The Universe Smiles

Last night in Baltimore, I found out at the last moment that they wouldn't have a piano at the venue. I've been doing about half of my set every night on piano, so I was disappointed to hear this, but a little voice in the back of my mind said don't worry. I made it to Baltimore, lugged my baggage from the train station down to a local Starbucks, and created a new setlist involving only songs I was prepared to play on the guitar, but the little voice in the back of my head was saying doing worry. I met up with a friend of mine who drove me to the venue and I looked at the empty stage area, imagining a keyboard there. That little voice, don't worry. Eventually, it was show time. I put on my red Sanuks and looked at the stage. Still no keyboard. I took a deep breath, went up, and played my heart out on the guitar.

I took a break between my two sets, and was talking with a guy who had come for the show. "You're a great multi-instrumentalist," he said, referring to the guitar and harmonica.

"You should see me when I have a piano," I said.

"You need one?" said the guy. "My friend owns a recording studio and I think he's there now. Maybe he has something you can borrow for your second show."

"Where's the studio," I asked?

"Directly upstairs," the guy said.

Five minutes later, this guy walks in with an electric piano and sets it up on stage in front of me. A red one; it even matched my show shoes. I was in piano heaven for the rest of the night.

The universe smiles. I've got your back. Don't worry.

Sirens and Rain

Certain things seem to have gone together forever, like
sirens and rain.
Together, a complete thought,
a reference point for
love and history and god in the city

On days like this, life is a painting,
my bedroom, museum

big tree flaps
green on brown
brown on green

umbrella blows, top first,
from a third-floor balcony
into the mud.

Everything is motion,
the artist signature
barely visible
fogged and streaked,
as time
paints watercolor songs
across the window


Los Angeles
3/20/11

Thursday, 12:42 am

Who are we to doubt ourselves?

We are made of the magic we seek; we are so often asleep in the arms of our better angels.

Nervous

I'm getting excited (and a little nervous) for my tour dates back east, which makes me think I’m doing something right. Taking risks again, getting ready to put it all out there in a few cities I've never performed in. New York City. Baltimore. Charlottesville.

I had a mentor who used to say that if you were very nervous about something, you probably weren't prepared, if you weren't nervous at all, you probably weren't challenging yourself enough, but if you were just a little bit nervous, you were probably ready. I like to feel a tiny tingle of nerves before I go onstage or head out on a tour. It keeps things live and interesting, and it keeps me focussed. I also think an audience would rather see a real, vulnerable person than someone pretending to be unbreakable. Having said that, it took me a long time and a lot of failure on stage to get to a point where I can be confident enough to enjoy the nervousness. Part of it, I believe, comes from knowing that, no matter how long I do this, I'm going to take risks - and fail - again. I'm also going to succeed and break through again on stage in ways I never anticipated. In the end, it's not the result - but the challenge - that keeps my heart beating just a little faster.

PS - Cut my own hair today...still haven't found a barber I like in LA. See below.

Coincidence

You can never just have one coincidence. Once you start noticing them, it somehow always compounds on itself, until this proliferation of coincidence becomes the greatest one of all, and you start walking around telling people you've had some big awakening and you're finally have a direct line to the secrets of the universe.

Coincidence # 1: There's this gelato place I love in Hollywood called scoops, and I was telling a couple of friends about it, and talking about how I hadn't been there since I moved up and wished there was one closer to my house, and boom! we pass a storefront, mere blocks from my house - where they're having the grand opening of "Scoops Westside".

Coincidence # 2: I've been listening to a lot of Tom Waits over the last week, for the first time in years- I was jogging yesterday and I was suddenly hit with this phrase- "Be your own Muse". I wrote it in my journal actually. I got home, and started listening to Radiolab and they had an entire segment about this idea of the 'muse' and whether it's something that comes from outside of us or within. Just then, as I'm thinking how in touch I am with the universe, the woman being interviewed starts talking about Tom Waits, and how he would sometimes talk with the muse when he was trying to finish a song.

Alright, so those are the only two I can think of right now, but I'm sure there were more this weekend. Some people might argue that these are all indicators of fate. Some people might argue that they're completely random, a product of chance. I'm not sure. But I do love how life smiles on those of us who are paying attention.

iMovie...Practice round

We had a lot of fun making all those tour videos, and I just got a new computer that'll allow me to do the same thing from home...post new music, maybe a few puns, you know the drill. For more on this (and a test of the JM broadcasting system) here's a special message from yours truly (thanks to Dan Diaz for the music):

The Jolt

I'd felt it any time I've looked at the New York City skyline - That tiny electric hand squeezing the center of my heart. It happens when you see something that your heart knows is beyond your mind's ability to comprehend. Like that message that pops up on your computer to tell you that you're using more memory than the computer has. The jolt can come from something or someone beautiful, but it goes beyond beauty. It's about magnitude, totality. Awe. If I ever see a girl who gives me the jolt, I'd be a fool not to approach her. I'd always wanted to feel it in Los Angeles, but you can't force these things.

My friend and I were talking at dinner recently about how, when you tell people in other cities that you live in LA, they often say "I'm sorry to hear that", or something douchey like that. (They usually continue on to talk about the latest episode of some TV show that was conceived, written, and filmed here). Angelinos are constantly being programmed to think we're missing something if I we like where we live. But you know what? I'm a well educated, well-traveled, intelligent, creative, astute human being. And I like it here. A lot.

I was driving back from Phoenix yesterday afternoon and drove past downtown LA, on the 10 West. As usual, I made my way around, admiring the cityscape. No jolt. Then I caught the Hollywood sign out of the corner of my eye, and my heart stopped. I'd seen it hundreds of times before. But never accompanied by this pang of electricity.

Yes! the jolt said, in response to an unasked question. The answer is yes.

The Spy

I caught her
spying this morning
returning from my jog
saw her perched behind
sheer cloud curtains
they rustled
and she was gone

some nights I have
pushed aside my blinds
and, seeing her
snuck up to the roof of my building
infatuated
I thought she never noticed

up past bedtime
queen of her world
secretly dying to know
how the other half lives
I had no idea
the moon was so curious

Techno-Schitzo

Recently I was out with a friend when her smart phone started acting like a snobby third wheel. We'd be in mid-conversation when the table would vibrate, causing my friend to spring into action like a firefighter on call. While she rushed into the Facebook profile inferno, I'd instinctively take out my own phone, look at a few texts, and then play around with the 'calculator' function, just to look busy. Five years ago I would have been really annoyed, but it has become so normal for us to spend our 'social time' communicating with everyone except the person we're with, and I found myself just accepting it. Of course, this was a friend I text with all the time, who probably interrupts her visits with other people to respond to my messages. Welcome to modern times.

Many of us have become technologically schizophrenic, constantly rushing from one profile, conversation, or planet to another. We treat our phones like babies - taking them everywhere with us, cradling them, tending to them the moment they start to cry. Have you ever hung out with the parents of a baby? They're deranged! They're exhausted, their attention is all over the place, and they're covered in weird substances. Minus the substances, this is US! At lunch, on the bus, in the movies - obsessed parents taking care of our little machine babies. If smart phones are so intelligent, shouldn't they be taking care of each other? Why do we have to get involved?

I heard a report that members of our generation are masters at switching effortlessly between tasks. The flip side of that is that we're losing our attention spans. Many of us don't spend nearly as much time reading, inventing, and contemplating. But contemplation is what drives us forward. Should we expect the great thinkers of our time start having epiphanies in 140 characters or less? Are you even still reading this?!

I love that money and information move so quickly now. There's potential there to make the world more united, efficient, and dynamic. Look at these revolutions in the middle east where some of the greatest weapons were social networking sites. These new technologies are great, but they're just tools. It's up to us to create a society where we use our tools intelligently. If you don't use your hammer enough, things won't stay together. If you use it too much, you'll destroy everything around you. Technology will never have the ability to replace our time, our touch, our intimacy with each other. Right now we're all obsessed; afraid of being left behind. And the pressure of being current, constant, and present in the eyes of everyone around us has prevented us from being present in our own lives.

For as fast as some things have become, the speed of certain things has not changed. The earth continues to revolve around the sun at the same pace. It still takes the exact same amount of time to make a baby, reach a birthday, digest our food, grow into our bodies, and fall in love. Let's embrace the fact that being a person takes time. We don't need a cure for that.

Wings (and other heavy things)

Last night I went out to Hollywood with friends to check out a band they knew. It was clear that this band had gotten into rock and roll for one purpose - meeting the ladies. The songs weren't memorable, but they were good musicians, and they'd clearly practiced all the right moves - winking at girls in the audience, strutting the tight pants, muscle shirts, fog machines, spray-on-sweat. It was all about presentation, and as much as I fought the urge, I couldn't help feeling a little jealous of these guys.

I've never been textbook cool, and I'm probably one of the only artists who didn't get into music to attract girls. It wasn't until late in High school that I even made the connection that girls dug musicians. Growing up, I had dealt with a lot of challenges, and music had been my refuge; a solitary escape. I actually used to try everything except music to get the attention of the girls I liked. In elementary school, I wrote plays and tried to cast girls I had crushes on to star in them ("Attack of the killer stuffed Animals", anyone?...) In Jr High and High School, I'd heard that girls loved guys with accents, so I'd put them on during class discussions or while reading out loud. A vague scottish Brogue while reading passages from "The Scarlet Letter"? Of course! A southern drawl to enhance one of Shakespeare's odes? Why not! Did it work with the ladies? I have no idea - I had no game, so I never found out. Maybe I'll ask around at the 10 year reunion.

Of course, I eventually discovered the rush of playing for an audience, and the attention that comes with that, and I really love those things. But music for me has forever become linked with something much deeper. When I see a band like the guys last night, I can't help but be a little envious. For them, playing music is like me putting on that accent in english class, one more way of attracting attention. How much easier would it be to think of music that way! Somehow I got roped in on such a deeper level! When you invest your heart and soul in something like this, every performance becomes an expression of your deepest self. And when people really connect with that, it's the most incredible feeling in the world. And when they don't, it can be crushing. Last night, I felt like these guys were cheating - looking for all the glory without any of the risk. But it was entertaining and fun, and ultimately, that's what it's all about. Music is a language that can be used to flirt, heal, challenge, love, and grow. It's amazing to feel as though writing brings me closer to conversing with the infinite, but sometimes it's also fun to have fun. The living is in the balance.

Ironically, the things that give us wings are often the heaviest to carry. But that's the challenge of living an inspired life. I may be in too deep, but then again, to paraphrase one of my favorite books, the deeper we open ourselves, the more we can contain. May we all be blessed with such a beautiful burden.