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And I was too lost to find my way home [entries|friends|calendar]

[ website | 5:30 Saturday Morning ]
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[23 Aug 2003|12:51am]
I don't usually have allergic reactions to metals. I wear whatever earrings I want to, and it isn't a problem. But for whatever reason, my favorite belt always irritates my skin and causes a small but incredibly uncomfortable rash that lasts for about a week. The only thing that makes it feel better is if I completely numb it with ice.

I could always stop wearing the belt. But I love how it feels around my hips, and the surge of confidence I get from putting it on is enough to make me forget the ensuing discomfort.
just a breath between us

[14 Aug 2003|12:28pm]
I'm fairly close to securing a label for my new album, and I figured that was something worth mentioning.

Not that I really care how I fit in with the rest of "the scene," but it's still interesting to track how things have changed in the time since 5:30 Saturday Morning was released. The name "Avril Lavigne" meant so little to me when she was signed to Arista shortly after I was. It's not really her fault that she's so marketable, but it hurts to remember that everything she currently has was once promised to me. I was supposed to be the face of the reemergence of girlrock. And while I don't really care...it's hard not to care just a little bit. I don't hate her, but I'll never be able to like her.

My album was well-received. It didn't put much dough in the bank, which I regret, but everything's a stepping stone. And I guess the pressure is supposed to be on now, but I'm not really feeling it. I have faith in myself, and I have faith in my music, and I have faith that there are people out there who will get what I'm saying and identify with my sound.

So all I need is a label with a bit of faith in me, and I'm set.
just a breath between us

[05 Jul 2003|10:54pm]

I've had to learn it; so should you.

OOCCollapse )
1 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

[31 May 2003|07:05am]
[ mood | complacent ]

"Oh, how empty and pointless is Life... but how desirable!"
--Karl Marx

2 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

Anywhere - - - I always was a nightbird [15 May 2003|02:45pm]

I've seen myself look outside, unto mornings like this. It all feels raw.. and who's to say, really, that I'm not grateful, that I'm not contented, that I'm not free. I'm still waiting to be signed by someone. Someone not like LA "the asshole" Reid who just wanted someone, anyone to be his "anti-Britney" and chose not the most talented but the most commericially marketable. Dropping me soon after. I'm bitter, but fuck it, I can be.
So now I hold my most dissociate self on my palms, on my fingertips.. that moves upon the soft keys that forms all these in coherence, by this morning's light..Or should I say afternoon.
And I write in poetry to keepy reality at bay.
Must sleep..
2 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

A Night of Healing [15 Apr 2003|05:46pm]
Events pass perpetual, sun-scorched sands in a tie-died hour glass and our lives sift slowly toward the inevitable fates.
And just like that, in the death of an instant, you've slipped through the gates of the waking world first, without remorse or the slightest of misgivings, another casualty of the immortality war. To those who'll find this new world, sans the ones lost in the fire, a little bleaker, less harmonious and devoid of purity, but with a tinge of hope to have known that such people can exist in our lifetimes.
Death makes everyone more beautiful and pure and in rememberance they become angels.
On February 20th these people along with many others went to have a good time at a rock n’ roll show. Great White came on and the pyrotechnics caught a wall on fire, igniting a blaze.
On April 22, I, along with justincase and others will be in Rhode Island to help their families remember and memorialize those who didn’t come home from the show.
If you want to donate or know more about it, go to the official site, A Night of Healing
just a breath between us

Mari [11 Apr 2003|12:57pm]
[ mood | thankful ]

My time was given not to courting record companies or listening to their representatives drone on about being the "anti-Brit" and how I'm not quite commercial enough so they've found another but thank you very much. Instead there was a court and a little girl who had lost teh same mother as me and was almost lost to me.
My little Mari, my sweet little sister, who now is permanently also my "child" thanks to the court who saw I love her stronger.
Now we can worry about records and tour and image.
Mari, you are my inspiration. You are the little flower that gives a different color among the green grass, that gives a different light as the last rays of sun shine on your sturdy little stem, and your yielding little leaves, and the vivacity of your petals that timidly moves to the wind. There is all the energy that you draw from nature, as you yourself give, and it makes you the most beautiful natural power that this planet has ever produced.

2 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

I Am [02 Apr 2003|12:38pm]
[ mood | hopeful ]

OOC for anyone who caresCollapse )

The new album is on the horizon, although record companies are still deciding if they want me and what to do with me if they do. The album will be released sometime this coming spring though and the single is being shipped to radio staions on the 11th of this month.
I am on a plateau of so many silent and wistful reverie looking out unto jagged slopes and heights. The world seems to be opening again. The rivers, the oceans, the lakes, wash over, running their course; a convergence of wild, deeply running waters that settle within me, and by its banks I gently lay my worn out head to rest. Safe and waiting.
The raiments of youth barely touch my skin as the wind toils against summer's oncoming zeal. I run with outstretched arms, with laughter and smiles smoothing the fine lines of my lips. And dare once again to do the unthinkable.

4 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

Ghosts of the Past are never far behind [18 Feb 2003|07:32pm]
"I'm really going to miss you." I softly said, feeling for the moth overshadowing the heaviness of my heart. Its crooked feet are fixed. Its beaten wings moving slowly; together, apart. Together. Apart. Together.. Apart..

I called you up today to breach my sorrow
Carry me over the line to you
How long will it take to reach tomorrow
Seems like a whole lot of time

I've written about him before. Countless words and songs. Innumerable, in their yearning to grasp him entirely. I wrote in the beginning, "Love came like the tide; rising like flood, falling like ebb, over the surface of many seas, oceans, bays and rivers, lured from both moon and sun to a silent convergence knowing only to itself. "Time and tide wait for no man." But it was an opportune time and occasion, carrying with him the breath of spring tides when the moon is new or full and the whispers of neap tides when the moon is lying low.."

With just these thoughts to pull me through
I see blue carpet and cold moonlight settle in
Voices whisper down the hallway of how I should have been
I feel like I'm over the water, but I'm caught in the tide

Will you remember me, perhaps? Think about the girl who could walk on clouds once in a while; blue eyes for want of skies; fair skin for want of sun in an eternally grey bliss.

Tell me, are you calling for me?
Does this come deep from inside?
Carry me away, under the water, over the line
Carry me away, under the water, over the line

I wave with a broken heart, and weep not for this wanton odyssey but for you, your lonesome self, doing what for you has to be done. I wrote in your deed, "I felt him hold back in those last moments he reached for me and with a breath, I felt all the pain slowly retire, trickling the course of my veins, and out gathered among the loose sands, leaving only the warmth of his bareness that gently wounded me, bathed me and told me that all was well."

The sound slowly fades and trickles away from the scene
It's only the windows of life
They hear my dreams
Walking the distance, I feel like I've been running for miles

Happy times don't last long
I finally got there and it's too late to smile

Carry me away, under the water, over the line
Carry me away, under the water, over the line
Carry me away, under the water, into your mind.

The tour has begun again and the race for a label is on...We're here in California, Hollywood....it is rather quite an aching, deepening lull. But.. it is comforting. I'm looking outside the window. The infamous palm trees stand there. I hear the birds. I feel the wee breeze whose coldness gently pricks my bare feet. And not far, not far, not ever far, I see wings flitting, fluttering, luminous against the timid light, dispelling moth-drawn traces.
just a breath between us

Happy Holidays [29 Dec 2002|09:59pm]
A year ago, I wrote this:


Christmas Carol

From a faint distance, snow falls like dull cotton fluffies, covering worn out pavements and once mindlessly crowded streets. Rosy pink cheeks glisten under the dazzling lights of the night. It is not such a lone wintry night. But one that keeps the soul warmed, bracing beneath comforts till the paths end to doors where fire from the hearth is dancing as lazily as the day that passed. Christmas is not made for rush, or I'd choose not to believe it otherwise. If I had taken all the time in the world for all other occassions, it would have to be now that I would, in all my care, throw cares away. I'd give to waking in the middle of a clumsy snuggle between thick sheets and pillows as the first winds of Christmas day blow all the scent of pine, warm smiles, hot choco, and all the thrown cares in the world, to sit and spend time away.

I come to every morning, dropping dizzily out of bed. My room can never be too cold regardless of season. The shower is as biting and I step in it with chattering teeth, desperately trying to go through the motions of preparing for another day of brain wrecking toil. The pavements and streets are always wet. It never snows here. Cheeks, however rosy, are drowned by the distracting and glaring lights that are coupled with the tingling, almost always annoying medleys. Christmas is not made for commercialism either, or I'd choose not to believe it otherwise, still. But in the edge of being a disgruntled humbug, the wind continually blows, carrying with it all the thrown cares of the modern world living. I'd be worried if it was too quiet anyways. When I think about all such rush and fancies, my heart swells to overwhelming. There is always room for Christmases before me, Christmases that have always made heart warming hallmark movies, Christmases gone as far as beginning's memories... It makes my soul weep and it yearns ever more for that comfort that only the essence of Christmas brings.. I recognize it as a happiness for life, for living till the last days of the year. I'd remember all the months before, all my thoughts, where I'd been, what I'd done. I find myself smiling, standing exactly where I'd hope to be in time for Christmas. I suppose that is why there are twelve months in a year and the twelfth month is Christmas. I'd believe that anyday.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. :)
Listening to : The Christmas Song - Nat King Cole


This year's been all about trying to hold on to something. It could be easier to overcome but quite stubborn in its place. I feel this intense helplessness to resuscitate that silent spirit to life. But on the other hand, I've looked at new changes, new faces, new perspective, new sense of fulfillment, and this new place I find myself just in time for Christmas.

Happy Holidays folks!
5 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

"Better Off" [12 Dec 2002|10:09am]
Today, I woke up to a very beautiful, peaceful morning, with only the cold and crisp air gently rushing by, heralding the new day. It surprised me actually, when I stepped out the door because I tend to be unmindful, when going by the motions of preparing myself for the day. But the air carries with it its own telling reminders that it requires for one to stop and listen to it, feel its essence wrapped around and just simply breathe silently.

The day unfolded as it should. It was full of surprises and little joys from the jovial and animated faces of friends and acquaintances to the sad strains of a violin and the sentiments of the virtuous player that sends it to the inaminate instrument, giving it soul. I saw a young violinist perform today.

Christmas is in the air. Walk with me.
First from Colorado, white and crisp. The land of Christmas and lights and gentle slops.
To tomorrow night when the warm Las Vegas air wraps itself sround us, pulling us into the sin of the city and the lights brighter than any Christmas tree.

Family. Strange I think not of mine but of one that was never really anything like ours. Justin, Hannah, Nick...

"...and I was too proud to stand with you tonight and I was too lost to find my way home..."
1 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

Looking into a deep well... [07 Dec 2002|01:55pm]
[ mood | a little lonely ]

* * *

I don't know what to think of it. I've walked through rains, burned under the sun. I've led myself farther, coming back half a step each time. And sometimes I don't go back at all. I feel unfixed by terrible dreams, vague memories, past, crude realities, that Yes, I do know about and even see as vividly in my sleep. But I would ponder on it again; Is this worth stopping for? Do I want this? Is it the same? The same, the same.. ambiguity. It causes for too many sighs. I don't know what to think of it because I did stop myself from thinking. I wanted to be unmindful, yes. And though, quite ambiguous still, I know not if it's the same because a long, long time ago, I chose to forget. It's difficult not thinking, to be unwanting, and finding things never to be the same again.
just a breath between us

Absence is as great an enemy as the passing of time. [01 Dec 2002|04:01pm]

She thought of herself as a comet soaring on the wind, but at times, frightened by her own internal rebellion, she yielded to the temptation to dream of someone who might curb her impulses. But such states of mind lasted on briefly. When she pondered her future, she tended to become melancholy, and that was her reason for wanting to live her unfettered life as long as she could.
- Of Love and Shadows, Isabel Allende

That hit me and I had to share it.
just a breath between us

"...nothing to do but scratch words in the dirt and watch the water roll down..."-Soul Coughing [25 Nov 2002|05:03pm]
These bricks that define us, like art theory, a pattern that expresses the innermost longings of the individual self.
I invade the motel closet to wear a shirt torn ages ago. Almost every other article of clothing in here is a recent purchase, but I make selections based on love and memory. It's related to my inability to relate to the present which is what makes most writers live in the world they write. An inability to accept the present as how it is.
Images, like mirrors, a soul within the reaper, a flicker of glory that reappears to help me digress. It allows me to slip away. The excitement of being signed, feeling like flying and like the world was mine, a feeling that left awhile ago.
The blips from satellites, the hum of the fridge at night, the songs that bring me to rest, feeds me slain images at night to die with, but I am here and for all the rest of me scattered about the room like spin-art burns a bridge eternal beyond the waking dream where the warrior inside still swings an axe. She wants peace. I want peace.
There is no escape from the past. It must be dealt with accordingly and put to rest. A box in the closet represents a fresh grave, years from now to be resurrected. I clutch a tattered shirt and remember. Today, tomorrow and yesteryear to fall stricken and be placed in a box in the back of a dark closet.
I've been wallowing... I do that well. I wish I was only half as good at other things as I am at wallowing.
When I wallow I really quite "hate" myself. No, I don't "hate" myself as such, but it is an appropriate word for a similar feeling. I've long ago promised myself to abolish the word 'hate' from my vocabulary and the emotion from my soul too, as it is an emotion that is only self-destructive. It does not serve the self or anyone else for that matter, so I don't "hate". But when I wallow, I come close to feeling that for myself...
It's so hard to get out of though. Because how does one climb a spiral that is going down wards? And also, it's something that creeps in slowly and unnoticeably. At first I just allow myself to be a bit lazy, I watch television instead of writing or playing music, and then suddenly it's 5 in the afternoon and I haven't showered yet and eaten the whole house!? That's where I start to be angry with myself for having wasted my day, I urge myself to go do something with my day, my life, but I'm too lazy, and it's time for the show and then I leave the stage and shower because I have to, Mariella asleep before I get there, thank god for our little family who watches out for each other. Or my spiral might affect her too, or god forbid I might be kept form spiraling.
Fresh air, seems to help, and little animal creatures too, for me that is. And giving myself some good ass-kicking -which I've done just a couple of hours ago-, helps too. It's hard to do though, cuz the foot doesn't easily reach the ass. But! It can be done. Just figuring out how is enough to take my mind of my wallowing and self-pity for long enough to slip out of it. :)
It's just strange how easy I can slip into self-pity and wallow. I don't mean to, I mean just to be lazy, telling myself how much I deserve to hang in front of the television cuz life is hard on me, life grinds me down, not realizing of course that I feel so much better and would actually be doing myself a favor if I was to get up and do something I enjoy, like going for walks, paint some more, play the piano, write, read etc. But there is just this primal strange instinct in me that says; 'hide and try not to feel'...
But, I've crawled out of it.
No more making a fucking mess because I can think of an excuse to. It's not just my life to fuck up any more and I've got an appointment with a man named Prince who might want to sign me.
Reason enough to stay positive, let go of the past. Shove it into the back of the closet and move on.
The bus is waiting for me, we're headed to Kentucky for a gig on Wednesday and we'll be headlining the show in Iowa on Thanksgiving.

4 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

these days [25 Nov 2002|12:01am]
In the dark I can confess what I'm feeling. I don't have to be strong for Mariella or tough for the boys in the band. Thanksgiving is almost here and I have a confession of truth not born from guilt for myself. It's lonely on the road and the emptiness that I am bringing with me everywhere I run is leaking, puddling up on the boulevard.
There are just two days of the year that bare the mark of solitude. On Christmas and Thanksgiving, both days for family, I weep and stare out the window. A name on the leaves that go where the wind blows is barreling past unable to know me, a face you're unable to show me, who's voice could pull me out of this.
It's not misery or sorrow that keeps me from laughing, nor regret of decisions or actions unmade. It's a kitchen, the smell of pine or pumpkin, the curtains I pull away from the window and the stillness. The faceless picture of you that hangs in my head.
Resolve is a word I hold in my deepest thoughts. I'm content to toil and tunnel at length. Eventually these bricks will become a foundation, a career, a life, but make no mistake that when I think of those days I have no room for pleasure, and I'm not letting the world get to me.
Soon it will be one of the two days reserved for an apathetic, under-the-weather barrage of sulking madness.
2 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

western skies don't make it right [23 Nov 2002|01:40pm]
The sky was wearing feathery clouds for dawn. They gradually emerged from the darkness, while the last star faded and the birds began singing.
The sight made me want to stay up all day, but as soon as the sun emerges in that bright glow over the mountains, I know my energy will drain away.
So it was best to sleep. Maybe the clouds will still be here this afternoon, I thought as I closed my eyes and opening them again only a few hours later, Mariella's voice beckoning me, we have no show tonight, but tomorrow is Dallas.
I stand and look out over the Western sky and am reminded of lyrics, my mind working mostly in lyrics, always aware of music and taking it all in, never letting go completely of a song that touches me.
It's not even about here and then again it's about everywhere and everyone. And I'm sorry.
4 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

No angels singing in your valley of unease [22 Nov 2002|11:54pm]
[ mood | tired ]

Mom, I had been angry when you died, when promised to be there and then were gone. You were always so beautiful and brave and I hated it after, and I wonder if you ever thought twice of what would happen to me when you'd be gone. I had not even thought of it myself because you always made sure that you were always going to be there.
I blamed everyone for a while. I channeled what anger I had for you to them and to my music. I had convinced myself that I would rather lose what would seem an equally important person, if only I could have you back. I just wanted you back so much. I miss you everyday and it got harder. I had been angry at myself most especially for having relied on you so much, for not thinking that you could get hurt, or that you could actually die, or that I could actually keep on living without you. I never told anyone, no one at all, and just slept with all my fury buried like you are deep inside. Letting it out only on the stage, being strong and quiet off the stage, fighting for Mariella, keeping her with me. Doing what she needed and I needed and what you would have wanted.
All four seasons had finally passed, more than once now and it is that time again where I'm going to tell you how I had been. The holidays are the worst.
I'd never tell you I got angry, or that maybe I still am. I've silenced it in the way that you are forever. But in the dream last night, you just sat there beside me, not meaning to implore, but just there. You took both my hands and placed them over your heart and without speaking at all, you showed me that it was my heart there. I looked down at what had been mine and it was your heart. It had always been all along.
I woke up with the first rays of daylight scratching my pale skin through the blinds. Morning breeze had wafted the scents of the heat and water from the motel pool here in Texas. So far from home in so many ways. I slowly climbed out of the motel bed. I thought, I am ready for today.
I was right.
And now I am ready for the night.
My lips singing the words to a song I can't forget. About a city we'll be in before Christmas.

City of AngelsCollapse )

2 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

There's a crack in the mirror [21 Nov 2002|11:27pm]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

I got the ways and means
to New Orleans I'm going
down by the river
where it's warm and green
I'm gonna have drink, and walk around
I got a lot to think about oh yeah...

Not my lyrics but definitely where I am right now

10 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

In My Place [20 Nov 2002|02:44pm]
The rain on my face. I stood underneath the misty night, bare from senses that continuously drain and leave me after, without my consent. I breathe deeply in, so I may be filled again, thinking of the days that have led me, instead of even my compulsion marking it. I am looking up with eyes closed; my arms are opened, defying rules, nature, embracing entirely. So it rains on, over me, over me, over me...

In my place, In my place
Were lines that I couldn't change
I was lost, oh yeah
I was lost, I was lost
Crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed
I was lost, oh yeah

The record labels I'm talking to are coming to meet me. Many of them. Four of them.
I am hesitant to start a tirade on it but I resolve to hope it would all go well. It should be done soon. I've been saying that for months. How soon is soon, really?

How long must you wait for him?
How long must you pay for him?
How long must you wait for him?
For him.

My week has been one big parody of rushes, of what it normally would have been. I'm taking the lesson when I've tried enough beyond defeat. But on the other hand, I wasn't alone. I am thankful, very thankful. It was good to meet them and him. Mariella loved Hannah unreasonably and has a desperate crush on both Justin and Nick. Justin is one of the easiest people to talk to ever, which I didn't even think was so strange. I smile from thinking about that now, from thinking about him. What do I want, really, when I already have eyes of blue, not only before my eyes, but looking back at me?

I was scared, I was scared
Tired and under-prepared
But I'll wait for you
If you go, If you go
And leave me down here on my own
Then I'll wait for you

I couldn't say it. And I have to close my eyes, because they betray me and might give away the very words I would not mean for you to hear. I am alienated from my own words myself. I would say instead that I am a seafarer. I have no home. I have no real bearing of where the true north would be. I am a driftwood. I have made many, many rivers cry. But my eyes would tell you differently. So very differently as they take their time resting on your likeness. They are still. They are hopeful. They tell me, they tell me, they tell me... But I close my eyes.

Sing it please, please, please
Come back, come sing to me, to me
Come on and sing it out now
Come on and sing it out to me
Come back, come sing it

I'm almost absolutely convinced I'm crazy and I don't mind Wal-mart so much anymore. Alright, so maybe I am just amused or amazed. There's no holding the days now. And justin_tosco is not as different from me as I believed. And in hearing them play, hannah_tosco is deadly on her bass and for nick_tosco no I still won't marry you but try waiting for Mariella, she's, in my natural southern speak, quite smitten. And you only have 8 years until she's 18.

In my place, In my place
Were lines that I couldn't change
I was lost, Oh yeah
Oh yeah...

We play Louisiana tonight, in the rainy bayou. While some of my favorite people head to my favorite city to play.
11 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

there's nothing like a southern moon [18 Nov 2002|03:10am]
[ mood | calm ]

I believe it was Mozart who said that certain notes in a piece of music are more important than others.
In aesthetics, certain proportions are more profound than others. Visually or aurally, some things have a resonance which somehow fits something in our consciousness, the way certain chemicals fit receptors in our brains. When I stepped out my door at three o'clock this morning, I walked into one of those scenes which makes that sort of connection. I think we spend most of our time somewhat detached from our surroundings. It takes a special moment to re-connect us.

The moon had settled to a point between the tops of two pine trees. The sky was rough with clouds, dark masses shot through with pale silver. This time of night, this night of the year, the nearly-full moon is slightly flattened at the top, and the unseen crescent suggests an approaching ripeness, a fulfillment of aspiration, like a piece of music about to reach a climax. Amid the complex and shifting shapes of the clouds over which its light plays, painterly and of unstable mood, the moon, if as yet incomplete, yet suggests the perfection of its rounded self, and the sky undergoes a strange reversal. The insubstantial clouds give the impression of weight and mass, while the moon floats as lightly as the scent of pines in the air. The pines, themselves, complete a triumvirate of forms. Their aspiring upper boughs and startled clumps of fine needles, black against the moonlit clouds, articulate earth's energy, and that of the air through which the clouds float, and that of the water which the clouds carry, and that of the unseen sun, in whose reflected light their silhouettes are now revealed.

For a moment, before earth's turning rolled the trees up to veil the moon, the scene was held in a timeless balance, as though I were observing a frozen moment in a dance, on the verge of some profound revelation. I was suddenly aware that it was only from that particular spot, at that particular moment, that those elements could have been seen, exactly as I had sen them. In that moment, I sensed all time and space, all growth and decay, all change, the life of ancient rocks as an instant, and the fluttering of a mayfly as an eternity, and was aware of all this perception as transient electrical impulses firing through my brain. like whirling galaxies recapitulating cosmic ages in a fraction of a heartbeat.

When I took another breath of the cool night air, I felt hungry. I went back into the motel room and grabbed an apple. It tasted much better than usual. Things always do, after something of this sort happens. Later, I went out again, and the moon had set, and the clouds had vanished and been replaced by the glittering stars. I expect that I'll sleep well.

And maybe even dream of something good.

14 couldn't breathe+just a breath between us

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