Sacrifice...

Into the night, James Morrison's "IF YOU DON'T WANT TO LOVE ME" sings a desperately sad song... TONIGHT feels heavy. EYE live in a time capsule hoping to write thoughts that land on their feet and hit the ground running.   But tonight is PURELY exhaustion. Weeping is worth 10 friends, but it's just me here tonight. And these thoughts without TEAR(S). So I go WITHIN to avoid the physicality of this SILENCE.

TURN MY MUSIC UP.

We lost. But won. But lost. But won. Lately the stage has felt like a battlefield of some sort - of inner conflict... rather than HOME.  The challenge of stepping on stage, digging a hole that could easily double as a grave, and planting seeds in hopes of growing something worthwhile is daunting.

Planting POET-TREES.

Picking and plowing a field of dreams in an attempt to tempt fate.

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

In a lot of ways, MUSIC saved my life. But in other ways it has been responsible for my demise. I write to pour myself out to myself. I'm blessed to have anyone want to read/listen to it. But sometimes I wonder what it's all worth in the end.

And:

The ROBBER yells "Put your hands up!"

The RABBI yells "Put your hands up!"

The RAPPER yells "Put your hands up!"

= The posture of prayer

Put your hands up!

"I love HIP HOP so much it hurts." - Thus spoke my soul - to its SELF from its SELF.

In chess, a sacrifice is to deliberately give up material to achieve an advantage.

SACRIFICE.

MUSIC. Lives here.

Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet.

iN-TUNE(D)...

The more I find myself within it, the more I realize that the music business is no place for unchaste art.  Not that my art is in any way unchaste. I ascertain, however, that my art is really the only thing about me with any beauty at all, and for that I am grateful.

We spend hundreds of hours in search of the best soundtrack to express these ideas that have forced themselves upon us. For the best of us, we only passively choose music as a profession.  Most often MUSIC chooses us - torturing us until we bend to its will.  Sometimes I feel that the music actually dictates the words. And that the beats, sampled from our hearts by the Divine, are to keep us iN-TUNE(D).  Trying to describe the process is like trying to articulate heartbreak with an X-ray. Here, failure has its rewards though.

I function as nothing more than a messenger.  An intern for the Divine. Hard-working, but unfocused. Ambitious, yet apathetic like 'Fuck them. That shit ain't hard'.

I remember the prosecutor calling me a "tragedy of war"....

Years later, I now better understand the importance of that OMEN.  How ironic that Nature rewards with fruit only those trees that do not reach too high.  And that the fruitless trees find the most essential source of their survival in the very rainstorms designed to destroy them.  Does this mean that I may only bear the fruits of my labor if I lower my expectations?

With everyday that passes, my destiny becomes a little more clear.

REVOLUTIONARY.

But please remember to remind me to pray tomorrow. I forgot today. I was busy picking fruit, and planting seeds in the sky. Or from the sky. Or maybe because of the sky. I'm tired now. Goodnight.

Ode to the Absent

Tonight feels a lot like it did 25 years ago...  Only what was once a deep-seated fascination with abandonment now invokes something that reaches far deeper.  And in much the same fashion as I did back then, tonight I seek solace in only myself.  It is in times like these that I am best alone.  

In the last 25 years I have experienced ruination in a wide range of emotional, spiritual, artistic, and political forms.  Back then I was just an eye... and a heart. Seeing and feeling these sensations for the first time. Nearly debilitated by what felt a lot like pain.  Tonight the pain is much less acute. I'm experiencing the sensation in much the same way a documentarian experiences his surroundings - artistically objective.  Tonight I appreciate all the details I overlooked 25 years ago.

Personally, the hardest part for me has been accepting that I am a spitting image of what my mother resents most... It's what I believe has created the distance between us now. And the helplessness I feel looking at her looking at me trying not to feel hatred is enough to bring me to my knees at times. 

In my life, hope is something you can walk and climb on, paint, draw, write and recite.  Our heartbreak is always obscured behind the walls of our intellectual justifications and egos.  My initial reaction was one of anger.  But I could not decide who I was more angry at, him or me.  The potency of my imagination led me to believe that this time would be different.  But it wasn't. And its predictability stung.

That has been my defense mechanism though - turning ruin into something beautiful and romantically nostalgic.  So tonight, I sit the same kid I sat 25 years ago, picking up the broken pieces and attempting to make something pretty with them.  I learn to build sandcastles on the tops of waves as the sun sets with the same tools used for digging graves.  And after it all, what I've learned is that much of the joy in life comes from the memories of the sandcastles, and the challenge of building bigger and better ones after they're destroyed.

With that said, I want to thank you "Dad".  You forced me to recognize and accept that when a father gives to his son, both laugh; but that when a son gives to  his father, both cry. And that when one lacks the father he wants and needs, that he must create one because even the blind man craves for a tan he can't see.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Me

FOR THE UNDERDOGS...

This moment is a moment for the underdogs...

Life is a bed of roses where some only get the thorns. But this moment is for the underdogs.

For the person that's failed... The deadbeats. The sometimes defeated. The disadvantaged. The down-and-out. The duds. The failures. The flops. The flunkees. The underprivileged. The under-achievers. The cretins. The obnoxious. The stupid. The idiots. The imbeciles. The morons. The dregs. The outcasts. The riffraffs. The scum. The trash. The poor. And the dirty.

This moment is for all of us. On March 30th, 2013 myself and the rest of #SMG will be performing at Interscope Record's Urban King Hip Hop Showcase in Los Angeles.

We've worked so hard for this moment. Thousands of hours writing songs, recording, and rehearsing. Staying true to who we are. Never compromising on what we believe in. And more than anything, I hope what you all take away from this moment is that your dreams can come true. Hard work makes it all possible. And that's all I know is hard work. And part of that work has been to always be there for my fans - my family in the same way you guys have been there for me.

So when you ask yourselves 'Where was he when my tears were falling?', 'Where was he when I needed a friend?', 'Where was he when my heart was calling?' - I can say "Right here!" Whether or not something comes of this showcase isn't important to me. Your emails, messages, artwork, well-wishes, and pictures have all worked to bring me back from the worst kind of hell to a place where I can say I made a positive difference.

What began in my bedroom at age 8 as a way of easing the pain has turned into something so much more... More potent. Something so much more special. Special because I get to share it with you all. So thank you for putting me on these stages. On your radios. On your playlists. And in your lives. I'm doing this for all of us. Underdogs.

Rain on My Window... Pain

Thunder rolled tonight and shook the walls... Interrupting my contemplation on my beloved.

We spoke today. Well, in a way we did. I feel most alive in the moments right before she calls me "the past".  My words sit down next to her, silently. She doesn't see me for who I am now, but still looks upon what I used to be with something similar to love. Her tears are the tides that wash in, destroying my sand castles in the process. Then we sit next to each other silently, watching the sun set.   

"You are all of the downtrodden, misfits, and underdogs of society rolled into one person," she says. 

"Be weary of those who say they are proud of you. A CHANGE GONE COME. And they only see what they want. But you've been more than beautiful from day one."   

And though I've always been adept at understanding and capturing the essence of a weeping woman, with her I am at a loss. 

Love is part observation. Part possession. The truth is that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which we can aspire. It's our only hope for salvation. And tonight, as the rain washes away the sins of the world, I am keenly aware of my aloneness. Of the lack of love in my life. 

My hope is to heard. And loved for what I have said. 

I am not there, my dear. But remember me on nights like this when it rains. Then forget me. And never cry. I tossed the roses over the bridge I walked across tonight that wasn't really there. And watched them float away. 

Thunder rolled tonight and shook the walls... "But when there's no storm, how can I feel the calm?"

AJS

Fan/Fan-atic/Fan-addict/Fan-ta-sy/Fan-to-See/Fan-Art

Fan-Art by "K"

Made me think of this song...

"Valerie...
I know you can see through me
(I know you can see through my lies, oh oh)
Valerie...
You just choose to never know
(No you just don't know, what I do, what I do)
Valerie... (Valerie)
Why pretend to trust in me?
(I don't know why you trust in me baby, but I think I might know)
Valerie...
You'd rather this than be alone..."

- The Weeknd, Valerie

HOPE

This was a poem we received from a fan, inspired by our music. Thank you "C". NEVER GIVE UP HOPE. EVER!

For the one who knows and understands,
For the one who's healing hands reach across the lands,

For the one whose journey is the same,
For the one who is always there to take away the pain.

When around, my light is so bright,

A beacon for a weary traveller in the night,
He never lectures or preaches,
Instead reminds me that happiness is within my reach.

He sings those songs of knowledge and love,

Reminds me to search the heaven's above,
Once again I hear those whispers,
Whispers in the wind that save a dying soul.

With your friendship this heart will survive,
With your love my soul can thrive,
With your understanding my soul can rest,
With your encouragement I can pass any test.

So thank you for believing not doubting,
For always being there yet never judging,
And mostly for reminding me,
There is indeed someone who cares..

- "C"