Sold Ya' Out

That guy who criticizes working musicians…

It's the same guy buying Panic! At The Disco CDs from Atlantic Records, cigarettes from Philip Morris and sneakers from Converse Inc. That guy will grow up to work in an office, selling the next corporate scam, and he'll pay half of his earnings to the very capitalistic war machine which he despises. That guy will never be fortunate enough to make his living strumming a guitar, and that's why he hates me.

Sign On The Line

These words constitute an agreement between two business entities. They do not guarantee fame, happiness, nor crazy groupie sex. They do not sever an artist from his or her creative vision. These words are cold and unpromising. These words are preceded by dollar signs; succeeded with dotted lines. These words are not like our words- the say everything and mean next to nothing.

Don't assume you know what a record contract is until you've been fucked by one.

Cheese

Nobody is behind that camera- it's just sitting there on a table. We’re taking this picture of ourselves, and check out our faces... We're standing there, looking into the future, trying desperately to convince ourselves that we're having fun.

I was walking on a beach near Los Angeles, and a wedding party came trudging through the sand. The photographer told the women to "look happy", and then, as if some drug were released into the air, the women started running through the sand like school children. The photographer tells them all "that's enough", and everyone returns to normal.

Those wedding pictures won't show the kid with sand in his eye; he got cropped out. So did the old couple sun bathing by the stairs…  And nobody will remember the sunburns, but damned if they don’t look happy.

We didn’t want to capture a moment. We just wanted the good parts.

Selective Service

The government sent me a postcard today, and as much as I like mail, I don't think I'll be writing back. It's a letter from the "Selective Service System".  Apparently I have to register my name, just in case they decide to open a war draft.

They drew this tough-looking eagle onto it; an eagle with arms and huge biceps. He (the eagle) says, “It's quick, it's easy, and IT'S THE LAW."  Then, just in case that isn't scary enough, they’ve got this financial threat inside.

Needless to say, I'm not registering. I can only hope they'll lock me up... Just imagine the publicity.

UPDATE:

I've decided that I will be mailing our government, after all.
I, however, didn't complete it to their standard.
I'll let you know if they write me back...

Sleepless

I play health like it's a game, and I play to win. I don't just wash my face-- I replace it. I brush my teeth bloody- vitamins are swallowed by the handful and are then supplemented with fruits and vegetables... It's civil war.

Today, I have some sort of flu, or cough, or stuffy something, and I've decided to fight. I drove to the store and bought a few rounds of ammunition. I've got chicken noodle soup, a bag of lemons and some sleep aid.

 Now, nearly two hours after a double dose of the sleep aid, I feel absolutely nothing. I've got an early recording session tomorrow morning and I can't fall asleep.  White Flags...

Rain

A storm flew in from Mexico, and I couldn't be happier. Mexicans really know how I like my rain. It's that really big tropical rain that soaks you to your undies and keeps you running.

I'd been working feverishly all day, and I just felt like listening to the rain for a minute. So, I opened my window. The smell of wet cement crept in, and I decided to step outside and really soak it up. Outside, I found the soggy body of a baby possum curled up in the road.

(Before saying anything else, I feel the need to make a public apology to the deceased. If I were lying dead in the road, I probably wouldn't want somebody taking a picture of me... That being said, I'd like to elaborate.)

I take from this something more than shock, though it is a disturbing image. I see this possum as a metaphor for all victims of our modern devices. He (she?) was beautiful; a true gift to the world, run down to the cold, wet pavement. I doubt his assailant even heard the thump under the car as he stampeded through.

...If someday the rain falls like breaker balls to wash away all of our silly swag, we may be better off...

...Unaccompanied, I will be holding a brief service for the passed possum.