"The Appropriate Time" and "Bless Your Bones"

Stories to Tell (Two for One)

“The Appropriate Time”

Newspaper format style.

Who: My lady friend and I

What: It’s "over"

When: Thursday night , May 27, 2010

Where: My apartment

How: Read on

There’s a great movie and it’s called “500 Days of Summer.” I love it. I thought it was super impressive and insightful. Well written, well told, well shot, well acted. Well…great. I highly recommend it. There is one of my all-time favorite scenes where the male character is meeting the female character for what he hopes will be a date that will reunite them. On one half of the screen is his expected versions and on the other half of the screen is the reality that took place. It’s amazing.

I’m sure we’ve all been there – when you’re looking forward to something, maybe it’s a date, and you’re excited to see the other person, you get everything ready, you have this expectation that it’s going to go splendidly and then once it starts you realize you’re in for something else.

It’s happened to me several times.

Let me explain a few.

Time number one:

The first was for my prom. I went to an all boys high school and didn’t know many girls. I had met a beautiful girl from Kansas City when I was in Paraguay the summer before my senior year. I was student body VP and had to plan the prom, and although I didn’t want to go, I was forced to go. Luckily, my friend from Kansas City agreed to join me. I was excited. I had a crush on her, but she had a boyfriend (typical). Two weeks before she’s due out to Boston she tells me on the phone that they’ve broken up.

My boys all tell me this is a GREAT sign and that I am in. They broke up because of me.

After days of hearing this from everyone, I buy in, and get excited. I like her. The night before she comes out we’re talking on the phone and she tells me that they just got back together. He’s no fool. I’m bummed.

When she does come out, she’s not nearly as warm and friendly as she was in Paraguay. She’s distant and cold and seems nervous and out of place. My brother doesn’t like her at all. He calls her to this day “The Ice Princess.” I was disappointed and thought she was off her game, but I understood, and I never held it against her. Things happen. I’m still friends with her to this day.

The expectation certainly deviated from the reality.

Time number two:

I dated a girl in college off and on for five years. Towards the end of college we broke up while we were still living together. We were fighting a lot. I wanted to move to LA after graduation. She did not. She was originally from LA and didn’t want to go back. We split up.

Like most breakups, it was not clean. We still loved each other and still had a strong physical attraction.

A few months out of school I was trying to convince her to get back together. She was hestitant. Thought it was a bad idea. But, that didn’t stop us from still visiting and hooking up.

I go away to San Diego for a vacation before I start my first job. While in SD she invites me out to Martha’s Vineyard where she’s staying for the time being the weekend after I get back. I agree. I’m excited. “She’s coming around,” I think to myself.

I get home. I had just bought a car. My first ever. I decide to take a drive. Before you know it, I’m on the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. It’s a week early, but whatever, I’ll surprise her. It will be awesome. I’m so excited about my car and the job and I figure we’ll hang out for a day or two and then I’ll go home.

I get myself to her house via a cab and then walk up the long driveway. Her dogs start barking and she opens the door. The excitement I’m expecting on her face isn’t quite there. Shocked, yes, but there is some dread on her face. She tells me to come in coldly.

I’m confused.

Sitting around the kitchen counter she informs me that she’s not alone. She has a guest. It’s a guy. It’s a guy I don’t like and never have.

He pulls up shortly after I arrive. He comes in. He tries to shake my hand. I look at it, and say, “I’m all set.”

She then drives me to the ferry.

I have never been so confused / embarrassed / hurt in my whole life. I’m shattered. The ferry ride and car ride are an existential blur.

I go home and pick up the guitar, which I hadn’t played in a year. I write a song called “Pieces” and have never put it down since. That was seven years ago.

I've never been back to Martha's Vineyard.

The worst part about it is that I had to deal with this while I was starting my first consulting job. It was not cool.

The expectation certainly deviated from the reality.

Time number three:

Thursday night.

Many of you know I have a lady friend who I’ve met since I moved to LA.

We’ve hung out several times and always have a fun time. We talk on the phone for long periods of time. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a month because of conflicting schedules and priorities.

She texted me on Friday (almost a week before the incident) to say let’s hang out next week. I was down.

We decide on Thursday for various reasons.

I’m down.

Thursday comes around and I’m excited.

She agrees to come over. I’ll make a quick dinner, and we’ll hang out low key.

The last time I saw her was on a beautiful spring day and we had taken a walk around my neighborhood and talked. We kissed goodbye and she got in her car and left.

I’m wodering if we’re going to pick up where we left off and give a hello kiss. I hope so. I haven’t had a hello kiss in ages. I almost can’t remember what is like or how to do it. I think I’m prepared though.

It was also her birthday recently so I had a birthday present for her. I had made her tickets to be cashed in at any point so that we could go to a concert / show / event of her choice, bought her a card, and some flowers. I mean why not. Girls love flowers.

I want to figure out where this is going. I’ve had a month to think about it, and I have no idea what’s going on. I'm not trying to move to fast or anything, but I just want to know what to prepare myself for. There is a part of me that thinks there is a future and there is a part of me that thinks something else is going on, and that she’s pulling away. Sometimes I think I’m in a movie called “She’s Not That Into You,” and that maybe she’s emotionally not available, but there’s always the phone calls that are fun and long and confusing.

I’m prepared to figure out how it will go.

We agree to meet at eight and have dinner.

At 7:45pm I get a text and phone call confused as to what time we said – 8 or 9pm. (At first we had said either or, but I suggested 8pm when I realized I’d be hungry after swimming).

This is unlike her. Normally she’s on time and super punctual. Oh well. No big deal. I’m not that hungry after all.

She calls to tell me she’s here and is walking up the stairs.

I go to the door wondering what will happen when I open it.

I open the door.

It’s cold.

I get a hug.

It’s like we don’t know each other.

Uh, oh. Here we go…

She’s tired. She seems like she’s dragged herself across town and just wants to be home. She’s not excited to see me at all.

Uh, oh. Here we go…

She puts her purse down and pulls out a cigarette. She wants one already? This is normal. J We have habit of hanging on my front stoop while she smokes and we talk and catch up. I put on my shoes and jacket and we head out.

It’s cold outside. For real.

We chit chat about nothing memorable. She tells me she’s tired. Had a late night last night and the night before that as well.

We go back upstairs to my apartment.

We enter the kitchen, she sits at the table where she normally sits while I cook. I start cooking. I can’t help but feel that something’s off.

The conversation is taking serious work. I look over at her and she’s texting away. Last time we were hanging out and she was texting while I cooked she made it a point to apologize and I just laughed. This time there’s no apology – just more texting.

It gets to the point I can’t take it. I finally speak up. “Is something wrong? Are you OK? It seems like you’re not yourself,” I say.

She responds, “No, it’s just that I’m tired.”

I don’t press the issue. She does look tired.

She actually still has her jacket on. Maybe she’s just cold.

I make dinner. I pour myself a glass of wine. This isn’t what I was hoping for.

She’s not drinking.

That’s fine. I am. I need to relax and take the edge off.

We eat dinner. It’s good. We talk. It’s good. She seems to be loosening up. I’m optimistic. She asks if she can have a glass of wine. She’s warming up.

I pour her a glass.

She then wants to go smoke another cigarette.

We go outside.

We talk. I try. It’s hard. Sometimes I think to myself “Why is this such a struggle?” I’ve got nothing to say to her.

We talk.

We talk.

Silence.

She sighs.

I say, “It’s going to be okay.” I don't know where this came from.

She says, “I was waiting for the appropriate time to say this.”

Uh, oh. Here we go…I guess I was right.

I brace for impact. I can see the metaphysical car bearing down on me, but I can’t get out of the way. It’s going to hit me and it’s going to hurt.

What’s it going to be? She must have gotten back together with her ex. I thought this was coming. Fuck.

She says, “We can’t be 'kissy feely' anymore. I can’t do that. I can’t date anyone. I don’t have time. I don’t have time for anything but my acting. Blah, blah, blah, blah."

I've given this speech before. This is my first time hearing come back to me.

She continues, "And, I’m still in love with my ex-roommate.”

Now we're talking. What?

“Who’s that?" I ask.

She tells me.

I think, really? I met him. He's getting divorced and has a kid. Lots of baggage. He did seem nice. I don't think he was too found of me. And let's be honest, he's no Groundswell.

I had ruled him out as a problem a long time ago. She actually had told me she liked him at one point but nothing could come of it because they we roommates (more like housemates), and that her dream guy wasn't a divorcee with a kid.

I’m stunned. Where did this come from?

I’m not surprised about her being emotionally unavailable. I had a good feeling that was the case. I was just hoping I was wrong.

I was more surprised by whom. Haha. I’ll never figure girls out. I've stopped trying.

We have a long talk. She says that this doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to talk or doesn’t want to still hang out.

We just can’t hook up, date, etc.

It wouldn’t be fair to me or to her. Sounds mature.

I would’ve been down to be friends with benefits. I can be either character from “500 Days of Summer,” but I can understand where she is coming from. We’ve all been there.

We both agree that she probably “pines for him” because she can’t have him. We’ve all been there. It's a matter of self-preservation.

I tell her I'm not going to psychoanalyze her, but I just did.

She tells me, “I just want you to know that it’s not you, it’s me.”

I laugh and say, "I wish you watched 'Seinfeld,'” and then impersonate George saying “It’s not you, it’s me? I invented it’s not you it’s me. You can’t tell me that it’s not me. It’s me.”

She doesn’t quite get it having never seen it before.

I can’t say that I disagree with her. I’m a catch.

She has issues. She told me that from day one. I mean we all have issues. She elaborates on them again.

I listen.

I think about the girl I had met at my buddy’s bday who was gorgeous and was wishing I had been more assertive and had gotten her number. She was hot.

Oh, well.

We talk.

My neighbors are having guest over and one of them walks out the door - she's a beautiful Argentinian girl, but I've heard about her before, and know she's married. Her husband just arrived. Seems nice. Not as good of a catch as Groundswell. Typical. ;)

I joke about her probably not wanting the birthday present. She says no. Presents equal affection and she’s not good with affection – part of her intimacy issues.

I decide she’s getting it anyways. If we’re going to be friends this will be a perfect excuse to still get together.

I’ll hold off on giving her the flowers though. That seems like a bad idea.

We go back into my apartment to get her wine so she can have it while she smokes her another cigarette.

I ask her if she wants to her the latest song I recorded (the next story I’ll tell). She says yes so we go into my room.

I have her listen to the song, and she likes it. Says it’s very heartfelt. Loves Zolani's voice.

We then listen to “Mrs. Robinson” on vinyl so she can hear my new stereo system.

This is totally not going how I thought it would.

I give her the present. She tells me that it’s definitely the most creative present she’s gotten.

The flowers sit in my closet on the shelf. She has no idea.

We go out and she smokes another cigarette, and then it’s time to leave.

I walk her to her car, give her a hug, and tell her to make sure to cash those tickets in.

She says she will.

I turn and walk back to my house. I’m disappointed. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see her again. I walk into my apartment dumbfounded. I go to bed immediately.

I sleep like shit. At one point, I wake up in a cold sweat. Disgusting.

I’m up every three hours.

I wake up at 8am and I can’t believe I have to work. I just get right to it. I want this day to be over as fast as possible.

Work is slow. I can’t seem to shake the feeling of disappointment. Endings just suck especially because girls I like are few and far between.

We weren’t even that emotionally invested, but it still sucks when timing is so off.

When work is done, I make some phone calls to family and friends to talk and help work through the disappointment.

They are all great and supportive and give me the standard advice of many fish in the sea, other train’s coming, girls who just want to fuck, etc.

My favorite comes from a text from my friend MM, and I quote “Out with the dumb-asses and in with the hot-asses.” I think that’s just brilliant. (Not to suggest my lady friend is a dumbass, on the contrary, she's very intelligent. Just confused.)

Friday was a long night until I met up with my neighbors downstairs and chill, but that didn’t start until 11PM. It was lonely before that.

I couldn’t stand being in my apartment so I forced myself out for a drink. I was happy I did.

Saturday morning I was having the most amazing dream and then right when it was about to go to ridiculousness I wake up to her face. Literally her face pops into my head and I snap awake. It's like a ghost. This is not cool.

I need to move on.

That dream was too good. Motherfucker.

I woke up and thought about what to do with the flowers. They were a beautiful set of four roses I picked out. I thought about throwing them away, but standing over the trash I realized they were too pretty to be wasted. So I decided to keep them.

My roommate and I now have them on the kitchen table. (See picture.)

When my roommate saw them, she said “She has no idea what’s she’s missing.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Saturday was a great day spent swimming, buying records, hanging with my neighbors and then my friend Jordan came into Venice and we went out drinking. It was like being back in South Africa again. I was glad he made it out.

Today was a good day as well. I worked. I’m getting over being disappointed.

I think and hope that we’ll still be friends. I’d like to. She’s mad cool.

You gotta respect that she came and told me in person. In this digital age, it would have been so easy for her to just disappear and send me a text or do it over the phone or via email.

I’m sure she was dreading having to say that. It couldn’t have been easy for her.

I was dreading hearing it and I kind of knew it was coming. Like I told her. I'm not shocked by this. I'm just disappointed.

I don’t know what happened in that month we didn’t see each other. Maybe her demons got to her. Maybe something else happened. Maybe the fish I cooked her wasn’t as good as she said. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

All I know is that it’s over. The lady friend I had disappeared somewhere after the last time I saw her and never came back. The girl who showed up in her place never even took off her jacket.

I look forward to seeing my old friend at some point...she's as cool as they come.

Morale of the story: Pursuing emotionally unavailable woman, although fun at first, soon starts to feel like you're chasing your own tail. Moving on...it just wasn't the appropriate time.

+++++++++++++++++++

"Bless Your Bones"

“This song is a special song to me for a lot of reasons, but, primarily, because I wrote it the day Aunt Helen passed away, about a very special woman we all love.

My mom and I were sitting in her living room in silence and I had my guitar in hand. I started to play a melody on it and I recognized it as being pretty, so I played it again. After a few repetitions, my mom picked up on it, and chimed in, “You should write a song for Aunt Helen and call it ‘Bless Your Bones.’”

I was more than up to the task. This was a perfect idea.

If there was one saying that I will always remember Aunt Helen for it’s for these three words. I had never heard anyone before or anyone since say them like she did – with so much feeling and so much southern charm. It makes me smile just thinking about it.

My mom and I used to laugh about how Aunt Helen made no bones that I was the favorite. She’d call my mom and my mom would give her updates on my siblings and they could be about to cure cancer and homelessness and Aunt Helen only had the slightest interest. When it came time to talk about me, my mom could say anything – “Well, Matthew’s in NYC in the middle of a three-month bender. He’s got no job. No future. No hope. No real plan. He lost his cell phone again last night,” and Aunt Helen’s response would be unwavering and full of love: Bless his bones.

It’s with this joy in her voice that I sat down in the room by myself to work what was a two chord riff into the song that you’re about to hear. It came out in a blur. I barely remember if it was written in one sitting or over six months. I think it was a little of both. I know it wasn’t so much me who wrote it as much as I was just a conduit for an emotion to be expressed. One that we can all relate to. One that we can all feel.

We will forever be connected with this song, and I hope every time you hear it you think of her. I know I will.

Neither myself or Aunt Helen are with you today physically, but I can assure you that we are both there in spirit.

We are both there in song.

Without further ado, “Bless Your Bones.””

-Groundswell’s letter to his mom so she can introduce “Bless Your Bones” at the memorial service.

I had spent two weeks record the song. I had pulled all the strings I could. I had Zolani from Freshlyground sing it (a surprise to my family), I had an amazing guitarist and better friend play lead guitar, I had a great friend play cello, and I played guitar, recorded everything but the vocals, mixed it, agonized over it, and for the majority of the process was delirious with a fever.

Needless to say, I loved it.

One of the best recording experiences of my life.

It awoke the music producer in me again. All I want to do is produce and write music now.

The cellist liked the song so much that he asked me to produce his demo. Done and done.

I’m ready to get out there and tell people I can do it. I just need to find the right people and the right time.

Music is back and Groudswell is ready to produce it.

To hear “Bless Your Bones,” you can download it hear until June 4, 2010: http://www.yousendit.com/download/dXFYZm1WaTFKV1B2Wmc9PQ

I got this note from the daughter of the lady I wrote “Bless Your Bones” about:

Dearest Groundswell:

I've put off writing you because, frankly, I have NO idea what to say. "Bless Your Bones" is and was the most incredible gesture I think I could ever imagine. That you would do this for my mom is so beyond anything I can wrap my head around that I've truly been rendered nearly speechless. I am so indebted to you, Zolani, Jay and Najeeb that I don't quite know what to do or say. I would NEVER, EVER have thought I would or could describe my mother's memorial service as "uplifting" or "joyous" . . . but in fact that's just what it was. Your lovely song, the words, the music, Zolani's incredible voice, the quality of the sound, the energy and love it conveyed turned an otherwise very somber and sad occasion, and what I was anticipating would be a VERY difficult day, into an absolutely beautiful and perfect experience. I am astounded, I am overwhelmed and I am above all honored with your incredibly touching gesture. On behalf of my sweet mother, who loved you so very much and who I know is smiling down from heaven at all of us, thank you.

With much love to you and your incredible collection of friends and collaborators,

[None of your business]

That’s it from LA.

Go Celtics!!!

Beat LA!!!

Love,

Groundswell

Christmas / Birthday / Anytime Present List

Alright my faithful readers. I know I've been absent for a bit. But, things have gotten busy in LA. I'm working two jobs, recording music, hanging out, and swimming. Writing has been hard to try and focus on.

I, however, just made my record player dream come true, and bought a vintage Marantz 2230 Stereo Receiver, a vintage Sanyo turn table, and some kick-ass old beat up speakers. Everything was dirt cheap but sounds amazing. I love vinyl (just not to wear).

In light of this, I've decided to put my Christmas list together early. All I want for Christmas is...records. Records, records, records, and a beautiful long-legged woman to call my own. Come on Santy Claus make it happen!

Well, I'll leave the beautiful, long-legged woman up to Santy and the Los Angeles Gods of Good Luck and Charm. You and I will have to take care of the records. So, if ever wondering what to get me just remember this list, which I will update as time goes on, and buy away. They can be new or old, I don't care. I just want these records:

(Artist, Album)
Kings of Leon, Because of the Times
Kings of Leon, Only by Night
Kings of Leon, Youth and Young Manhood
Kings of Leon, Aha Shake Heartbreak
The Beatles, Revolver
The Beatles, Rubber Soul
The Beatles, Magical Mystery Tour
The Beatles, Sergeant Pepper
The Beatles, The Beatles (The White Album)
The Beatles, Let It Be
The Beatles, Help!
The Beatles, All their other albums
Prince, Purple Rain
Prince, 1999
Prince, (Any other album you find)
The White Stripes, (Anything you can find on vinyl)
Leonard Cohen, (Anything you can find on vinyl)
Paul Simon, (Anything you can find on vinyl)
James Taylor, (Anything you can find on vinyl)
Radiohead, (Anything you can find on vinyl)
Bob Dylan, (Anything you can find on vinyl)
Nirvana, Nevermind
Any Blues album
Any Jazz album
Any kick-ass / classic album I'm forgetting
Any mind-blowing album I'm forgetting
Hell, at this point, anything you think I'll like on vinyl. If I have duplicates, it wouldn't be a big deal.

To avoid duplicates, another list for you.

Records I have:
(Artist, Album)
The National, Alligator
The National, Boxer
The National, High Violet
Radiohead, In Rainbows
Bob Dylan, Blonde on Blonde
The Black Keys, Attack and Release
Michael Jackson, Thriller
Modest Mouse, Antarctica and the Moon
Bob Marley, Legend
The Beatles, Abbey Road
Pixies, Doolittle
Pixies, Surfer Rosa
Simon & Garfunkel, Greatest Hits
Jimi Hendrix, Smash Hits
Neil Young, After the Gold Rush
Neil Young, Harvest Moon
Neil Young, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere
Neil Young, Live at the Rust
Michael Jackson, Thriller

Paul Simon, Graceland

Arcade Fire, Funeral
Arcade Fire, Neon Bible

Bon Iver, For Emma, Forever Ago

James Taylor, James Taylor's Greatest Hits

Radiohead, Ok Computer
Cookie Monster, C is for Cookie

That's it for now...

But, I will keep updating as I go along.

So feel free to buy and send me records for any reason you want...because you miss me, because you love me, because you enjoy reading the blog, because you want to buy a record for yourself too, because you haven't paid for music in a long time (Halearious), because it's my birthday, because it's my half birthday (August 28), because it's Christmas, because it's Chanukkah (I expect 8 records), because it's Kwanza, because it's Festivus, because you are in a good mood, because you are in a bad mood, or my favorite, just because....

Any questions please email me at: youheartgroundswell@gmail.com

Peace and Love,
Groundswell

Last Day on the Job

It seemed like a significant day. My last day on the temp job. My first 6 weeks on a lot were coming to a close. It was a slow day. I blogged about it. Real Time.

Here were go:

8:07am – Swipe my card at the gate.

8:11am – Turn off my computer, which did not shut off properly the night before.

8:12am - Turn my computer back on.

8:13am – Log on.

8:15am – Open outlook.

8:17am – Two emails received. Nothing for me specifically.

8:18am – Check my gmail. A few emails. One for JPC regarding the National tour. He’s probably going to see them at Prospect Park in June. Should be a good show. Agreed. One for my good friend, rockstar, and amazing vocalist, Zolani – she’d love to sing on a song I wrote for a recently deceased family member. I’m thrilled. I called the email I sent her “Long Shot, “ due to her ridiculously busy schedule. She was just in LA from Capetown to shoot a video with Shakira. She was so busy those two days that I never heard from her and never saw her. That’s busy.

8:25 to 8:50am – Check in on the sports scene in Boston. Read an article about the impending Celtics and Cavs series. Read an article about the Bruins rookie goalie who is playing extremely well. They were talking about rookie goalies who’ve lead their team to and won the Stanley Cup. The article made me way to anxious. Doesn’t anyone believe in jinxes? Jesus. Read an article about the Red Sox finally playing better. It’s about time. It’s almost May.

8:55am – Get an email from Halearious regarding her record player. She did it. It’s official. She’s now collecting and listening to records. She actually beat me the piss ant. I’m inspired. I’m going to be buying a record player real soon. I’m actually going to a vintage music store to listen to some vintage gear. Can’t wait to negotiate that price down. Oh, yeah.

9:03am – Drop a check in the mail for a commercial acting class. Can you say triple threat? Making it all happen.

9:05 – 9:15am – Respond to Zolani with the details of the song, how it’s progressing and how I see her on it. Two versions: One where we both sing (since it’s a personal song), and one where she sings alone, since she’s a fucking rock star who sings with Shakira. I may be crazy but I ain’t stupid. I am so fucking excited. We’ve been friends since we were 20. We met in Cape Town, South Africa. I love her. Her voice is like cocaine to me. I can’t get enough of it. I, in this metaphor, am the rat in the cage banging my head against the wall, hitting the switch trying to feed an addiction. Once the song is completed I will listen to it until I die with a smile on my face because she can do no wrong vocally, or in life. I once told her she could push me down the stairs and when I came to a stop at the bottom, I’d say, “Don’t worry Zo. I love you.” That’s love.

9:23am – I check in on ESPN.com. Nothing has changed.

9:33am – Back on boston.com/sports reading about the Patriots’ first round draft pick, Devin McCourty. He seems like a standup kid from New Jersey. Solid family. I’ll keep an eye on him.

9:35am – Over hear some co-workers talking about being hung-over. They went out drinking last night. Good for them. Drink water.

9:41am – Work-related e-mail count: 0

9:44am – Get an email from a co-worker / friend / other temp asking if I’m here. I’m wondering the same thing. Turns out I am.

9:51am – Decide it’s a good idea to document my last day here. In a blog. In a running journal.

10:00am – The time it is right now. We are live.

10:02am – Gchat with my friend MM. She called me to hang out last night. I told her I couldn’t because I had plans to meet a friend of a friend for the first time and I didn’t want to blow him off. I’m trying to make friends. I just revealed to her that he ended up blowing me off, and I should have hung out with her. What a waste. I did watch two episodes of “Breaking Bad” on DVD and that was fun, but MM is cute and super nice. That would have been more fun.

10:05am – Debating when to take my morning walk. I’m thinking soon. It’s looking nice out.

10:06am – Waiting for my boy, JPC, to show up on Gchat. He’s always a good conversation. Fingers crossed.

10:07am – Walk!!

10:09am – It is gorgeous outside. Not a cloud in the sky. Sun is shining. Light breeze. Good decision by moi!

10:10am – Walking along my normal route and I spy a tall, long legged, blonde female walking towards me. Promising. She takes a ramp that will continue to bring her towards my direction, but she’ll be above me when our paths cross. As we approach each other, I keep my head straight, shoulders back, but my eyes are tracking along with her behind my glasses. I realize that she strikingly similar to a character from Avatar in terms of her stature and facial resemblance. Not blue. No tail. As our paths are about to cross, I catch her eyes darting down to check me out. Oh yeah, busted! I love it. I must be doing something right. I’m glad I didn’t shave for two days. Seems to be working out. A good start to the walk.

10:20am – I decided to veer from my normal walk in an effort to traverse through parts of the lot I’ve seen, but never been through. There’s a whole section of old houses / smaller buildings that I’ve always presumed where writing related. It turns out I’m correct.

10:23am – I stop at a plaque entitled “The First Forty Years,” which details the beginning of the movie industry – starting with the advent of cellulose in 1889, the film projector in 1891, the first movie theater in Philly in 1905, the first feature film about a train robbery, and the start of this respective movie studio in 1914 – through the early 1930s. Interesting stuff.

10:35am – Back at the office.

10:36am – Work-related email count: 0

10:42am – Maybe I should ask to leave. I’m not sure they really need me. I’m honestly surprised the didn’t say that earlier this week when I told them today would be my last day.

10:43am – I at least have to stay through lunch. I’ve started this whole lunch click and they depend on me to eat together. It’s been horrible what happens to them on days when I’ve not been here. They eat by themselves. Oh, the horror.

10:44am – JPC is a no show on Gchat. Shame.

10:46am – Co-worker picked me off. She needs help with something. Work-related email count is about to be shattered.

11:00am – Work-related email count: 0

11:02am – Finished reading MM’s blog about high heels. I think I finally get why girls go through the trouble. Thanks MM.

11:04am – I think I may like the jersey that the US team will wear in the world cup.
11:05am – work-related email count: 1

11:32am – Overhearing co-workers discussing the weather and the weekend, I realized it’s Friday!! Fuck yeah!

11:44am – JPC texts. It’s like gchat but less efficient. It’ll do for now. I’m kind of busy.

12:02pm – Just sent out the email coordinating the lunch meet up. The final time I’ll do this. Or at least this time on the lot. I’m choking up. I’ll need a minute. (Luckily, I’ve only got 240 minutes of work left.)

12:17pm – I’ve completed my task.

12:19pm – There comes a point in every temp workers day when there is nothing left to read on the internet, I’ve hit that point. Lunch won’t come soon enough.

12:20pm – I guess I could read the NY Times.

12:23pm – Distracted by the lunch circle emails. The oil spill reached the coast. Damn. I kind of wish I didn’t go to nytimes.com. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

12:35pm – Lunch has been scheduled for 1PM.

12:55pm – Finished an article about Facebook and how they are constantly making changes that effect the user’s privacy, making things more public.

2:03pm – Got back from lunch. It was awesome. We had quite a crew of people who work at the lot for day jobs but pursuing other things at nice (i.e., acting, fashion design, and music).

2:23pm – Actually did more work than I was supposed to do on something. Found out just in time.

2:40pm – My assigned tasks for the day have just vanished. Completed. Now what?

2:49pm – If I was sailing, this would be the ‘duldrums.’ Lord have mercy on me…

3:03pm – Work-related email count: 5

3:11pm – You know you have a football problem when you’re reading espnboston.com and you come across an article about the Patriots signing either rookie free agents, and you get excited about it.

3:21pm – JPC logs onto Gchat. It’s gonna be short cause it’s late in NYC. Turns out my brother is down visiting friends who have been having some lady problems. He’s drinking a 40 already. It’s only 6:21pm there.

3:23pm – Supposedly my brother’s been drinking since 11am. He’s got once speed when it comes to drinking: Go.

3:43pm – Double barrel Gchat: JPC and M from MySpace. Day is going by quicker now. I’m thinking I may want to go for a walk again soon…

4:10pm – A co-worker said she was buying me an ice cream sandwich as a going away present. I just sent an email checking in on the status. I’m getting antsy to leave!

4:15pm – Time sheet has been filled out.

4:23pm - My co-worker shows up with the "Big Neopolitan Iced Cream Sandwich." She was out buying it for me when I sent her the email. I <3 her. :) Nice people rock. She went all the way into another building that only she has access to (of the three temps) and bought me the last one! That's a good friend.

4:30pm - A moment of silence for the "Big Neopolitan Iced Cream Sandwich." It is no longer.

4:31pm - I ate it the strawberry end first, followed by the vanilla, and then the chocolate. Was very yummy. Why does coffee get excluded? Why? Of all the iced creams, coffee is my favorite.

4:35pm - Let the goodbyes begin. I've composed my "sayonara" email and whatnot. To be sent shortly....

4:42pm - Debating leaving early. I've made it this far. Can I make it to 5:00pm? Is there a point? I'm not sure.

4:52pm - Goodbye email has been sent. Blog will be posted. I'm heading around to make the walk and say goodbye.

"A Small World, Indeed"

It’s weird how life is interwoven. It’s weird how life is so chaotic and complex. It’s weird that we find order in disorder. It’s weird that simplicity is the most beautiful thing of all (slightly ahead of symmetry).

And it’s just fucking nuts that my neighbor downstairs in Venice was roommates in NYC with my NYC roommate’s good friend and assistant chef at Franny’s in Brooklyn. What the fuck!?!

My neighbor and I have been running parallel lives now for almost two years.

He lived in Brooklyn for a 1 ½ years during the same time I did. He lived in Park Slope that entire time. He lived with the aforementioned assistant chef the entire time.

I lived in Brooklyn for 1 ½ years. I lived in Park Slope the entire time. I lived with the executive chef of Franny’s.

Our two roommates were great friends. My roommate talked about his roommate all the time – how he was the only one he trusted to run Franny’s when he wasn’t around. Trust and cooking go hand and hand. (As does trust and love, but that’s a whole different subject.)

My new neighbor and I both chilled at Franny’s innumerable times. We both became friendly with the other person’s roommate’s friend (who was the other person’s roommate!). (I know: confusing!)

We, however, never crossed paths in New York.

We both felt out of place in NYC.

We both decided to pack our bags and move to California.

We both decided to live in Venice.

We both landed on the same street in Venice.

We both landed in a blue building. The same building – he on the first floor; I on the second.

Two months or so after being neighbors we figured out we both lived in Brooklyn, in Park Slope. Crazy. A few blocks away. Solid.

It was when we connected on Facebook today that we realized how connected we both were.

We just thought we both lived in Park Slope a few blocks from each other. Turns out we were very connected.

More often than not, things in life seem random. There are instances like this that make things seem less random and really small.

Either way I marvel at the mystery that is life. It’s just weird.

"Yard-sale Heaven"

It was Sunday, April 18, 2010, and I was about to go on a maiden voyage. The destination? Yard-sale heaven. Once you go there, there is no coming back.

Format: Real-time journal.

8:47am: I awake naturally. I see it’s light out. I reach for my phone. "8:47am." Shit. I was supposed to be at Amanda J’s and Richie’s at 9:00am to help with their yard-sale. Shit. Not happening. Gonna be late.

9:28am: I pull past Amanda J’s and Richie’s. No sign of a yard-sale. I hope they didn’t cancel it.

9:33am: I walk up the stairs and see Richie coming down the stairs holding two chairs. Richie, asks, “What are you doing up so early? I reply, “Helping with the yard-sale. I’m a little late ‘cause I over slept.” Richie, “So did we.”

9:34am: I see Amanda J. “Groundswell,” she greets me with a big smile and a hug.

9:35am: I’m carrying down two chairs to the front lawn. (Task-master heaven?)

9:37am: Amanda J’s telling the early bird arrivals that we’re bringing stuff out. I’m starting to feel like we may be prey.

9:47am: Breaking a sweat. I over hear Amanda J responding, “Yes, we have cologne.” She turns to me, “Groundswell, tell Richie to bring the box down with the cologne.” These guys are making requests?

9:53am: Place a large box down on the ground that Amanda J asked me to get. Before either Richie or Amanda are able to look at it, a guy is going through the box in his desperate search for cologne. He rifles though and throws things he’s not interested on the ground. I don’t have time to stop and think about this. I’m off to get more stuff.

9:55am: Getting tired from hustling back and forth. Richie is now manning the sales. Amanda J and I are lugging stuff to the front yard. We have our first official ringer at the yard sale. He’s looking for mens watches, cell phones, and other electronic items. There’s no way he’s working alone, or here for his own personal use.

10:00am: Amanda J suggests I take a break a break for a minute. I’m not arguing. As I watch the melee, it’s like sharks feeding. They’re all hovering around, searching through boxes, asking questions. It seems chaotic. I feel for Richie and Amanda J as they try and respond. The group consists mostly of low income Spanish-speaking and what I would guess would be Indian immigrants.

10:05am: Amanda J and I are back in the house drinking water. It’s a beautiful day outside. Hustling around in jeans and a hoodie have made me sweaty and tired. It feels good. I’ve always liked doing manual labor. (Shut the fuck up Patrick.)

10:15am: The number of people interested in used cell phones is shocking. They’re the hot item.

10:32am: It becomes evident that anything over $20 will not be purchased readily. People pick up the nice items, hear how much they are, and put them down quickly. Richie, working for a video game company has some nice electronics and video game supplies – even at half off the retail price, people are scared. Surprising.

10:44am: The most touching moment of the day occurs when a women comes back to purchase a bottle of Rogaine for a few dollars. She was embarrassed to buy it so we made sure to hide our laughing. (I’m kidding. We didn’t laugh. Although Amanda J and I later discussed this very event back in her apartment and decide it was the “Most Touching Moment of Yard-sale 2010.” Bar none.)

10:53am: I’m hungry.

11:02am: Like most things, the rushes come in waves. They are making good progress selling their shit. Money is flowing in.

11:11am: Amanda J has just discovered that Richie has given away a picture of hers for free. It was $5. She warns that she might flip-the-fuck-out on Richie. We are a little scared. We laugh it off. She then convinces herself that Richie’s joking. He’s not. I watched him do it.

11:14am: Richie asks, “Amanda, how much for those?” Amanda whispers, “I don’t know. I stole those.”

11:20am: "Richie, I can't believe you gave away my picture. That was my big ticket item." We're not quite out of the woods yet.

11:23am: Amanda goes into the house.

11:25am: Richie’s friend from New Bedford breaks out a blunt.

11:33am: I’m really hungry.

11:45am: Debating how old the girl with the badukka-ass is. Anywhere from 15-20 is thrown out. She comes back with her mom. Twelve is the new answer. Amanda J tells us the pesticides in food are making them grow up faster. For real, for real. (There is no way she was under 16.)

11:50am: I need some water. As I am about to walk onto the sidewalk, I look left. No one coming. I’m good. I continue to walk full speed. Whack! My head slams into a lamp that arches over at the perfect head hitting height. I walk towards the apartment building laughing. Ridiculous.

12:01pm: Lunch is being discussed. Hell yeah. The Vegan Joint is getting hit up. I’m down. Amanda J says she’s going to order me a lentil burger and take care of the rest. I tell her that I have nothing but faith. It’s true.

12:05pm: For the millionth time, one of the lamps they are trying to sell is blown over by the wind. We just leave it down. It's now a floor lamp.

12:12pm: It’s discovered that someone stole Amanda J’s pipe that she was going to sell. Not cool.

12:14pm: Amanda J sells a neckless for $2. She then reveals that it cost $1 at the dollar store. She’s delighted.

12:20pm: After another purchase, Amanda reveals that it was gift from somebody that was sold. Turns out a lot of what they are selling are old gifts.

12:23pm: A flock of green parrots are wreaking havoc on the street. Flying around and being all raucous. It’s pretty entertaining. It must be mating season or something because they are up to no good.

12:27pm: A sweet car pulls up in front of the yard-sale. Richie comments on the rims. We all agree - too nice for the yard sale.

12:28pm: It was the delivery car. Lunch has arrived. It’s slamming. The Vegan Joint is the shit. Amanda ordered just as I would have.

1:01pm: A really young kid walks by with some friends. "How much for the vaporizer?" he asks. I'm impressed. Bird-like eyes. He says he'll be back. (He never came back.)

1:04pm: Richie has broken out the Indian flute. He has no idea how to play it. Doesn’t stop us from having fun.

1:15pm: We’re laughing hysterically at the idea of his flute playing driving a neighbor crazy to the point of the neighbor coming down asking how much the flute is, giving him a $20-bill, saying, “keep the change,” and then breaking it in front of us. We think this could be a good way to make money.

1:17pm: A Lexus pulls up to the yard-sale. Just happened to be driving by and makes an impromptu stop.

1:18pm: Two guys get out. They look around.

1:20pm: As the older of the two is looking around, he asks if we’re selling lemonade. We laugh because we were talking about that not too long ago. He then tells us at his last yard sale he sold water, and must have made $80 off of selling bottled water. "$3.99 for a twenty-four pack," he says. We’re impressed. He then gets back into his car. Shortly, his friend follows.

1:24pm: The window rolls down, and the older man, prompted by someone in the back seat who was too good to get out asks, while laughing “How much for those nasty tables.” Amanda says “Five dollars.” He laughs and rolls up the window and drives off.

1:25pm: Let the shit talking commence. Motherfucker.

1:26pm: Who the fuck sells water at a yard-sale? Why don’t you take your Lexus and get the fuck out of here? We were not pleased.

1:47pm: The packing up has commenced. The yard-sale is over at 2pm.

2:00pm: I’ve got a few goodies for the road. Some funny memories and no sunburn (I was chasing the shade like a vampire). It was an all around great way to start a Sunday. Now home to chill.

"Eggplant Studios, The Demo Sessions"

It was a good Friday. Beautiful, sunny, a picture perfect California day. According the the engineer, it was a shitty day to be in a studio. According to me, it was a perfect day to be in the studio. Actually, they’re all perfect days to be in the studio. Except for that time I was recording a song and Giselle wanted to get together – post Leo, pre-Tom – but my love of music got in the way. Still kicking myself for that one.

It was Good Friday. The day Christians celebrate Jesus dying for their sins, killing death, etc. I thought the religious significance was a nice touch to continue the journey on killing my demons. (I just noticed demo is the first four letters of demons.) It has and will continue to be a long fight against my demons, but I think I’m up for the challenge. And, the paying of someone else to record me singing and playing live is undoubtedly the greatest step I can take.

I woke up early. I couldn’t fall asleep the night earlier. The excitement was like Christmas Eve when I was a little tyke – back in the day when I’d wake up at 5am and lay on the bathroom floor watching the minutes tick by until it hit 7am – the time when my father said we would wake up for Christmas. I was in my parents bedroom on the dot.

Up and at ‘em, I was cooking a large breakfast of scrambled eggs with veggies. I knew that I’d want to eat early because while I’m in the studio I don’t get hungry, and eating and singing is never the best idea (phlegm).

I got to the Eggplant Studios in Silver Lake at noon. We were planning a ten hour day of recording and mixing. I was on time.

Darren, the engineer, instructed me to pull around back to ‘unload.’ I showed up around back with my guitar case. He started to laugh. Usually he records people with a ton of gear. It’s just me and Maybelle, my 1996 Larrivee D-9, aka my love. I pack light.

We begin to settle in. He asks if I want tea. I say yes. I love tea. It’s the English and Irish in me. He loves it as well. He’s got a whole cabinet full of organic teas. He takes me through the selection and asks which one I’d like. I tell him I’ll have the Roibos – a red tea from South Africa. Let’s bring it back to where it all started I say. Both for humans, and for my life changing decision to pursue music with everything I got.

While we’re brewing the tea, Darren’s two-year old, Aidan comes into the kitchen stark naked. He’s speaking two-year old English, which only his father can understand, but it’s relayed to me that he’s talking about the card in his hand that is Buzz Lightyear and he’s saying, “To infinity and beyond,” the famous Buzz Lightyear quote from the Toy Story series. I repeat it back to him and tell him how much I like Buzz and the movies. Aidan then starts speaking again, and once again, I don’t really make it out, but Darren translate it and says that Aidan is saying, “Reach for the stars.” I love it. I turn to Darren and tell him that I think Aidan is spitting some pretty philosophical stuff for me on the day I’m going to kill my demons. He laughs and agrees. I take it to heart.

I believe Aidan.

The tea's done, Darren puts in some sort of amazing organic honey and we’re back into the studio.

I’m getting comfortable. I’ve tuned up the guitar; I'm warming up. Darren is getting the mics he’s going to use and setting up the session. I’ve done all this before, but this time I’m watching. This time I’m the “talent.’

Once everything is set up, we get our game plan together. We decide to start off with the easiest, do the hardest as the third one, and then work our way back down to easy at the end. I have 8 songs prepared for the day – of the 25+ I have written in the past year or so.

It’s a good guide. I’ll follow it for a song.

I decide to start with “Sometimes.” “Sometimes” is the song I credit with my musical “awakening.” I wrote it in November of 2008. It’s about being afraid to fall in love. The characters are trying to take it slow during the verse for fear of getting in over their head and getting lost, getting hurt, and all the other fun stuff. The chorus is centered around being depressed – “Sometimes we’re lazy and other days I just don’t care.” The guitar is simple chord structures and the structural pattern is easy. Everyone I’ve ever played this song likes it.

We start off playing to a drum beat, and although this is a great way to ensure consistency between takes, we quickly loose the vibe of the song. We both agree to do away with the click / drum beat / metronome and let me go ‘au natural.’ I am game.

I take off the head phones, close my eyes and sing and play as if I’m in my room. I forget that I’m in the studio as much as possible, and it goes well. After a take or two like this, we move on. “Sometimes” has been captured as is on that day at that time.

I get out of the isolation booth that will be my home for the next 5 hours of so and we listen to the versions. We pick the one we like best and decide to move on. This will be the process we follow throughout the day.

The next song that’s up is “Thick as Thieves.” This song I wrote while I was ‘homeless’ and staying with my Aunt and Uncle in Annapolis in 2009. While there, I reconnected with my cousins from my dad’s side of the family. We grew up together until 1992 and then they relocated to Maryland. Due to technical limitations, we lost touch and things were never the same when we say them. However, this was not the case when we reconnected. We were all older. We could all drink. And, surprisingly, we hadn’t changed as much as we thought. Now, that we had exited the awkward years of adolescence and we had some life experience, everyone had blossomed into a more mature version of who were were becoming in 1992. It was like being home.

One of the first times we hung out again I went up for just the day, but we were having so much fun my plans changed. I soon was staying the night, and we were soon going to my cousin Polly’s friend’s house party. Polly is twenty-three. A recent grad of University of Maryland, she very much still has friends who throw a mean house party. He sister Meryl, is twenty-seven, and like myself, Irish, and still knows how to throw down at a mean house party. It was a blast. The three of us left the party at three in the morning, the last three standing.

At one point during the day, Polly was saying something that was not true, or was funny, or something and I said “that’s just propaganda Polly.”

A chord had been struck. I knew immediately that something would come of it.

After the party, when I was back home I picked up my guitar and started to structure a song that was upbeat, happy, in an effort to capture the feeling I had when I was around them. Within minutes I had “Thick as Thieves.” “You and me, we’re thick as thieves / And, yes, you’re honor we are guilty…(chorus) Miss America Meryl and Propaganda Polly and me / When we’re together we’re just so happy and free / We drink and we smoke, and we toke and we’re drinking again / When we’re together this party will never end.”

After a few tries with the drum beat, Darren gives me the go ahead to play without the beat. I lose the pick as well, and decide to play with just my fingers. Four minutes or so later we had the version of the song on ‘tape.’ I felt that something magical had happened and the song took the structure that I had been struggling to finalize. I listened to it on playback and gave the go ahead to move on.

Next song to record was “Just Like You (Desert Blues).” This song is in the mold of Dylan-esque upbeat blues of the sixties. I remember when I wrote it after I got back from a trip to Arizona in late 2008 to do some soul searching. I wrote it at my mom’s apartment after the Christmas holiday. I remember when I first heard it on playback on my hand-held recorder, smiling, thinking, “I’ve got something interesting here. I’ve been fine-tuning and honing it since then. This song came out easy and I was very pleased with it. It was almost like a blur and I had forgotten how it went when we’d return to mixing it hours later. This is still one of my favorites from the session. It opens, “Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em all down. Let’s let the government know we’re fucking around.”

Staying in the upbeat mode, I decided to record “If God Doesn’t” next. I love this song. Short and quick the main voice in this song takes solace in knowing that no matter what happens if God doesn’t save him he knows the devil will. He’s done and seen it all. And, he’s certain of two things – if god doesn’t save him, the devil will and that his baby loves him cause she told him so. Vaguely based on my life.

At this point in the session, I’m fairly exhausted. We take a break and make some more tea. This time Darren picks a white tea from Asia. The tea and honey will go a long way in soothing my throat.

When we get back in the studio, it’s time to slow it down.

I decide it’s time to do my favorite song – "No Joke." This song is simple and beautiful, and really marked a progression in my song writing, especially of the finger-picking folk style I love some much (think Iron and Wine, James Taylor, etc.) During my ‘awakening’ I developed the ability to finger pick out of nowhere. I relate it to Mama Cass being hit in the head and then being able to sing perfect harmonies with the others. One day I woke up and could finger pick like a motherfucker. I love it. This song is quiet, and slow, but it moves and has intricate melodies in the guitar. If you asked me how to play it, I could tell you the chords, but I couldn’t tell you the finger-picking style. It just happens when I start to play.

The lyrics for "No Joke" are based loosely on my life as a kid, and centered around my dad telling me I could be anything when I grow up – a doctor, a lawyer, or an Indian chief. It’s a great believe to possess. Sometimes, it’s hard to hold on to when you decide to go for Indian Chief. I’ve put it down in words and guitar to never lose it.

I recorded it in one take. I couldn’t hear myself in the headphones or anything. It just felt right. There are a few minor errors, but I still listen to the recording and think, “I can’t believe that’s me.” It’s been a long journey.

I recorded the folk ballad, “I Want to Love You” next. Another mellow jam with finger picking at the forefront, I got the song recorded on two takes. Once again we abandoned the drum beat quickly. Similar to “Sometimes,” “I Want to Love You,” is centered around the idea of wanting to love someone but not want to lie to them. I then constructed a story about a fight that the main character is focused on – at first is a gun fight, and then it morphs into a battle, and then a war. The song ends with the refrain “All day and all night I’m read to fight.” Most likely it stems from the internal struggle of loving music and, therefore, sacrificing love in the more eros form. (But damn I do love girls too. Maybe someday soon I’ll be able to balance both.)

It was getting late and I had to choose which song I was going to do last. I went with a more rocking “My Honey.” My “Mr. Mojo Risin” All of the verses begin with a variation of Mahoney (My Honey, Ah Money, and Ha Money). The song itself is once again finger picked and one of my favorites. We did two versions of it, and kept the second one.

Then it was off to dinner.

I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I ate not because I wanted to, but because I had to.

We got back from dinner at about 8PM. For the next six hours Darren mixed the songs while I recovered. I gave him input here and there, but for the most part I had left everything I had that day on tape. Is it the best thing I've ever done - maybe not. Is it the most important step, without a doubt.

At 4AM, I was packing my guitar into my car.

Thirty minutes later, I was back in Venice. Exhausted, I crawled into bed.

The Eggplant Demo was done.

On the battle that was Good Friday, 2010, the score read Groundswell 1, Demons 0.

To hear the above songs, please visit www.myspace.com/mattmahoneymusic

Rock on,

Groundswell