My coffee is eating a hole in my stomach lining.

You know what I can't stand? When you feel like there's a giant iron weight strapped to your neck weighing down every breath you take and the movies you watch still have happy endings. That's not life. We're standing around with our heads in the sand and making up stories about how with wish life would be so we don't have to think about how the world actually works. And then we feed these stories to our children so it's all they know resulting in an ever increasing generational depression and/or apathy. Because what's the point when life always ends in pain, an everyone you know has to lie to cover it up because we can't deal with it!?

Banks are Evil

My house is cold,
I'm eating chocolate to warm my bones,
in this wretched zone of alone.
my dishes are growing, my bed linens thinning,
banks' pockets thicken with every penny I stick in
their miserly backsides cause their swivel chairs to squeak
and then, I'm sinking again,
in cold old home,
eating chocolate to warm my bones
in this wretched zone of alone.

How yelling at my ex across a street helped me become a better musician

First of all, for the record, I hate saying "my ex." I don't know why it comes so naturally, but somehow it has been programed into me by way of romantic comedies and kids television shows in which 14 year olds have "break ups" and "get back togethers." (In the words of the drunk trying to steal our cab last night: B**** please!)

But I digress. The real reason for opening this blog is that I had a maturity break-through as a musician the other day: I finally learned how to belt like a broadway star, and now having done so, I see a sort of beautiful symmetry to the timing. I'm growing up, so my voice changes like what's going to happen to Justin Beiber any time now. Except this girl-woman version. It's like a metamorphosis for which I sort of feel a sense of gratitude to the man who helped me get here. Broken heart, string-along, douche bag Trial by FIRE aside, I was able to use my experience in love to propel me into a place where I could physically express a passion I've never been able to express. Why yes, my life IS a movie.

Belting, as it was explained to me, like any singing is an extension of speech. But there's an intensity behind it that is different from other forms of singing. I learned how to belt by harnessing the voice I had when I yelled F*** You across a street. It was crazy then, and it's crazy now. But as passionate as I am, I'm not a yeller. Belting is like beautiful yelling. Yelling with abandon. It needs to be vulnerable and full throttle, or else it doesn't work. You can't be afraid and belt, kind of like you can't be afraid while you're expressing to someone months of hurt you've been repressing.

So I have a different voice now. A new power, in a sense, that kind of came out of nowhere and everywhere.