Posts by admin
Green
My adolescent home is ablaze in green: deep, resonant, prehistoric, jade, kelly, moss, olive, pine, sage, and a thousand other hues that elude language itself. I am Homecoming King. I blow into town to wed off a buddy from college. It is a lazy afternoon. The air is cool and dry. The sky is blue…
Read MoreA Movie Script Ending
First things first: I’m one hell of a singer/songwriter. This much I finally know. You, Dear Reader, are like, “What an asshole!” Right? Well, as always, let me explain (though you’re welcome to think that I’m an asshole). I turn 33-years-old on September 4th. Now, I’ve been singing on stage in one capacity or another…
Read MoreThe Tourist
In the next six weeks, I will be blogging from Philadelphia, Miami, Nantucket, Los Angeles, and Sydney. And so, lying in bed last night, I resolved that I should add a dateline to my Daily Journal entries. I slept well thereafter. I was on the receiving end of a few bonus hours tonight when a…
Read MoreWhirlwind
Something’s gotta’ give. My life (like most, I guess) has become a constantly shifting game of prioritization. And I’m gettin’ just a little bit dizzy. What to do first? Eat? Sleep? Run? Return that call to Paramount? Book a hotel in Cairns? Get a visa? Write a set list? Burn CDs for the band? I…
Read MoreA Rush Of Blood To The Head
My old passport photo. The year is 1990. I’m nineteen-years-old. I’m wearing a red Polo shirt, huge Perry Ellis tortoise shell glasses, and a silly grin. And I have a pony tail. My first passport saw a good bit of use: Italy, France, Switzerland, Guatemala, Belize, Bahamas, Aruba, British Virgin Islands. Fifteen years later, I’m…
Read MoreNothing is Good Enough
I have to admit that I was rather relishing the arrival of Hurricane Charley. It’s not that I was hoping to see New York City wiped off the map, or for my surfing and sailing friends to get theirs. I was just hoping for a valid reason to do absolutely, positively nothing. Well, the rain…
Read MoreGrace
Times Square, 2 a.m. The city isn’t asleep, but it sure is groggy. It could use some rest. A few scattered street vendors hawk their wares. Fake Rolexes remain available, as do matted sketches of Bruce Lee, Pacino, and Tupac. A photographer wanders, then shakes the hand of a horse and buggy driver. Two cops…
Read MoreBedshaped, Part II
Coming to you from high atop the Mighty Viacom Building located in beautiful Midtwon Manhattan, Terror Capital of The World, I bring you a brief (and boring) account of yesterday’s news… 630-900: Sleep, no dreams 1000-1800: Work, no dreams 1830-2030: Cockfight rehearsal 2100-2300: Dinner & DVD (pizza, el Presidente, ‘Crimson Tide’) 2300-700: Sleep, no dreams…
Read MoreBedshaped
Something’s wrong with the sky. It’s blue when it should be black. It’s light when it should be dark. It’s empty when it should be full of stars. Oh, it’s dawn. Where am I? Flatbush and Fourth, ok. What time is it? 5:30. Oh Jesus. I need a cab. Walk towards the clock tower. That…
Read MoreHands Down
My optometrist, a sage old character named Dr. Ultrecht, tells me that my contact lenses are starving my eyes of oxygen, and crowding my capillaries. This is little surprise, really, as I have a tendency to wear them for weeks at a time. And so I’m wearing my six-year-old wire-framed glasses. In the rare instance…
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