Ronnie Writes

Mystery Pills

2008-05-20T14:21:00.000-07:00

Flex keeps pill bottles all over the house, and it's become something of a joke. We call them his "mystery" pills, because none of us know what they do, and even though he'll tell you otherwise, Flex doesn't really know what they do, either.

While cleaning the house today, I decided to take one of them, and now I find myself feeling all at once inspired, anxious, powerful and yet somehow dangerously unstable. Because I'm done cleaning the house, and because I still have nervous energy, I've started cleaning my computer hard drive.

Amidst the thousands of truncated documents, I found this:

"Miss somebody so desperately that you feel it in the corners of your eyes like tears, but there are none, and in the top of your throat like something to swallow, but there is nothing, and in your chest like a bruise. Let the pain of that loneliness keep you awake at night, awake on the side of some freeway, somewhere, and let the cars drive by and hiss and whistle and think of all the places they are going to and of the people they’re going home to and think of how you are going nowhere and fast. Then call her, and hear her voice like something very real and close and be hurt together."

I wrote that while on tour. Now, a lot of people have been asking when I'll be going back out on the road, and let me say here and now that no amount of mystery pills, beer or money would ever make me want to go back there.

What We Eat, Who We Are

2008-05-12T13:03:00.000-07:00

Each and every last thing you put into your body becomes a part of you, if only for an hour, if only for a moment. Even those things you didn’t really mean to put in your body, the ones that give you diarrhea and cause vomit—even they become a small part of you. From apples to zucchinis, aspirin to Zoloft, we’re all getting high all the time, and most of us don’t even know it.

Most of us eat what tastes right, smoke and drink and swallow anything we’re told to, and breath the only air we know of. Most of us don’t pay mind to saturated fats, hydrogenated oils, or any of the many known carcinogens. In short, we’re abusing our own bodies.

For example, I recently noticed that I had become dependent on Caffeine. I couldn’t get out of bed without a cup of coffee. Then, one cup turned into two, and I switched from coffee to carbonated energy drinks. Before I knew it, I wasn’t sleeping at night, and I couldn’t function during the day without my fix.

Yesterday, I cut myself off cold turkey, but it hasn’t been easy. My withdrawal symptoms so far include headache, nausea, fatigue and a constant cold sweat. My body had become so accustom to caffeine that it stopped producing it’s own brew, and now, I’m paying the price for my careless consumption.

I hope that I’m preaching to the choir, but if by chance I’m not, take a moment to think about your own habits. Are you feeding yourself? Or are you fighting yourself? It's worth thinking about...

A Short Rant

2008-05-06T00:21:00.000-07:00

I’ll be outside enjoying the weather, perhaps I’m riding a skateboard, or maybe it’s a bike, and then as I cruise along, some guy who thinks he knows me throws a half-eaten apple out the window of his car. When that apple, ripe with inertia, finds the back of my head, makes impact and then explodes, it causes my mood to shift slightly. Later on, when I get home, I’ll log into my computer, and some kid from halfway around the world will ask me a very personal question via e-mail. Not fit to field such an invasion, I might respond with my own uncut, raw wit, and that kid may suffer some emotional bruises.

He or she may go on to carry that original bad apple across social synapses and into new lives. And thus the cycle remains unbroken. But instead, should I go home and refuse to log onto my computer; rather, should I pick up a guitar and create art, I just may let ill air clear. So, that’s what I’m going to go do. I’m going to let the past pass, and I’m going to re-align myself with the current moment.

Done.

Live and Uncut

2008-04-25T16:19:00.000-07:00

Let me set things up like this: the words I just typed are clicking through cyberspace... I can hear my fingers moving across the keys, and then I hear it again, delayed through my web-cam feed. We installed three cameras around the house, and for the next month, as I track, mix and master my album, we will be broadcasting live 24/7.

The first day was rough, especially trying to fall asleep. I had to lie there for an hour, knowing all the while that somebody was awake and watching me. But eventually, I stopped thinking about it. Showering has been a bit awkward; the same goes for bathroom breaks, but overall, it’s been surprisingly comfortable.

Through the chat window, I’ve had the chance to meet dozens of interesting and unique people from all around the world. It’s also allowed me to throw impromptu concerts whenever the urge strikes, and it’s nice to have companionship on demand. I was skeptical at first, but I’m really starting to adapt.

I don’t know how long this experiment will last. I’ll probably turn the cameras off once the album is done, but who knows, maybe I’ll log in every now and again. If you’d like to check in on the live feed, just click through to RonnieDayMusic.com.

Don’t be shy. It’s fun to lurk.

What Life Gives You

2008-04-23T01:09:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, I heard the same bullshit you did: “Dream it and do it”. My teachers all said it; my mom said it; even fictional T.V. characters weighed in; and before long, I actually started believing them.

I’d put my mind into something, and then if it didn’t work out, I’d just put some more of my mind into it. Needless to say, I always got what I wanted… ‘Cause when you put that much into something, you either get it, or you get sick of it. And if you get sick of it, then you’ve won by default.

Right now, I’m putting a lot of myself into Simplify. I’m working towards independence... Whether I’ll get what I want, or end up looking elsewhere, I can’t say. I’m just happy to have the challenge before me.

When life gives you lemons, you squeeze them…

Does that work with tangerines, too?

I'll know soon...

Earth Day

2008-04-22T14:24:00.001-07:00

I wake beneath cotton sheets, my head atop an organic cotton pillow. The trailer in which I sleep has been converted from a tour-tugger into a bedroom. It is small, and well insulated, so I don’t need any heating. The walls are covered with hemp burlap, and the carpeting is recycled.

Molly (my pug dog) sleeps by my side, and as I open my eyes she gives me a few quick kisses. She’s small, so I help her down the step and we both walk inside.

We find Puggy (my other dog) sleeping on the deck, and he joins the caravan. Then, the three of us climb into the shower where I wash the dogs and quickly dry them off. Afterwards, I jump back in to rinse the fur from my hands and feet.

I bought some new soap, and looking at the packaging, I’m pleased to see the various eco-friendly stamps and labels. It feels good to know that you’re working towards an ideal.

I wonder what people would feel like

if they were confronted with these images more often.

And then I consider a more imperative quandary:

Would they change their habits if the costs of their consumption

were no longer hidden?

I know that people are busy. But really, if you’re posting pictures of yourself on Myspace, and videos on Youtube… If you’re reading other people’s blogs (you are)… And if you’re gossiping about what you’ve seen going on, then you must care about the world outside of yourself.

Even 'fashionistas' have the wherewithal to track trends and discipline enough to follow them... If we take time each day to think, I’m sure all of us can find something worth changing.

It’s Earth Day, so I’m going to grab a Burrito, ponder and celebrate.

I hope you’ll do the same!

Here’s some of the stuff mentioned above:

Green Guides:

-The Green Guide

-National Geographic’s free web-resource for living green.

Pillows:

-Eco Bedroom

-No chemicals, no bleach and cruelty free filling called “Pure Grow Wool”.

-Rawganique

-100% organic filling available in three different lofts.

Cruelty-Free Soaps, etc:

-Peta2 List

-A large list of various products which I haven’t actually read…

-http://www.chooseveg.com/animal-cruelty.asp

Misc:

-http://www.gaiam.com/

-Anything from yoga & fitness supplies to organic household goods and sustainable living tools.

-http://www.google.com

-Search for more… Educate yourself!

<>/steps off soap box<>

Free Falling

2008-04-21T13:25:00.000-07:00

I’m in free fall and nobody knows it, yet. For months I had been pacing around up there, between the edge and the path down. That single moment of my life stretched on, and as I stood in contemplation, the world rushed past me.

Do I go to school?

Should I sign to another label?

Or do I have the conviction and confidence necessary to forge my own fate?

I knew what I had to do... What I would eventually do... But I needed time to gather my strength. And then, a few weeks ago, I took the plunge.

To quote a famous poet we all know and love:

"I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.”

...I don’t want to give the wrong impression, though...

I'm talking tough... But really, this isn't a road that I plan on walking alone. I hope to create the infrastructures necessary to develop a community in which anyone can become involved. Most importantly, I want this involvement to hold significance on a personal level.

Am I being too cryptic? Maybe so...

I promise that all of this will take shape with time, but for now, I just want to make it clear that something (simplify) is coming.

It’s like I said…

I’m in free fall and nobody knows it, yet.

In Denial.

2008-04-18T14:05:00.000-07:00

We started filming yesterday; filming each other for my vLog. It’s nothing special, just a camcorder passed between friends--and still I find that I’ve become more self-conscious.

Whenever there’s a camera around, I can’t help but feel like I’ve got to be something more than myself. I’ve got to be grand—I’ve got to be a ham… But then, because I put so much unnecessary pressure on myself, I just end up looking uncomfortable. When I watch the footage back, I think, “Shit, do I really sound like that?” …And I know that I do.

Maybe I’ll grow to be comfortable… Indiscriminately comfortable… Regardless of the circumstances. Maybe I’ll grow to be the titan I expect myself to be… But probably not.

I think it’s a road best walked in the opposite direction—best to seek humility and to accept myself for who I am. Hopefully this whole camcorder experiment can help me to do that. And if not, I can always edit out the parts of my life that fall short.

Denial... It’s the human condition…

Life and Death

2008-04-16T00:50:00.000-07:00

It’s late, and I’ve been working on the computer all day. My eyes are tired. My neck is soar. I pack my bag, put on my sweater, and turn off all the lights. Then, I walk into the night and mount my bicycle.

Every night I ride five miles across town to the room I sleep in. It’s not convenient, but it helps to keep me grounded; it forces me to step back from technology and embrace my humanity...

Tonight, because I’ve worked so hard, I’m a bit tired. My legs feel numb, and my hands are cold as they grip the bars. The cars that pass me look warm inside, while a frosty wind bites at my face. To keep my mind occupied, I chew on my sweater.

I accidentally pull a thread from the fabric, and roll it in my mouth. I grow tired of the string and decide it's time to spit it out. That’s when it happens...

As I turn my head and spit, I startle two cats by the curb... In one instant I see them having sex. Then, in the next they’ve torn apart, and as both cats dart across the road, a passing car narrowly misses hitting them.

By chance, I nearly brought death upon two lovers. I imagine the scene, both of them there, down in the street, kissing and licking and fucking. Then, I come along and bring with me mass-bloodshed.

Recently I’ve been thinking about mass-bloodshed, too—about the unfortunate people of Sudan and their drought. These are people who have contributed negligibly to pollution, and yet it seems they’ve become the first victims of global warming.

Sometimes mistakes just happen… Sure… But if you ask me, I think we should all be a lot more careful about where and when we decide to spit. Sometimes it really is a matter of life and death. I think the people of Sudan would agree, and I know the two cats would say so.

People of the Web,

2008-04-03T18:20:00.000-07:00

If you’re still interested in reading these words, I’d like to thank you for your patience. I’ve been one year in my absence… A year within myself… And after taking stock of my life, I’m ready to transition back into a more public role.

This past year was time that I needed for my own health and growth, both as a person and as an artist. Sometimes change becomes a bit overwhelming, and this has been one of those times.

Someday, when I feel like sharing the details, you’ll hear all about broken hearts, pregnancies, psych wards, and divorces. But for now, I’d rather hold onto some of those things. I won’t be too much of a mystery, anyhow.

The whole ordeal has been set to song… Hundreds of songs… And I’m in the process of recording them, now. I can’t say how long this will take. I can only say that the wheels are rolling.

I hope you’ll continue to support me through this transition, and if you never supported me in the first place, this might be a perfect time to start.

Here’s to change,
And a better tomorrow,

Love.

Niacin Nightmare

2007-02-11T17:34:00.000-08:00

The lead singer from another band is smoking his cigarette across the parking lot from me. Large clouds of white smoke plume from his head and hang for a few seconds in the air around him. “Putting those big singer lungs to work,” I mumble to myself. He stands shrouded by the smoke for a few seconds before stepping aside, allowing the air to clear, and raising the cherried cig for another drag. This goes on until he reaches the butt, and tosses it towards a can, failing to make half the distance. I watch as he takes one finalizing breath, looks both ways, and then walks across the lot in my direction.

I’ve been standing in my place for the past twenty minutes, which could really be thirty minutes, or two hours and I wouldn’t know the difference. I get stuck like that, deep inside my own self. I prefer to watch the world, and to keep myself company.

While I watch Josh, the smoking singer, I fail to notice my brother, Flex, join me at my side. Flex is now standing behind me, just over my right shoulder, and Josh calls out to him.

“Ay, Flex, how’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Flex replies in a voice much too bold to be his own.

“Good to hear it. Hey Ronnie,” he adds.

Josh stops in front of us, and pulls another cigarette from his pocket. With the cigarette, he’s also palmed a lighter, and with one swift move he lights the cigarette and returns the lighter to his jean pocket.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging the word out to match his toke blow. “Last night, I tried this Niacin stuff, and it messed me up, man.”

“What happened?”

“My whole body turned purple and my eyes went blurry. My face puffed up like a goddamn water balloon and I got hot flashes.” He drags long on his cigarette.

“What’s Niacin?” I ask, but before he can answer, before I can finish asking the question, Flex chimes in with something he’s memorized off a website.

“Niacin is a B3 complex,” Flex says, “It can stimulate cell respiration.”

“Yeah, and it fucks your face up.” Josh adds. “It’s supposed to heat you up and flush out all your toxins and bad shit,” he says, “but, man, this shit just fucked me up.”

And with that, he took one last drag on his cigarette and stamped it out on the cement between us. “Well, I’m gona check this place out,” he says, and walks off towards the venue.

Flex tells me that he’s got to check in, and follows Josh into the club.

I settle into my place, and resume my watch over the lot.

***

Later that night, after the show, Flex and I unpack our groceries. While we were shopping around, I had decided to buy some of the now-legendary Niacin, B3.

I pull the bottle from a bag, and we eagerly swallow a dose. Flex hits the shower, and I start up a yoga tape for a quick, relaxing workout. As the program starts, I laugh alone and aloud at the oncoming adventure.

After a while, I begin to wonder whether or not I’ll feel any effects from the Niacin. Then, about halfway through the routine, I notice something.

My ears are tingling; a hot sensation. They’re burning, now… They’re burning and it hurts. It feels as if the blood in my ears is not blood at all, but jalapeño pepper juice, and I am painfully aware of each and every heartbeat.

“Let your mind fall inward,” says the yoga tape.

“Fall inward,” I think to myself.

“Watch the relaxation of your sense organs,” says the tape.

Right. Relax. At this point, my sense organs have caught fire. My breathing intensifies involuntarily, and I try to focus on that.

My ears feel like they’re bleeding, and my face feels like a massive, fleshy wound. The skin of my neck is swelling, and my eyes won’t open much more than a crack, puffed fat and swollen, too.

“Feel your Body Mind melt,” says the yoga tape.

“Melt, yes. I can do that. I’m melting!”

My back seems to be cracking open like a snake’s skin. I fight my way through the rest of the yoga tape, and then, sure that I must be red as a sun burnt crab, I check my reflection in the mirror.

My face is swollen to a hideous mess. My eyes are puffy to such a degree that they barely seem to open, and my cheeks are rounded and resolute. I rush to the bathroom to share my shock and amusement with Flex.

“Dude, check it out!” I chime, and he draws the curtain back from the front of his bath.

“Cool.”

“I’m all swollen,” I tell him.

“Yeah, you look stupid.”

“This sucks! Look at me! Check it out, dude.”

I can’t force my excitement upon him. I often try, and usually fail.

“Heh,” Flex checkles, and then sinks back into his tub.

I leave the bathroom, and step outside into the cool night, naked and aflame. It’s snowing, and the flakes melt instantly with their contact to my hot flesh. I stand steaming in the snow for a minute before turning back into the room. Flex is now out of the tub, and he’s also naked, holding the bottle of Niacin at hand.

“I’m gona’ take another,” he says, and then pops one into his mouth.

“Have fun,” I say. My excitement is exceeding my ability to express it, so I pace around the room, my flaming, pendulous penis flopping between my fevered legs. “I’m on fire,” I remind him.

“Soon to join you,” he says.

“Try this,” I urge, “I’ll bet you can’t finish the tape. Just try.”

“Yoga?”

I play the tape again, and now, having felt some of the heat subside, I repeat the routine with him. We go to Downward Dog, two naked boys in a hotel room, one swollen and red, one dripping wet from the tub. Upward Dog is called for, and I ask Flex if he’s feeling anything yet.

“Nope, nothing,” he says.

“Just wait.”

We’re almost done with the tape when I look over and see that he’s red as an open wound. The whites of his eyes are red, his legs, his torso, and his arms are red. His face, though, and the cheeks of his ass are a deep purple like an uncooked steak, and I stop him from working any longer.

“Dude. Look in the mirror!” I shout.

“I fucking know! Holy shit! I itch all over!” He screams.

“You look like something’s asshole…”

“I feel like diarrhea,” he says, and runs to the mirror. “Shit! Look at me!” He cries.

Flex turns circles in front of the mirror, examining every corner of his body, itching at his back all the while. Every time he looks at a different spot he stops to appreciate it’s own unique inflammations.

“These ones look like cheetah spots,” he says. “And look at this… Oh shit! Look at my butt cheeks!”

“I know! I know!” I choke, laughing and coughing. I’m thrilled, charged up and finally feeling some relief from my own bout with the blood rush.

Flex drops to the floor and starts cranking out pushups. I don’t know what’s possessed him, but he’s out to win gold tonight.

“Drink some water,” I tell him.

“Yeah,” he groans, and reaches for a jug of milk instead.

For the next hour, Flex scratches at his skin and paces back and forth from his bed to the mirror. His purple hue doesn’t dim one bit, from the moment of it’s onset, until he settles into bed and falls asleep.

Now, the room is dark, the excitement has died, and Flex sleeps a heavy sleep on the bed across from mine. I’m left here, again, in my head, watching people and things float by through my mind’s eye… It’ll be a few hours still until I’ll feel like sleeping, so I relax and replay the night again and again.

I laugh softly, so as not to disturb the slumbering salami in the bed next to mine. I laugh and laugh some more, thinking back to Flex on fire, and then back further to Josh in the parking lot, seeing now more than I could have then the distant dread in his eyes. Sometimes, I think it’s worth the pain to learn a small life lesson… But then other times, it may be best to leave certain waters untested.

Fly In The Fridge

2007-02-08T16:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, every once in a long while, I’ll go to the refrigerator for some milk or just to browse, and a mosquito eater or a fly will venture in. Not wanting to kill the invasive pest, I’ll try halfheartedly to lure it outside. I’ll wave a hand about the air, but the damn thing just hides deep behind some yogurt and an old turkey. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I ask the pest, “Want me to lock you in here with all that turkey?” I say. It’s a rhetorical question; I know that’s exactly what he or she wants.

I’ll play God in my head—an omnipotent and vengeful God. The fly, or maybe it’s a mosquito eater, thinks it’s found safe haven, and there’s turkey and Jell-O and old stew to be had. Ignorant is the poor creature to the oncoming darkness, and the cold, and then death; a slow death.

I imagine the bug will simply eat, until it’s jaw tenses up, and it’s insect thoughts, whatever they may be, lose pace, and then it’s juices inside of it’s tiny exoskeleton will freeze and it'll curl up to die. The bug will have died happy, and I will return the next morning to find it… Only I probably won't find it, but I'll try, and then a couple of weeks later my mom will wipe it out with a sponge along with a bunch of other crap.

Sometimes, every once in a long while, I’m the fly, and I realize that I’ve been short sighted, but it’s usually long after I’ve lost myself inside of a dark refrigerator or a long tour of the Midwest.

State of Things

2007-02-06T16:48:00.000-08:00

Bags of garbage crowd my feet. Bottles of piss, sometimes fifteen or twenty of them will tumble out each time we stop. And the boxes, all the boxes full of shirts and posters and albums and all the other shit we’re out peddling—the boxes are constantly falling over and spilling. Then, despite the apparent abundance of clothing, I haven’t a single clean anything to wear. I’ve been cycling a few pairs of underwear, two shirts and three socks for the past month. Flex can’t even keep his bedroom clean at home. How are the two of us to keep a small, overstocked van tidy?

I’ve started cooking while we drive, too. I’ll cook up eggs, and steaks and chicken while Flex drives, and the mess this makes... Our upholstery is starting to smell like breakfast, and everything is stained with hot sauce.

I need a day or two at home… Just a couple of days... Then I’ll leave again, and try to sell records to people who don’t buy records anymore… And I’ll sing to rooms full of talking nobodies… And I’ll love it. I swear I’ll love it.

Photo Blog

2007-01-01T16:42:00.000-08:00