NERVES On The Fringe / Exposed At Day 13
Traveling from one city to the next, pushing the mind, body, vehicle to the destination of the daily task / adventure of singing, stomping, strumming has, through the last 10 years, been a normal (if such behaviour(s) can carry this "basic" orthodox term) way of living, seeing, breathing life. With every passing week of every tour (and non tour alike) there are a million compromises and justifications that i make. Every minute that I AM, i am trading my pocketful of time, for SOMETHING. While touring around, singing songs, pushing a van / body from one location to the next I trade the currency of time for an experience of immediacy. Meeting strangers who lead us, unabashed, into their worlds / homes / lives. It is a compromise / trade that for a long time (and still, usually) has held it's weight in experience. A fair trade. A good trade. With every passing tour / record release / traveling schedule my mind seems to race, even quicker, to the alternative trades that are available for exchange. Rainy Sundays in the park, tiny laughter at the breakfast table, my Coffee Queen's gorgeous glance in my direction over a french roast in the early morning light. And as i travel down the 87 south with the nose of our carrier car pointed in a New York City direction my mind digs deeper into it's box of compromise. In creeps a small question that seems innate to being alive. "Is this right?" "Are the moments of life i am getting worth the trade of those i am letting pass me by?" It's no NEW process of thought. Singing, sewing, and surgery all have their requirements of time, their compromises of sorts, and i can't (could never) tell if one is a better trade than the others. We played music last night in Burlington, VT. It was a tiny crowd inside of a giant room. There are those moments for all working peoples in which they question, albeit slightly, their path of choice (as if I could ever relate to ALL working peoples in the world, how absolutely ignorant I can be). No matter how much i want to make myself listen I just can't quite pull myself completely out of the dregs of the self depreciating mental cycle that can so often accompany the life of a touring music man. It is hard for me to seperate myself from the apparent correlation between effort / time exerted and recompense shown / given in each town that we play. It was a wonderfully kind and attentive crowd. We ended the show and soon realized that we had no place to sleep that night, which has gotten to be a rarer predicament than it used to be. We were fortunate to an extremely kind and giving friend that offered his place to us four wandering vagabonds. We graciously accepted the offer and sat around Max's house, singing Sun Kil Moon songs and getting to know our strange bedfellow. The night began to darken and Max showed us places to sleep. It was to be a long drive to New York City in the morning. I laid in a stranger's bed last night. I stared out through the window. The moon was pale and ghostly white, I saw within my littles. A running child across the grass, another followed, swaying hands. I laid in a stranger's bed last night. I saw them through the window. For the sake of not sounding obtuse / ungrateful I say, I say: I love life just as it is. My complaints and worries are a feather in the storm, fleeting and weightless (almost). I choose it, we all do. We live free or we choose death. Maybe my babies miss me. Maybe my babies don't. But either way my babies will see their Papa walking on his own tight rope. Life soon goes no matter the valley in which we pass the moments. I choose this for the time being. I ask me, now and again; What happens after I die? KRIPES! I don't even know what happens while I am alive. To my lover of a million moments: Your strength grants me mine. I am but a bellow from your fire, an adoring offspring from the fountain of your furnace. To the babies who mutated my mind. Your freedom keeps my hand on a string and my voice in a key. You are powerful. The mightiest of maniacs in the world of onlookers. (Exposed at day 13) Joshua Fred.
