I went on a date with my girlfriend tonight. I took her to a nice dinner and everything was wonderful. We weren’t back at my house more than thirty minutes when my friend Torrey came barging in (the door is typically always open at my house). He said he was going to a friend of ours show at the Yucca Tap room (a bar just down the street). We jumped off the couch and decided on a whim to go. I love live music. Being a musician, live music releases something inside of me that i can’t really explain, but like always, I will try. I would Die for music… I really would. It means everything. Music should get underneath your fingernails. Music should pull off all of your scabs and reveal all of your scars. A song that you love should be a song that you hate. It should be bad for your health. It should hurt as much as it heals. Playing music for people is a contradiction. You want them to feel you, understand you right there in that moment, but you could give fuck all to whether they understand you or not. People always say that music is a way to express yourself. Ya… No shit… Its more than that. You want to show yourself, more than the crowd, how you really feel. You want to reveal to yourself the rust that grips to your heart. You reach deep within the pull strings of your heart and you beg for a solution. No solution ever comes and at times you’re just left with wet news, unreadable postcards. You hang them up to dry outside for your neighbors to see. This is music… This is where those songs come from… The truths you knew were always there and the lies you always told yourself. It all pours out like a tipped wine class and stains the tablecloth in front of you. God… I really love music. Goodnight.