New record?

I’m toying around the idea of putting together another album. It’s in it’s very infantile stages of course, I have been writing a lot recently, or rather never stopped, but it’s a lot that I would deem “trash.” A lot of it I don’t think I want to put down. My primary problem nowadays in songwriting, is most of my ideas and lyrics are written to a melodic idea while I’m at work, usually listening to other music. I’m usually good at writing “-esque” at the top of the lyrics/date, prefacing that with the song and artist. But sometimes I don’t and sometimes I get a guitar in my hand later and it doesn’t fit or work.

The other, is I don’t currently have a piano, or anywhere to play drums. I go through phases on what I write music on, guitar, piano etc,. It revolves. That spiderwebs off of each instrument’s iterations. Acoustic, 12-string, electric and so on. I only have access to an acoustic and electric setup now. But I’ve gotten into a rut with it, I haven’t been able to evolve at all with it. I tend to have ideas in my head, but when I get behind the guitar, I just end up playing the same old thing, the same ol’ progressions, so it’s quickly discouraging.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this or deciding it, for all I know, tomorrow I could forget the whole thing. I never technically put one out in 2019. The first year since my first record in 2016. Before that, I was regularly putting out records in various bands. 2015 I put one out, and was part of touring a record that I was not on, but was in the band when it was released in 2014. 2013 I was in a band that was working on a record when we broke up (so I could join the next band with the record being released) and before that I was noodling in my own solo stuff online here and there, and in between some high school bands.

It’s intensely frustrating to not have a group to be in with drums, or play drums in. Even worse, no space to practice in. Just to fumble around in. I haven’t played drums at all for 98% of 2019. Perhaps one or two days getting together with a friend. I’ve since acquired my drums from there in anticipation of a space, but it’s yet to happen yet. There’s a place downtown to rent if there’s space, but I've heard it’s 300/mo cost and it’s very noisy.

I suppose my first hurdle in the near future is the fact that I didn’t have an interface for quite a while now. I haven’t needed it technically as my last two records were primarily recorded on a standalone, portable recorder with mics on it. It’s been brutal not having a live playback/overdub option which makes it infinitely easier to make a decent sounding record with a bit more production other than myself on an acoustic with no accompaniment. That solution should be arriving in the mail today actually. Unfortunately it doesn’t have a MIDI input, one of my major requirements although I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, which is okay, an interface for that is easier to come by. I also don’t have a proper digital piano at the moment, so that’s my excuse for not caring as much.

I suppose in addition to getting the bug again, is I’ve written enough new music to bother. It’s not much, but some I’d probably release. Although I don’t know if I feel comfortable enough going into a studio by myself to get it done yet, which I feel is my next evolutionary step. Getting a solid drum sound in there. Hell, any drum sound on it. I can do 80% of the rest myself and get it sounding pretty good, but with no space for drums, I can’t work on my drum production value. It’s too daunting to me to go into a studio to figure out what i want to do on the fly. When i had a space, it was very quite most nights and I could experiment to my heart’s desire.

But hey, here’s to that goal for 2020. I’ll try thinking of more. I was told recently not having goals for the year was detrimental to my mental health, so I’ll see what I can do.

New Years

Well here we are, December 30th, 2019. What a year it’s been.

I’m sitting here at home, working on the couch once again because of some unforeseen circumstance, the weather this time. But it’s the two weeks surrounding vacation for most, so I don’t feel too bad. Although in total I think I’ve left the house four times, if that. I’d like to go into the office while it’s still empty, but no such luck. My hatred for snow is greater than my need to leave the house.

I’m uploading film photos from the past year as this year, looking back I realize I’ve gotten much more serious about film photography. So I’ve created a primitive gallery of sorts, in lieu of being able to link to my Google Photos albums, ugh. I want to revamp the site, “Have No Illusions” is no longer my mantra, it was created and named at a time I was spiraling and had nothing else to turn to. It sounded appropriate at the time, fitting. Like, “Don’t kid yourself, life’ll kill ya.” Sort of thing, to quote Zevon. But now it’s a bit trite to me, cringe worthy, reminding me of a time now passed. I need to change it to move on I guess. Unfortunately, patlynch.com is an open domain now, however it’s a “premium domain” so it costs upwards of 4k. Yes, 4 grand for a fucking .com, what? So I’ll figure out what I want and rename it.

I’m not into New Years resolutions or even feel like we’re all “turning a new leaf” or anything of the sort. People look for excuses to change, reasons, rather than just doing it. I am not this type. However, I’m also the type of person who continues on when change can easily help, I’m afraid I suppose. There’s a lot I should have changed and simply didn’t. It’s silly. Even worse, it’s the end of the “decade” so everyone’s reflecting. If I may for a moment, This decade opened really well. But it’s second half was shit to me. Self inflicted, not and otherwise. It is what it is. So I try not to dwell on it, as if it’s directed my current life, as if i couldn’t change some of it, as if it means I’m done forever. I’m not, but hell if a lot of good shoud’ve come if a lot out of my control didn’t happen.

Sadly, this year bookends with a few losses, friends who I just can’t enjoy anymore. People who I considered good people, but recently I’ve found to be incredibly selfish and thoughtless. I realized after months, hell even years of dwelling on these people, mulling over every time I felt ostracized, I realized to me, at this point it’s just toxic. I’m losing sleep, spending time on talking about them, thinking about them. How they wronged me, whether I’m right or not, it’s time wasted. I could go on to make an attempt at proving my truth, but it’d be callous and wasteful to do so.

I’m not here to disparage them, they’ve been kind to me in the past, but they’ve wronged me in many ways over the past few years and I keep crawling back, because I am weak. I can’t cut people out because I hate putting myself out there to move on. I suppose that’s it. I simply can’t tell them to fuck off, to tell them how I feel. I’d rather avoid it and say so long, in my silence.

It’s almost 2020, but who really cares?

December

It smells like someone’s burnt popcorn in the kitchen at work. It’s okay, I did too last night. Sitting at my desk, decorations surround me. Wrapping paper, desk trees, lights and candy canes strewn about the office. Some have wrapped the fronts of their desks. I’ve got a Charlie Brown tree on my desk, it’s third sad year. Holiday parties held by every department this week. Food for the taking in the kitchen and baked goods everywhere you look. Everyone’s wearing sweaters now, talking about time off, not much work happening this week.

But I do not feel festive this year. There’s no tree up at home. I haven’t shopped around much. As the holiday approaches, I don’t feel any sense of giddiness or excitement. I’m not that into it this year. I don’t know why it is. Each year passes with less fanfare than the last.

Mouth guard

I was recently given a mouth guard. A custom one made for my teeth. MY teeth. I wasn’t excited about it but I was told it’ll help retrain my muscles from telling my teeth to grind, on the left side specifically. I’ve rarely spent an entire night with it in. Either I take it out halfway through the night, or it falls out. Or, in this case, I think I swallowed it.

Right, I thought the same thing. There’s no way, i’d choke on it, right? Well, not the case when you’re sleeping. When you’re not awake, your gag reflexes don’t kick in. So there’s that. Also, I did lose it in bed one night recently and I found it in bed. But this more recent time, I ripped the bed apart, looked around the entire room and it’s nowhere to be found. Apparently, research, it’s not out of the ordinary

I strongly believe I’ve swallowed it.

Crazy person

One day at a time! Does it work? Stop the insanity.

I should go bowling. Yes, I haven’t done it in a while, my arm has felt like I pulled it for two months now. Since we stopped basketball. September? Maybe. My shoulder. Maybe it’s the way I sit at work. When I go by myself I’m on a mission and it’s a workout. I once bowled 8 strings in an hour by myself to get the advertised discount. Most of the hour I was the only one in their bowling and the guy behind the counter gave me a deal on top of it. He probably felt pity toward me. There’s a new place closer I want to check out. But I’m nervous to try a new place. There’s a specific type of place I enjoy going.

1. It needs to be relatively empty.

2. I need the keyboard. Some places have an all automatic system that blows ass.

3. It needs to be an ancient place. A place that hasn’t been updated since the early 90s or so. New places try to be hip and it’s awful. The older places feel like a church, it’s a religious experience.

That’s all, that’s it. Oh, this new place probably doesn’t sell booze. One does. I wouldn’t drink by myself. But it’s fun to have a beer and bowl, is that a crime? How did this get to bowling?

I’m left to my own devices this week until Sunday, it’s Thursday. What the fuck am I doing? I should get out and do something. But I’m also trying not to get into trouble. So there’s that. I’ll do it. I’ll get through it. Half of me wants to go a little stir crazy and get creative and put something together with my alone time. The other half of me wants to get out and do something to keep me preoccupied. I find myself thriving alone, but I never get more than a day or two in it, so when it happens my mind goes crazy and I don’t know what I want to do, so sometimes, nothing happens.

Crazy people thinking? Ah well.

The Next Thing

I got it!

I know what it is. I’m going to publish a photo zine. Basically a small book of photos I’ve taken. Do I have a solid amount I’m proud of yet on film? No. So there’s that, but now I have something to strive for. I can self publish it easily from what I understand and I’ve been taking a hell of a lot of film photography so it makes sense. The next big thing I’ve yet to accomplish yet.

I’ve also joined a few groups online regarding the local musicians groups. I want to be in a band again. Well, I always did, and feel as though I’m dying inside because I’ve played drums perhaps twice in the last 8-9 months. But I feel now I have the capacity and ability to get out there again. I have my drums now. I’ve had no drive recently for it other than wanting it. My car’s been less than reliable and I needed it to fit them in there. I got it done though. I’ve recently had reason to bring myself to go get them. Now I do.

I desperately want a rehearsal space now, it’s going to happen. A raise is coming my way and I hope it’s enough to make it happen. I’ll make it happen somehow. I want to join a band that plays out, a lot. I’m terrified to put myself out there and meet with people who I don’t jive with, AKA folks that aren’t up to par. Weekend warriors or people who just want to mess around. Telling them it’s not going to work will be tough. But even more terrifying is meeting others who are better than I am. The need to meet them at their level, it’s what is needed to further my chops, but damn it’s scary. Should I take lessons? I should, I suppose.

A zine, it’s happening. It’s happening! It’s going to happen.

Do a lot

I’ve written two books. Well, 1.5 I’d say, the first is a compilation.

But if i were to write another, what would it be about? What would be in it? I don’t even know. I feel as though right now I’m not in a writing mood, but I’m in the mood to release something. But I’ve done little recording of music, and little writing. I have no ideas at the moment I feel strongly enough to throw into a few weeks/months of writing.

I suppose that’s how long it would take realistically if I got a strong urge to do it. I guess it’s more disappointing that this fall is the first time I’ve not made a public release in quite a while. Starting in 2015 I’ve released, or have been featured on a release for the last 4 years! 2015 was a band affair, 2016 I released my own debut record, 2017 was another record, 2018 was a record and a book. This year? Technically I think one of my books was released in 2019, but earlier in the year. Nothing much has transpired since.

Inspiration hasn’t hit me too hard lately. I think it’s the typical phases I find myself in. The ebbs and flows of my inner want to be creative in different areas and unfortunately, the recent suppression of the musical aspects of it. I don’t have a piano, I don’t have an interface and I don’t have a place to play or record drums. It’s been a real bummer and source of frustration this past year. There aren’t too many places in the area renting out for spaces, and the space downtown that rents rooms out I have yet to check pricing, but I’ve been told around $300 a month and I just can’t swing that right now. So it’s hard.

I did have an idea last year of a small table-top book for the holiday season, however that’s fallen to wayside and last year when I was more passionate about it, it was too late, so I decided (at the time) I would put it on the back burner for this year, working on it during the summer perhaps. Of course it never happened. I am not driven at home and during my free time to work on these things although I should.

I should be doing a whole lot, but I’m not.

Four Fingers

I’ve got the same tires on my car as when I bought it 3 years ago. They weren’t new then. The same brakes and suspension, the same battery, the same inspection sticker. I can’t be bothered. I can’t be bothered, truly. Cars are too much. They’re just too much trouble. I’m going to buy a horse, tie it to the bike rack outside of work and battle anyone saying otherwise, contesting my choice of transportation. Clean energy. True horsepower.

I’m recognizing I’ve been in a deep state of depression for the last few weeks. Hell, months. Some state of it over the years gradually, but these last few weeks have been particularly rough somehow. I’ve been thinking about making some changes. Which is what I do when I find myself deep in a rut. All I can fathom or bare to think to do is make some kind of change. Anything, it could be literally anything. Make a big decision, life change. Job, relationship, major life-altering choice, reach out to someone i haven’t spoken to in years, rekindle a friendship or at least attempt it. Cut someone out, let someone in, break a heart, mend one, tell someone a secret, give something up, give someone up, take someone on. I don’t know, anything.

It’s when people cut themselves to feel. I make a drastic change to feel. I don’t feel anything right now. I’m waking up and falling asleep. In between, I don’t know what happens. Nothing important happens. I feel nothing. I react little to things, my normal lack of drive is in overdrive. (pun intended I guess) I do nothing. I slip into neutral. Weeks pass in the blink of an eye and I can’t recall anything that happened, even if it did. My memory is shot to hell, I’m bored, I don’t care about much, I’m not particularly passionate about anything, most things I can take or leave now. It’s all a blur. My life recently has been one large, continuous blur.

I can’t even type with more than four fingers.

So what to do? I don’t know, I write, here, to you. To who? I’m not even sure who that is. Nor do I care. I just get it out to get it out. This is the most productive I’ve been all week. The most I’ve written. I’ve jotted down a handful of sub par songs, but they’re no good, I just do it to get it out, to pass the time. Pass until I can be released into the wild of the world from work and be left to my own devices. To think about all the things I should be doing, all the things I haven’t done, should’ve done, should be doing, but can’t bear to bring myself to do.

It may sound silly. Just do it, quit crying. But these are people who don’t understand. If you’re reading this saying, “Get off your ass you cry baby. Quit whining and change something.” Then you do not understand. I’m not saying this to provide an excuse for my lack of drive, I’m simply saying if you cannot empathize, you don’t know what is happening. I’m in a rut. Floating around, wasting my life. Perhaps I’ll do something drastic tonight.

Perhaps I won’t.

Crescent

I’ve been to New Orleans, Nola, The Crescent City, The Big Easy, the City care forgot, at least that last one I believe is the quote.

I’ve been immersing myself into New Orleans life and culture. I’ve been gone now almost a week and still hung up on it. I felt there was too much to do in the time I was there. You could spend weeks walking the streets solely to look up at the architecture. It’s incredible. Never mind the drinking and culture and history, although those things too. You could spend a life there.

A bartender told me, “This place will either suck you in or spit you out.” That was a perfect description. While a cliche line, it’s true. Perhaps my current obsession and love affair for the city is trite as my time there was brief, but my infatuation has done nothing but grow. I bought one of those “Images of America” books on New Orleans, there’s more than one of course, but I bought the general “New Orleans” one. They’re $20 a piece so it’ll be a bit, but I blew through it. They’re short, mostly images with descriptions of spots around town of historic significance, but in my opinion, your best bang for buck in terms of a shotgun-style summary of the city’s long history.

I watched a four part history of Katrina a year after it happened, A Spike Lee affair. It was roughly for hours, all in one night. I want to watch another he did in 2010, five years post Hurricane. I made a point to visit the memorial in the city in the Cemetery district. Well, it’s the Garden District? I believe, it’s not really called the cemetery district but that’s what I’ll call it, there’s a ton of them. I guess this isn’t building my case for an obsessive is it?

I think my love of it came about when I realized I could immediately see myself living there for the foreseeable future as a writer. Being a nobody, playing open mics, in the french quarter at times, moving around wherever I please in small loft apartments throughout the city, spending hours smoking cigarettes in the many courtyards hidden behind the many walls of the houses there. Being a nobody frequenting bars, meeting characters, moving on, drink in hand to the next. I did this once myself when I was there. Nobody was around in most of the many bars throughout the popular bits until 3 or 4 at least. Some never sleep.

This was a longer thought, but that’s all for now.

What to do

I’m not nearly as interesting as you might think I am. Perhaps that’s incredibly narcissistic to say. But I should say, I’m not as interesting as I used to be. I haven’t done anything spectacular lately, or fun, or had much fun recently, or felt I’ve been having fun lately. I’m not sure that makes sense, but there it is. I used to be better. I used to be complete and accomplish more. I used to accomplish more in the artistic realm as well. 2019 has been a wash. The worst part, is that I’ve become complacent about it all. The reason is probably because I’ve gotten too comfortable in my home life? I think that has something to do with it.

I don’t know how to snap out of it. I’m becoming more miserable than ever. I suppose I always was when surrounded by others for so long. I should do something about something, but I can’t bring myself to start or finish and procrastinate until it’s too late and it’s all gone. Even then, I will kick myself for not doing it, but I’ll shrug it off. I just can’t be bothered anymore.

What to do.

Evolve

Where am I going? What am I doing? I don’t know! It’s exciting.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I’m taking a brief brake from shooting film. I was on a trip to Niagra and Buffalo and took a lot of shots! I have to get them developed. I’ve been laying low for the past two weeks since I’ve been back though. I have a few un-shot rolls I haven’t had a hankering to shoot yet. Also I now have a few expired reels of 16mm and a NEW roll of super 8 I need to shoot. I finished my second, but waiting to ship until I get my first roll back from processing to see it! I’m excited. It’s gotta be here soon, it’s been over a month now, which 4-6 weeks I believe was the turnaround time, which is disappointing. Over a month is too long to be waiting, gotta figure out how to get that done quicker. I might turn the basement area into a partial darkroom, I don’t know.

I think there’s some natural gas leakage in the basement. But the heat hasn’t been on since it’s been cold and I’ve been smelling it. A neighbor perhaps? One of them is an ugly couple with a baby they seem to abuse. Not really, but the husband just yells at her, it’s awful. The other neighbor is an older lady with Parkinson’s who definitely had termites a few months ago (because she hired someone) and it could very well be her. She could have a crazy gas leak and blow the whole line of townhouses sky high some night for all we know. Jesus. I need a gas sensor, or meter or whatever. Is that what it’s called? Like a Geiger counter for natural gas. They sell them. A detector! I just looked it up. Who knows, maybe I’m crazy. But it smells funky.

I applied for a new job. Same place, same floor, (preferably) and it’s a decent raise. I had the interview Tuesday. I hope I get it. If not, I’ll continue on here, fucking off. I don’t care anymore. It’s thankless. Things are happening here. It’s falling apart. It always crumbled at the seams but now our boss has abruptly announced his two weeks and he was the guy who held it together, so now what? If you don’t enjoy your job, and the people you work with who make it all worth while, leave, what then? What’s the point? There isn’t. But I love the benefits and cushiness of working here. So I’ll keep doing it. I haven’t told my current boss yet, there’s a chance I don’t get it. So who really knows.

But what am I doing? Every night seems like a blur. Every week seems like it starts at Thursday morning. Where the hell did the previous few nights go? Where’d they go? So many plans and so little time doing absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. I want to buy a new drum kit and have my own space. I want more recording gear. I want to make a record, I want to fix my car. I want to build my guitar rig, I want to go up the Cog railway. I want to read more, I want to buy more clothes. I want to make money writing. I want to drink more coffee. I want to be in more bands. I want to make money through music. I want accolades, I want people to be moved by my art. What can I do? When? Why? I need to brush up my solo work. I need to write more music!

I suppose, I’m evolving.

On a plane

Why must we cater to the whole? Needy, pathetic dramatics.

I am on a flight. Buffalo to Newark, then to Boston after what I hope to be a clean, quick layover. They made us check our carry-ons, utter bullshit. There's plenty of room, what difference does it make? Under the floor, above my head. The luggage cannot be lost in my possession, perhaps to save time? I question mankind sometimes. But my point is, on what should be a 45 minute flight, if that, to our destination, why we are offered water, snacks, wireless internet access, a bathroom and other nonesensical 'necesseties.' Well, I'll give them the bathroom, I have to urinate frequently myself, I do now.

But as adults, I think we are perfectly capable of sitting on a flight no more than an hour and not require constant entertainment, constant distrsction, constant pandering. Why set the precedent? Now if the wifi is down, or we're stuck to our seats from turbulence we bitch and moan like children stolen from our mother. As if only a decade or two ago we had the luxuries of 24/7 access to the internet, it's pathetic. Flights like these should conisit of nothing but reading, and sleep. You can do it folks, we can do it. I had to pee before I boarded the plane. I'm in a window seat and there's a sleeping man next to me. I could never sleep on planes, it's much too loud. How can anyone even fall asleep in 45 min? Well, that's a much deeper issue not suitable for discussing here, some can I suppose, most I'd say. I really have to pee, only 15 minutes now to go and I feel like we only just departed, look at that, see that? Over before you know it. Fuck your peanuts and bathrooms and internet access and tablets and phones and water and wine. Well, perhaps the wine. Did I mention I announced my need to urinate before we boarded? Come on 2019.

If I can hold it together for an hour, so can you.