from the moments of complete frustration - to the elation of hearing my brain on ‘tape’, “theminorfall” found her end today. months after the projected deadline and several incarnations later, I put my frantic search for her perfection to rest. I can’t remember feeling more proud - more naked - more complete. I’ve often said to friends and family that I long for the day when I feel like I have left something behind - that when this earth is no longer my home, what I leave behind will be a proud depiction of who I hoped to be. “theminorfall” is that beginning. my first batch of solo songs - done my way - without regret or apology - heart on sleeve - nothing left to prove. dressed in all the melancholy I could muster & taken from a year that will mark me for the rest of my life - my first exhale in quite a while. this is only the first part of my story - I can’t wait to share her with you.
The taste of sour-sweet is what you leave - triumph & the forever process of walking wounded.
I began you with nothing more than the air left to my name - endless attempts at my design and countless plans for reinventing the wheel. You looked more desperate than ever.
I slept your winter - braved your cold - one transitional defeat to the next. Four months of holding on - to what, I still can not define. Maybe the possibility of the only thing I’ve ever known - the tick that makes me breathe or my reality of nothing without her. Whatever your reason - the words were never far. The “come together” of wilderness and inspiration.
I wrote your days and drank your nights - building backwards. I’ve heard it said that “life’s worth all the dying we do” - this is never true in the midst of passing. When “the endless in between” is seldom more than a glimpse & hope is rarely strong enough to surface - we simply exist.
We stab and claw - tearing at anything that resembles “making sense of a bad situation” - and then you appear. Hindsight and the small smirk of where we were. The third person review of our turn in time.
Spring came and finally, ink hit paper. No more pretending I had a career - I was official.
The next few months are some of my favorite lived - hope found a surface. I dove into the task of connecting - story to strum - no agenda but enjoying something earned - and again, you appeared.
The wicked chance encounter - a few weeks of make believe. Over and done. Stolen. What I had not wanted for years - allowed, touched and lost in mere moments. As if the grief were not enough - the last of my possessions, gone - ripped from my brilliant adventure. Defeated, numb - I returned to the constant reminder. A dose of unknown penance for choices I would give the world to change. Or would I? I teeter on that thought by the minute. So much learned - a lifetime in seconds gone.
Summer fell and Fall seemed more empty than ever. The things never shared left me remembering what could have been. Wanderland had become the home beneath my chest - I wrote to catch my breath - and breathe, I finally did.
I don’t regret you nor would I change you. Twelve months of “never the same”.
I go back to that statement more often than not at this stage in life. Today, after several weeks of waiting (due to schedules and high service orders), heat was turned on in my house - more accurately, the gas. You never realize, when coming out of warmer times, that the lack of this sometimes forgotten necessity can cause such discomfort. I do hate the cold. I spend a great deal of time in my home, so freezing is not an option. I love the smell that omits as the initial dust is burned from the vents - makes me think of cold cloudy days and a hot cup a tea. Ah… the simple things.
This year’s been full of anything but “the simple things”, which makes the appreciation of such, so tangible.
I’m mid-way through a week of deadlines and “pushing forward”. The covers EP & holiday single dropped yesterday and I’m pleasantly surprised at the reception - the faithful few truly are an amazing group of folks. I’m torn between my small steam ahead and hunger to do something beyond this whole music thing. All we have at the end of the day, in this life, is our connection - who we impact - how we touch. I sometimes feel stuck at mediocre when all I crave is great. I’m learning to accept the metal instability of a creative 
Today I’m hunkered down at camp write-a-lot. I have several songs yet to finish before recording vocals tomorrow and Friday. I don’t think my slight case of heartsick is helping matters much. I’m missing people - several “come once in a lifetimes”. The sap in me is in full swing - back to work.
9/28/08 - something interrupted my focus and I forgot to post this :*-)
9/24/09
cloud cover and the hint of cool - in Dallas for a few days. My gypsy ways will tame come Saturday. Fall trips to LA & NY are up in the air and may be pushed until spring of ‘10. I am in the final stages of “theminorfall”. She’s taken more time than I originally planned but I still get butterflies every time I walk in her room. Not being one for “butterflies” - this is a good thing. She is extremely personal - the first side of 6 portraits. I’ve waited my entire life to be in this space and all I want to do is capture every moment, in the moment. The psycho creative in me has always battled with focus. I usually split myself between too many iron fire endeavors - this time was different. I think being in the midst of chaos has led to focus - strange but true. I’m endlessly proud of my sad little lady. I’m working on a short bloggeo that will give you a peek up the skirt. Weekly video shorts were in the works but all the footage was stolen during the recent LA debacle. I recorded a few of the last sessions & will string it together soon.
I wish I could say a break is around the bend but there is still much to do. The ever looming, delayed release of “boxsideoutV.I” - a Christmas single - ep #2, “themajorlift” - an untitled set of more electronic recordings - an ep with David Gonzales and the list goes on.
