The Preface

Preface
or
Why did I bother to spend countless hours writing this?

Well, now this is an interesting question, or comment, isn’t it?
Well I’m a good storyteller and I like to write. I don’t love the process of writing.  In the same way, I love music, but I came to hate the process and business of music. 
I thought it would accomplish a lot of things by writing this book.  Now these things are, in no particular order.  To write an interesting story, to tell an interesting story, to resolve a lot of issues that haven’t yet seemed to come full circle, and try to give some insight to others who have had similar ideas or experiences, etc.
See, I think I’ve led an interesting life. Now this is of course, my opinion.  But it is especially true a period of ten years when I played in a band, and another three in which I played solo in the small club circuit.  This story takes place during the latter period but it is influenced by all of it.
The band was successful on some levels.  That is to say that we were able to support ourselves full time.  We travelled all over the US and played as many as two hundred and fifty nights a year.  We had a record deal. We put out 4 CDs which we fairly well. We got some airplay. We played some shows before lots of people and we opened for some big headliners.  But we fell short of really “making it”.
We stuck with it valiantly, but eventually the air went out from under our wings and that was that. One by one, the band fell apart, at least for me. Depressing times.
Most of my relationships during this time had a parallel course. It’s tough to be in a relationship when you simply aren’t there.  Out on the road.  The road.  And the tempations out there on it.
While travelling as much as twelve hours a day in a cramped van between shows you simply don’t have all that much to do.  I read countless books. I taught myself about astrology. I taught myself to play the recorder (well) and the harmonica (sort of). I wrote at least an hour a day in a journal, or I’d dictate into a pocket tape deck. I tried to read books in french.  I did self-improvment lessons on tapes. I learned about all sorts of other things about trivial facts (my dream was to be on Jeopardy when we played in LA).  I did the crossword puzzle in the local daily. I listened to tapes of the band from live shows, always looking to improve.  I argued with the other guys in the band about how things should be done.  They argued with me. I missed my friends at home. I missed people that I met along the road.  I was glad to be away from many of my potential and real problems.  I worried about what was going to happen next with the band, with myself.  I did a lot of other things that I can’t even remember right now. And I was bored a lot of the time and I had a chronic back and neck ache from sleeping in contorted positions.
The idea of writing a book was always there in the background. I wrote songs.  In fact I wrote a lot of songs, and the music.  The band played most of them, but some, just weren’t suited to the band and I did them in my solo period.  They are presented here without the music, but the music exists as much as anything else here.
So the book grew out of the “adventures” of being on the road, and the reality of stopping and “settling down” and trying to do it on my terms.  It was like going 70 miles an hour on an expressway and then suddenly coming off the ramp onto a road witha 25 mph speed limit.  Everything just seems so slow. Slow motion.  You are so accustumed to moving fast that it becomes the normal.  And then normal seems painfully slow.  Almost a withdrawl.
Think how sad you are just after you’ve lost love after having it.  Are you at the same point you would have been if you had never have had it at all?  Surely no.  The difference is that you are changed by the experience. The question is how much and how long?  While so many have tried, can we ever truly express this feeling?  I’m not claiming that I can either…
Now at the same time now, I still had to relate to ‘normal people’ – the one’s who were going 25 all along. Sorry, but you just aren’t on the same wavelength. It’s very weird, and very hard to describe, just like love.  See writing this was an attempt to get back to the normal. Feeling like I’m going 25 in a 25.
So what’s the deal?  Is this a novel, is this a collection of short stories, is this a collection of poems and songs, is this a true story?  Well, it’s all of them, and it’s none of them.  I’m not going to answer that question. 
There’s a unique feeling you get, when you’re sleeping a strange place, and you wake up in the middle of the night, and for a split second you don’t know where you are… that’s the feeling that I (I) have as I start this opus.
You know that eventually you’ll figure out where you are and how you got there, and perhaps even where you’re going, but you aren’t sure how.

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4 Responses to “The Preface”

  1. Pam Says:

    I am ready for the ride, and can’t wait to see where we go!
    ~Pamski

  2. ZAREMA Says:

    Thanks the author for article. The main thing do not forget about users, and continue in the same spirit. http://odessacity.net/

  3. gualetar Says:

    The subject is fully clear but why does the text lack clarity? But in general your blog is great.

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