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Emptied and filled with dusty masks
Bringing in unfiltered baskets Full of all the screams we’ve worn Capos fly over frets worn bare Over which was held a stare The tidings faith and feasts so true Brought us together in song in you The songs they echoed like cavern’s wishes Spoken words and strange predictions Oftentimes with goosebumps plenty On one leg or maybe two The blues held true in many an eye Alongside hope and community too These days they flew like a falcon in flight Swooping in and out of our hectic lives Although the time was miserably short Our brothers and sisters learned a thing or two We brought our gifts to one another Shared our moments we put to song Not long ago I didn’t feel I had a voice But the messages there begot my choice To choose my chosen words a plenty and put them on the parchment To speak those words on parchment’s surface To dig below our imagined surfaces To scream out loud and cry happy tears Of life of love on the canvas above Blinky lights flicker as strings render chords Bridging the break from the 1st to the 4th 7ths and 9ths bring tension resolved When released from the grasp of suspended tones   As the grit and gravel spread out before me
The fallen limbs befitted with moss The northern breeze unsettled the branches That formed the arbor under which I crossed With bark lined walls befallen with debris The turn up ahead towards the water’s edge Could take the ground from under your feet Turn grit to plank over the waterfall’s crest The impervious rumble over rocks so smooth Down the bank towards the weathered ‘stead Through stitches of roots like saplings’ feet Would cause a near tumble of foot over head On a path full of grit and gravel I tread Towards my own haven, evermore I’ve been led Ancient embers burn through rows of trees their trunks and limbs defaced
Billowing smoke suffocates the breath acrid soot hastens fleeting Calm invoked the mask is placed and oxygen begins to flow Dust on the ground crunchy burnt limbs under foot creeping Every breath taken the wind moves across your path Forever it seems to burn white hot oak now turned to ash Gone are the trunks of 200 year old gentle beasts Hiding on the hills in hope they won't burn and fall with a crash In the air smoke filled visions of light dancing on the clouds Just in time the water bird swoops and douses all my limbs Kinfolk gather and hope their hamlet will be spared Leaning in and holding close their loved ones singing hymns Mountains direct the fires burning on peaks and valleys down below No time to waste grab all your things and knickknacks that mean the most Once there was a childhood home now which stands just a chimney alone Panicked faces dampened sweaty full of fear they lost all hope Questions answered with not answers but more questions ringing false Roaring in their ears the sirens deafening the solace gone Silence as the trees they breath relief and dancing as they waltz Tucking in between the gullies formed by water poured since dawn Under blanketed ground of ash the light soon gives the sprouts their due Valleys mountains hills and crests begin to enrich once fire's through What was once a barren wasteland full of blackened trunks and soot Xenial growth the pollen spreads and pedals will once again renew Yesterday the ground it crunched under dusty feet creeping through flames Zestful life like spring today sprung up through ground that forever remains It was the night before last
that I stepped into the kitchen I'm thirsty I thought and my mind I've got a stitch in Racing for the fridge at a pace no one's beatin' fill my belly with ale I should get something to eat then Much to my chagrin that's the last clang I'll hear now The fridge is but dry when it comes to the beer stow What a fool lost his plunder 'cause his mind was but under the foley once asunder the vale the week's blunder Fat tire's the choice Not a bike but a brew a delicious new belgium styled ale to chew Not chewy like most but delicious to boast or toast with a glass in your hand to the host I could keep on going but the toffee's not done toffee for banoffee will be had 'til there's none The fridge wins again in it's quest for glory this silly old tale could be told as a story at bedtime for children but not about ale as little kids aren't ready for this little tale It would be the frosting on the cake
The cherry on top The soda pop bubbling over at the soda pop shop The sun on our faces Eclipses don't stare The orange face broken and full of despair What a beautiful thing to see his head held low World's view of us fuller could finally again grow Start over with Pence I shudder to think He'd still be better than being on the brink There's SO far to go We're not even close to finding the answers to questions from all folks Both "sides" red or blue have some learning to do Can connect if we try It's what we must do In closing I find myself tearing up a bit This place that's so beautiful could work if we commit To stand together among friends and foes all the like I know it's not all rainbows and kumbaya despite Find strength in the light Find strength in the day Find strength in the night Find strength in what's right Like an early morning firefly a late night bird
Shadows spin in circles the clock strikes ten Dreaming it goes on in my head... Fear the akward silence the vicious cycle ends Lips rumble inside push it out instead Beneath an umbrella beginning to change Sweet rain beginning to change... Like an early morning firefly a late night bird Beyond my lack in confidence I want to be heard Oh, I'm standing here you're waiting there Now, decision made waiting game's done Scream's now a whisper your ear Can hear all it wants to Head rushes to the end light bulb glows dim Should I start from the end or begin again? Taking control of this making me dream Making me dream again... Like an early morning firefly a late night bird Beyond my lack in confidence I want to be heard Sorting out my reverence in a dogwood I perched Like an early morning firefly a late night bird Oh, I'm standing here you're waiting there Now, decision made waiting game's done Scream's now a whisper your ear Can hear all it wants to Oh, I'm standing here you're waiting there Now, decision made waiting game's done Scream's now a whisper your ear Can hear all it wants to I could see the mist
Illuminated by the motion porch light Feel it on my skin As it swirled around the yard that night Shiver down my neck Like something watching in the dark Could almost taste the air Dew heavy storm's comin' tonight Now it's taking hold the canvas tries to reap its own And it's leaving me without a place to call home But it's supposed to Be my guide my light post It's supposed to Be my light at night And it's supposed to Be my guide my light post And it is.... And it's making me see... Unsettled restless pace Neighbors spooked staring through the glass Get me outta this place Eased by the whiskey in my flask Now it's taking hold the canvas tries to reap its own And it's leaving me without a place to call home But it's supposed to Be my guide my light post It's supposed to Be my light at night And it's supposed to Be my guide my light post And it is.... It's supposed to Be my guide my light post It's supposed to Be my light at night And it's supposed to Be my guide my light post And it is.... And it's making me see...the light. the year began under patient hand
and it's here that he stands with a watering can. the boy walked down the dusty lane dirt under foot and his arms they strained pales full of water from down the creek that he went to fetch 5 times a week. upon his head he wore a cap a wide brimmed sombrero to be exact. his hands they were rough from the tumble of weeds that were the days he tended steeds. his father was gone most every day to tend the fields and bale the hay. so he was left alone himself as his mother at birth she died on the shelf. they had a good life with their horses and wheat and after long days they'd sit down to eat. the boy and his father so rough on the sides been each other's favorite to spend with their time. lamenting the days when they miss momma so. she brought so much light to the lives she did know. touched everyone's heart to begin from the start and father taught son the gentlemanly part. another year began under patient hand and it's here that he stands with a watering can. I could see the skeletal shadow of the trees tonight
As the moon shone with an awesome air of light so bright. Reflecting off the snow the dark hue shone through Moving, swaying like waltzing crooked fingers urging you to come closer. Drifts of snow shifted under the weight of the wind While the light wanes and fades into black. A pine bough lopped from the main branch Dragged through the snow Leaving green prickly bread crumbs Almost begging for new life as a wreath. Bedtime calls when the moon is at its summit Drawing the covers up to your chin like the water to the shore. Goodnight wolf moon. Meeting Ellis Paul, Vance Gilbert and the amazing group of people on the Cape this summer was a jaw-dropping time full of inspiration and mind clearing thoughtfulness. I was blown away by the talent and community we built while staving off dehydration due to the heat and a lack of air conditioning. I can't wait to do it all again. As the warm breeze blew through doors ajar,
our minds in full hum unfurled, unfolded, unobstructed. Tasteful licks stuck in fits, unstrung from our cases untangled in bits... With ideas buzzing through our minds Words being thrown to paper Drawing upon another chapter in my book a day or two later The freezer felt like a respite from the heat But the minds together as one came to a heady brew I began this adventure alas we all did too To spur on inspiration amid scores of ideas anticipation A free write started the flowing of ink out of our minds the flow, a blink, drawings distorted, submerged of the unsorted sort As it began it ended, the fingers soar and voices hoarse From tasteful licks stuck in fits, unstrung from our cases untangled in bits... I want to do something. I want to help ease the pain of everyone I can. Every time I see the face of a little one it reminds me that we all need to hold our loved ones a little closer this year, and every year. Hold them close and tell them “I love you”. In a time of so much pain and unbelievable heartache I feel a bit helpless but want to try and do all that I can. We all must come together and show our love, support, and compassion for one another. On our way into Newtown, I wasn't sure what to feel and didn't know what to expect. When such a serene place is turned upside down it makes you wonder how much faith you can put into humanity. My first impression of Newtown was about how much of a quaint little town it was with little mom and pop shops lining the streets and it reminded me a lot of some small Vermont towns I used to visit growing up there.  The amount of support this community received in the wake of such tragedy is something that I will never forget. Flowers, teddy bears, candles, pictures, Christmas Trees,banners, poems, some from as far away as Hawaii, filled the sidewalks. I'm thankful that I was able to support the community however I could and decided to get a hair cut as I was well overdue for one. Many of the children got their hair cut at Fun Kuts so I was happy to see all of the money raised by the Fun Kuts “Cut-a-Thon” went to those in need in the community. It was such a powerful experience and I'm glad I had the chance to go and pay my respects to a town and community that lost so much but has somehow found a way to stand together. Together we all stand with you Newtown and Sandy Hook.  What's in the way to gain the fame of the name game.
The snow fly trouble bubble doubled into one. I try and surface what is under the cover of lightness and fondness and likeness but it takes a moment of stepping back, letting the light hit my face before I realize what it is that I'm really looking at. My realization of numbers and troubles and stubborn fumbles bumps me back awake. I've seen it. I lived it. I saw it from another point of view. I realize now what I've been missing. It's our time to show each other what we're made of. To take this opportunity, a second chance, to bring to light what's wrong in this place. What's missing in this space. What's needing to be replaced. Concentrate my frustration towards something special, towards something beneficial, towards something and enlightening. Bring it to the masses to spread and multiply and create and procreate over and over until what was once spread can now be held together as one. Bring it close to your heart and see what it does. See the warm and feel the sight of it. Keep the view within but share it with your friend. Free write until your fingers bleed and pick up where you left off the day before. It was 7:45. 65 on the highway, exit 7 and I stop. I saw a man standing on this same spot holding up a sign the other day "will work for food". Just trying to make it by for another day. Could have been anyone in his previous life, before whatever happened...happened. For sure he's down on his luck. Did he deserve it? Maybe it was meant to be. He could be the nicest man you'd ever meet or the biggest jerk in the world. Either way, down on his luck. You can't help but wonder. Lost his job at the factory. Let go on Wall Street. Stop and say hello, throw a dollar or two? Try to look busy until the traffic light turns green. You're off and back to what you do. Every now and again you look back and see someone do what you couldn't.
I saw a man. Today he's not there. No sign, no ruffed up dirty shirt and overcoat. No missing teeth. No one to wonder about. No one to avoid eye contact with. Maybe he made it. Maybe he didn't. You put in your time it's late you're tired but nice and warm on this unseasonably cold afternoon. You wonder what it's like to sleep on the curb when it's 25 degrees. I saw a man. Pulling into the driveway of your manicured lawn, sprinklers were meant to be shut off last night. The driveways' a mess with toys and bikes. The things we must worry about. Open the door, give your wife and daughter a kiss. Your wife got home early, put a fire on and cooked a nice meal, a little cottage pie. My favorite. New York Nightly News announcement: "Homeless man down on his luck gets the break he has been waiting for!" I saw a man. Can't be so I turn. Standing with his sign, his ruffed up dirty shirt and overcoat. Missing teeth smiling from ear to eat. Now all eyes on him. Maybe he'll make it. Maybe he won't. No more of a need to wonder or even worry. Just to think. What would I have done. How would I have survived. What would have pulled me into the next day. Could have been that one person. That one kind soul. That one believer that took a chance and bought him a sandwich and a coffee and a $1 ticket to freedom. I saw a man. Inspiration tends to come along at in-opportune times. It can be any time of the day and because of that I always have a pen and paper handy. I often find myself jotting down ideas on Post-it Notes or anything I have around me at the time.
Ideas can come from anywhere, whether it's the reversing "beep" of a semi, or a bird flying by my head, listening to NPR, or even just the wind hitting me in the face as I walk down the street. I tend to write lyrics first trying to keep to some sort of poetic form. Other times I write in free form pouring everything out of my head as fast as I can to get all of the ideas in there out onto the paper. In terms of the music and melody itself, I find the best way to create them is by playing around with what I know already on the guitar. I make up new phrases in my mind, applying them to the fretboard, or the piano, using my knowledge of music theory to come up with chord progressions that emphasize a sweet spot in my voice. I like playing around with time signatures as well and try to make them as unique as I possibly can. Utilizing unusual time signatures has always been a means for me to try and stand out and sound just a little different. It tends to create a tension and release sort of a feel in my creations. There has never been one standard way in which I approach the creative process. It's something that everyone does differently and I'm always intrigued to hear how others find their inspiration. How do you approach the creative process? How a band comes up with the perfect band name has always been a bit of a mystery to me. Ever since I had the idea in my head to "build" a band and start playing music, thousands of ideas for band names have been flowing through my mind (and still do constantly) and not one has had the decency to stick around and make roots (until now).
"Perfect" Really, when you think about it, what makes a "perfect" band name? In the whole scheme of things, is it the most important aspect of your band? I would think it's not the most important aspect. To me (and most others I would assume), the most important thing would be the music itself or the message of the music. In the time it took me to pull up Blogger to begin writing this article, I began to realize that a band name in the whole scheme of things makes no difference at all and is really only a label or identifier for you. It's the vision that draws people in, and the vision that makes someone want to listen to you and pay attention to what you're saying. It's the way you make the audience feel and the way the audience makes you feel that is what it's all about. I've always been drawn to artists and musicians and authors and creators that have found a way to completely draw me in and gain 150% of my attention. What draws you in? A name or a message?  What inspires our words to flow from our heads like a river flowing down a snow peaked mountain? It could start with a trickle and open up into a deluge of thoughts and feelings and emotions pouring out onto the paper.
Where does this come from? It could come from the faintest smell of a flower or food you used to love, or witnessing someone doing something profound or ordinary as you stroll through the park. From time to time a memory will pop into my head that inspires me to write write write and I don't want to do anything at all but pour it all out without stopping. That rush is so incredibly addicting and is more powerful then any drug or bottle. Someone within earshot could say the simplest of things or the street musician I just passed by on my way to Starbucks could cause a chain reaction, striking a chord and causing an explosion of inspiration in my mind. Inspiration can come from anywhere, anyone. What inspires you? When I was recently asked by Derek Sivers "How do you grade yourself?" I wanted to do more then post a comment on Derek's blog post, I wanted to also ask the question myself and see what responses I would got. This is what I came up with.
I tend to do a lot of thinking, whether it's about the exciting (or sometimes unexciting) things I'll be doing during the day, or what goals I have set for myself to accomplish in the next minute/hour/day/week/year. I find great joy in creating music and I grade my happiness by the quality and not necessarily the quantity of work I accomplish. When I say work it could mean creating a new concept for some album cover art, or laying down a new track for a newly created tune, or remixing some previously recording material bringing it ever closer to a "final product" that I can be happy with and one that speaks to people. My ultimate goal is to create something that speaks to people, something that moves them and makes them feel the way I feel when something moves me. That feeling is indescribable and is what I crave every moment of my life. The more moved I am, the more I tend to be happy. How do you grade yourself? What moves you?  I sit still and let every outside influence, every sound, every sight, every minuscule inhabitant, whether conscious or not, leave my mind's eye. The ebb and flow .... interruption .... phone rings, done .... ebb and flow.
The Do It Yourself (Do It Myself) Musician of now has so many more options and loads and loads of opportunity waiting to knock on your door these days.
I've been thinking about how exciting it would be to do everything myself and the accomplishments (and some good ol' experience) I would have under my belt at the "end" and think that is worth every headache, every heartache, every splinter, every broken string, every soar throat, soar wrist, soar eyes and ears and is what I am doing right now. I've been told that stating what you are doing and what your goals are tend to lead towards a lazy attitude in the end and tends to, whether subconscious or not, make people less apt to finish what they started. I truly believe that can be an accurate statement but I just wanted to fill you all in with what is on the horizon for me and Notes in the Sandbox. I stumbled upon (thanks to Google Reader and more specifically this instructable) this great idea for the DIY musician. In my mind, this is brilliant! Absolutely BRILLIANT and I can't wait to show everyone what I've come up with. This is so exciting I can hardly contain myself. Thanks for listening! If you want more NITS join our Street Team or let me know what you're thinking here. |
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