An oatmeal stout, a barleywine and a hoppy pilsner has led me here at approximately 4:16 AM.

Things:

A week from Sunday, I will be playing Bamboozle. At this juncture I still haven’t adequately grasped what that really entails. One of my favorite musical memories is my peformance at the Starland Ballroom, just weeks before I packed a rented van and moved my life to Columbus, Ohio. Yes, playing on that stage was fun, but its enjoyment went beyond merely prancing around and making goofy faces on stage. I felt in control. I felt comfortable. I knew that whatever move I made, whatever note I played, whatever scale my fingers elevated through would all be done perfectly because nothing was obstructing me from seizing that moment. And I never cared about the fact that not that many people were watching me, or that few people even remember being there. That performance was mine. It was as “me” as anything I’ve ever done. I want Bamboozle to recapture that feeling for me. I want to step on that stage, look forward and say “This is mine, and fuck you if you think you can take it from me.”

It will be a Dionysian experience, for certain.

However, my career progress is persistently Apollonian. It’s just that I’m not the one establishing the firm boundaries, it’s the external forces that I’m powerless to shape with my own actions. I think that’s part of why music, performance and writing is so liberating for me. I’m controlling something. It’s an organic expression of what every neuron is relaying. I feel heavily fortified, but not stagnant. It’s part of why writing an album, performing and playing makes me feel so comfortable. The crucial component to this equation is how the hell can I make it so I feel like this all of the time?