home. away from home.

sometimes it's a long way home. sometimes it's 1383 miles of quiet highways that leads you there. sometimes it's right next door but you're too afraid to knock. sometimes it's in the chair you're sitting in. like now, where I am - home - in idaho sitting in the chair of my childhood. all at once, I am home and away from home. I have made a new one, with a lot of time and work and loneliness and confusion, I have settled my own homestead 1383 miles away from the world I left a long time ago. I am happy there, in my new home and sometimes I am sad there - that it takes so many miles to sit here in this chair laughing with my family.

when I am here I realize all the little things I miss out on. phone call updates can't share with you all of life's little inside jokes. it is the boring and uneventful moments that you share that often ties you to another. while I am here I focus on that, the little things. the way my father tells a story, the way my mother wraps a gift, the way my sister and her boyfriend make each other smile. the way we fight about stupid shit and annoy each other at a steady pace. the way we always know that despite the spat, we will always find our way back to the table to share a meal. family is this strange force that pushes you away and pulls you in over and over for the length of your beautiful life. I don't want to live in this town anymore, but I want to watch my family live here. fortunately it only takes two days and several cups of coffee and one long audio book to get me here. home. away from home.

putting the do in donut

you are not seeing things. those are donuts. that is a donut shop. an amazing donut shop I might add. just a lovely jaunt down the 210 from the heart of los angeles and you too can have fresh strawberry donuts made by jim. located on historic route 66 in glendora, ca, the donut man is a sweet stop worth making. the fresh strawberry donuts, for which the place is famous, are nothing short of amazing - big juicy and fresh summer strawberries bursting out of a fluffy glazed donut. sara, jg and I ate ours dancing with the delight of a scrumdidilyumptious sugar high. 

now I know there is speculation that donuts are not actually "good for us", but I would argue that what is good for the spirit is good for us. driving with friends, talking about life, only to be rewarded with a donut along the way is so very good for us and something we probably don't do nearly enough. I've been thinking a lot about what we don't do nearly enough of in light of the recent news that sara kaye is moving. not to a downtown loft or a hillside house, but moving moving, as in far away and no longer within walking distance. man oh man will she be missed. the endless adventures, the constant squeezing of the juices of life, she is a master. if you are lucky, as we have been lucky, your path will intersect with hers and most likely you will learn a whole lot about how very much living we are actually capable of. while I am sad for los angeles in losing her, I am excited for the world. I am also excited for the places we will get to visit her. onward and upward my friend, onward and upward.

a reverse lullaby

I was singing in my sleep last night. it woke jg up. he said he woke to the sound of a melody. a reverse lullaby. my melody being sung in the dark. this morning my jaw hurt something fierce. I must have been singing all night. what song I was singing he couldn't say, only that it was clear and lovely. this shows my current commitment to making beautiful music. I am in the process of securing all the gadgets and gizmos necessary to turn our lovely little palace into our home sweet recording studio.

entering into the realm of tech forums is daunting if you know as much about technology as you do about lithuanian history. not much. not much at all. here's what I do know. I know that if I don't get my music "out there" I will start to shrivel like a grape in the sun. I know that I feel more excited about recording my simple little tunes than I can remember being in too long. I know that having this sense of purpose gives me a focus my spectacles couldn't fix. I can see clearly. I need this. oh, and I also need an audio interface, a condenser mic, and an e-mu xboard 49. here's to doing what you want most and therefore fear most. may my reverse lullaby wake me from the dark slumber of fear.