If you’re a new subscriber and haven’t looked back at archived dispatches—numbers 6, 8, 10, 11 and 12 all feature videos showing a song get made—from inception to a finished, recorded and released version.
The guitar stuff is time consuming, because how it’s approached is a major part of defining the tone and style of the track. I always start with something basic: chunky rocknroll rhythm & power chords. Everything I did here is fine, it works. But I’ve had a chance to listen a bit, and start work on some vocals. (I didn’t do video while singing, but will do for the parts I need to fix so that you all get to hear how I do it.)
I’m thinking of ways to make the guitar more interesting. It’s feeling a bit predictable. I’ll probably end up re-doing all of it, but I’m glad to have something solid for now because I’ve booked studio time for live drums.
Can’t hurry “Hurry,” I hate settling and will keep trying stuff if I have a nagging feeling that I haven’t quite nailed a part.
Today I’m heading to Allen, TX, near Dallas, to meet up with Gina Schock for RetroExpo. It’s my first time to do a convention—basically a ComicCon, but I guess they’ve grown to include a lot of rando musicians and actors from across the entertainment spectrum.
I enjoy meeting people, especially those moments of connection with a stranger. It doesn’t happen with everyone, but if I’m open and receptive, the experience can be a little reflective bubble of magic. It’s transient; floats by, pops and disappears into the air, but elevates a moment and adds a little sparkly sheen to the day.
IRL, those moments can happen sometimes, throughout basic daily interactions, maybe waiting in a line or witnessing something unusual with someone I don’t know, but it’s not commonplace—probably why they feel special.
One of my favorite memories from being in the Go-Go’s was during Mardi Gras, 2008. We were co-hosting the Endymion Krewe parade, their first Mardi Gras since Katrina. Our float, as big and outlandish as they come, made a long, slow crawl on a route that seemed relentless and never ending. It was in February, a little cold, and there wasn’t a place to rest or stop. Hour after hour, we threw beads—our share of the 25 million pounds that China produces for each Mardi Gras.
Each single toxic bead takes hundreds of years to decompose… but that’s another topic entirely
It was exhausting and, though it wasn’t my first Mardi Gras, there was no denying the whole throwing to throngs business is just weird. But there was an aspect I loved. Looking out into the crowd, which was thick, in the thousands, at any given moment, I’d make eye contact with different people and a silent acknowledgment of shared humanity would occur. Race, age, gender—all these partitions and separators didn’t exist and I don’t exactly know why, because there was the disparity of me being on a float while the revelers were jammed together on the ground.
And then there would be one person, it was different. Maybe that 99% of DNA that we share as a species acted as a transmitter, activated by all the energy churning on the street, and generated an encoded single signal that zagged its way between us? Who the hell knows, but I knew that’s who I was tossing to, and the person out there knew those beads were meant for them and it was recognized and it all happened within a moment, and it was beautiful. And it happened over and over again and I’ve never forgotten it.
Our bodies are made of 3 billion genetic building blocks, or base pairs. Of those 3 billion base pairs, only a tiny amount are unique to us.
Substack has the option to send a podcast episode out to all subscribers. I’ve been thinking of trying that option, just for the heck of it. Wondering if you all would be ok with being part of that experience? Not sure what I’d do or how I’d do it, but that’s part of the fun right?
Last dispatch I was nervous, worried about my future, earning a living. A week later and it’s a whole new free fall of positivity, hope, inspiration, ideas.
Not knowing where things are going is uncomfortable for sure, but having room and space is good, cutting things out that aren’t working, that are stagnant. I try to occupy a place where I feel like I’m exploring the potential of what the rest of my life could be like. Not being there would constitute being in “a bad place.” Generally, staying grounded in gratitude keeps that pit stop off my route—but I can still find some fear easily enough.
I’m smart enough, but not so much a deep thinker and operate mainly on how it feels to be me and what I can do to feel better about being me.
That kind of covers everything.
It feels better being me when I treat people with kindness and compassion, when I have some discipline with my work, when I exercise, when I am creating, being productive, not numbing my brain and soothing my discomforts with consumerism or food. It feels better being me when I give back and am ‘of service’ in some capacity. And when I learn, through reading or research, and when I stay engaged with the world and friends and get out of the house.
All of it works really well—even better, it costs nothing and pays massive returns. So of course there’s the grief, sadness, loss and death I’ve been writing through—but these are facts of life, price of admission to living.
Next dispatch will have a very evolved “Hurry” with vocals, drums, guitars. I have a certain idea for the solo and it’s going to take some working out and practice.
As always, thank you for reading, joining me here, and my paids are up to over 7% so I’m slowly building something here that I value and hope you do too. I see a lot of info in the stats feature, and have learned that loads of people read without subscribing. Please consider doing that, you don’t get spammed or your email sent to third parties or any of that BS. Getting a book deal is going to be easier if I have a killer proposal and an impressive stack of subscribers.
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14) The Slow Hurry