Joanna and I were invited to Kate Hudson’s Sundance home in Utah.

 … Totally last minute.

It was a Star Wars Theme party.

.. and although I wasn’t finished with my tow truck shift I agreed and got my Han Solo on while she donned her Slave Liegh (of course). 

It was elegant and white, sparkly and rich. Joanna knocked over the hukah and everyone laughed. Kate showed her her woredrobe and found her something to wear.

We got to smashed to drive so I had to have my tow truck towed.

We were the last guests to leave.

Joanna insisted we get our photo taken with C3PO

The photographer kept saying 200 year reign instead of cheese.

Chewy was aloof but vocal.

Enjoy the party soundtrack.

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Hey happy new year.

After passing out on French sparkly bubbly in the studio on early in 2012, I dreamt.

I was swimming, in the Caribean, following my son Arizona. I went underwater (I’m an excellent underwater swimmer), I kept passing legd and floats and all manner of beachlife.

I felt I was coming up to an edge, something was ahead and in the way, I kept bumping up against it to get past it.

I had been underwater for well longer than most longs can sustain but I wasn’t concerned about oxygen or pressure-release, I wanted to get by.

I finally got the object out of my way, a mess of XLR cables and what appeared to be the base of a pulpit; even some astro-turf.

I came up and soldiers in dress greens knew my name, behind the pulpit was governor Zen Miller, even though I haven’t ever met him, I could identify him.

I was recieving a standing ovation and my parents were their, only besides  merely congratulating me, they were pressed to take me somewhere and show me something.

It was Monday.

They took me to a small storefront in the west coast, the kind that churches would use in the 80’s.

It was standing room only, with a small stage in the front, a big movie screen and a projector were set up, the kind churches would use in the 80’s.

A film with a great electronic score and my parents begain, it had amazing unheard of music, the video quality went from super 8 to HD, grainy to avatar.

I seen a side of my parents I didn’t know existed, they were alive and animated, full of creativity and youthful energy.

There were parts were they were lip-syncing the synth parts, running from the Border Patrol, more that are hard to describe; breath-taking.

At the end, during the credits, I seen all the film award wreaths; I was in Cannes, and they were winners.

He said they shot and scored the entire thing themselves over the weekend, just for this festival.

It was annointed.

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So I somehow married this wholesome, beautiful, creative and wealthy young woman, she was twenty-five, a natural blonde from Connicutt, living in Brooklyn when not working in Isreal. She loved and understood me, she had witnessed me perform unstaged acts of charity, selfless ness and prudence.

She once seen me rush off a resturant desk when someone screamed help. Turns out a band had managed to sneak onto a rooftop, amps, mics with micstands, cables and all; the propietor was pissed.

Once we stopped off in a stormy night at her aunts country cottage. I somehow was naked and when they went out to tend to the animals, she seen me hide my nakedness, as to not draw alarm and keep a clean standing with her family.

She was in love with my inner person, a person I had thought not many besides the Lord had seen, or would like if they seen.

We had not consumated or known each other before our wedding and our wedding was very hush-hush, something more of an annulment. I still couldn’t really figure why I was choosen.

She still knew I was with Joanna, she knew about the baby, and my previoius marriage.

Yet she married me and didn’t ask questions, simply was a loving doe, a gentle deer; with white winter skin and olive summer skin hair that was blonde and strong, then brown and downtown.

I was classically double-minded. I wanted to explore and begin this journey of life with her. She represented all I had been innerly wanting as I ran thru the Poncey-Highlands, drank thru little five points and benzed thru EAV.

She was the girl I had ♥ on tumblr, used as mp3 art on 85lives.

Enter Joanna.

I was set to do set at some open mic or something, as role, another attempt. I knew I had to tell Joanna tonight that it was over. My wife had, without using words, given me a grace period to, gracefully, break the news and make preperations to move.

Mind you I would not, or ever would, financially abandon, abandon my children or their mothers; but a new life such as what I was given the opportunity to have required a change of address.

The auditorium I was set to play was layed out like Variety Playhouse, and Joanna and my children attended, Noah sporty as always in his Quimby, Arizona a bit aloof in his viking long hair and Trinity always loving and beliving in her good Daddy.

I played my lackluster set. Eveyone was at their feet but was it for more refreshment; I’ll neve know. I went back to Joanna and the kids so we could leave and Joanna asked me to watch stay here for a minute, she’d be rignt back. 

I thought it was a bathroom call or something, but she a movie screen lowered over the stage and the house speakers pumped out professional dance music. Everyone turned around and sat back down.

On the screen Joanna was talking to the audience from inside the same auditourim, only earlier, when it was empty she had a blouse that had two vertical bands covering her breasts; something she’d sell at Barney’s but not been scene out in, let alone on film. She was demonstrated how to run an apple around her back and under the bands covering her and a quick tantalizing almost glance would occur every time she ran the apple over her front. 

She was working the viewer into complete submission. The band fell off and were Final Cut Pro’d backwards back on, again; a classy, fast glimpse, nothing more.

She then lead us, the audience,  via the on stage film thru expensive Castleberry lofts; where prominant Atlanta painters and artisians, names I had known in my Righteous room/Eyedrum world ever heard of. Her arms around them, cosmopolitian flirtation, they were not the kind of guys that liked girls but they all loved her.

Off screen she was holding a microphone and rarrating; with the house spotlight on her.

A professional looking band was left of her; neither her nor them were on stage, the stage had been covered by the screen, larger than a Regal Atlantic Station screen. No she was mid crowd standing in the aisle. the band, consisting of a drummer, guitar player and bass player, all in matching suites were to her left by the exit, not in the spotlight. She walked to them and a stage hand with a headset placed a Rickenbacker guitar on her like a Olympic medal.

She and began to sing and play; only compeletely in tune and like an exotic bird. Her brother David came up the aisle, sporting Jesus and Marry Chain hair.

Somewhere during her performance she had asked the audience to reach under thier seats into the gift bags (no one knew they were there till she said this) and please where the large Jackie O staw hats; I turned and everyone but me had one on.

I was flabbergasted and speechless, she had exhibited all this talent, how did I never see this? Why hadn’t I ever scene this? Sure I offered to teach her to play bass and called her old when she didn’t like the racket coming up from 322, my garage recording space; but this, this was light years and mega budgetted. This demonstrated collabrative skills and charm I had not ever seen in her.

When it was over she came back to, now returned to the candor I knew and understood;

So what were you gonna tell me?

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“I like you all so much.” - City Center

…honestly, something has to give. I’m running on fumes. Ever since Alan bailed, I have to admit it was a hard blow. “It’s ok, I have all I need” I remind myself.

But the reality is I don’t. My shitty little songs and the waste of life I have when I look back is almost enough to just in front of a Marta train.

I had the most amazing bueatiful dream this morning, but I had to get to work so I only remember of the first of the two. I guess the second isn’t that important.

We were somewhere deep in Northern French Canada, only it didn’t seem Canadian, it seemed like Germany or Russia.

It was night time and snowing heavily. I was in the second car in a Convey, we were on tour. The car behind me was Cindy (my first x-wife) and our two kids, behind them was a couple who were the drum and bass rhythm section of the act I was in.

I was a bit ahead when I seen the decidedly French sign on my left that said Danforth 30km at the mouth of a small cobblestone village square.

I turned in and seen an almost Venice Beach looking Arched mall with two girls smoking cigarettes by the rail tracks that ran thru the village.

I approached the one with the mid-length teased red hair and black leather jacket. She led me into the cafe where an old man, perhaps her father, spoke English better than she.

She said she would take me to Danforth, she knew where the venue was.

Once I got there I got Cindy and the kids on the CB and led them to where the venue was. The young lady was mad at me, when she saw that I had kids.  I didn’t mislead her but she thought thinks might work out another way.

I can’t remember the first dream.

But I do (again) wish I could find people to share passion for music and art and creativity and travel that I do. I love you my internet friends, but most of you and I may never see each others faces and that makes this a bittersweet place to meet.

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