Tragic moments are sadly a part of life. Tragedy can break a person. Almost one year ago (2/23) the closest thing I had to a brother, my dearest friend and songwriting partner decided that life was too difficult for him to continue. This event very nearly broke me. So much so that the only place I really have talked about it is here, in a place where almost no one even knows who I am. Working my way through the stages of grief has taught me quite a lot about who I am and also who I want to be.

My friend would often get inspiration and have a phrase or a simple guitar part and give it to me saying I hear it like “La la …da da da …” and then have me come up with lyrics. It was how we functioned. This brilliant man would step back and let me express his words. I think now he always knew I doubted my own ability to come up with the right words and this was his way of forcing me to do it.

The last time he did thus was two days before he died. He gave me some recordings and said to give them a listen and see if you can come up with anything. Then he was gone. It took me a very long time to sit with these sketches. I found beauty, brilliance, and just a pure love of music in them. So I’ve turned them into what they were born to be, Fully fleshed out songs. Alive. Screaming of my dear friend and his voice. I hope.

Tomorrow night we are playing a show at our local spot in his memory. I will play just one of these new songs. The recordings are going to be given to his only child. His beautiful daughter who is just at the beginning of her adult life and her own musical journey. She can do what she likes with them. I’m giving her everything I have left of my friend. I hope she likes them.

Some of you have read a few of my ramblings during this difficult year. Your comments and remarks have touched me. I wish I could hug each and every one of you. Instead I’ve written about this experience in a song. Inspired by you.Thank you.

I’ve got twenty days to finish this project I’ve been working on. Step one will be to narrow down what is good and what is utter crap. Step two will be letting someone else other than the handful of people who have been helping me hear these songs. Let me know if Ive not done our friend justice. Then step three will be the letting go and playing them for their intended audience. I’m honestly terrified. Twenty days in a year that has gone so fast.

On a more important note. Check in on your friends and those you hold dear. Give them hugs and remember to tell them you love them.

The waves were perfect today but I was just off. I couldn’t catch a decent one before I got too cold to be in the water. But sitting watching the ocean in all its beauty and power I had a breakthrough. Words came to me. So I sat, phone in hand, capturing them before I lost them.

Things you love don’t always love you back the way you need them too. Or want them too. Fact is, it’s not always about you. Sometimes it is never about you.
Lesson learned.

I’ve finally realized why I have been having so much trouble finishing this project. Why I’ve placed so much pressure on myself to be perfect, every word and every note. It’s because I don’t want to finish. Finishing means letting go. Not so much of the songs but of my friendship. This is all that is left that is still alive and not a memory. Once I’m done, it will all be memories.

It is just about one month out from the first anniversary. The goal I set for myself to complete these songs is coming fast.. To give a gift to a daughter who needs more memories of her father is what is important here. Not selfish needs.

My dear friend, I’ll see you again.

It is a strangely solitary heartache that happens when you are playing a love song you’ve written about someone that didn’t fall in love. It’s worse when she is at the show, with someone else. Then you look her way during the song. She grabs his hand and they look at each other. Singing your song. All you can do is keep on playing, knowing that inside your suffering a lonely heartache, just wanting the song to be over. Your only solace is knowing you were right.You sing a little softer but can’t avert you eyes. So you close them. It is a good love song.

True story.

A local photographer called and asked if he could stop by to give me something. I love this man’s work and have had him at my home before, so of course I said he was more than welcome. I was curious what he had.

When he arrived he gave me a gift that was wrapped. Suggested I maybe open it when I was alone since I had a house full of people. I just did. It is an amazing candid photo of me and my friend, arm in arm watching The Damned play from the side of the stage. We are singing full throat! Unaware our picture is being taken. With us is two other dear friends. I’m pretty certain this is the last concert we attended together before his passing.

I will cherish this image. Cry each time I look at it. Then start singing along like I always do. What a gift to give someone. I am floored. This is how he should be remembered. Holding me up. His far superior voice drowning out mine. Happy.

I’ve been trying to write some lyrics to some songs that a dear friend left behind. My goal is to give them to his daughter when I am finished. The problem is that I am struggling a bit. I don’t want them to turn into a collection of sad songs full of melancholy and heartache. Problem is that I’ve been so sad I can’t help but have those feelings seeping into them.
I’ve been doing a good job hiding this from my friends and loved ones. None know that I come here to escape those feelings. I am comforted somehow knowing that there are some people here that will never realize that a kind word is often enough to xxxxxxxx me out of it some days.
This is my ham fisted thanks to you. I’ve never been very good with words.

So I ran into a young lady who said she saw my band play this past Sunday. I made my usual jokes saying, “oh sorry about that” and offering to give her the money back. Then I went on to explain about having recently hurt my knee that I was worried I’d be looking like a hobbled old man up there. That is when she laughed and pushed back saying ,” Are you kidding? I still had a full on slip and slide situation going on in my pants!”. This cracked me up so hard. Thankfully there are people like her in this world. She definitely made this falling apart old man smile.

I hate to be cliche. I’m finding it to be true that even doing something you planned for so long, something you love, eventually you miss home. It just seems to be a human condition. Craving the comfort and familiarity of home. I’ll be home soon enough, though not for too long.I will be jumping on another plane again next week. What a strange mix of wanderlust and homesickness I’ve been living. I miss you when I’m gone but can’t wait to get to the next stop.

Getting ready to do something that I haven’t done in a very long time has me back to doubting myself. I always do this , I know. Self doubt and worry leading to sleepless nights. Thinking everything that can go wrong will inevitably do so. This next week and half are going to drag on and on if I don’t stop. I feel like such a idiot admitting this. Still I am hoping that by writing it down and reading it, I’ll realize it’s all down to me. I wish I could just let myself enjoy it.
Feel free to judge me. UK hear we come.Ready or not.