I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

This Well Doesn't Run Dry

C | Em | Ab2 | EbM7 | F2 | Am7 | Ab2 | EbM7 | G | Bm7 | Ab2 | EbM7


I can't stop playing this chord progression. You will spear it (the aural version of spotting) on the new album.


I was just thinking about Thanksgiving coming up here in the States. If I had a nickel for every time I heard this conversation, I wouldn't be working for the family business:

"Aw, what are you thankful for this year? :))"

"Oh gee, I am so thankful for my family and friends.*"


Not to say we shouldn't be thankful for those things: it's better than saying "for my computer". But I'm officially publicly proclaiming my distaste for the aforementioned sentiment. Vehemently. I would invite you to really give it some thought this year. So when they ask you (like they always do), you'll blow them out of the water with a mature response. 


You see, rarely do I hear anyone think anymore. You ask, "How are you?", and they say, "Good, how are you?". It's a canned response. It means nothing. Oxygen and time were both wasted during the exchange. And yet, can we blame them for giving us the canned response when we asked them the canned question? We don't care how they are. And even if we did, our sincerity gets cooked out in the canning process. There's little we can do about the other 98% of mankind devaluing questions and answers with overuse; what we can do is get creative. It feels odd and invigorating and uncomfortable and fantastic and a little awkward to actually think- but it's exponentially addictive. To actually listen to the (most likely canned) question being asked of you, to take the time to collect the truth from your mind and emotions, and to express these thoughts with eloquence and aplomb- this is an admirable thing to do. We live in a left-lane culture that thrusts instant gratification and impatience upon us; a society that desires only to feel the thrill of jumping off the cliff our parents spent their lives climbing. And so those precious few who consciously slow down enough to consider themselves, their context, the big picture, the little details- these rise to the top. Not necessarily the top of the world's cauldron of success: to be different from the world means having a different definition of success. But those precious few will be life's patriots, while their peers will be life's residents. 


I'm typically too lazy to take the time to think during conversations, so I write these posts instead.


I suppose most of you will be having canned cranberry sauce with your Thanksgiving meal. In light of the above writing, you should find that ironically reprehensible. 





* Some manuscripts (used by people west of Nevada) differ: "[..] friends and family."

No Room In The Innocence

No Room In The Innocence

Of Rabbits and Their Holes