin toss two coins

I put down a hundred on a 25 to 1 bet

It had to hit one side red and one side black five times in a row

After it made it to the forth I closed my eyes and said to Bryan here's where my heart breaks

But then I opened them to crowd around the game cheering for my dumb luck

2500 boom!

I was back.

We went to dinner

Meeting with ray and the good people who put on our shows here

They took us someplace locals go

Amazing food and throughly unpretentious

Drinking sugar Kane juice

And eating fried spicy as hell fish

Taking photos and videos all the time

These people were/ are top and we had a great time

But I was bitten with the bug of winning

My addict mind spinning

I wanted to go back to the tables and hit those impossible odds

I wanted that rush of endorphins

And to skip through the clouds.

The first place we went after dinner was the Lisboa

Which turned out to be almost exclusively asian

And we were given some odd glances

We walked through the casino but the vibe was bleak and we decided to bail.

On our way out in the lobby was a parade of beautiful girls

Just walking in rows, all wearing tight dresses and high heels

Cleavage and legs bouncing off the walls of a gilded hallway somewhere in oblivion

We bought oranges off a vendor and watched them walk back and forth

Cops were all around

They were like salmon swimming up stream waiting to be caught by a bear.

One particularly pretty one went off with some old Asian dude

There were hundreds of them

Just walking back and forth

It's as if we entered a strange dream

I took out my camera but before I got it switched on

Girls said " no! " waving their fingers

Peter said man someones gonna smash your camera

I said you're probably right

And just then we decided it wasn't our world and took off

We went back to the venetian

Peter bailed

Just me and Bryan.

This time all we could find was three hundred dollar tables

And I began slowly eating through all the money I won before

Going back down until all I had was five hundred left.

On our way out I passed a five hundred dollar table and put the rest of my money

On one bet

I hit black jack

I let it ride and hit again

I won like five hands in a row

And was stacked like never before

Suddenly I had different color chips and shit

The rush was on

Endorphins blasting through.

feeling or the illusion of winning

I understand why people flock to these places

We're all so powerless in our daily lives

Little beings being stepped on all the time

By all the things

Which step on little beings.

Here is a chance to hold the fates in your hand and turn it all around

To be kissed on the forehead by lady luck

A Chinese guy sitting next to me said you are so lucky

But I lost a couple of hands and so I got up and wandered

Bryan only two days sober and shaking a bit wanted to bail

So I said ok let's get out of here but I was trapped

I wanted one more hit

I stopped at a roulette wheel

And kept hitting two to ones

Every time I won Bryan would get pissed cause he wanted to jet but it was like I couldn't lose

I had never had a run like this. Crazy.

But it was almost three in the am and we had much to do the following day

A boat back to Hong Kong and a gig at a jazz dive

So I agreed to cash out

Laying down a couple more bets on our way to the windows

Losing twice in a row

I got out just before it was gonna turn on me

A pocket full of money

And the buzz of victory helping me float home.

6

Last night in Hong Kong

Back in Hong Kong

The gig was actually great

A full house in a small room

But there was the energy

And rock n roll and fire

A real show

My pedals worked without blowing up

Though I was feeling sick before

And so

Was fogged up with medicine

But sometimes the best shows are the ones you're least in the mood for.

There is no real way to prepare

Just shut up and play!

Earlier

We woke up in Macau

And went straight to the casino

To play some more before the ferry

My winning streak continued playing roulette

Me and Peter studied for a quick second a lunatics system and then built systems of our own

You hedge bets

And try to trick the numbers into landing on your chips

I hit a number three times paying 35 to 1 on a hundred dollar bet

It was unbelievable

Normally I suck at gambling

It's in my family history

We lose at this shit.

But then won again at the black jack table as Peter and Bryan were

Keeping our pace towards the exit

It's a good thing I don't live in a gambling town

My addict mind knows no bounds.

And the endorphins were like a tent full of circus freaks going off in my mind

On the boat I had a scratchy throat

And felt run down from the nonstop action of this crazy week

But we rested in the hotel before soundcheck and the gig

Which went off like a proper goodbye

To colorful city which in the week I've been here has felt much longer

What was strange or foreign now looks normal

And what was normal I wish I could push into the strange.

But Hong Kong did take a piece of me

We didn't leave unscathed

We reached into the gut of the city

And took something and left something.

I think we will be back.

---

2011-04-08

7

Beijing

We landed here sick

My Wallet was missing

And into a hotel which was more like a hostel

Our French host took us down the road to a restaurant and we ate

Food so spicy

It poured back out through the pores of my face

Sweat and toxins

Whatever bug I picked up along the way

My head just spinning in an antihistamine fog

Came home got into bed

Stiff as a board but comfortable and slept

Goodnight Beijing.

The next day we wandered through back streets and shops

Stopping into a leather shop where I procured another wallet

(I am incomplete without a wallet. )

And then to a tea store where I sat with a lady

Who brewed and poured an assortment of green, black and white teas

Pouring hot water on tiny statues of buddha and dragons

Which turned from dark brown into yellow and back again

I reached in to a pocket I forgot I had

And found the wallet I thought I lost

I took it as a sign

Being a tea snob

I went ape shit

I even bought a cup little Wayne would drink tea from if little Wayne drank tea.

And other little items

Silk scarves and such.

We wandered back through the neighborhood of shops and street

Not unlike Bleecker street in NYC

But then again totally unlike Bleecker street in NYC

A blind man played an instrument with one string and bow

Moving to the energy beneath him

All the feet and commerce walking past

He- the spirit finding his way through the darkness of the sun

Singing softly to the bustle as it tries to bury him,

Even as he orchestrates it into strange melody.

We got home took a break

Then we went to see Bob Dylan play his first ever show in china

(I guess I beat him to it)

It was actually awesome to behold

Something symbolically great about the whole thing

Beyond the protest singer singing in a socialist country

Bob Dylan has always stood for more than protest

Bob Dylan is the freedom to be your own revolution.

Bob Dylan whether he wants it or not is a walking revolution.

The fact that the government would have to approve his set list

And that there are songs which scare them,

speaks more powerfully than anything a simple song could say

Freedom is what's scary

But you can't hide somebodies freedom when they are really free

Bob Dylan tore down the structures of popular song

He changed what they could be

And what they could contain

He can't help but represent freedom

Against the old guard

Even as he himself becomes the old guard.

The government can pick out his songs but they can't hide the power of freedom

And it felt like the people who flocked to the concert

Were there not only to see a musical event

But a preview of what life could be

And a spirit of someone afforded opportunities of growth they could only dream of

I just sat at side taking pictures. Trying to capture one moment that understood what was happening

Don't think that I did

Not sure that I could

We wandered home

Getting supplies for our hostel

Me and Bryan stayed up and spoke of sobriety

Another kind of freedom

To witness him become who he is

Over the last few days is probably the most inspiring aspect of this journey

I've only ever know him as drunk

But in fact he's considerate and sweet to a fault

This trip is packed with meaning and purpose

Its revealing itself

It's unfolding

Like a dream

Or chapters in a book of dreams.

Tomorrow the great wall

Tonight the great sleep.

8

The great wall

Maybe it's like being space

Or in space

Or the ocean

Or in the ocean

Floating on the unfathomable

The bedrock of history

Imagine the armies that marched up and down that thing

Imagine how many lives

Lost in the bricks

How many souls

Still peer through the cracks

There's no real way to reach the place it's going

Or to understand fully from where it comes

It's a wall

They say you can see from space

And it goes on

Longer than a thousand nights

And it's deeper than a million days

We drove one hundred and forty miles north west

Through flooded rural towns towards Mongolia

And at one point we took steps into Mongolia

While climbing up and down steps built five hundred years before the birth of Christ.

Still, all around, you could buy souvenirs and diet cokes

And put on an outfit like a Mongolian warrior to do battle with a friend for a photo.

You have to duck past that jive to have the spiritual experience manifest which isn't hard to do before the grandeur of the endless mountain landscape surrounding everything.

Humans are demented beings to erect a wall such as this

Beautiful dumb godly enchanted demented beings

And we flock to pay tribute to our collective insanity

Which can often be the birthplace of beauty and the divine

Everywhere around is a play of opposites

Ricocheting and reacting to create some expression of the wisdom of need

Like we dare ourselves to defend our cruelty in the light of the desire of the divine

And this is the great wall

It goes on forever.

We took toboggans down the mountain

Racing through the wind and trees through silver shoots

I held my camera in the air

And let it film the speed of escape

The return of innocence

After the giant foot stomp of history.

After the wall

We met our host and his wife and the other artists who will play with me tomorrow night.

Walking through Dongcheng which is where our bohemian hostel is

I couldn't stop snapping photos as everywhere you looked, there was something picture worthy

I fell far behind my compatriots,

But eventually made my way to the big spread of spicy food

Snakes blood and coke

We met Xiao He Who is renowned as a great improvisor and artist

He uses loops like me but improvises

He had some kind of back surgery earlier that day

And was in pain but came to meet us anyway (unbelievably)

But had to excuse himself early

After dinner we went to some tiny jazz club

Where a very good trio was jamming for a packed room of smoking hipsters

As if transported to another time

I couldn't imagine it in America even though there was something purely American about it.

With a youthful will towards freedom

The oppression can't last

But downtown near the embassies guards stand erect at two in the morning

And soldiers are marching through the streets as if it were bootcamp at dawn

Even as jazz music echoes through the corridors of their aimless trajectory the

soldiers are taking their orders from saxophones

their marching is a well ordered riff into a music trying to break out of order.

The morning took us to Tiananamen Square

On the way I bought a sweet potato from a vendor who sold em

Off the grill attached to his bike

Green tea and sweet potato for breakfast

On our way to the massive square

Soldiers and families

Tourists like us snapping pics

Kids waving red flags in the air in front of a giant portrait of Mao Zedong

I bought a cheap watch with his hand saluting in time with seconds

He's considered a hero here and the massacre of students in 89 is not acknowledged as actually happening.

The sun shined on the giant space framing the government buildings with intimidation.

I got dirty looks from the young soldiers when I tried to take pictures of them

And a strange looking man started tailing us

Bryan was sure he would smash my camera

But we were left alone

With all the days off

I almost forgot the reason of our trip was to play music

And so tonight we played the ephemeral festival with Stranded Horse and Xiao He

Both really great and inspiring artists

Xiao is the best live looper I have ever seen

Amazing improvised soul excursions

Along with a masterclass on technology serving something deep rooted and ancient

Also just plain beautiful.

In Beijing it's so difficult to communicate with the cabbie

And even to find one to take us to the show proved difficult

We pushed it to the last minute and then

Were driven all over the city

Into real stress that we might not make the show at all

Considering this festival was the initial reason for our trip

That would have been awful

But we made it and to a full room we played and painted

And left ourselves against the walls

And echoing into the silence as we prepare now for a six am to Shanghai

Two hours from now and without sleep

Packing up the days

Into the maze

Of our haze

As we phase

And blaze

The days

---

2011-04-13

9

Separated in Shanghai

We got to the airport in Beijing with plenty of time

But there was a problem with Bryan's ticket,

He didn't have one for our flight.

So Peter and Bryan ran around for a half hour or so

While I tried to make conversation with someone who didn't speak any English.

how long have you lived in Beijing?

Yes Confused look etc

Finally we got it worked (or so we thought)

And started making our way through security

Each with a few bags and guitars

A total cluster fuck of art supplies, souvenirs and the stuff we came with

Peter was ahead of me

And I saw them pull my box cutter knife out of his bag. Oops.

And then my screwdriver

I thought that would be it for this flight but they let him through(sans weapons) and I sailed on by

Rushing to the gate

I heard Peter say to Bryan

We aren't on this flight!

In all the confusion earlier, Bryan got a different flight

No time to discuss how we will meet up in shanghai

We just had to book it to our gate

All the way to the other side of the airport

We walk/ran

And getting on the plane

Peter was asked to hold up, where as I was let right on

Sitting on the plane now alone about to take off to shanghai

I figured the box cutter was too much and they were detaining him and that I would have to figure it out when I got there alone

Meanwhile

They took Peter to a dark corridor

Some flight attendants and a chinese cop

Holding Bryans bag full of documents and mug shots of Dennis hopper

The Chinese cop yelled at Peter

Sweating from the run there and back and sure he was already missing his flight

is this your bag?!

Peter reached for it to see what's in it but had his hand swatted

no touch bag!

is this your bag he yelled again

Pulling out pictures of Dennis hopper and Bryan

Peter said

It's not mine but one of my friends who's on a different flight

Peter tried to get the bag but the cop let him know it wasn't going anywhere and miraculously they let him run back to the plane and make our flight.

We landed in shanghai exhausted from the sleepless night before

Reggie our host/promoter picked us up at the airport and was really cool

Riding into shanghai ,the city most like the west

The city most like NYC

And the most modern city I've ever seen

The French imported trees lining in regal symmetry the streets in the French district where we were staying

The cherry blossoms floating in the air from the cherry blossom tree in front of our hotel were beautiful and dreamlike as they danced in the sun to welcome us

Bryan came into the lobby shouting

Tonight we ride and then half hugged me and half punched me in the throat, and we were reunited.

I crashed and slept for five hours and then went to soundcheck

The club was small and cool but the step down transformers they had weren't big enough for my gear

And the PA didn't have basic things like a working DI box

So Reggie hustled around trying to find something workable as we ate at a seedy neon noodle joint.

This is a new frontier out here

The live music scene just beginning to bubble

You get used to adverse conditions quickly or else you fold

I told Reggie not to worry, if worse comes to worse I can just plug in my electric and sing songs

My acoustic still broken from the last show( did I mention that?)

Along with a couple of pedals. The whole scene tore up from the floor up.

But I smile and slurp noodles and practice a zen mindset and wait.

When we got back to the club the place was packed and buzzing about the show.

It reminded me of my first tour in France

When places would buzz and no one knew what to expect

Least of all me.

We tried using the tiny converter against my better judgment and the pedals lit up like a Christmas tree for aliens

Plugging my whole rig thru a decent sized solid state vox amp (not preferred but workable)

The thing worked and I began the show as I sound checked at the same time

Halfway through the second song

Everything fried out but then swelled back

Fried out and swelled back

My lips touched the mic

Shock ! Welcome to china!

I finished the song to wild applause

Everyone understanding the odds I was against but we were all in it together

I said let's see how many songs we can get through

And it all worked for a couple more

But then would fry out and swell back and fry out and swell back

The room just smiled though

The night had magic

Reggie and Peter on the side of the stage by the DJ booth

Wide grins

As I made my way through another few numbers.

The show ended strong

Painting live to crying like a man

After singing with more passion

You are free

A cool Chinese kid bought my painting

And identified all my equipment

He knew everything about vintage gear

The year of my guitar

Everything all my pedals did and didn't do

and so we geeked out for a bit by the side of the stage

Talking over loud house beats

Thru a language barrier

But people are the same the world over

He wondered why I had any digital effects being what he called a vintage guy

I said I like to mix up the old with the new

I ain't no purist.

My eyes still heavy from work an adventure meant that I only lasted ten minutes at the club we went to after

Bryan avoiding the temptation of the Saturday night crowed bailed even earlier

Goodnight shanghai.

10

Fake shit

Walking through the streets of shanghai on my own

Downtown shopping district

Sunday afternoon business

Two ladies one with child

Handed me a card

Had pics of rolex and Louis Vuitton bags

They said "you come"

And started walking

I followed

Curiosity killed the cat

After two blocks I started to get wary but

She looked back and pointed to an alley

I saw a man see her and walk in ahead

I crossed the street but at the entrance of a hazy corridor I said

No and started walking away

Thinking this was some kinda set up for a mugging

She smiled and said

Come come come

Against my better judgment

I decided to trust her

And walked through the corridor

Up beat down stairs in a dilapidated building

Which opened up into a shop

Well lit and sorta nice

With tons of designer bags,watches,wallets and even shoes and underwear

All on shelves and lit up like a shop in Paris

I looked at the watches and some kid

A dude about twenty

Started the hustle

Pulling out rolexs

IWC and others

"which one you want?"

"you want two?"

I said they're fake no?

He said

Good fake

And took a screwdriver and tried scratching the face of a rolex

see no scratch, you try you try,

I said how much?

We went back and forth

I picked up other stuff

A louis Vuitton bag and wallet, some gucci underwear, even shoes in my giant size

IWC watch

All fake

But all really believable

Like the kid said

Good fake

This is designer shopping for broke folks

It was fun

She guided me through other alleys

Up other seedy stairwells

There was a whole network of these shops

Tons of them

They give you a price

It equals about 500 us dollars

You offer 50

They act offended

You act like you're gonna walk

They come back with 400 

You come back with 75

They balk again

You get up to leave

They think you might go

They say what's your final price

You pull out a hundred dollar bill

Show them the money

Try to hand it to them

They refuse

You really leave

They follow

They say ok 150

You say no 100 and keep walking

They say ok unhappily

You get tons of killer fake shit

For not much money

(editors note

There may be no such thing as killer fake shit)

11

tripping under a river

Me and Bryan went to the Bund

The last night of shanghai and this china experience

His last night in china after being in hong kong for years

The Bund is the name for their ultra modern city landscape of lights

And buildings

We took a small subway amusement park ride under the river to the other side

Lights swirl around the tiny glass car as if Walt Disney was on peyote and had an axe to grind with your dreams.

At one point the car runs into inflatable scary characters shaking back and forth

With the force of air

Like those giants found outside of car washes in random towns of America.

A random voice pipes in

With random facts which I ignored while filming the whole thing

People behind us appearing in reflections mumble low Chinese to one another

My cameras viewer cracked from god knows what

(It took a fall as we packed up last night)

I put my camera on a steady cam and walked through the streets and lights

Long steady shots that look as if done with tracks

In the background,

Buildings of lights and lights of buildings

They shut down right as the clock hit ten and

We rode the ride back

Same Walt Disney on acid lights

Same random voice with ignorable facts

Same blow up dolls dancing haunted until we ran them over

And after a short stop at a gift shop on the other end

For water and Gatorade or the Chinese equivalent

Plus a look at fake/real jade ear rings

We were gone

I mounted a different camera on the roof of the taxi

Another taxi driver

Shouted at me

And alerted our driver

Who got out to see what I was up too

I told him

It's a camera

He smiled and nodded and got in

The other driver began to laugh

We rolled through the lit up future city

And were soon back to our hotel's neighborhood

We went walking

Ate food

Great noodles and tea

Walked around until a woman beggar wouldn't leave Bryan alone

And so we stopped into a foot massage place

Where I found god with tiny hands

Who woke me up

With steady the steady madness of her skill

As the circulation sent chill waves to the top of my head from the bottom of my feet

Soaking in strange brown water

Or magic elixir

I say I found god cause I started to pray

All at once and spontaneous like.

Soon though I drifted into a dream

Lost focus and concentration

And I became some dude getting his feet rubbed

Instead of a spirit of light eternally grateful

But then I noticed and returned to a space of grace

Her hands sending signals through my feet to places my heart went numb.

After that

The temperature dropped and so we took a cab again

Back to the hotel to pack

So much new crap to sift through

Bags of cameras, musical gear, painting supplies

We sold the painting last night and I knocked one out on commission earlier in the evening

It's a rolling multiplex, multi craft studio on the road

And as I packed and packed

I realized I didn't have my steady cam

Quite a costly and important piece of gear

Panic set in

Where was it and how could I be so stupid.

Self flagellation to begin in earnest

Beyond annoying

Beyond frustrating.

At five am I woke up Bryan and Peter cause I had to see if I left it in their room

Also I needed a phone charger

Our epic journey to LA lobby call at 8 am

It wasn't there

It was nowhere

It's not massive but it's not tiny

No one would no what it is and even if they did there is no such thing as thieving here

I must've set it down somewhere in the celebration of the trip

Just spaced

Maybe Walt Disney on mushrooms stole it

Damn that guy!

Anyway collateral damage

I negotiated with my head to leave me alone

But I found myself hiding in a corner and I kicked my face in.

We said goodbye to Bryan

Still sober and inspired.

He flys back to NYC

Even longer than our trek to LA

He talked about his plan for NYC and he left us strong and with purpose.

Peter and I

At the airport with absurd amounts of weight and luggage

Almost everyone of our too many bags was over weight

(I'm re packing in LA

And taking nothing.

I hate stuff.

Especially killer fake stuff that breaks almost immediately.)

We had to go from security back to baggage check-in three times

And also I had to go to a private room

To let them search all my crap.

I'm used to it. A freak is never safe.

I must've done a good job hiding all the drugs and weapons cause

I'm on the flight and it's currently zooming us to my second home. LA.

Peter and me sharing a row of four seats. Not bad. 12 hours. Childs play.

With all our bootleg DVDs bought on the streets of Shanghai

Not to mention books and a sleeping pill and the fact that I haven't slept in a week

If I can forgive myself my stupidity(lifelong practice) I should be alright

I feel sad to leave China.

Sadness like the sadness when you graduate first grade

Or lose your first tooth

It's wonderful to experience a different culture and people

It alters your perspective and hopefully makes you a little freer in your own universe

The world is big. Big. Big.

And we are small small small.

Somewhere in Shanghai someones using my steady cam as a hammer

Or Walt Disney is mugging childrens dreams with it

Either way I'm gone. And it's gone

But I'm gone

And China is a magnificent swirl of madness and color, bumping and burning through repression.

I'm lucky to have seen it

I leave humbled and enlivened

Socking myself in the face.

12 

crash landing

Upon arrival

Top Jimmy from 1984 era Van Halen in my head for some unearthly reason

On the flight home

Or here

I watched winter bones and five episodes of lie to me which all seemed to be the same episode

I wish someone would invent a plane that was all just shelves of bunks

Call it living dead air

Play scary music in isles and light it up with purple and black lights

Burn incense and offer foot massage and other services

It's 10 am in LA

And I am waiting with the truckload of luggage as Peter takes a shuttle to the rent a car scene.

Back in America

I feel more alien

Like I got China hidden in my pocket

Like I could reach it

And throw it in front of me and step back into that world on a whim

I'm inspired to travel

I want to go everywhere and see everything

I remember coming to LA when I was 18 and this was the foreign land

I met John Entwistle and even talked with Sam Kinison at the rainbow bar and grill

On sunset strip

I flirted with the bar keep and when she asked me where I was from I lied and said new York

(Ohio didn't sound glamorous enough)

She said oh really I used to live there

What street you live on?

I said main street

She looked puzzled

I admitted the lie

She smiled.

But now LA is like home too

Alternate reality home

A place for my show biz self to spread wings

But I want to go where I haven't been

I want to see what I haven't seen

To go deeper into the unknown

To dismantle all ideas of myself and the world

And to build them back up with less fat and false hood

I don't care about fame and money

I just want to live

And I love art and music but I feel like

It's time to move in another direction

No need to retire or quit

Just look at things with bolder eyes

And give up the apologies you offer yourself

And in their place

Just live.

We went straight to a burrito joint on sunset

I was still wearing phat pharm jogging pants,

Fake Louis V slippers

And a silk jacket which Bryan told me looked like something Sylvester Stallone would wear

A true alien from another plane

We left China at one pm Monday

It was now one pm on Monday in LA

We stopped at a bank to exchange currency and had some they wouldn't take

(money from hong kong)

I felt like king kong on the empire state building

But the planes I was swatting were in my mind

And the girl I was holding was made of time

Becoming a ghost

Slipping through my fingers.

I fell on my bed back at Mandy and Bens place

The paintings I did last month still on the walls

Dreams caught with performance on canvas with paint

Got loose as I starred at them from exhalations corner

They began moving around the room

Faster and faster

The paintings expanding all across empty walls

Running along the corners of the room

Up my legs

Over my hands and arms

Up my neck and past my mouth

Draining back into my eyes until finally

I was asleep in America.

---

2011-04-24

Rehearsal in LA

Suddenly back again

Driving a rental

Down the highway in the sun

Trying to make maps work on my phone

I almost rear end half the highway

Listening to classic rock on the radio

Jerry Garcia band singing tangled up in blue

The story so rich

The simple words shake from the speakers like Shakespeare going sonic

I pick up Thai food with a friend

I pour on tons of red hot spice to try and trick my tongue into thinking it's back in China

Suddenly back again

But not quite

Still spaced from the flight

Driving to rehearsal at noon

And then with the boys

And girl

Playing again

Laughing and singing

Being part of a group

A lot like the first day of school

Check out my new clothes

I love that belt

It's fake

I know

That's what's cool about it.

And then a dinner

Half the Venice music scene

Eating around a giant Mexican table

I split a crab enchilada with the lady next to me

Drink an ice tea

And split for home

Driving on sunset

I stop in at a tattoo shop to see some old friends

We were just talking about you

Come on back and give us more to talk about

How's Friday ?

I get home early

And too tired to motivate

I just lay there

Or here

And let the day run circles around me

From across the room my phone

Lights up with texts

But sleep hits before I can get up to check

14

LA tidal wave on a pedal board spaceship

I need stress management

I'm not sure when it got this way

When it all started to overwhelm

But LA was a tidal wave

Of non stop activity

I rebuilt my pedal board

I spent days at true tone swapping pedals

(before or after rehearsal)

I got something for vocals at guitar center

I added a new looper for my vocals

But then wanted to be able to loop my guitar on the vocal looper

And my vocal on the guitar looper

I cut cables and lined them up

I carefully doled out real-estate on my pedal boards and had to cut things out

I had to limit in order to expand and then I had to test and re test

Add kill switches and buzz reducers

I became obsessed

I was up in the middle of the night

Cutting Velcro with a knife

At one point me and Peter raced to home depot and cut wood with a hand saw

And then I abandoned that idea

Pedals I just recently bought had to be traded in at losses

I had to trade in my fancy volume pedal for a run of the mill plastic one because it took less space and required no power

I went to an electronics store in Hollywood and tried to make my own power chords for a specific circuit none of which worked

I took my Frankenstein to Bardot and all it made was an incredible buzz

I reworked and rewired

I finally got what I desired

And the buzz was gone and the fuzz blessed out blissed out distorted delay revivals

As my voice ricocheted off of walls made up by sonic architects that existed only in crossed connections

Of electrical circuits pumped through like the very seed of life through my home made chords

Of nomads and sympathy.

Ideas plunge great minds into the depths of misfortune and misery

But they also keep the cancer away as you allow your eyes to dart across dark ceilings looking for instructions to the dreams your afraid to have.

LA was like this

The whole time

All the time

Not a moment was spared

Except of course wandering around the desert at the music festival

But that too had it's own stresses

So many things to see

Inspiration to be gleaned

Data to be received and processed

For the levels of evolution to be championed

Text message madness and shitty reception

All the beauty wandering, looming, strutting and assuming

All those eyes batting back and forth off naked legs dancing and rusting in the unforgivable sun

And then it was our turn to perform

After I met Clint and told him what a fan I was

I remember as a child watching his eyes steal the bad guys soul through the fuzzy reception of our no good tv

I said excuse me mr Eastwood and tapped him on the shoulder

A little intimidating but some opportunities can't be allowed to pass

I explained to him that I was in a band which took it's name from one of his movies

He perked up

Asked

When are you playing?

Six o'clock at the Mojave tent

Well I'll try to make it and check you out but it's up to the kids

I understand I said I just wanted to say hello and tell you I was a fan

We shook hands

And that was that

Peter snapping pictures like Sergio Leone

And I was transported to a desert in Italy

And we were about to face off

Or rob a bank

Or go on a mission to find a fugitive and bring him back to justice

Not really

But

I like to dream

We played our set

Everything running late

Right before showtime I noticed I had no acoustic guitar on stage

Just a black electric hollow body

I asked the guitar tech where it was

It's broken, can't get it to work, tried everything.

Really? That's odd. I just had it repaired and over hauled a couple days ago

Well can I use a spare one?

Yeah sure

Step onto stage

Still no acoustic

We begin

Electric sounds good

But where's the acoustic

I ask again

Three songs in still no acoustic

I ask the other tech

I get another affirmation that it's coming

Meanwhile I'm instructing my head to let go

Now is the moment

We are on stage

Now is the moment

All other moments point to

Now is the moment to deliver your voice in the group voice

Your love in the group love

Your energy in the group energy

Now is the moment and there will never be another

Five songs in

Still no acoustic

I tell my angry head to go away

Two acoustics descend from both sides of the stage

We are told

One more number

Our set

Cut short

I have acoustic guitars now

But our last song requires electric

The universe pokes me in the chest and laughs

It takes me a minute but I laugh too

Dirty harry in my head

With a magnum

But all the bad guys are just images in a mirror

I could shoot them all

But they would just shatter into loneliness

The shards would splinter into silver webs and a widow would bite my neck

We eat together

Me and D. Along with others

Breaking bread in celebration and love

It's good to be back together

It's good to sing our song.

Before the festival

There was Venice

And then there was the festival

And lyric sheets to complete

I procrastinated for months

Hand drawing the lyrics

And with Y driving my rental

As we listened to the radio

On our way to the desert

I copied them all down

And then I drew pictures on them

And then I spilled coffee on them

In a parking lot of a motel

I soaked em on the asphalt

And then I turned em in

With additional drawings

And that's the booklet for the graduation ceremony

Preeya left today

And I gave her a whole suitcase full of crap I don't need or want and still we are overwhelmed

But there's no more minimal way to carry on

At some point I realized

What we are doing with the pedals and looping and live painting and filming

Could very easily justify multiple crews

And we are a crew of two

Four guitars

Two in a double gig bag

Two more in hard cases

Two pedal boards

Each one fifty pounds and right at the limit

Two big suitcases

One mine

One peters

A small suitcase for harmonicas extra chords, power supplies, a couple pedals that don't fit in the boards and my tea(very important)

Not to mention merch and art supplies which find there way in pockets away from where they can spill on clothes

I have only two pair of pants

A few t shirts

Two jackets

A pair of boots

And low top chuck taylors

It's as minimal as can be and still too much

A keyboard in my suitcase.

(I'm not complaining. Just explaining)

We pulled up our rental car to the curb

Had a guy help us

Both running to the check in

A couple of airport cops behind us

The guy helping with our bags said

You can't just leave the car there

But we did anyway

Hazards blinking

Better to get a ticket than to miss our flight

They'll tow you he said.

We checked in

I dealt with the check in as Peter ran back to negotiate with the law

Make my day punk

We only paid an extra one fifty even though we had way more than that over.

But the fates our with us

And now austrailia awaits.

15

Austrailia is spelled Australia

The bungalows at Byron bay

We arrived in the morning

Everyone in the band was on the same flight which as it happens is unusual for us

We live in different worlds

And come together for the music

I am the street urchin

I live in a garage

I fly coach

If I wear Louis Vuitton or gucci you better believe it's fake.

I jam econo man!

But when I visit this world

I end up in fancy places

The spread for breakfast was unbelievable

Bla bla bla

I ate smoke salmon and eggs and mushrooms that don't make you trip

I saw dudes from bands I played with in the past

Names escape me

One said

I saw you on the plane man and you were out

Another said

Every time I passed your seat you were a different kind of out man

Way way out

And I was too

I've discovered the secret to unacceptable flying times and conditions and it's called sleeping pills

I'm not worried about relapse because that was never my thing and I don't get into that unless it's an emergency

And believe you me

When I fly( all six foot five of me) from Australia to London for 22 hours in coach. That shits an emergency!

Finishing up my breakfast

Two cute girls approached me

Hi

Oh hi

I met one of them in San Fran

We are staying next door to you

Oh really well show me to my room

Hey

How did you know where I'm staying

We saw a rooming list they giggled

They started walking me thru the outdoor maze of nature

The air was thick

The air is thick

Birds are chirping

And poison spiders are hiding in my shoes along with snakes in the toilet and crocs in the swamp

We passed over a bridge

These girls I didn't know each showing me to my room

What kind of dream is this?

I pass D and Dz and Alan

Hey man where are you guys going

To buy a skateboard and goto the park

They look at me and the girls and think they have it sussed but it's not what it appears

The girls just drop me off

And I tell em I'll see em later at the festival.

And then I sleep again

In a lavish bungalow

Aggressive dreams

They beat me up

But I lay in a web of mercy

A spider of solitude

No real need to fear or do anything at all

The whole world

Just comes to me.

16

I prefer the shit hole

As I wait for the chef to make my pancakes and eggs sipping on green tea

While samba music plays in the light comfortable breeze amongst the pleasant chatter

Of the rich folk

Enjoying there stations in life

I need to get out of this cage of comfort

The sleepy low end zone of snoozy plushness vibrating off of every wall

Or window wall giving way to hall ways of rainforest and the infinite

The gym waits by the perfect photo ready poolside and the bikes all lined up say hi with little rusted mouths

Future rust as it's not there yet

Now it's perfectly painted newness

Now they're playing soft electro and my mind is shutting down.

I prefer the shit hole

It forces you out into the elements

It is the elements

You must face the place your in

Deal with it's reality

Your money or prestige can't help you

In a shit hole your soul wakes up

It must eradicate itself from where it's landed

But in a nice place

It wants to go for a swim and snooze

It wants a fancy breakfast and an ocean view

And the staff treat you a certain way

They are well groomed and friendly

In the shit hole if they are friendly it's cause they like you or are just that way but they are free to spit by your feet

There is no money that can protect you from their misery

(update. I prefer nice places. Staying in a shit hole now.)

17

Grace jones is the ocean and fistful say goodbye for now

I wandered around after breakfast

The loneliness of the road creeping in

A cloud of depression sent me back to my room

And I slept until one

I got out of bed determined to get out and see some of the town or the ocean

Maybe rent a bike

With no real plan I walked through the rain forest to the lobby

There I saw Ben and Dhani and Jessy and the others all around a table with food and drink

They invited me to hang but I told em I wanted to see the ocean

They told it's just a five minute walk through the rain forest swamp land

I began my trek

I heard birds speak aggressive tones to the shadows I was chasing

I came to a gate

Inserted my room key and it mechanically opened in a haunted way

As I got closer I could here the ocean though I was still in a heavily wooded area

I cut thru the rest of the way and like a dawn

The water revealed itself

Waves crashing on the shore

Very few people scattered around

Some running, some swimming and others just lounging in the sun

I took off my shoes and rolled up my pants

And felt the sand in my feet break through the crevices of my toes as I walked down the beach

And in the water

At first real cold

But soon it was warm and inviting me to jump in

I had no swim trunks or towel but one advantage to fake Louis Vuitton underwear is they easily pass for a guido bathing suit. Speedo style. Mine even happened to be red

So I found my own little section of beach and stripped down

Looking this way and that I walk/ran into the water and the coverage of the waves

The white foam sloshing around

In the shallow shallow

Being beat in the face

And swimming in deeper

Being pulled in and under

And fighting escape

The minerals and the sea salt

Soaking into my depressed self

Revitalizing my skin and state of mind in the sun

It was healing and necessary

It's hard to ignore the greater terms of your spirit when communing so closely with the big unknown

It's hard not to become like a child when being thrown around by waves into the sands of paradise

After twenty minutes or so

It was time to get out

Without a towel

I just laid in the sand

Felt the presence and said a prayer

I said I love you to the great unknown

Or the great unknown said I love you to me

It all happened at once

We are one saying I love you to the soul of it all

The soul of it all saying I love you to itself

I put my clothes on and walked back through the rain forest swampland. At first with no shoes until I saw white spiders run past me and remembering the potential deadliness of them I put my all stars on post haste.

Once back

Throwing my sandy clothes in the tub

I took a shower

And came out to the four o'clock lobby call a new man

Ready to play with fistful of mercy and to say goodbye to this first chapter of the band

The four of us sat around a table going through our songs

Dhani filled with enthusiasm and wonder

A spiritual force of belief and light

He disappeared and then came back saying

I just saw the most beautiful sunset and it made me cry

All of us were open

The songs sounding great our voices meeting in mid air and locking into chemical bliss

Jessy's string lines waving in underneath and lifting us up and bringing us down

Like the waves in the ocean earlier today

Ben being sensitive to everyone and singing from his heart as he always does

I felt blessed again and realized that this moment was just as real and held as much weight as it would when we were on stage playing for ten thousand people

Right before we went on at the side of the stage

The energy of the crowd inviting us in and on

Another kind of ocean

Another kind of cleansing

I said to Peter

Man I need a new suitcase

He just laughed and said

I'm glad that that's what's on your mind right now

I laughed back and said yeah but that's a good sign. It means I'm relaxed!

And it was and I was

Almost too relaxed

The band started with waste your time

And from the first moment on we had the audience. It was our night

Ben wailed on restore me

And during his solo Dhani came over to me

both of us doing our best to be a beastly rhythm section. My right foot pounding the kick drum.

For our last song we attempted to play with whom you belong without amps or mics as we had done on our tour

But realizing that the audience was just too big to really pull this off we reverted to our mics and lifted our acoustics by easing up volume pedals

The audience roared

During Jessy's solo Dhani came over to Ben and me

The three of us together giving each other a message of Love

It really was a beautiful way to say goodbye

And by the end of the song the whole audience was singing the song

"I hope you find friends with whom you belong"

Later that evening o the same stage I caught Grace Jones

Who blew my mind

Somehow I wasn't stopped and was allowed in the photo pit

The sonics were mad bass and groove

And grace looming over us all like a spider from mars

Just tore the whole house down

Changing outfits with small adjustments between every song

She came out from a darkened stage renewed and different

A new dream breaking over all of our heads

The band so good and locked

And I was literally right at the front of the stage with no one but the guy filming

Snapping pics with my little point and shoot

She was raging

The lights went down again

Her voice from the dark

Yelled

You want more love?

The audience cheered

She said well if you want more love you gotta give me something for it

I'll let you figure out what you gotta give me!

Make some mother fucking noise mother fuckers!

Class was officially in session

She was giving us all a lesson on how this is done

She came back out storming

62 years old and with a black one piece that left little to the imagination when she shook her backside

On a pole

Or wearing a mirrored hat under a laser which threw shattered light

Anywhere her head desired

She was painting us all with it

Throwing the lights against the walls of our collective imagination

As if Prince and David Bowie met in their primes and felt like combining forces

She owned it all.

18 

A rude awakening on the way to Melbourne.

In the morning me and Peter had a lobby call of 615

And trip to Melbourne where we spend four days doing nothing before the gig

Some of Bens crew and band also were leaving for the airport early and there was a group of mini vans to take us all the two hours out of paradise

Into an unknown city where we know no one

Before we even left for the hotel

One of my pedal boards and my double guitar bag were missing

The other van must've taken it by accident said Peter

Let's just go

On our way to the airport

We called the first van. They didn't have it

Worry crept in

We finally got in touch with the second van

And they didn't have it either

Worry turned into acute stress

I started thinking about how I could replace everything in Australia

And two of my favorite guitars were in that bag

One being a beautiful white Stratocaster.

No one could get in touch with the third van

Until an hour later by which time stress had skinned me alive

And my head was just a skull with cross bones

Riding in a truck to hell

The drivers phone rang

It was the third driver

He had it

Fuck sake.

Thank god

Now at the airport reunited with our things

We tried checking in

The lady said we had to check all guitars including the ones in a bag

I told her that was unacceptable

She then said

So you don't want to fly with us

I said I guess not

She then coldly asked Peter

Do you still want to fly with us

I asked to speak with her manager

Calling her out on her energy

She said sir I am simply telling you.

I said it doesn't matter what you are telling me

Your energy sucks.

The manager came

She suggested we switch our flight to their sister airline where we might have more luck

We agreed and marched our mountain of stuff to the other side of the airport

Where we were told the same story

But given an option to buy a seat for the guitar in a bag

We reasoned that with the excess bags

Buying a two hundred dollar seat would actually save us money

Peter tried to buy a seat

No more on this flight but on the next we could

Then our luck changed and they gave us the seat for free and let all our bags on without charge

My carry on weighing way more than the seven kilos limit sat heavy on my back like a dirty secret

So after wading our way through three flights

And an a couple hours later we were good to go

Once on board

The guitar bag fit easily and without any hassle in the overhead bin

As it had done since the beginning of time

Or since the beginning of rock n rollers touring and using planes

Beaurocratic insanity is all that we faced

Let us on the damn plane with our fragile instruments without making us go through a nightmare of stress so that we can bring y'all some music

It should be so simple

But people are bored and so they make up ways to torture the rest of us

I can't wait til guitars are virtual

And all I have to do is think the music and it will appear like electric blue raindrops falling from heaven.

Now writing from a coffee shop in Melbourne fifteen hours in the future from where I usually am

Everything more like a dream than it usually is

---

2011-05-22

19 

Maybe we were beautiful 

All the time

Even when we thought progression was over

And there was only ash in the mouth

Maybe it was all some form of cleansing

Some death

In which you live through

And some rebirth

Where you are already born

Maybe it's a test by where

If you live through

You get nothing more 

Than the knowledge that you lived through

Things that have killed many

And so you transcend

To a place in life

Where while still living

You have the freedom 

Of the dead. 

And this is your gift

To have seen the other side 

To know you are already dead

And the rest is just a dream. 

And maybe we are beautiful

All the time. 

20

Now it's English country side

On the way to manchester from London

And I'm on my own in the back of the van which will be home for the next month

Peter is gone

Phil is driving

And I've just flown 22 hours from Sydney 

Plus 2 hour layover in hong kong

Plus 2 hour drive so far

And we are talking 26 hours of straight travel give or take

The first part of the flight was eight hours which seemed ok

But I noticed as I was walking in the airport of hong kong I was talking to myself 

Usually a sign of exhaustion or insanity or genius

The babies kept me up

Sitting in the emergency exit row

One young mother kept shaking her baby

Like an aerobics instructor on crystal meth

Shake shake shake

Bouncing up and down bumping into me

A deep restless scowl on her face

Some people hate being parents

Her other little girl running up and down the isle screaming

Her young father chasing after her

Their screams matched by other babies screams throughout the plane

Nonstop screaming babies and the angry mom baby shaker

Who thought it best to shake her baby for eight hours in my row directly in front of me. 

So after the refuel stop in hong kong

The next leg was fourteen hours

And my seat was different so the baby shaker never found me

I was restless but took a pill and achieved some uneasy sleep

Looking out the window now there are sheep in the country side

And golfers in the green

It's a beautiful Sunday morning

And it's a wonderful surprise to be here in England again

Even though I've known about it for months

When you land 

You are here in the now

Wherever you are

And I'm still excited and thrilled and humbled to be able to go all over like this

For whatever reason

But playing music seems to be the greatest reason

Peter and I separated in sydney at seven in the morning 

Shooting the last of a video

And giving him all the things I didn't want or think I would need for the rest of the way

Australia came and went too fast

Melbourne was great for four days off

Being shown around by my friend Alex 

And shopping

Taking a taxi to Brunswick St. 

Buying a resin pin of an antique lady looking sad from a bottle cap

And a black hat that was fashionable back in the days of mod

Drinking countless coffees and finding this cheap and easy veg spot to have multiple meals

Filming a video at night along the coast

As birds flew around

One had a fish in it's mouth and just held it out of the water as it flapped violently against death

Only to disappear suddenly down the birds throat

I sang gypsy faded

Wearing my new hat

Peter filming in black n white

And I sang it

As we walked through the crowded Friday night street

People looking at me like a lunatic. 

The gig in Melbourne was my first ever in Australia as a solo performer

Clint the in house sound guy helped me rewire my still buzzy pedal board

And we got to the root of the problem

Playing for the people reminded me of my first shows in France

A deep enthusiastic energy coming from the crowd

Which seemed like something to live up too

Pushing me into truer states

Melbourne was good but Sydney was even better

Packed and enthusiastic

I made two paintings and sold em both

Played for two hours but could've kept playing all night

Met all kinds of beautiful people including a girl with eyes like opals

Also in Sydney shot a video for a song called call

Where I took the phone receiver from my hotel room

And with my friend Alex 

Went all over the city including up and down the dirty half mile which is the area for strip clubs ,hookers, drugs, regular clubs and the seedy side of life

Which also happened to be where our hotel was

And asked random people to each lip sync one line of the song in the receiver 

I shot it all in black n white

And felt great about the result

So many strange and interesting portraits I got

Through the excuse of a music video

I felt like Andy Warhol 

I couldn't have done it without Alex though

She has this trustworthy aura around her and one by one people were happy to oblige our odd request. 

Before Peter left for the airport I got all the footage on a drive

And so hopefully he gets it to Ehud back in NYC to edit it together and we get it up and out. It's gonna be a good one. 

Peter and I been traveling together since china

So saying goodbye to him and then flying for a million hours really feels like the next phase of this epic journey

Now with Phil 

The French tour manager

And we will meet up with Ian 

The English sound engineer

And we will play 25 shows

In 6 countries

In 31 days

A Frenchman 

And Englishman

And an American 

It should be a reality show

I'll try to continue to document it

But I will be in head down tour mode from this point on

Less like a dream and more like work

Though my work is dealing in dreams

You'd think I'd be tired

But I'm not really

I'm really just up for it

Completely and madly 

Up for it. 

22

Manchester morning after twenty hours sleeping and a big free beautiful English breakfast fry up. 

The problem with blogging. 

The line between what you reveal and what you don't. 

What you allow yourself to share

What you leave out

If there's nothing personal then it's a bore to read

If it's too personal then it's embarrassing or at least likely to make your actual life problematic 

And beyond that in this day and age of reader commentary

It becomes difficult to just be bold with what you share

Without getting a litany of misconceived advice(albeit well intentioned)

Or heaps of misunderstanding and worry

What I'm getting at

(the long way around)

Is wanting to describe the dark aspects of touring life

But being afraid to do so for the reasons listed above. 

For instance if I wanted to share that it looks as though my European label is closing, or falling asleep, and that I found this out the day before I arrive here in lovely Manchester for my month long European tour

And if I wanted to share

That this is massively destabilizing and cause for all sorts of self centered worry and fear

That the new album will just be passed by and trampled by the relentless throng of the monied and strong pop culture machine that endlessly chimes on. 

And if I wanted to share that in my dark moments I don't know how much longer I can carry on like this and also don't know what else to do

Except the idea of moving to India and becoming a humanitarian or else a barista at a star bucks somewhere in Wisconsin 

If I wanted to share these types of moments I would be afraid

That there would be worry from my mother and/or a litany of hang in there comments

Which in and of themselves wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that then it would seem like the motivation for writing such doubts and fears(and legitimate causes for concern) would be that I was angling for such things and really this couldn't be further from the truth. 

The real truth is

Whenever I make art/stuff

(And I include the form of blogging as art/stuff) 

I want it to be good art/stuff

And good art/stuff

Is balanced

It has negative

It has positive

It has to be well rounded

Or else it's a bore. 

And I really don't want to be that. 

23

One down

Tchad and Jackie showed up at soundcheck with their beautiful sons

Old friends from early real world years

Oddly the last time I saw tchad was when he mixed redemptions son

Which started on september 11 the day of the twin towers tragedy

And all the years later I see him again

The day they put Osama down. 

Such a crazy coincidence

It was great to see them

Always two of my favorite people

Jackie was the assistant engineer on big city secrets

Tchad mixed redemptions son

Compiled junkyard hearts

And mixed a version of come to where I'm from. 

Their sons who just got new boxes of Lego projects reminded me a lot of a slightly older version of my two nephews who I miss terribly. 

It was the first gig

So set up was slow

Showing Ian the way to set up my crazy ass pedal board which touch wood is working just fine

Tchad was snapping pictures with great cameras including one called a spin camera which takes a 360 photo. Wild!

We went out to dinner

Me Tchad Jackie and the kids

Tchad reminded me of old times

When we would all meet up at real world and all these amazing people working

Who you would see and even work with from time to time

We were part of a golden era

He also reminded me of all the demos I used to make which he loved and wished he could've mixed as they were

Before they were worked on and produced

He said

You can't beat one mans vision

It's unbeatable

He was speaking truth and I was listening

He said it used to drive him crazy how the committee would dissect what I did

When it was so bad ass on it's own

Undisturbed and undiluted

He said you are a groove monster

It should be

Simple

Your grooves

Your songs

Your voice

With little touches and that's it

I said

Let's make that record then. I'll come to your farm

They live off the grid

Surrounded by space and nature

Animals and escape from the rat race

They made it out

And it was nice to be a part of their little utopia 

Even for one meal

I hope I make it to their place

And we make the record

Tchad envisioned/envisions

But even just to be reminded that your own vision is correct and should be trusted

That is such a gift

I carried it with me throughout the set in Manchester. 

And so even though jet lag had me on the ropes and my back felt like an old mans

Even though my wha wha pedal was unconsciously engaged for the first five songs

The gig was magical

The people so full of enthusiasm and love. 

23 injured in Bristol 

Played a tiny room called the Louisiana

So small in fact that my head can touch the ceiling at certain points on the stage

The gig was one of my favorites of the last few years

I started with a song I wrote in the van

Played most of the show with my godin nylon string which I drew on with black oil paint pen before hitting the stage

Im starting to find my way around my pedalboard spaceship

And all the thought and new invention is beginning to pay off in creative dividends

I can do unique sonic architecture from night to night

I really have less and less need to repeat myself

And more and more faculty with improvisation. 

Yesterday began in little art shop in Manchester 

Where me and Ian bought an easel and some canvass on stretch bars which I intend to reuse

And re stretch canvas night after night

Last nights painting sold and so with Phils help I pulled all the staples out from around the frame

Rolled up the canvas and handed it to the lucky winner

This will prevent things from building up in our home on wheels aka van

Today we stop

At wall mart type shop and buy some padding and blankets

To make the back

More comfortable

I'm injured

My back and neck and my left arm

The effects of lugging too much weight and aging (I guess)

injury or sickness is a good reminder of our inherent vulnerability in this crazy universe

We are each in a way dropped in the wilderness

And expected to escape

Into an even greater wilderness 

We are all travelers here

Even if you spend all your time at home and under the covers

You are floating in a dark abyss

With nothing but faith to anchor you to anything

Even if you don't believe

All you have is faith

(faith that there is nothing is still faith)

and if you're lucky laughter

Today I feel lucky as hell

All bad feeling submerged by the knowledge that my life is a gift

I get to paint with sound and color

I get to paint with words

As I invent the struggles of my life

And as I invent my victory. 

Today we drive to Brighton 

Ian will film me reading a poem before we split

We set ourselves a goal of filming one reading at every stop on the tour and posting them as we go

Yesterday was the first one

In Manchester

Right after procuring all the art supplies

I started at the beginning of the book I'm working on

Travel as equals or not all was the poem

I glimpsed ahead to the poem for today and I fear it needs work

So I'm gonna take my coffee fuel of this morning and dig into it. 

It's a way to trick myself into refining old work

By making new work out of it

Every things fun at the dawn of it's creation. 

Less so

Putting the final touches

When you are up against it's small failures with no idea how to alter them

As opposed to the beginning

When everything is just limitless potential

When everything has a chance

To define you forever

Or shift the atoms into a place of beaming perfection which will prove

For the doubter, belief

And perhaps give the damned

A breath of salvation

Thats at the beginning

At the end

When it leaves your sphere of influence

When it leaves your hand

To critical conception of the suspicious masses

It strikes you then as barely passable

And you take a deep breath

Hold it

Put your head down

And wander with shut eyes

Into the next avenue 

Of your vision. 

24

London falling

We drove in from Briton beach

Holy nudists 

Elegant singers

Club kids

Fish and chips by the sea

At night with old and new friends

A kid who gave me his kiss symphony shirt

And the beautiful people of hollow eyes rising and wanting

Hands

Tiny hands

Reaching out from dilated pupils

Reaching out into each others mind

Reaching out into escape

I hold you in Babylon 

We wake up elevated in the dark forest

Connected in the rays of dawn

And spinning back down to earth

We crash apart in vans

And car alarms

In cold breakfast sirens

And the needy complex of want and confusion

Just us

Union. 

We drove in from Briton. 

The gigs have all been little miracles

We arrived at the dirtiest hotel in the world

A private rat nest of torture

The blood red awning tattered and blowing warnings at us from winds of danger

We check in

She gives us our keys

The ugly woman

A face ruined by hate

Buried under rags

Black silks and floral crescendos reflecting the madness within

I take the keys and check on the rooms

The showers in tiny dank closets

Rusted with black mold

Broken heads

Haunted and laughing 

Ghosts of tenants past

Warning us to leave this place

I go back down

We can't stay here

I tell Phil

The showers are broken

This place is a dive

She says you must pay. You can't cancel

It's too late

You see the place online and you book it. 

Phil said

Yes but the showers weren't broken online

The awning wasn't ruined

You advertised falsely. 

She demanded we pay

I said we will contest it

I grabbed my camera

And went upstairs to take a pic of the nastiness in case we wound up in small claims court. 

She screamed no no no

Tarantulas falling out of her eyes

Snakes replacing her tongue

When I came downstairs she was on the phone falsely claiming Phil had pushed her

And she was barricading the door with her body

It was a real insane scene

Which I just wanted to leave

But I knew if I reached for the door

And in anyway touched her she would scream and claim all kinds of violent things

As she was already doing to Phil who wouldn't hurt a fly

Ian was outside ringing the bell

I was telling the lady to get out of our way and let us leave

She refused

And was on the phone calling her thugs

After five minutes of being held hostage by her insanity I told her I had

A gig to do

And as passively as possible reached behind her for the door knob

And tried to squeeze by

Sure enough she screamed bloody murder

Screams of someone being attacked by the worst kind of violence

She hurled herself in every direction and even tried to make herself fall

She wanted the scene to be a nightmare

She wanted a claim on her misery

We didn't let her fall

And we squeezed by

Saying

Lady you are out of your mind

Grabbing our things and heading to the van parked across the street

We were in the van and just about to take off

When her thug came running across the street at us

Cussing and flying bat shit wings from hades

Hitting the van

And then yanking the passenger side door open fists flying

At Ian and Phil in the front

Grabbing the keys from the ignition

Phil grabbed them back

But he grabbed Ian's wallet off the dash

And ran back in the hotel

Ian and Phil ran after him

Thought it best to remove myself from the insanity and stay with the gear

But after five minutes I had enough

And walked back in the hotel from hell

Let's go I said

The thug said

I don't want you here

And pushed me out the door

I let it happen and walked back across the street

We were being mugged

Finally Phil and Ian appeared

I said what happened

They said

We had to pay or else they wouldn't give Ian his wallet back

250 pound on a credit card

Unbelievable

Mugged in broad daylight

But what could we do

The lady was completely without scruples and claiming we had violently attacked her

If we got the cops involved it would risk the London show

Nah

Once the thug had Ian's wallet they had us

We checked in the K west 

Which seemed like a palace from heaven in comparison

And then went to soundcheck

All of us feeling horrible for mixing it up with these leaches

But the wonderful thing about music

About making art

Is it redeems everything

It's a constant force of redemption

It's the love letting go and folding inward

Into other openings and expansion

It's the bloom

Which night blooms

It's the bloom

Which survives in winter

And thrives when the pain is so great you think there might be no more

And it awakens compassion and sympathy 

Even for thugs that might mug you

Who have no other course of light or salvation

Who haven't been given this gift of connection

This thing to tap into

Which redeems all other things

Which makes dreamers into kings

Of lost hearts and devils

That blood red awning is still shot full of holes and flapping in the wind

The thieves wait inside and invite death to come for all who visit

They tried to steal our light

They made off with a little bit of cash

And our peace of mind for a couple of hours

I've learned to pray for people like them

Not only for their sake

But my own

To take the bitterness from my heart

And crumple it up like yesterday's newspaper

And toss into the fire. 

25

Amster

Amster

Damn

Damn,

damn

We drove out of London at seven in the morning

Headlong into traffic

Missed our first train

But got the second

Driving a van onto a train

Which then takes you under the sea

It's unnatural I tell ya. 

We finally made it with precious little sleep

To the Paradiso at five

Quick load in and soundcheck

Ten minutes to have a coffee

And splash water on my face

And suddenly and quite unreasonably

I was on stage in front of a packed room

Launching into songs

Launching back into me

The audience giving it back

Gigs like this is what it's all about. 

Tapping into the flow or the source

Or whatever it is strange dreamers tap into

When facing an audience expecting some form of entertainment

And when exhaustion is still racing you down unknown highways

Or tunnels under the sea

The audiences all very lively and requesting songs from everywhere in my catalog 

It's nice to have built up a gang of songs I can still sing today

Songs which can

Comfortably house the motion or emotion of the day

Songs that stand the test of time

As far as my test of time is concerned. 

And the new ones are all standing up seamlessly with the best of the old ones

I feel in some way I'm hitting my stride

Still enough hunger but mixed with experience and understanding than none of it matters enough to not have a sense of humor about it. 

It's a comfortable combination to walk up on stage with

Many avenues I can walk down

Many rooms I can reach and duck into if things get rough

So far this tour has been great. 

26

Ostrich in Ottersum

It's a place I've never been

No one we talked to had heard of it

We got there starving

New art supplies

But exhausted

No catering was there

No fuel

No Internet 

I painted some backgrounds all silver

In the sun

And then sound checked 

The hunger and exhaustion building

No rider 

We were on our own

The gig started

A few people scattered around politely sitting at tables

The monster in my gut growling

My head spinning

The absurdity of it all landing and I hit a wall

But then pride kicks in and I dig down deep to make it magical for the people who have come

One kid who was at both this show and Amsterdam said he preferred this one

I couldn't believe it

I came out for the encore

The people going crazy

And said

Why didn't y'all do that during the show

They were reserved

I finally just sat on the stage and played through some songs acoustic

And the people became ecstatic

I was up against a wall of exhaustion and starvation

Injured in my arm and back

It's hard to squeeze a capo but not hard to play guitar thankfully

I feel like an old man

It's all catching up

I hit a wall

After the gig starving

I just laid on the mattress in the back of the van playing poker on my iPhone 

When we got to the little bed and breakfast in the town

A strange man with a mustache

Was making us late dinner

He made me asparagus with strawberries and some green stuff saut with bread

It was good

And he was strange

As if a character from a Dr. seuse book came to life

Animated and strange but friendly

No Internet here either

We were cut off

I took a long shower

And went to bed

And slept as the church bells rang every hour

Big a beautiful bells

Ushering in deep dreams from low end vibrations

As they shifted us all

In the town

There sonic sound waves washing over us like a cool elixir from the gods

Telling us to have easy dreams

And wake up

Like new

27

Seven shows down

First day off today

And it's a travel day to Paris 

Five or so hours

The last two shows

Took something from me

Something of my resolve

Or maybe it's just exhaustion

But old demons are visiting me

They are sat in the corner of my hotel room smoking

When I get in at night

I say

Oh hi

I thought you had gone for good

But there you are

And he says

How much longer can you keep this up

With diminishing returns?

And what else can you do?

It's hopeless he says

I recognize everything he says

As if it were coming from me

Which it is

But I also remember everything he says

Because he's said the same thing to me for years

And I've always ultimately ignored it

But those voices combined with the grueling and sometimes depressing nature of touring life

Can be fatal

Prayer is the only defense

And some exercise

And of course the creative spirit

The last two shows were in places in holland I've never been before and the turn out was spotty but enthusiastic

This kind of thing can get to you if you let it

I shut my eyes and attempt sleep

He just sat there smoking in the corner

Whispering

You can't keep doing this. 

Second night in a row

To sleep without sleep aid 

And dreams come in vivid waves

Intimate explorations of a soul on the fringe

Primal negotiations with the will to just binge

But I wake up

The demon is passed out

I sneak down to breakfast

And write it down

Amongst the clang and clatter

Of young ping pong champions

A major tournament is being held here

A table full of young ladies from the Ukraine 

Chatter amongst themselves looking at me in the corner

I offer my head to be used as a ball

And they bat it back and forth

Top spin

I ricochet off the green table top

And speed up against the heat of the next paddle

Back and forth

Between states of mind

The desire to quit

The need to keep going

Both paths leading to the same destination

Both paths are oblivion laughing. 

They hit me back and forth for what seems like hours

Until finally I go spinning off a paddle to the floor and roll back into the corner

Dizzy

It's hard to know who won the point when you're the ball

28

Woke up in Paris

Second good night of sleep in a row

The resolve and fight and will to keep going returning

Sleep counts for so much

It's great to be pushed towards the limits of yourself to see where those lines are

To see how you react

And how you bounce back

People pay lots a money to be pushed out of planes

Or held hostage by gravity with nothing but bouncing wires to protect you from death

People manufacture risk

my life is full of it

every time you walk on stage

you risk death or at least being pelted by rotten produce

The funniest thing about this tour though

Is the three stooges

Phil and Ian

And me

Phil is so French 

Ian is so English 

They could be no more French and English if they tried

the communication is hysterical

and its interesting to watch a strange brotherhood develop

it should be a reality tv show

personalities and cultures

blending and communicating through the hard road life of touring in a van

great people to be on the road with

hard workers and sweet people

Ian is 40 today

we need to find something to get up to tonight to mark the occasion

whats to do in Vannes on a thursday night?

the engines fueled and spinning

we finally ate a whole meal at a truck stop

only truck stops in france have things like a duo filet of salmon and cod

brought out sauteed in aluminum foil

avec frites

truck stops in france equals fine dining in america

last night paris was magic

the build up to the show

i could hear a quiet conversation going on inside

there is no pressure

just have fun

and improvise

a fan wrote me to make it strange and shamanic

and that seemed a very good modus operandi

i spoke to jean my booking agent before the show and we discussed

ways in which things will become better

through simplicity and communication

all lines open and enthusiasm

for all this on full

and then the audience in Paris

full of love 

it feels like a spiritual home,

the place my career in music really began

i always feel a certain responsibility

to them

to that place

though i know its just in my head

and for some paris is super harsh and brutal

but not for me

i pretend we understand each other

and for now

paris has restored me

the other thing worth mentioning is

five minutes before the show

michel presented me with the new album

pressed on white vinyl and in a simple sleeve

this gave cause for celebration and so i presented it on stage

and then we sold our first copies after the show

a good omen to release this record first on vinyl

a very good omen

and a great place to have the album release party

i'm recharged

and fed

(i could count on one hand how many full meals we've had on this tour, there simply hasn't been time)

the day is beautiful

my body is feeling stronger

and my head is no longer a ping pong ball

but a giant third eye opening up to the buddha consciousness

and seeing nothing but hope and love in a world full of suffering.

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