Diary of a Blood Ray - February 18th, 2005

I listened to -Sebastian-'s take on my blog about what went down over the past week or so, and he made some valid points. It seems I misunderstood his tone (which is admitted easy to do online).  I think it has pretty much been resolved. 

Last night Billy invited me to join a group going to Novak's. His friend Phoebe was going to be performing. It sounded like fun, though after the (perceived?) squabbling with -Sebastian-, I wasn't sure I wanted to go. If, god forbid, there was going to be a rumble, I wasn't sure I was up to it. I don't like to have my hair mussed.

It seems this haircut is a real head-turner. Phoebe didn't recognize me at first, even though I had been at her New Year's Eve party. Both she and another woman who had also been there at New Year's did quite the visible double-take when they realized who I was. That hasn't happened in while. It's always a little unsettling.

In the midst of all the craziness of the past week or so, I couldn't help with think of Asher. I've been doing better where that situation is concerned, but I do miss him. He's one of the sweetest people I've ever met, and I hope he's doing well. I want to contact him, just to make sure he's okay, but I worry that will upset him more. Perhaps I am overestimating my importance here. I actually hope I am.

Anyway, last night was a good time. I loved hearing the singers do their thing, though I felt a little envious. A few years ago, when I was writing music with Mickey, I thought that we might actually make something of ourselves. We wrote some really good stuff, but our partnership just sort of fizzled out. I wonder if its too late for me to try to start another band. I suppose that at thirty, the chances are pretty slim for it actually turning into something of note, but I wonder what the alternative is? Stick with what I'm doing now? Continue to wade through the discontent that is my work week?

In spite of its abortive nature, the experience of working with Mickey was ultimately a good one. It happened at a good time. It was while I was back living at my mom's, not doing much of anything but going to work, working out, and getting high. Writing those songs was therapeutic for me. The Tommy wounds were still fresh, and for the first time in my life, I really started to think that this was going to be the time I went to the bad place and didn't return. Writing and recording those songs was yet another part of the transformation of my life.

I'm sure this will be no surprise, but most of the songs I wrote were about boys. Tommy, The Reaper and Croat were well represented in my music and putting all that pain to music helped to soothe it and ultimately rid myself of most of it. The men in the songs are no longer the men they written about, just as the man singing them is no longer than I am. Even my voice sounds different. The voice on the tape is wearier than the voice I hear when I sing now. There's uncertainty in it. A lack of confidence. But singing those songs in the makeshift studio in Mickey's kitchen was great training for me, and I don't think I would have been able to play Hedwig like I did if I hadn't had that experience with him.

I'm going to end this entry with the words of "Mama" Cass Elliot:

Make your own kind of music

Sing your own special song

Make your own kind of music

Even if nobody else sings along