Miles to Go

I wrote (and we recorded) this song quite a while ago now - somewhere between a couple and several years - but I still like it. I still feel the meaning. Without giving too much away, the simplicity I feel from it is this: there are still new goals to be achieved before I am ready to call it quits. Thank you Robert Frost for the phrase "Miles to go before I sleep."

Miles to Go

Verse
Birds scatter across the sky.
The sun fades a gradient white.
Times are golden, times are gray.
But in the end it still passes away.

Chorus
Wait for me 'cause I have
Miles to go before I can sleep,
Before I can dream,
Before I can even rest my feet.
And I know, I'll be coming home.
But from me to you,
It's the best I can do,
It's the best that I can be.

Verse
I've been locked up in a cage,
Trapped by walls and lead by a string.
But I still remember the ocean,
And the way the sand felt in the spring.

Chorus
Wait for me 'cause I have
Miles to go before I can sleep,
Before I can dream,
Before I can even rest my feet.
And I know, I'll be coming home.
But from me to you,
It's the best I can do,
It's the best that I can be.

Bridge
Fall away, the shoes off your feet.
You run faster now than the speed of change.
All in red, the writing on the wall
Didn't mean a thing at all to me.
But instead, I refuse to release.

Chorus

Double Yellow Lines

More words for now. The videos are going to have to wait. And maybe when they come they won't have to be shot in my bathroom. This song is a different one for me to write, it is a bit more modern and pop-like. I hear Death Cab for Cutie performing this. Of course you can't hear the music at this point, you can only read the words. But there you have it.

Double Yellow Lines

Verse
"Remember this,"
He says after they kiss.
His list gets shorter by the bliss
In her eyes,
The paralyzing pair that they are.

He walks to his car,
He opens the door,
Puts his seat belt on,
Puts the pedal to the floor.

Chorus
If you drive away from this,
You'll leave a part of yourself behind.
But you're not afraid of passing cars
On double yellow lines.

Verse
"Remember this,"
He says into the air.
But there's no one there to hear him swear.
Like all the moments that we share,
It's not where
But with whom.

He walks to his room,
Puts his suitcase down,
Pulls the windows up,
The clarity surrounds.

Chorus
If you drive away from this,
You'll leave a part of yourself behind.
But you're not afraid of passing cars
On double yellow lines.

Chorus (outro)
You're not afraid of what you feel,
Only afraid of what you'll find.
Only tragedy is real.
You are a parody of time.

You are a product of yourself;
A book without a spine.
You're not afraid of passing cars
On double yellow lines.

I am getting bad at titles

The words to another new song. Again, without a title.

Verse:
These shoulders
May be the only ones fit
To bear the weight
That I must.

This heart
May be strong enough,
To feel what I feel
And not bust.

Chorus:
I was made for this,
From the skin on my hand
To the bones in my fist.

I was made for this.
Though my knuckles are white
As ghosts when I grip,

I hold on.
I hold on.

Verse:
May've taken my eyes
And put 'em in the wrong holes,
But they'll never
Take my sight.

May've taken my dreams
And stripped 'em from my soul,
But new ones will come
Every night.

Chorus:
I was made for this,
From the skin on my hand
To the bones in my fist.

I was made for this.
Though my knuckles are white
As ghosts when I grip,

I hold on.
I hold on.

Short and sweet, but a very important song for me to write.

The Little Girls Who Cried "Bug"

Both of my girls are terrified of bugs for some reason. I have had to pull over on the side of the road in order to let a fly out of the car, after the mass hysteria became to much of a distraction to my safe driving. So, I have tried to be a better leader for the girls by getting them to calm down when a bug is in our vicinity.

Again I am driving, and again the back seat of my car erupts in fear and screaming about a bug. I picture another 'fly' scenario and without even taking my eyes off of the road I keep driving saying insistently, "Calm down girls, it's not going to hurt you." There was some resistance at first, but eventually they both did calm down. I think to myself, "Whew... crisis averted."

A moment later I turn around to say something to Hannah, and when I do I am startled by what I see. Crawling across her belly is some sort of beetle. It is black and green and about the size of a half dollar. Hannah is sucking her thumb and looking down at the bug with an expression that says, "I don't like this, but Daddy said calm down."

I then - half laughing, half afraid myself - quickly find a napkin to grab the large bug with in order to throw it out the window. As I am chuckling to myself I can't help but think of the little boy that cried wolf.

The expression on Hannah's face as the bug crawled closer and closer to her head, is one that will forever be seared into my memories. Its the little things, really it is.

My Role Model: the Serial Killer

That is a scary title I know, but sit tight I'll explain. I love the show Dexter. And for those of you who don't watch Dexter the first season is on DVD. You should ask yourself, "Why am I not watching this." The basic premise is this: Dexter is a serial killer that works in forensics. He kills people who (and the general public would agree) deserve to die. I look up to him for the following reasons:

• Everything he can accomplish in a day
Work, his 'normal life', his killing. That's a lot to get done. Not your regular
work- eat-watch tv-sleep routine we all fall victim to.

• His ability to compartmentalize
He separates work from family, family from killing, all without breaking a sweat. He has to maintain his cool to the people around him or they will suspect something. I couldn't imagine hiding a secret like that and being able to put it aside to play with his girlfriend's kids.

• His confidence
Sometimes when I am walking across a parking lot I hear the theme music to Dexter and wish I could walk as cool in slow motion as he does.

• His cool demeanor
The guy is just too cool, but not cocky. He is charming and lax with people, it helps dissuade them from thinking he is a killer.

But that is it. The killing part, not so much. I can't wait for the third season to start.

My Inspiration

A recent Commenter asked me a very profound question:

"What inspires your songs?"

It is profound because as much as I enjoy writing, as much as I commit to the process, the answer to this question did not come immediately. Questions like "Why do you work?", or "Why do you eat?" have a simpler, more conclusive answer. I thank the anonymous commenter for making me do some serious introspection.

My Process: I will attempt to answer the above question below.

Music First

Regardless of whether or not I have an instrument handy, the music is always written first. Even though now most of my songs are written in the car (driving from point A to B) I still need a melody and a rhythm if I am to write and then remember the song later. After an initial chord progression intrigues me, or a snappy riff, I let the words fall where they may.

Stream of Consciousness

Sometimes I can base an entire song off the very first line. And sometimes that first line may be complete nonsense, or a non-meaning if you will. Other times it has to develop after a while. The important thing is to find a catchy melody. That melody can only hold so many syllables, now I have to find words and phrases that can fit in that space. And at first I am not picky.

Example: For "Two Hearts" The entire song was based off of these
first words:

"A cigarette case and a well pressed suit."

It wasn't until later that the song evolved, had a plot, touched on human emotion and commonality. But I don't let any of my own creative inhibitions stop me when starting a song. I let my subconscious dig deep. "What is the music telling me? Where is this story taking me?"

Confidence

A lot of it is about trust. Trusting yourself, trusting your words. Not going "Oh, this is stupid." I let it play out. Sometimes the hook to my song is actually found ten lines into the song. Once I find it, I rewrite the other "generic" words to suit my new, better theme. Such was the case with "The Giver." After finding this line:

"The giver of life and love is just, I've got another chance to go
for bust."

I went back and re-wrote the song to fit the mood. The concept of that particular song hovers close to the old saying "That which does not kill us makes us stronger."

Patience

I also don't rush anything. I try to let everything come to me. I want the words and the chords to appear like they were meant to be together. As we speak I am writing 4 different songs in my head. I have a good chorus on one, two with a nice verse or two, and one fully assembled but awaiting a bridge. Each will come in their own time.

People Person

I accept and love people despite their faults. This is important because so much of my work is not personal experience. I use other people's lives as a catalyst for my stories. But I have to connect to them, I have to truly commit to who they are, or how they feel. And sometimes that means I am absolutely nothing like them. But I have to find a way to love them, love their story, create the art.

Phrase Finding

The other thing I do is I keep my eyes and ears open. I document phrases I find interesting 'Pouring salt on the wound', 'The elephant in the room', etc. I have a special file in my head that keep these phrases, you never know when they will work perfectly. Especially if you modify them a bit.

Example: Chorus from "Pour the Salt"

Pour the salt on

Pour the salt on

I've got another wound

There's nothing to hide from

Its clear that I can see

The elephant in the room

That song is about seeing an ex with another person after a break-up. The entire story was based on two phrases.

The Images and the Ordinary

I keep my mind on imagery. I look at things, mundane every day things, and I describe them to myself poetically: the way that rain distorts images as it pours on glass windows.

I describe the way simple things feel: Morning dew on bare feet, A course rope as it violentlyslips out of your hands. I do this because so much of who we are and what we feel is everyday,and ordinary, but we feel them in extraordinary ways.

Editing

Lastly I refine everything. I edit. I put the criticism I would use towards anybody else's art and apply to my own.

Overview

So that is a long answer, here is the shorter: If my inspiration was a flow chart it would go as follows:

The drive to be an artist, the want to create>>

Finding the Music>>

Finding the words (chosen at a subconscious level)>>

A story/theme derived from life experience (or other people's life
experiences)>>

Imagery, mood, word choice (chosen based on, and to enhance, the
story/theme)>>

Editing (based on practice, experience, and constructive criticism)[]

That's all I can think for now. I hope that was a sufficient answer. Because I do love my small little crowd of readers, and I do appreciate you spending the time to read and listen to my songs.

I wrote a song

I haven't posted in a while. So here, I wrote this today. I haven't even touched a guitar yet to put music to it. Enjoy!

"The Diamonds and the Coals"

At the bottom of the quarry
There's a rusty chain in coils,
An access to perdition,
To the victor go the spoils.
Careful where it leads you,
The gravels falling at your feet.
Clouds blocking the moonlight,
There's more of this that you can't see.

It's the shattered glass that gives the best reflection.
It's the hottest iron that leaves the longest impression.
If the heart is the mind, if the mind is the soul,
Then you'll find yourself
Amongst the diamonds and the coals.

You walk with your eyes closed
And think before you speak.
The armor that surrounds you
Is as thin as cotton sheets.
Stacked up in the distance
Are the buildings of your past.
And even though their still standing
You fail to see how this could last.

It's the shattered glass that gives the best reflection.
It's the hottest iron that leaves the longest impression.
If the heart is the mind, if the mind is the soul,
Then you'll find yourself
Amongst the diamonds and the coals.

They're closing in.
When does the daylight come?
When does the night time end?
And you're blurring the lines
Between who you are,
And who you want to find.

It's the shattered glass that gives the best reflection.
It's the hottest iron that leaves the longest impression.
If the heart is the mind, if the mind is the soul,
Then you'll find yourself
Amongst the diamonds and the coals.