It’s that old feeling.  I’ve had it before.  A week of sessions, a little party, and then feeling a bit sad the next morning.  We are not done with it yet.  We merely cut all the tracks.  There are some odds and ends remaining–maybe an overdub or two, then we mix it and then make the films for each song and all the peripheral mania.

Maybe when I get my head around the whole recording, I’ll be able to write something about it.  Right now it feels like 11 months of work crushed into 5 days–the vacancy is tremendous.  So, other than mixing a couple tracks for giveaway, I am focused on the next show–March 12th at the Park Bar.  If there was ever a show I want people to see, it’s this one.  It will be a crazy night.  I think the whole crew is carrying the perfect blend of excitement and nervousness.  If there is time, I’ll even get a little co-performance with Alison Lewis.

The sessions for Tactical-Impractical are really getting close.  Quite a bit going on between now and then.  Still dealing with a bit of a strange feeling.  Rehearsals have not been too long but they have been frequent.  Topher mentioned that, despite the light rush, we are actually lucky in that we won’t have time to get bored with the material before the recording.  Given my fear of making a boring record, I’ll take this as a good thing.  Material should peak, anyways, right before you commit it to a recording or a performance.

Everything is rolling forwards despite the snow.  I am also excited by our upcoming show with Alison Lewis at the Park Bar downtown.  We’re really going to make that a special night.

These are long days.  Chameleon Days.  But we’re pulling through.  More later.

Okay, okay.  I can’t help but write about this:  These are strange days and I have this persistent nag in the pit of my stomach.  There is a sort of prolific tension in every corner of life–it’s everywhere.  I see it in people I know and in people I meet in passing.  It is the result, perhaps, of the long-abused elasticity that binds the human condition to its world.  These are difficult, chameleon days.  Something has to give–there will be a windfall.  I don’t even want to know when or what or how–I just want it to happen.  Like a fireworks display in a neighboring town–a light on the horizon.  But I get the feeling the crux of the changes will be close to home.

Last night I was sitting at the park bar with some friends.  It was a lovely night despite my unease.  The Grammy Awards were on television but I kept catching myself staring out the windows.  I’ve never really cared about that Grammy nonsense anyway.  Unhinged idiocy–one of the many reasons I do not own a television.  I was just sitting there doing my best to assuage the general feeling of unease with a quick moment of good company and familiar surroundings.  It is a physical feeling and it takes all of my mind to keep from jumping out of my skin.  Restless but maintaining the outward calm.  This is how I know that something is happening.

December, 2009:  I remember thinking to myself that the decadence of the fall was bleeding into the winter and that the maniacal behavior would have to stop.  And I also remember an active decision to let it continue until the era, for lack of a better word, came to an end.  So it has come to an end.  What remains is this knot in my stomach.  The source of many thoughts and many late nights.

What was I hoping to see last night as I watched the snow fall around the hollowed decay?  I was looking for a doorway at the end of very long hallway.  Metaphorically:  a way out of one of the old buildings.  Something for me to sprint towards.  In the terror of these times and in the comfort of friends and low talk.  In the middle of the anti-wonderful 2010 winter.  In that place where no one is looking.  And then finally finding myself on the ground floor.  Everyone and everything is long-since gone.  Just a little bit left:  the last stretch before the doorway; 2 months or maybe 3.  If I can keep up the speed and run for the right door, well then I just might be able to breath a little open air before this whole damned thing falls in on itself.  A war of attrition.

There is a new song called Linden Tree.  The historical context is what matters here–a Schubert song I could not shake off:

Text from Wiki:

Der Lindenbaum (The Linden Tree)

He comes to the linden tree, with its pale flowers and heart-shaped leaves. that stands at the gate; in the shade of this tree he has dreamt many beautiful dreams, and in the bark he has carved words of love. It was his favourite place. Now he passes it with his eyes shut, even though it is deepest night, but the branches rustle to him, ‘Come here old comrade, find your rest here’. A gust of wind blows his hat off, and many hours afterwards he remembers the tree, and it seems to say ‘You should have found your rest here.’ It is a tacit invitation to suicide. (In Die Schöne Müllerin by the same author the rejected lover actually drowns himself and finds rest in the friendly brook where he dies.)

My current favorite.