Returning to work tomorrow. The maelstrom begins again. I’m in the hole. I need to raise a couple of grand really quickly. The winter will be spent in joyless toil, working all the time and trying to catch my breath and keep my head. Patience will require focus. Sleep will be a commodity. The few days of rest I’ve had have been severely compromised by my preoccupations. I need focus. I need to tread more lightly. I need to conduct my affairs more cautiously. I need to forget about females for a while. I need to write like a madman…music and words. I have been commissioned to write a 10 minute accordion and string quartet piece and it is slated to be performed in February. I haven’t started it yet, but I tend to work fast and feverish when there is a deadline. Despite (or perhaps because of) my status as a card-carrying fuckup, I know how to work under pressure.
I received word a few days ago that the tour blog will be published. Joan d’Arc of Paranoia Magazine is putting out a coffee table book of Conspiracy, Supernatural and experimental literature. It will also feature some more straightforward fiction. My piece will be in it alongside writings by Paul Laffoley and Tracy Twyman, among others. My good friend Guy Benoit is going to help me clean up some of my lousy grammar. It’s pretty exciting, but I can’t help but feel a bit guilty. I have writer friends who have toiled for years and have been unable to find a home for their work. The tour journal is the first piece of prose I’ve ever written and it’s already found a home. I’m not used to things falling into my lap. I spent years writing music before I could generate any label interest. I guess I’m more accustomed to struggle.
The writing has been a great processing tool. I’m considering writing an autobiography. There’s a lot of material there. My entire existence has bordered on the absurd. I imagine that it will be entertaining, but I’m worried. I spent many years drunk, on drugs or so deeply preoccupied that I lost awareness of my surroundings, so I’m not sure how much I’ll remember. The traumatic moments certainly register, but the rest is foggy and dim. I’ll need to have some conversations with people to help piece it all together. I will probably have to go on the lam after it’s release. It’s bound to upset some people.
I played a show at my house tonight. I didn’t play particularly well. I’m exhausted and I have nothing left to give. I need some new tunes. I’ve got a couple brewing, but they need a lot of work. I’ve had a really hard time talking to people since I got back, so it was difficult to have so many people in the house. I probably should have waited a few weeks to play again. I’m out of that mode right now. I’m in repair mode. Things need to change.