Sunday, July 08, 2007


It's incredible to think of all of us out there in the world who want nothing more than to rest a head against a foreign body, passing each other in the street, continuing on with the same little empty space tucked somewhere deep inside. But it's all relative. I don't even need to elaborate upon why my concern of loneliness is partially ridiculous. Famine, hunger... these are much worse, and perhaps with my little plea I'm tempting the Gods of true loneliness. Let's hope not.

That's the thing- sometimes I feel like a spoiled fucking brat because I have a shell-shocked attitude regarding the things that surround me on a daily basis. I don't care about record reviews. I don't care about the internet. I don't care about the relative popularity of other similar bands who, apparently, the internet has told me I should view as competition. I care about writing music. I care about people, and they're getting harder and harder to hold close to me, or perhaps even to grasp in the first place.

Maybe it's because I'm lonely. Maybe it's because I'm hungover. Maybe it's because I came to the most beautiful city in the world and couldn't make it work. I wanted to relive that magical morning of my life with the marlboro lights and the window and the stack of NMEs.

Sometimes I get really scared because I don't care about anything, and that's just fucking stupid because in the moments where it's all seemed on the brink of loss I've never been more afraid. It's those seconds where you realize that you don't make your own rules that really shake you up.

When I get this way I have to comfort myself with the fact that I have music in my life. Music understands the fact that I run through life too fast and expect everything to happen instantly. I'm just going to give myself to the stage, go into hiding and write something great, bounce around and kick my feet and scream and strum and scream and strum...