To be the carrier of a load which was his own self.

I have been thinking about posture a lot lately. I know that is odd but I guess standing on my feet all the time sort of pushes the thought. I notice older people as they start to hunch forward--turtle over if you will. It instills this sort of preventative fear in me, I think. I do not want that. I suppose morning yoga will be on the agenda more often.

I need to go to the beach soon. It seems to be calling my name. I have a book that needs finishing and relaxing to do. Maybe if it is nice tomorrow I will do that since I have tomorrow off and my soldier will fend off the birds.

But, instead of needing a parasol on the way home from work tonight, its brother, le parapluie, was nearly necessary. Which makes it all the more fitting that I decide to post this one. It is from the unfinished New England ep that I was working on at the end of last year. I picked up my cousin's guitar and played it yesterday and relearned it (it has been forever since I have played too because my fingers were sore). I almost wanted to add more to it and re-record it, but I think it will take away from the sound it has. It has this cheap but warm bedroom feel that I cannot reproduce without that microphone I was using there (need to get that soon).

Anyway, it sounds like a breakup song, or something of the sort; but, I like to think of it as an existential realization song. Someone coming to terms with a change of self. But it's pretty much just about how I rode my bike to work and it always seemed to be raining.

Always Raining

No posting of lyrics this time. But, do you think I should add more? Is it too short or feel unfinished? (I have that fear a lot: wondering if it needs more or is unfinished).

Anyway,

love

tm

The Language of Impossible Stories.

My friend and teacher, Lucia has this idea to explain why attractive girls always dated me. It seems so harsh (she is a nice if brutal woman like that hah). I call it the "Couch" theory. In the same way that someone sees a piece of furniture with potential on the side of the road, these girls see me: a project. Something to mold and impart what they want onto it by way of new upholstery or cushions. I always offered up opposition, but she would have none of it. So, women--of various ends on the attractive spectrum--around Miami are overly flirting with me on a regular basis now (not to be shallow or an asshole in quantifying but it seems the simplest way get my point across). I'm not the guy who gets flirted with by multiple women.
A coworker told me that I now have in my possession; pretty boy swag. So, there is that hah. I am guessing Lucia would still offer up this in response:

This is for my attractive girl.
I hope she likes it--all its frailties aside.

Remember to Save Often

When you smiled at me,
I could forget my name:
it was so good.

It was so long ago.
I'd like you to know that
I'm thinking of you.
This is my way to show it.

I remember a note that you left me
when I was elsewhere.
You wrote it in pink
and dotted the "I" with a heart.
And all I could think:
I knew that you were leaving.

I ran out to find you.
You were already fading.
All the nights that we'd been through
weren't something that I looked at replacing.

Is it easier just to say hello and then rebuild from there?
No one likes to hear when you're alone so just forget the fear.
Tell her how much the air was lifted when she was near.

For my birthday
you got me a present that I'd never had
and you named him after me.

You put the life in both of us:
it was the light inside you.
Him and I, we revoked our love.
We were gravely mistaken.

You can only sit without the light for so long.

We were friends back then, you said.
Like the time you fell in my arms
instead of falling off the bed.
I remember you.

I went to the beach today only to get called in to work. Beach day lasted for nearly an hour and a half. And how fitting that the song that reminds me overtly of her comes on my shuffle. Sing it Bird.
Here is to more on the way soon.

Love,
tm

Mais au-dedans, plus de frontières!

Hey, remember when I said I was going to start writing more? Me too. More than one time too. I think it is born of necessity, really. Having days off and no internet/no roommate to be found caters well to this. My dad is, apparently doing better after having his umpteenth wake up call--so that is good.
My allergies are killing me and my face is itchy from too much beard. Been thinking about switching to a straight razor. Seems more economical: fiscally responsible is the phrase thrown around. So, here is to me not slicing open my throat by accident.
No matter where I move it seems someone would prefer me somewhere else. Miami is fine for now. We'll work things out. Now, people just need to come to visit!
This one is about the new view from out of my window (that has a ledge that makes an amazing bookshelf). A simple melody- short and succinct if undeveloped.
The Light, The Wind

So, this girl I used to be friends with is having a birthday soon. I'm writing a song for it. I'll be back soon.
Love,
tm

Everything is possible in possibility.

It's been a while since I have done some public speaking. I'm in Miami now (without a computer for the moment). I'm writing stuff on mandolin because it is what I got. Oh and a bit of stuff on the keyboard which is nice. Getting back into the physical with regard to songwriting, but I guess I'm not getting carried away with the possibility (thanks Kierkegaard).
How about a bit more of an update: I am now a glorified security guard and trying to see as many shows down here as I can. Still trying to figure out what the music scene is like by making friends with kids in bands and maybe some music writers. We'll see about it. Miami is pretty amazing so far though.

Anyway, since I do not have a computer to really track out any of the material I have, I figured I would post some remix/mashup stuff I did back in the cold cold north.
First up is a mashup that I'm really surprised works so well.
Washed Out vs Rick Ross - Feel The Aston Martin Music


And secondly, a remix of a 90s mainstay that will never reach fruition or maybe it is already ripened. I suppose you can be the deciding factor on that one.
Atimallen vs Lisa Loeb - Stay Unfinished


Ok then, enough of this. Doing this from my phone has taken forever. Done.
Love
tm