Work in Progress...

We are weeks out of summer tour, out of summer even and as the final punctuation mark is slowly pressed, from the pen of life, dipped into that deep ethereal ink fountain, and pressed upon on the canvas of our lives, I forget sometimes to stop and reflect. As each day passes, and passes quickly, I inevitably get trailed down to the bottom of the page, and finger licked, forced onto the next page, edges unintentionally dog earred, to slip, stitch, and pass into the next thought. So suddenly sometimes, waking to a wandering sense of musical undertones, one's just to faint to recall their rhythm or lyrics, but just sonic enough to gesture that silence is split, I attempt to collect that musings that abound, an reformulate them as one might a dream from waking out of it's intense and distant meaning. I wonder if music is THE gateway, needing it to dispel urges, spawn others, quietly manipulte reality all around me; to segue (or fuse, rather) my existence as a seam-filled, but all together fluid string of moments that lengthen to a lifetime...ans possibly beyond.


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