The waves were perfect today but I was just off. I couldn’t catch a decent one before I got too cold to be in the water. But sitting watching the ocean in all its beauty and power I had a breakthrough. Words came to me. So I sat, phone in hand, capturing them before I lost them.

Things you love don’t always love you back the way you need them too. Or want them too. Fact is, it’s not always about you. Sometimes it is never about you.
Lesson learned.

I’ve finally realized why I have been having so much trouble finishing this project. Why I’ve placed so much pressure on myself to be perfect, every word and every note. It’s because I don’t want to finish. Finishing means letting go. Not so much of the songs but of my friendship. This is all that is left that is still alive and not a memory. Once I’m done, it will all be memories.

It is just about one month out from the first anniversary. The goal I set for myself to complete these songs is coming fast.. To give a gift to a daughter who needs more memories of her father is what is important here. Not selfish needs.

My dear friend, I’ll see you again.

It is a strangely solitary heartache that happens when you are playing a love song you’ve written about someone that didn’t fall in love. It’s worse when she is at the show, with someone else. Then you look her way during the song. She grabs his hand and they look at each other. Singing your song. All you can do is keep on playing, knowing that inside your suffering a lonely heartache, just wanting the song to be over. Your only solace is knowing you were right.You sing a little softer but can’t avert you eyes. So you close them. It is a good love song.

True story.

A local photographer called and asked if he could stop by to give me something. I love this man’s work and have had him at my home before, so of course I said he was more than welcome. I was curious what he had.

When he arrived he gave me a gift that was wrapped. Suggested I maybe open it when I was alone since I had a house full of people. I just did. It is an amazing candid photo of me and my friend, arm in arm watching The Damned play from the side of the stage. We are singing full throat! Unaware our picture is being taken. With us is two other dear friends. I’m pretty certain this is the last concert we attended together before his passing.

I will cherish this image. Cry each time I look at it. Then start singing along like I always do. What a gift to give someone. I am floored. This is how he should be remembered. Holding me up. His far superior voice drowning out mine. Happy.

I’ve been trying to write some lyrics to some songs that a dear friend left behind. My goal is to give them to his daughter when I am finished. The problem is that I am struggling a bit. I don’t want them to turn into a collection of sad songs full of melancholy and heartache. Problem is that I’ve been so sad I can’t help but have those feelings seeping into them.
I’ve been doing a good job hiding this from my friends and loved ones. None know that I come here to escape those feelings. I am comforted somehow knowing that there are some people here that will never realize that a kind word is often enough to xxxxxxxx me out of it some days.
This is my ham fisted thanks to you. I’ve never been very good with words.

So I ran into a young lady who said she saw my band play this past Sunday. I made my usual jokes saying, “oh sorry about that” and offering to give her the money back. Then I went on to explain about having recently hurt my knee that I was worried I’d be looking like a hobbled old man up there. That is when she laughed and pushed back saying ,” Are you kidding? I still had a full on slip and slide situation going on in my pants!”. This cracked me up so hard. Thankfully there are people like her in this world. She definitely made this falling apart old man smile.

I hate to be cliche. I’m finding it to be true that even doing something you planned for so long, something you love, eventually you miss home. It just seems to be a human condition. Craving the comfort and familiarity of home. I’ll be home soon enough, though not for too long.I will be jumping on another plane again next week. What a strange mix of wanderlust and homesickness I’ve been living. I miss you when I’m gone but can’t wait to get to the next stop.

Getting ready to do something that I haven’t done in a very long time has me back to doubting myself. I always do this , I know. Self doubt and worry leading to sleepless nights. Thinking everything that can go wrong will inevitably do so. This next week and half are going to drag on and on if I don’t stop. I feel like such a idiot admitting this. Still I am hoping that by writing it down and reading it, I’ll realize it’s all down to me. I wish I could just let myself enjoy it.
Feel free to judge me. UK hear we come.Ready or not.

Four months have passed. A third of a year. I’m still losing days that used to feel so long. I’ve blinked and it is summer.

So, what has changed? Have I learned anything? I’m going to say I have. I now pay super close attention, to everything. No one will have to reach out to me for help. I will just know that they need it. I will be vigilant. The best friend and human I know how to be. People will know that I love them, appreciate them, need them. They may get tired of hearing it, but this is where I am today.

Yes, It is still fresh. I still miss you every minute of my day.

So I’ve had the same version of a bad dream twice now and in both a person I only know thru NN is in the dream. In the dream my band is playing a show overseas which is actually happening later this year. After we finish our set, one of the sound guys hands me a note and says that some girl asked him to give this to me after we play. The note is addressed to ksaint, a name I only use here. It says “I recognized you by your tattoos.” Then goes on to say that she “had hoped that I’d be better looking”. Plus “your music was dreadful, so I left” . It was signed in her NN name.