Fishy,

You are for inspirational purposes only. I use you. I imagine our lips
pressed together, but dare not satisfy the desire. I fear losing this
beautiful feeling you've awakened in me. It's a beautiful thing this
chemical my body releases when I think of you. I fear the following scene I
witnessed at a restaurant once: His hands pressed against his face. He looks
out at the window and the overweight woman tossing out her plate. He barely
looks at the woman sitting in front of him. His elbows rest on the table.

She looks at him, and he doesn't even bother to return the gaze. I don't ever want that to happen to me. Fishy, my angel of inspiration, don't ever touch me. let our love forever haunt our imaginations and nothing more. I do not want to lose what I feel for you dear boy.

[I watched her sleep and drank till I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Eventually I crawled into bed with her. watching her sleep. I have begun to collect lovers all over the world. Honestly, I would trade it all to meet the one. But until that day arrives, this is something I relish. I love Sam. I love her brain. I love her old soul.]

For the record: Bush Jr is president of America. he seems very funny to most of us. except the people who live in the middle states. but in fairness, not much funnier than Clinton seemed. He has allegedly lied, cheated, swindled, and manipulated more than anyone in recent history but no one seems to notice. (Although I confess I am not old enough yet to appropriately use the term ‘recent history’, but still, I'm not an idiot. I take that back. I very well could be, but at least I don't look like one. not yet anyway. this guy was just out for no good since the day he stepped in office.) A reclusive and reticent man named John Kerry is a Massachusetts golden boy hopeful fighting to save the great empire; or at least baby sit for a while until someone better comes along. He changes his mind a lot and vacillates on the issues. Everyone is noticing. He doesn’t seem that cool and everyone is noticing. When America has to make a choice between the quiet vacillating philosopher war-hero, and the saccharin-flavored fork-tongued snake who puppets for the dark forces, the entire world will be watching. Our economy is tanking and no one seems to notice. The great sleeping giant China has finally woken up and is using up the world’s resources faster than global industry can keep up. Commodity markets are going crazy. Gas prices are higher than they’ve been in our young lifetimes, and yet TV is still advertising SUVs every five minutes. The suburbs are still full of them. Most people don't seem to notice much. As China wakes up, America has fallen into a deep slumber. The last gasp before an empire passes on is a giant wave of illogical borrowing and spending. Like the final desperate kicking and screaming of a beast just before it is about to be slaughtered. Black music has taken over mainstream American culture and rock and roll is struggling to fit somewhere in between, becoming more of a novelty. There is someone called Courtney Love who seems very close to killing herself or someone else. Another named David Blaine has found a way to levitate, or just appear that he is. Little Michael Jackson has turned out weirder than anyone could have possibly imagined. Real estate prices are through the roof. The average sale price for a flat in Manhattan is $999,000. Interest rates at an all time low. Israel and Palestine are still fighting. North Korea is building up a nuclear arsenal. South America is starting to walk. Europe has finally united and although no one believed it could happen their currency the euro has surpassed the American dollar in value by about 25% in four short years. Gay is becoming very hip and mainstream. Reality TV is very popular. Terrorism is the word most often heard in the streets and around the water cooler. A new ‘sort of’ planet was discovered in our solar system. Black holes are no longer theory. Brain implants and neural-prosthetics, once the stuff of science fiction, are becoming a reality so paraplegics can do things by just thinking about them. Cell phones are replacing home phones. Voicemail has replaced answering machines. Email is replacing greeting cards, letters, newspapers, newsletters, etc. the Internet is replacing everything else. Advertising is replacing real information. Corporations are replacing governments. There may not be a chicken in every pot, but there certainly is a computer in every home. Usually two. The band is about to tour Europe. I have become obsessed with studying politics, world affairs, and economics in place of music, art, religion, and philosophy. Whereas the latter subjects, which were the obsessions of my youth, inspired and fascinated me, the current ones confuse me and leave me feeling a bit apprehensive. Take this excerpt from one of yesterday’s financial news column’s:

[THE FOREIGN TRADE DEFICIT. The U.S. is currently
importing about $500 billion more than it exports every
year. That's been going on for many years, so there are
trillions of U.S. dollars now held outside of the U.S.
Since U.S. dollars are only "legal tender" within the U.S.,
whether foreigners continue holding them depends on whether
they have confidence in the dollar. Confidence can vanish
like a pile of feathers during a hurricane. I would suggest
that they're becoming increasingly aware that the dollar
is, in fact, an "IOU Nothing" on the part of the U.S. Government, which is itself bankrupt.]

O.k. so there it is. a small sampling... even though on the TV here in America they try to act like everything is o.k., most experts are saying that its not. So... go figure. Same old story.

I am still male, white, straight, unmarried, and have no children. Trying to make my way in the world as best as I can. Releasing Girls, and Veronica, as our next singles. About to release the Nothing is cohesive album. The music and the art design is the best we've ever done to date. I am on a high with my music. Just totally fucking peaking. Can do no wrong; but thoroughly and entirely bored with the rest of my life. my current identity settings are set to Fishy. But he is dead to me now. When I return I will be Tobias Guess. The Cosmos is Great and Large, Darnright.    

Last screening: Concert for George Harrison. You know, its very nice to see all the boys up there singing George’s songs. Kind of comes off like if all your uncles and parents and grandparents singing their favorite songs at a family barbeque. the ravi shankar Indian music section is AWESOME. But seeing all the guys together in one room is really groovy. I think it is one of the best concerts I've ever seen. Its just a fucking spectacular moment in time. by the time Paul hits the stage its just majestic. A music feast. And George’s songs. Wow. George’s songs. Makes you cry.  

Another night of tossing and turning and vivid dreaming... I cannot remember a night in months where I wasn't entirely awake during my sleep, watching myself dream, taking notes, making corrections.... it is not a good thing. I long for real sleep. Deep sleep. I dreamed of Juliet again. I have noticed that I dream of her often. I don't think that it is she that I am dreaming about specifically as much as just what she has come to represent momentarily in my subconscious mind.

Have noticed the death of Fishy has begun. A slow death. But he is happy to be finally departing. If I wasn't charting the course by continuing to write the diaries then I believe it would happen even faster. Can I make the transition to Tobias Guess completely and still write daily as I always have? Does Tobias write daily as Fishy always has? I remember that between the years 1996 to 2001 when I was at the peak of the Ambassador years that I wrote almost nothing at all. just made notes now and then to remind myself what I would write one day, mostly lists of achievements and accomplishments. Now it seems that my grandest achievements are in the words and dreams and not in actions.

There is so much about this character Fishy that I have now grown tired of. The whining, the sophomoric self obsession, the nagging suspicion that everything won't work out for the best, the underlying nihilism and existential screen that he places in front of everything. I must change. I must put him down for good and resurrect as a new me. The old me. The ambassador was a taste of Tobias Guess. A ghost. A remembrance of what would come, of what could come. I do find inside a subtle pleasure of accomplishment in being a writer. Certain passages leave me with an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction as I fall asleep after hours spent hunched over the laptop. But I never wanted to be a writer. and so I spend absolutely no time promoting myself as a writer or pursuing a career in it, much to the objection of my friends and family. If I am going to achieve something in this life, it will be in the real world and not in the imaginary world of the writer. No.... the writer and the writing is not how I wish to be remembered. Fishy created Fishy because his own life was not yet to the degree that he desired it to be. Tobias Guess on the other hand will rise from mediocrity like the Phoenix for no other reason but that he is that Phoenix.

But the question still remains. How then do I achieve the level of success, of luxury, of accomplishment, of style, of notoriety that befits Tobias Guess? Just as I one day awoke and realized that I was Fishy and that he was no longer merely a character in my mind, I wonder how I can best facilitate the same thing happening to me with Tobias. As I write this the answer is clear. The boy genius Fishy took notes of things. Fishy was and always will be a brilliant chronographer. Setting the details and the events he observed in the world to beautiful songs and thousands of pages of journal entries. But the masterful and magnanimous worldly king Tobias Guess will be and always has been the creator of these world events, rather than just the insightful observer of them.

You know for me, the last year or two hasn’t been easy. In my career I’ve had more success than we ever have before. can’t complain about that. I don't mean it in that way. I mean, its probably obvious to everyone but me. somehow between rise and shine and sleep with you, things changed. Lately for some strange reason people have been bringing up the rise and shine album a lot to me, as if God is trying to remind me of something with that. people pulling it out and playing it for me, or writing to us about it. I heard it the other day, for the first time in a year or two. I got it. I understood I think what it was telling me. you know, when I made rise and shine I made it because I loved music. I loved the songs I was writing at the time. I was very in love with music and with culture. There was no commercial intention behind the album. it was just love and spirit. Somewhere after that, the idea of commercial set in, the idea of our music being a commodity had set in and we were swept off our feet. Commercial was the word of the day. Everyday. Everyone has this attitude about the music business that it is so difficult and you have to work so hard. And there is a tremendous pressure to ‘be commercial.’ To fit in somewhere. When we made rise and shine it was obvious to everyone that we didn't fit in anywhere. But we were cool with that. I didn't care because I was so happy doing what we did. Then that changed.

You know, you start listening to the mainstream ‘powers that be’ and you start second guessing yourself a bit I guess. I started caring about the commercial aspects of what we did. I think that comes through in sleep with you. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. sleep with you has far outsold rise and shine already, so that's a marvelous thing. but it did something else to me. you know, it kind of overtook me. it wasn't until this week—these two or three marvelous events: reconnecting with Juliet and her soulful radiating spirit coming in to remind me that life is good, life is beautiful Fishy she reminds with every line, as if I don't remember that and need to be reminded of it all of a sudden; and then all these reminders coming in about the rise and shine album and listening to it again for the first time; and then of course, seeing this concert for George. Remembering what it is all about. Seeing that this will be the last diary entry of Fishy, I don't mind writing this. But it has been very hard to balance the artist and dreamer in me with the ambitious rock star who wants this massive success. I haven't been happy in a year or more, largely because of this struggle. When I would joke that the ambassador was dead, you know, there was some truth to it. I just couldn’t find him within me anywhere.

The truth is that the ambassador just doesn’t give a shit about the commercial potential of any of this. And that's a part of me. a big part. I just don't care about that half as much as I should. Or half as much as I tell myself I should. But another part of me cares tremendously. Its all I think about sometimes. I can feel the death all around me. for months now. Ever since the return from Europe this autumn. I have been a dead man walking. I have done my absolute best to hide it and deny it. but I am no longer here. my body is. but my heart isn't in it. hasn’t been for months. The level of bullshit and pretense in the music biz is just tremendous. And for me, and maybe this is just me, its become an unbearable burden to bear. The lust for success and the competitiveness. My thing has always been traveling and studying and learning and turning that into song when I could. I just want to record my albums and perform concerts when I can. I mean that's what I signed up for. But all the in-between bullshit, the day to day of it... it is crushing the very thing within me which it is supposed to be supporting. My soul feels as if it is caving in from the pressure of it all. you know that when i was making rise and shine I was very very happy, and I will never forget reading this one music editor in a letter to our publicist who said that “Fishy is a great guy, but I feel that this album is too good-vibey and too touchy feely positive message for my tastes so I'm not going to review it, rather than trashing it.” That was the beginning. I read it over and over again. I didn't get it. I didn't get why she didn't get it. and since then... the bigger we get the harder it gets to find the spirit radiating within me for the pure joy of music that I once felt. The success pressure kind of ruins that. But you know, I don't want it to. I love the music too much. There is so much more that I want to do. cannot wait to begin this new harder-edged album we have been rehearsing. And after that I would like to dive deeper into African and Indian music more and create a follow-up to rise and shine. deeper. I feel that I am at a crossroads with it though, with the struggle between the pure art of it and the commerce aspect of it. I pray everyday for the understanding and for the balance. I was all ready to move to New York and sort of begin anew and then these tours came about. which is an amazing thing for us. so I'm going to stick around and get the band ready for them. and I'm going to give it my all. I promise that. We owe it to ourselves. And to the fans. And to the huge organization of people that have sprung up around us. but something must change. I am not sure exactly what it is. but something... I am sure it is within me. an attitude. An understanding. so when it is said that Fishy dies, its not a murder or anything like that, like I thought it might be. It’s voluntary. Its just the passing of the spirit to another. I know it sounds strange. Killing yourself off to find yourself. But I don't think I have a choice in it. I probably should have done it months ago.   

Out with jazz, who is back from France now. both of us just wasted. One cannot under-estimate the benefits that the effect of alcohol can have on the spirit. there is just nothing like it. it gives a certain clarity of mind, a freedom, a broad perspective that only pure unadulterated drunkenness can give. Liberating. Getting drunk at least once a month should be mandatory for all citizens of the free world. There is just nothing like the clarity of mind that it affords. It enables one to separate far enough away from all worries and concerns of the ego that it can make life seem very clear, very easy. Which is a good thing. just loosens you all up. sometimes I forget that. Driving home tonight, man I just let it fly. I have a little more than a month left on this beamer. Hence my move to new York. I figured since the lease is up on my car, it’s the perfect time to make the move back to the big city. in what I pay for a car and insurance every month I could easily afford an apartment in nyc. Not kidding. But its so worth it. tonight, seeing that I was feeling pretty loose, I just opened that baby up, stepped on it all the way and let it fly. Hit a hundred mph in less than a second or two. And was well over 120 soon after. Say what you will but there is nothing like a beamer. Don't have much experience with Porsche, Ferrari, or Masseratti yet, so can’t say. But look forward to it one day. what other cars are there? in the meantime the beamers always blow me away when it comes to performance and handling. For me there is just nothing else at this stage.

[there's a real funny story. During the recent FTAA protests here in Miami a few months ago, I loaned the beamer to a couple of the protesters who were here from other cities. Ironically enough they were on their way to the print shop to pick up some anti-office-depot flyers that they had made because office depot supposedly has all these really bad deforestation practices that make them a very unsavory corporation to environmental activists etc... and an hour later they get back to the compound and they are just raving about the car. just overfilled with joy and excitement about it. they're telling me, ‘holy shit Fishy, I had no idea that driving a car could be a sexual experience, that it could be such an exhilarating experience...’ and I'm telling them, ‘well duh, now maybe you understand that allure of capitalism a little bit... making money is not such a bad thing after all is it?’] I will sure miss her when she's gone. But if I have to choose between speeding down the highway with the top down and the music playing and life in the big city, taking the everywhere, I'm going to choose the big city for now. I'm like a fish out of water here. just no connection to the people here except the boys in the band....

Absolutely must make love with jazz. O.k. well maybe not go that far, but she is 
smart. Which is a huge turn on. Great fun. We’re always in such synch with one another. Unexpected but undeniable attraction. Great spirit.

More deaths in Iraq. Everyday now. We declared victory six months, nine months ago? And we have had more deaths this month so far than any other month in the invasion. Promised I wouldn’t write about politics anymore. Not good for business I'm told. So I won't.

I will stop writing the current diaries for a while then. Focus on the Blue Mask and the older adventures that were found in the box. That will give me something to do over the next few months on the road. By the time I return to posting things current, Fishy will be dead and Tobias Guess will be born.

Last night I dreamed that someone was in our house going through their CD collection... showing us different things. Mom was there. Asleep. What the hell was my mom doing there? Vancouver was there... Bloopy was there. The guy starts acting crazy. Saying crazy things. I'm thinking, ‘this guy is crazy.’ He starts ranting and raving about some CD. I am bored. This is stupid. I was feeling that it was turning into a waste of my time. I'm leaving, but then I look over and see this body lying there.... bloody... he had killed someone. Right there in the house. Didn’t anyone else see it? I knew it. This guy was a psycho. It was a reminder for me, to trust that instinct. Later that night. Time had passed. I was lying in bed. The house was dark and quiet. Everyone was asleep. I laid there awake. Staring up at the ceiling. I knew I had to do something. I thought about waking mom up or one of the guys. but I had this realization that it didn't matter, asking anyone else about this. What mattered was that I needed to act. I got up, got dressed, and went outside. I found the man. Out in the front yard. Waiting for me. A twisted soul. An apparition or entity at best. A culmination of anger, confusion, depression, resentment, and neurosis come to life. An undead. Whose? Mine? Someone else’s? Did it matter? I knew what must be done. I strangled the man until he stopped breathing. He did not resist. I then took out a sword, (where did I get a sword?), and stabbed him in the heart as he fell to the ground. I then walked back to the house, went in, and laid in bed some more, my mind reeling. Eventually I fell asleep I assume. I never awoke that morning. And I never awoke from that dream. What did the dream mean, or what does the dream mean, since I seem to still be in it, is not the question. Where the hell am I now? That is the question.

You know, the thing is that there are always going to be people who stay down, stay at a certain level of existence, and who can’t seem to manage to get up. and sometimes they are people who are close to us. and it is hard. Its hard. Period. Because you want to drag them up. you want ot do whatever it takes to bring them up and get them to see that its just creations. Just beliefs. but sometimes they can’t see that. and try as you might they stay where they are.

I have some friends who I love dearly who are depressed, or who believe they have eating disorders etc... and year after year they stay with the same routine. Doctors and more doctors and meds and more meds. And you want to shake them because year after year you still see them in it doing the same things never trying anything new. You have to keep trying. But eventually you have to honor who they are being and maybe that's just the way they want it. you offer alternatives and sometimes it feels as if they resent you for offering alternatives. One year *** expressed to me that she hated Christmas because it wasn't a happy time for her growing up. so year after year for twenty years now she gets depressed during Christmas season rather than just discreating it and deliberately creating that she loves Christmas. This belief I feel must serve her in a way, or at least she must believe it does and therefore she can’t even feel a desire to let it go in order to attempt to create enjoying Christmas. I mean, lets face it, we all go through that bah humbug fuck Christmas phase. I know I did. but after some time, you just decide that its going to serve you more to try to get the absolute most out of it and really enjoy it. and things like that are deliberate. We are deliberate creators. Hard to swallow. But its true. its up to us. if you want to enjoy Christmas you create ‘I enjoy Christmas’ and then you start taking action to make that reality come true.

Sometimes we may internalize our friends’ maladies, as if we should too feel fucked up or sick or scared or depressed or cynical or angry at the world... but when I notice that inside of me I let it go and wish for everyone to feel the same kind of optimism and joy that I do now for life. because it is such a new thing for me, having spent so many years being a generally depressed and cynical person. but where does that really get us?


The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs.
There's also a negative side. -- Hunter S. Thompson
   
Current spin: serge gainsbourg, percussions. And also Nazi rock from 1975. if this guy can be a popular recording artist anyone can. this is just horrible rubbish. Really hard to listen to. from listening to his sixties work one can hear that serge was at one point a really good artist, but after ravishing his entire fifteen year catalogue over the last three months looking for treasures I have come up almost totally empty handed. I am really trying to find the mccarteny or Dylan or Lennon or sting or peter Gabriel or cobain of France... something I can really dig into, but haven't found anything except for Francis cabrel really that is that amazing. he is though.

I received a letter from Juliet. A hand written letter. And a few bags of tea she throws in there... what it feels like is God sending me all these different souls at this time. Traversing the maze of her handwriting a challenge indeed... to capture the meaning sometimes... sixteen pages is how many typed? Cannot remember now. Hadn’t written a letter in years outside of business or email, but we have been writing letters and it’s a fun and groovy thing. long distance table tennis. She wallops one back to me this time, just huge. Giant ... bam! I read a few pages a day, to savor it. I'm in the bathtub reading one. Perhaps just wasn't prepared for it. Juliet is so intelligent and wise and evolved.... so there... wasn't prepared for the emotional impact it would have on me. Immersed in lavender bubbles and water. Deciphering the hieroglyphics to obtain the ideas... certain sentences... certain passages carrying me off into some other place in my mind and in my heart. very meaningful. ‘This is lifetime important, this reconnection of ours,’ I think. This is something very important. To get to know Juliet now, after all these years, as if I really ever knew her before, which I would dare say I didn't; only enough to set up what is transpiring now. Our past encounters rather insignificant. I think to myself, ‘do present significant connections with others minimize past or other present connections we have with different people?’ I don't think so. I think we’re big enough to hold them all. How many friends can a person have? Tens? Hundreds? Thousands?

[advantage of email over letters through mail is that you can respond immediately. Advantage of letters through mail over email is that you can respond immediately with email.... lol. But seriously, email is great in that you can respond to each thing a person says just by replying directly beneath whatever they have written or asked. With letters you have to sit there and remember or make note of each question or item that you wish to respond to. this is very inconvenient and troublesome. But the problem with email is that in general they don't have the air of importance or profundity that a letter still carries. The tendency is to brush them off quickly, read them, quick response, or no response at all even, and then off to the next... a lot of the depth of connection seems to get lost in the immediacy. Like television compared to film in that respect.]

Couldn’t quite grasp why it felt so important, her letters, and this reconnection. Juliet is happily coupled and childfull, so it isn't as if she is my future wife or something like that... [something occurs to me there. that if we were gay, then we could relate to the opposite sex from such a different perspective, free from the sexual or romantic angle. Just see them as they are as a person like we do with the same sex now... take it deeper.... like when I meet a guy who I think is cool, I don't start questioning it or wondering what it is. I just think, ‘that guy is fucking cool. or smart, or funny, or whatever.’ and that's the end of that. But when we are straight and we do meet someone of the opposite sex a lot of other things come into play in our minds. Beneath the surface. Bubbles. Preconceptions. Subconscious particles that are beyond present awareness that trigger certain reactions in us... Can I get beyond it? see past it? view women as purely other beings that are here. Like you would a dog or a cat or a child or another man?]  

[o.k. I took this further over the last few weeks, went deeper, and the truth is that it does even go beyond the opposite sex. so my theory on ‘what if we were gay—then it wouldn’t be there’ isn't going to fly. Because how often do we notice ourselves being attracted to someone of the same sex every now and then? So that happens as well... I believe it is our desire for some kind of ‘ultimate connection’ to a person, something deeper than just talking or hanging out...we want to bond with them, and as we are programmed now, sexual connection seems like the deepest bond we can come up with. Consciously we know this isn't true. with experience we know this isn't true. [this is for men, but many of us are dogs who would sleep with women we wouldn’t even talk to or eat a meal with just because we want to sleep with them for some crazy reason. And that's not a deep connection type of a thing, but just a glitch in our circuitry. We just want the rush.] But time has told that there are ways of getting these deep connections with other people that can last an entire lifetime that don't have anything to do with sex. just good old fashioned long term friendships... but still, under the surface, one does feel this desire to bond in a romantic or sexual way sometimes. For me, I spent some time ‘processing’ through it some time ago. so it wasn't so ‘on automatic.’ So now it is something I can just observe, rather than fall victim to.]

Good morning dear Juliet...
With your little magic wand and your dancing around the room...

Ah yes the original song/universal lullaby... during the making of the nothing is cohesive album (the newest one about to be released) I felt as though I was in it, inside of it, during the whole writing and recording of that one. I hope that others hear it as well. That's why I sent some of those rough mixes to you. because I was so happy!!! nothing is cohesive is so far the most musical album I have ever made/been a part of. Created entirely from/with a/the love of music. no real reason to make it except for that. we were in love with what we were doing in that moment, in love with music. and with each other.

I sent you a sort of compilation of songs from the last three albums, just some of my favs. With a funny synopsis of each song in the letter. Don't know if I labeled the CD itself, but songs like softening were just FLOWS through me. me just sitting there LOST IN THE FLOW of it. and IF YOUR BABY COULD, ALL THIS IS BEGINNING TO FEEL LIKE AN ENDING, VERONICA was another, (this song is about to be released nationally as a single--scary) just FLOW, feels like ME AND GOD/GODDESS SECRETLY WORKING TOGETHER WITH BIG SMILES ON OUR FACES. Juliet  that's what it feels like!!! When you're in that flow state and a new song is peeking its head out of the womb in your mind. Your heart beats faster and blushes, mind starts racing, I get giddy like a little kid, running around the house, looking for a tape recorder or a guitar or running to the piano, jumping up and screaming 'holy shit holy shit! Do you hear that fucking new song?! Oh my God! oh my God!'

You get lost for a while in it. and then when I come out of it, maybe upon waking the next day, go back and play the song and ... wow, that really is nice isn't it... its almost like being drunk or something. gone into another world. When songwriting is flow, that's what it feels like.

Perhaps according to your ancient folklore, all songs come from this one ‘original song,’ the ‘universal lullaby...’ [wow goose-bumps] and that's what we are trying to do when we are writing songs, one after the other, trying to capture a piece of that one original song that we remember from when we were in the womb ourselves... you know that's what it feels like in a way. That’s a nice idea. Trying to get/stay closer to God/Spirit.

                --------------------------------------------

Last opera of the season tonight. Turandot, Puccini’s unfinished last great one. Jazz was late—I was of course incensed. Explaining to her that I almost always go alone. Maybe once a year I will bring a date. “You just sit here by yourself in these two seats?” “For years. Yes. It’s the only place I can get a really good sleep these days.” we laugh, but I explain that Its just a very sacred thing to me. Better to go alone than to bring someone who isn't going to increase the pleasure of it, or worse, not understand the sacredness of it, or appreciate it. There's like one in ten million people who can sing opera. Probably a lot fewer than that. so its just an amazing thing to behold. Few people can understand it. So I spend some time screaming like a madman. She had never seen this side of me before. “you're crazy. this is why I will never be in a relationship with you.” “I didn't ask you to be in relationship with me! I asked you to go to a fucking opera! Is someone dead?!” “No. why?” “Well then how the fuck can you be late?!” She says I am frightening her. I tell her that it is just the nature of the artist; don't be frightened. Artists scream. That's what we do. I haven't performed in a few weeks. I get like this if I don't perform for a while. Need to let it out of my system, or I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself. She promises to speak French the whole time to make up for it. Drunk on Champaign, chocolate, and Puccini. The Nessun Dorma was pretty bad. The guy just didn't have it going on. Although it was nice to see it finally in its proper setting. Never had heard it live before.

The whole evening made my heart long to meet a girl with the grace and presence of mind to understand that it is as uncivilized to arrive late to an opera as it is to show up on-time to anything else. Where the hell are you my angel, my queen, my princess, my light? I am tired of waiting. When we meet I am going to bow down at your feet and worship you for an eternity like you’ve never been worshiped. I am going to compose great symphonies in your honor and sing you songs of love and joy and devotion and make you laugh like crazy till we are both resting in our graves. “Principesa, come to me Principesa....”

[taming the animal: there was this moment when we were getting seated... some people were sitting in my seats. Because I sit in the same seats every year I was very rude, short, and snippy about the whole thing (is snippy a word?). I didn't even care to listen to the intruder’s explanations or bother to look at their tickets that they were trying to show me. I was actually on my phone and just demanded that they move so we could sit down... they finally did figure out what was going on and realized that they were indeed in the wrong seats. So they moved. But about five minutes later I just had this overwhelming feeling of what a bastard I was. So I leaned over and apologized to them. “You know I was just so terribly rude. I am very sorry. Pardon me.” it made all the difference in the world. And I am sure we all enjoyed the ensuing performance that much more because I acknowledged that and spoke up, rather than continuing to defend my bad behavior in my own mind. Its like sometimes you just have to accept that as humans we can be dogs and just totally misbehave. We have to get used to the idea of correcting ourselves just like we would our pets or children. I don't think all of us are like that. I know some people who were just born with good manners and grace. Unfortunately I was not one of them. sometimes when I am in line at a store or restaurant and just want what I want when I want it and I have found that I was short and impatient with the people who helped me, I walk myself all the way back to the store, even if it’s a long walk, and go say thank you with a big smile. Its like training a dog is what it feels like. I'm like, “Fishy, turn the hell around you animal and go say thank you to those people....”]

Woke up this morning obsessively watching the three tenors live DVDs skipping to Pavarotti singing nessun dorma. He really does do it fantastically. I mean, its not a myth or anything. He owns the song now. Breathtaking everytime. I study the sheet music in front me and listen and watch him sing. I rewind over and over again, listening, reading, studying. I have been trying to capture this song for two years now. Michael Bolton does it now, and actually does a very impressive version. But luciano takes it all the way home like no other. Just nails it. 

Had the realization that men DO HAVE a biological clock. Perhaps science hasn’t yet discovered it yet. [remember that it wasn't until the 1980’s that they started realizing that men also go through a sort of menopausal state (they call it a midlife crisis). I believe that men also feel some kind of hormonal pull in their system as they get older like the infamous biological clock that is spoken about with women. Talking to jazz the other night about what it feels like... this shift inside from being the happy go lucky artist who is content to live in complete poverty and squalor just so you can keep creating, to slowly feeling a shift over the years towards an almost near obsessive desire for empire building, safety, and security for myself and my family. One minute you are quite happy to be the lone adventurer eagerly throwing your arms around the entire world, and in the next you find yourself longing to find the ONE and begin pro-creating and making a family. For years all I cared about was the next song, the next novel, the next diary passage, the next screenplay, the next album... and now I notice that these involuntary life-long obsessions are accompanied by a very strong impulse to question “how will this make me money?” when you are a young artist you just never even think about things like that. as you get older, you cannot help it. has to be hormonal in some way. 

Hung out with the Brown Bear tonight. A brilliant night. Jammed on guitars for hours and then went to dinner. Just total normal guy talk. Girls, relationships, money, savings, music, all that. Such an important friend to me. Came home and jammed more. and then outside to smoke some Hemmingways. This is classic Brown Bear and one of the many things that makes him so lovable. He just gets done telling me how he and his wife are over $85,000 in credit card debt and how he has to do something to get out of it. and five minutes later he is saying, “Man I got about $1000 from my birthday that is just burning a hole in my pocket. Fishy what do you think I should buy? What guitar would you recommend?” The guy is a classic. I feel lucky to know him.

I told him we were only getting $30,000 for our tour in Europe and how hard it was to budget. He’s like ‘bro, we just spent three hours jamming and didn't get paid a fucking dime. And you guys get paid to do that? Shut the fuck up Fishy and enjoy it, would ya?” Great night. Love him like a brother.

One of those days where everything just seems to go right. certainly we’re on a high from the upcoming tours and the release of NIC. But today was something special. You know, I was in the bath... and I just had this realization [reminds me to finish the Bathtub Revelations—remember that series... I never did finish that...] that I could stop all the thinking. there I was sitting there, groggy and slant-eyed, nursing an espresso, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour as usual. Trying to figure it all out. figure it all out. figure it all out. and then I just sat up and felt this knowing. Just like, o.k. its time to stop. There's nothing to figure out here. we’re there. we’re just totally there already. We’ve done the work. We have the tools. We’ve paid the dues. Just let it go bro and move on. So all day I'm on this high. Just enjoying the day. enjoying the wins. Enjoying the goals achieved rather than obsessing on the goals not yet achieved. For one brief moment of a few hours in time I was allowing myself to feel that ‘everything’s alright.’ Is it really all in our attitude? In the way that we look at it? could it be that easy?

I'm in my car. In the parking lot of some plaza. Top down. Talking on the phone. I can see some old guy walking up behind me. he's staring at the back of my car. I have a few stickers on the bumper. He's probably going to start speaking to me in Italian since I have an Italy sticker on there. He comes up to my door and says “what kind of a revolution?” he is referring to the sticker that says “Stop bitching and start a revolution.” I heard him the first time, but I ask “what” by obligation. (why do we always do that?) He has a strong Spanish accent. We start speaking in Spanglish. He in English and me in Spanish. Better that way. when in doubt we switch. “where are you from? I ask. I am American but my family is from Cuba. Miami is the only city in America where someone can be born here but still speak with such a strong accent that you cannot understand what they are saying... “what kind of a revolution?” he asks again. “Depends on the situation, I guess.” I respond. “I'll tell you this.”? he says. “I tell my children, if this country doesn’t make a one hundred and eighty degree turn soon, its going to be complete chaos.” “yep.” Is all I say. I think he’s one of us. But here's the deal. I continue listening to him and pretty soon I realize that he's basically touting a republican agenda. “people don't realize what the world is like in other countries. Like Cuba. Over there they have an extreme dictatorship. Here we have an extreme democracy.” I keep listening. “the country is going downhill fast I'm afraid.” he tells me. I agree with him but for completely opposite reasons. Fascinating. He starts going on about same sex marriages. “How can these people think that marriage is anything but between a man and wife?” I am respectful. I just say, “yeah.” I agree that the country needs help and needs a one hundred and eighty degree turn but in the opposite direction than he does. Anything but equal rights for same sex marriages is an abominable idea I think. Marriage solely being between a man and a woman is such an archaic idea. So here we are... chatting in a parking lot with an immediate and mutual simpatico; but just completely different agendas. I found it uncanny. Good guy I'm thinking. but how can he be so off base? Maybe its me who’s off base... “How old do you think I am he asks me?” “I don't know, maybe 65,” I answer. “I'm 77 years old” he says. And he makes a muscle with his bicep and throws it in my face to feel it. I feel his muscle out of respect. Wow. Strong. I say. Reminded me of my grandfather. He always used to do the same thing right up until he passed on. “we need to swing away from this extreme democracy” he tells me. “obtain more balance in the country. You know what happened to Rome?” he asks me. we talk some more. I don't tell him what kind of revolution I'm thinking of for the country. he’d probably have a heart attack. Extreme democracy? I'm thinking. I think we’re close to a goddamned dictatorship at this point. We need more democracy. Funny. I took this encounter as a reminder. Of what I have no fucking clue.

Weekend with Princess Little Tree in Seattle. Its interesting because I need to write about this. I wrote about it a lot while I was there but not in the diaries... purged the most intense emotion through just taking notes for songs mostly, endless pages of song notes. Also working on a song for the Stallion called Thursday rain, something like that... Never just sat down to note the details or how I was feeling. I can’t really, for obvious reasons, because of the public nature of this experiment. So instead, Just took lots of notes for songs. It is always very emotional for us. a lot of laughing and a lot of crying. It is a tragedy, our situation. doesn’t have to be processed that way, but at times it feels like that to us.... if she isn't crying, I am, and vice versa. Not sure if that's the way its supposed to be. again, just can’t talk about it. instead will write songs about it... use it to create. As in the song, we did sit by the fire. This was life imitating art... It was very nice, very sad, but very nice... but very sad. ‘sad?’ Infinito asks me this morning over an IM chat... ‘of course, I answer. She is older than me, which I don't think matters that much except in how it relates to having children... has two children of her own already, and again doesn’t matter that much; in fact I love her children. Oh my God how wonderful and sweet and smart and cute they are... but I want to have my own children of course... and she is at that age where we don't have twenty years to take our time to have children now, where we could take the next twenty years and have one two three or even four or five children over time as we decide... so that is quite sad. Plain and simple... for me it is... and for her too, because she loves me so much and wants whatever I want for me, God I love that. it is an unbelievably special connection, something born from God is what it feels like... to both of us I'm sure.
I
 am in a state of really needing to decide what i want to do about this... i need to go all the way in and go for it and deal with it as it is, or bail out now... because i want to get married and have children now...  you see? Wow. I'll tell you, being with her children this weekend was a double edged sword... sweet but bitter. On the one hand I just loved the experience – oh my God what a great experience it is to hang out with children! Right? Just wonderful... so that's nice. but at the same time I was thoroughly reminded of how I want that for myself. Not to just hang out with other peoples children. God how fucking sad. I feel like stabbing myself. Or jumping off a building... not that we can’t... because we can. but we would have to do it now. like right now. and still there are no guarantees...  but still, it was there the whole time... this understanding that she is already there ten or fifteen years ahead of me, depending on which me we are speaking about... so almost no matter what we do its going to be new for me but old news for her and that's a tough pill to swallow...

There was a moment there... when we were laying on the bed... and she asks me between tears... ‘would you get married now if you met someone?’ and I smile, and respond, ‘oh my God yes. of course I would.’ And she breaks into tears again... and that is the nature of the downside of this... but it is such a joyful thing, always has been, so I guess that's why it feels like such the conflict for us... its good, but its got some badness to it. and that just really sucks. And we spend a lot of time kicking our feet and screaming and cursing God and life and the universe for this strange time warp thing that we have found ourselves in in this lifetime together. I always tell her that this is just another one of our many lifetimes together. and in this one we just weren't born at the right time... love at first site. I bet we've been here before my love. Many times before. but in this one, we have the cards stacked against us a bit... so what to do? go for it anyway? Or just hold off and wait for our next meeting in our next lifetimes? Crazy. the age thing doesn’t have anything to do with it really. The more I think about it. its funny because I've let go of some amazing girls over the last few years because of the age thing. girls that were only a few to five years older... but I look back now and that was just an excuse I think. because when you are in love none of that means anything... it just doesn’t. when you are in love nothing means anything. You are just so damn happy to be in love with that person. you will do anything for them. you would die for them. perhaps even kill for them. and age... how silly it seems in the bigger picture... but the children thing... for me that's huge. I had always pictured myself with three or four kids. And tons of grandkids when I got older. A big brood at the dinner table... that's always been the vision...

But she makes a good point when she tells me sobbing, ‘you are wasting your time. I have to let you go. you have to go find your wife...’ and I cry with her and I hold her and I tell her ‘I want you to be my wife...’ and we just sob for minutes at a time. big deep loud painful cries of angst and sorrow and frustration and anger. Both of us knowing. But both of us wanting it to be different...

And when is enough enough of something like this? I mean, when do you cut the cord? When do you say o.k. this is great but this isn't going to work in the long run? [and who's to fucking say what's going to work or not work in the long run?] I have never been good at making these kinds of decisions. I have always just been the kind who floats and waits for life to make them for me. except for the last four or five years that is. I have been very good at cutting things quick, knowing that somewhere out there was the love of my life and that she was waiting for me and that I needed to move fast and cut out fast and be ready and available for her. I have been so good at that the last few years. vigilant. Militant. but things like this are different... because of love. Let me tell you. I've learned this. love is unfuckingbelievable. It is just everything. it is all powerful. and when we find it we should cherish it and honor it and feel so grateful for it, no matter what the challenge. But sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes. We have to let it go.

O.k. that's enough, that's even too much for this... where do you draw the line between being honest enough to write about your experiences and respecting others and yourself? but what is the message? I mean, that's what it comes down to a lot for me... all day, two three four days.. asking myself what is the message? And then in the gym I just succumb to it... perhaps there is no message... no message at all. perhaps it is up to me to derive the message from it. I want to reach out to someone.. tell me the message of this!!!! but perhaps that's the message. That love is blind love is beautiful love is all powerful love is healing and magnificent and awe inspiring, and when we are lucky enough to actually find ourselves in love, real love, well then, that is message enough. Embrace it cherish it rejoice in it celebrate it. even if you have to let it go.

So can this be enough for us? Can our love, the way it is now, for however brief a time it lasts, can that be enough? Can we let each other go? knowing... I tell her, let me marry you secretly, marry me secretly and then we will move on and go our separate ways... and we cry more... you can then let me go if you must and I will let you go and move on, but both of us will have this secret knowing... that we loved each other enough to marry, privately, secretly... even if but for a brief time; for I have never known a deeper more respectful more honest more pure love. And I want to honor that for us. I want to celebrate it...no matter how tragic or doomed it may seem in the long run... but for love. For what else is there?

And that my friends is the conclusion of the great romantic adventures of Fishy and Princess Little Tree. A story that started off in song. grew into real life. and now must unfortunately go back to song. A short story indeed. But a beautiful one.

Current spin : the best of the Samples. A cool Colorado band from the late eighties. Sound like a less serious REM playing with a jam band. good stuff. bought it because our publicist, a goddess of a girl named Ariel that the more I get to know her the more I admire her, recommended this CD because it comes with a free DVD documentary about the band, which is known for being the end all be all best rockumentary of all time. haven't seen it yet. but digging the music. one thing is sure, anything is better than that dreadful Radiohead doc that came out a few years ago.

Easter Sunday. In the morning Bas says to me, “You know the Bunny died for you? So you could sit there and type on that laptop of yours and play your guitar all day?” “What? You don't think I know that man?” No seriously, happy birthday Easter bunny. Or something like that. I still don't know if I totally believe the whole thing about the baby Jesus being born in an egg and the pack of wild Easter bunnies finding him and raising him in the woods and all that. and then him supposedly being carried across the red sea from Egypt to Israel on that cross... with all these bunnies swimming along side of him all that way? I don't know how we are supposed to believe that all these Easter bunnies could swim that far. But I guess that's why they call it Passover....

Good brunch today with friends back in Miami. Conversation centered around prostitution. I mean, what else are you going to talk about on Easter Sunday? Good clean business transaction? Or some sort of evil dangerous thing that can mess you up for years? Is the stigma attached to it just because its illegal? Or is it really a “bad thing” for the customer and the woman as well? Bad for everyone’s soul in some unexplainable way? A charged subject indeed.

The Ferret and the tortoise are your typical single guys. They’ll spend five hours in a club talking to a group of girls and you won't hear one bit of truth or anything of substance come out of their mouths. Its all just jokes and bs. Just tying to impress the girls or make them laugh. Buying them drinks and all this other crap in the hopes that they can take them home and sleep with them. I've never been too good at this. I usually like the more direct approach. I have spent many a drunken night in the car over the years hearing the Ferret scream at me “why the hell are you leaving?! That girl likes you man!” “dude I couldn’t even have a conversation with her.” “Duuuuuude, you're not supposed to have a conversation with her. you're supposed to just nail her. what's wrong with you?!” “But Duuuuuude don't you get it?! we just spent an hour having a conversation with those girls. And that was enough. It was boring as hell....” “But dude that's step one from your infamous book, ‘how to bag a babe in five easy steps,’ be funny, just talk shit, never be serious until you get them to your house! remember!” “I said that?” “Duuuhhh! C'mon man lets go back in there!” “Dude I said that when we were like what? 21! we were in college. this is different.” “Dude trust me. I still use those techniques and they work like magic.” “You know what bro? I'm sure they do. and I am honored by your reference to my jaded past, but we’re not in college anymore. I'm looking for number one now. and I'm not going to find her in this fucking club talking shit.” “Well you know what man? You said the same thing seven years ago and you found Cleopatra and where the fuck did that get you?! huh?! Huh?! Answer me that one! girls suck man. C'mon lets go back in.”

So I offer up at the brunch table, “you know, for arguments sake, what's the difference between a guy spending five hours and a hundred bucks at a club making small talk with a bunch of girls he doesn’t even really like in order to take them home for a night of unbridled casual sex, and another guy casually picking up the phone, calling a service, ordering the girl of his dreams to come over for an hour and spending a little more than that same amount? To me that sounds like a clean transaction. No fuss, no muss, no bs. Just clean unadulterated business.” “I can’t believe you're calling sleeping with a prostitute a clean business transaction!” Bas yells and slams his hand down on the table. “My girlfriend called a male gigolo to come over once. He gave her a massage and then he had sex with her and she said it was the best $200 she ever spent,” offered Amanda. “Nice. Listen tell your friend I'll do it for a hundred” the Ferret says. “If she's hot. “One-fifty if she's not.” Laughs. “I can’t believe you think that some prostitute is the girl of your dreams man! What's happening to you?” Bas shouts. “What next?! You're going to start taking these hoes to the opera with you?!” “Dude have you seen the babes you can buy now? They’re fucking hot,” the tortoise says while downing his cup of coffee. “I'd do it.” “Well Fishy’s done it with every prostitute from here to China. Ask him about it.” “Fishy, why would you ever have to use a prostitute? What about all the groupies you guys get?” “Can’t do it that way man. That would be cheating on my future wife.” “What?” the tortoise spits out his coffee across the table. “That is so gross...” the Ferret yells looking up from his paper for a brief moment. “Why do you have to do that?!” “Hey I thought that was a pretty cool Jack Tripper moment man. Relax will ya?” Fishy thinks that sleeping with a girl he isn't going to marry ‘cheating on his future wife’ but that sleeping with a prostitute isn't.” “you're a sick man.” “Well I'll take that as a compliment man. But seriously, its all probably cheating at this point. I mean...” “How can you call it cheating if you're not married? That's twisted!” “Well you know when you know man. You know if you meet a girl and you don't want to marry her, so what are you doing sleeping with her?” Ferret looks up from his paper, “Uh its called having sex! what's wrong with you?” “Look man, I'm not claiming to know anything that you guys don't. I'm just saying that it feels cleaner. In spirit at least, if not in the flesh.” “You're so fucking philosophical Fishy. I know I'm not going to pay some ho to sleep with her when I can just pick them up at a club. That's for sure. If I was in your shoes and I had all those chicks after me, I'd be doing all of them every chance I got,” tortoise and Bas high five. “You can say that again.” “I hear ya. Maybe you're right. maybe its just a time thing. don't want to waste the time talking to some girl, getting to know her, if I don't have to.... I don't know. but that gets tired after a while. I have a lot of respect for you guys and your ability to put up with all that. but I just can’t anymore...”

Later that day...
We’re at Madelynne O’Ryan’s mom’s house today as with all holidays when we’re lucky enough to be home. Maddie is down for the weekend with her new baby. I feel so lucky to be a part of this family for so long now. they’ve been my home away from home and second family for so long now. sitting on the dock by the intra-coastal watching the lights bounce off of the water. Boats sway gently. Fucking kids are running around everywhere. I'm thinking since when are we not the kids? I mean who the fuck are all these kids anyway? It seems like just yesterday that we were the kids of the house sneaking around the back to smoke out or guzzle a beer... and now we’re supposed to be grownups... crazy...

So we're on the dock and I'm hanging with the big kahuna and maddies older bro. Man I've known these guys forever. he's still chewing. And we’re discussing the finer points between chewing and cigars. Everyone agrees cigarettes are out. but which is better? Chew? Or cigars. Well they had me on the chew. It doesn’t smell as bad as a cigar and it doesn’t fuck up your lungs... but that whole thing with the chew getting in your teeth and floating around your mouth like that... I suppose one could just go tobacco free... but would life really have any meaning if you just didn't use any tobacco at all? lol. But I warn you now. with these tours coming up, I'm going to have to stop smoking cigars again to get my stamina back so if you see me spitting a lot on stage just assume I started chewing. The good news is that my vocals will be kick ass, but chances are I will look like I have a bunch of dirt in my mouth.

God these people are good, I think as I'm sitting at the kitchen table eating some homemade chicken soup that Mrs. O'Ryan made. Treated me so well for so long. Like part of the family.

Received an Easter basket in the mail from mum as always. No matter where I am, I always get an Easter basket from her. Like clockwork. Love you mom.

Have you ever noticed that there are people who, when in conversation, speak as if they are not really speaking to you, but more just to themselves? They don't look at you when they speak, only occasionally. I wonder what is happening there.

Jazz says “God I wish I could be a guy one time. Just so I could know what it felt like to want me so bad.”

Current Spin: Sinatra at the sands hotel in ’65 with count Basie orchestra and Quincy Jones conducting. Modest concert, not my favorite. This was the beginning of his cheesy drinking gambling Mafioso street fighting tough guy act. At the time and for thirty years my great uncle was the musical director at the Sands. This is how we were introduced to the American crooners, Sinatra and Dean, Sammy and Tony Bennett and Perry Como and so many more, through his stories over the holidays. One cannot say that I came upon music by chance I guess. Perhaps there is something to it being in the blood. I cannot say for sure. Is art in the blood? Is it fate? Or is it just learned? Or a combination of all of it mixed together? if I had to commit myself I would say that what it feels like is more of a soul thing... and if it happens to be in the blood then maybe it makes it all the better... but it certainly doesn’t need to be.

Last screening: jersey girl. This is a really really really bad movie. Kevin smith we will assume is in a transition period. lets call it that....

European tour just announced. Really good news. we’re all very excited. Eight cities in six weeks.

Do you wonder about meant to be? if a letter arrives two weeks late, was it meant to be? Or is it just a terribly slow and incapable post office? I tend not to be a meant to be kind of person myself, although I know a lot of people who are.

In what could quite possibly be one of the weirdest creepiest things of all time, a true sign of the decline of the great empire right up there with public dwarf tossing and people getting married for money on TV, someone is on the Internet dressed up like a chicken and you can type things in and he will do whatever you ask him to. Are there like hundreds of chickens out there? how do they do that? tape loops? I just don't get it... one of the great mysteries of the universe. And what if someone asks the chicken to do something really gross or nasty? Then what? I know I'm not going to because that chicken scares the shit out of me. Check it out: http://www.subservientchicken.com

Meeting with new press agents in Boston, MA. At one point she asks me, ‘is anyone in the band gay? It will help get you get more coverage in the gay publications.” “well I have been called a lesbian before...” “Really?” “Well yeah, you know, because I like girls and all...” “Bill what's he talking about?” “I mean, not sexually or anything, not yet anyway, but I do get my nails done.” “Well that's good for a start.” “Oh, yeah, and I did have sex with my dance teacher once... but we were pretty drunk.” “O.K., but you're not gay?” “Well no, I mean you can’t let not being gay get in the way of doing somebody you’re into, you know?” “Uh o.k. bill did you get that?” “Got it.”

“That will have to do. What's the deal with the whole ambassador thing now? Which one of your multiple personalities are we promoting? Are you the ambassador? Or are you Fishy?” “Uh, I would say that you are kind of acting as general liaison for all of us...” “Who is all of us?” “Umm, you know, for the ambassador for sure, and for Fishy and for the band as well... Depends on who you're talking to I guess.” “Fine. Who the hell is Ed Hale then, who was on the band’s last CD but now has mysteriously disappeared from the band’s name? Is he in the band or out of the band? Was that just a “jethro tull” thing you guys were pulling?” “Like you say, yes that was kind of a ‘jethro tull’ kind of thing. You know, there really was no Ed Hale. But we thought it sounded cool. But yeah, we’re just going to use Transcendence now if that's cool with you guys...” “Hey its your band. We like the idea of course, easier that way. Has a ring to it. What else? Anything else we can use? You doing any marches or protests soon? Those are always good.... gay rights is big these days. You doing any gay rights stuff soon?” “Not that I can think of... not off of the top of my head. Why what’ve you got?” “We’ll think of something and let you know. And listen Fishy, can you stop with the political rants in your diaries for now, if you can. o.k.? They’re not helping. We’re not going to receive the kind of crossover appeal we need to push this mass market if you’re alienating half the population out of the gate.” “Well what if I can’t help it? I mean isn't that the whole idea of it?” “Of what? I'm not sure I know what you're saying. Bill what's he saying?” ”Don't know. Fishy what are you saying?” “I'm just saying, isn't that the whole idea of us doing all of this, so we can get the message out?” “Fishy, this is about your band’s music. That’s what this is about. Why does every rock star have to be a politician? Can’t you just play music?” “But didn't you just tell me to be in more marches a second ago?” “Yes but that's totally different. Hey, marches are great PR, don't get us wrong, but you're not supposed to actually say anything, and these insane political ramblings in those diaries of yours. What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?” “I'm just trying to tell it like I see it... you know. But if I do get myself killed that would be good PR wouldn’t it?” “O.k. you're insane. Bill I told you he was insane.” “Nah I was just kidding. Sort of. Anyway...” “Frankly I think you should stop them all together. Just leave it to the imagination.” “What? Stop the diaries?” “Bill what do you think?” “It could be a good thing. Let it simmer for a while. Build the story, rather than writing it.” “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Fishy what do you think? Can you stop them for a while? Just stop publishing them maybe?” “I don't know. Can I think about it? Do you guys have any cool grocery stores here? I gotta take a walk. I'll let you know about all this...” “That's it Fishy? Where are you going?” “I told you. I'm going to a grocery store. I gotta think.”


Off into the crisp Boston air. It is true. I have become slightly obsessed with grocery stores lately. My job is insane. This whole thing is insane and nothing calms me down and brings me back down to earth like walking around a grocery store. So I'm supposed to stop with the diaries for a while... wow... that's some heavy shit. I'm sick of Fishy anyway. He wasn't supposed to last this long. I know that. But still.... I got into the limo and made my way to a local grocery store to have a walk around. See what the beautiful city of Boston had in the way of grocery stores. You can always get a good sampling of a city’s women by heading to their grocery store. Chose star supermarket. Spent most of the time trying to locate a few Starbucks double shots for the morning flight out. On my way to the beverage aisle I spotted many beauties with baskets strolling casually down the aisles. Women in Boston... some of them breathtaking. That whole New England vibe, with the scarf around the neck thing... classic. Very American white bread. I found a bag of sugar and for no real reason decided that I would attempt to balance the bag on my head while I walked around. I'm not sure why. but it was fun. I figured that if I saw the ONE and I had this bag of sugar balancing on my head while I was walking around and she saw me she would immediately know it was me. found a few double shots and headed for the bakery department. There I would charm the ladies behind the counter and get to sample a whole host of cookies, cakes, and tarts.

Somewhere over the air on the way to Boson, MA

Yo what's up dear Dasher?
I received your letter. On a plane headed for Boston and thought I would take a minute to respond. I understand your concerns and I hope that what I offer will be of some slight service. Something came to me this morning dog. so in answer to your questions about what to do and what not to do for your career, here's some off the head babbling... read at your own risk my brother.

As you make your move to your new place. a few things came to my mind to relate to you:

This place is outside the city so its going to be easy to chill more, relax more, lay back more, and read/dream more. BUT DON'T. YOU MUST STAY IN THE ACTION ALL THE TIME RIGHT NOW. SEIZE ALL OPPORTUNITIES THAT COME YOUR WAY. WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW IS BUILDING YOUR NAME. BUILDING THE BRAND KNOWN AS Dasher, the handsome man about town and up and coming actor. That means you have to get that shit out there EVERYWHERE.

With your roommate smoking a lot of weed, the tendency is going to be to smoke and drink and talk and plan things. DO NOT DO THIS. IT IS GOING TO WASTE YOUR TIME. YOU MUST AVOID THIS KIND OF ACTIVITY. PLENTY OF GUYS DO THIS DURING THEIR TWENTIES AND THEN LOOK BACK LATER AND REALIZE THAT THEY FUCKED AWAY SOME GOOD YEARS. SO DON'T DO IT. its fine if other peeps want to do that with their time. but YOU don't want that. I know what you want. And I'm telling you right now, don't even waste your time with it.

I'll tell you a true story my brother: and I hope it gives some clarification for where you are right now just in case you ever need to reflect on this story. When I was 25 I quit doing drugs. Just decided I didn't want to do them anymore. Did more than a fair share as you know and feel damn lucky to be alive. A few pills here and there, no problem, or getting drunk now and then is probably a good thing to do for the mind and the spirit, as you well know, but all other drugs, I said fuck it, especially pot which is the drug of the lazy dreamer with lots of ideas but no resources and no desire to go out and get the resources; or the rich kids with a lot of time on their hands and no ideas in their minds; [there will always be exceptions to all rules, the great God Chaos, but you show me a hundred pot smokers who are rich and kicking ass and one who is poor and always behind the eight ball rather than the other way around and I'll change my tune. You know what I'm saying?] Either way you're fucked if you hang with these types too much. I could see where this was going and I didn’t want to go there myself. I would see my friends sitting around doing drugs or drinking and talking talking taking. Always making plans and talking. while they did their drugs or got drunk. Usually I would bail on those scenes. in the music and art and entertainment business everyone does drugs, drinks, and smokes, so it isn't easy. All around you find reasons to smoke or drink or do drugs. But I knew that if I could create enough strength to quit all that stuff then I would be STRONGER, as opposed to if I continued to do that stuff I would be staying the same. I did it. and yes because of doing it, in order to do it, I became a much stronger man. Its like this. anyone can be a Robert downey jr or a Kurt cobain if you will. the entertainment world is filled with them. some of them lucky and some of them not so lucky. but to be a Robert Redford or a Sting. Now that my friend is a rare commodity indeed.

Now fly ahead a few years. I started meeting people again from my early twenties who never did make the leap. They kept on smoking and drinking and doing drugs and used every excuse in the book for why they were still doing that stuff. what I saw was very depressing. Men who were still not men. People who were only half of what they could be. you know what I have achieved over the last five or six years so there's no need to go over it with you. I left that scene in the dust and never looked back. now bro I'll be honest, it isn't easy sometimes to be this way. when you pull up and jump out of a back of a limo or a Ferrari or whatever and everyone else is still looking for gas money for their beat up Honda or Toyota, sometimes that's hard to feel cool around them. You can feel them judging you in the air. as if you aren't as ‘cool’ because you aren't as poor. It’s a funny thing, that is true. so I'm going to tell you this: DON'T EVER WORRY ABOUT FITTING IN. I feel that potentiality in you sometimes. But don't ever let yourself worry about the success that you want out of life. That's all you and you shouldn’t feel bad for it.

The King called this morning.

Duuuuuude.
Duuuuuuuuuude.
What's up bro?
Not much. What's up with you?
The usual. I was just writing. What are you doing?
On my way to work. Dude you never stop writing.
I know. can’t help it. What time is it out there?
Nine.
Wow. So early. Dude, does work suck as much as I imagine it to?
Worse. You just waking up?
Nah man. French class. Had to wake up early unfortunately. So where we at?
Good man. Just feeling my way through. Laughs.
Yeah I know what you mean. Laughs.
Small talk....
Been studying the peak evolution book a lot. Watching for flow events.
Yeah good idea. Forgot about that. hate it sometimes.
Why?
Because what if something you really want just isn't flowing? According to the theory we are supposed to take that as an evolutionary sign from the universe that it doesn’t flow and move on.
Maybe. Or maybe just shift gears a bit.
Yeah. Cool. I like that. so what's flowing for you?
A lot of cool things. I'm going to Houston to meet with a new management company. More money. more shows.
Cool. the best of both worlds then.
Yeah but its still not enough.
When is it? laughs. not now anyway. not until we’re flying our own private jets man.
Fuck that. let someone else fly them. we’ll be in the back. making plans for noble goals and grand schemes.
Yes the noble goals. I remember them well. universal health care. Prison reform.
Equal rights for same sex couples.
No more political sell outs.
True campaign finance reform.
Mass enlightenment for the whole planet.
Reforestation.
A new computer every two years for every man woman and child.
I don't remember that one...
Yeah I just made it up. But wouldn’t that be cool?
Good one dude. Free college for all African Americans.
Free college for all citizens!
Yeah even better. Freedom for Tibet.
And northern Ireland.
And Chechnya.
And Venezuela
And Cuba.
Man we have a lot of work to do...
Yeah. Dude, we gotta make some money. big money.
Yes. well we’re on our way. except I'm broker now than I was five years ago.
Yeah me too. the fucking dot com crash.
Well those days are gone man. We have to move on. So where are we at now?
Looking for the signs. Just really trying to widen back and look for the signs.
Dude I totally know what you mean. Sometimes I just look up to the sky and I'm like God just fucking tell me what's what here!
I know. like, o.k. I get it. just throw me a bone God. Jesus.
Dude. I've been thinking a lot about that lately. And what I've been realizing is that we spend all this time talking to God or the universe and waiting for some answer. And maybe there isn't an answer.
Bleak bro. That's bleak.
Well maybe there is no one way.
Yeah maybe its up to us. I mean, what if either way we go its cool? like what if no matter what we decide to do in each moment we can still get it our way. maybe that's what God is trying to tell us by not answering us.
That no matter what we do we can still get it to work.
Yeah, like infinite possibilities.
But only to a certain point....
Yeah, but maybe not. Maybe its all just right there for us, no matter which we go. in the long run.
No moral imperative? No right way... survival of the fittest.
Yeah. I mean as much as we seem to desire some sort of moral imperative... God doesn’t seem to operate with one. all seems pretty random. Good and evil. Evil and good. cosmic bobsy twins. maybe its up to us.
I've been watching a lot of dean martin lately. All of his old variety shows from the sixties.
God I love dean martin.
Yeah. He was so relaxed and at ease on stage. as if nothing could bother him. he could go either way in the moment. Just doing his thing. I want to be more like that.
You'd have to drink a lot more. laughs.
We need more of that dude.
Yeah. More dean martin and frank. Where have all the deans and franks and Sammies gone man?
I don't know. we don't have any now. your average entertainer has the shelf life of three years these days.
If they're lucky.
Yeah.
Entertainers are so uptight these days. I don't want to be that way man.
So don't be. you're not anyway.
You don't think so?
No. not at all. I think you're pretty laid back. dean martin of the two-thousands.
Well you're the Frank of the 21st century then.
Thanks. I wish. O.k. dude gotta bail.
Dude, it was great talking to you!
Yeah you too. Love ya man.
Love you too bro.
Later
Later.

Current Read: Studying history of Cuba, Castro, Che, and guantanamo bay.

There was this moment in New York. After we left the cigar shop. We had smoked and drank for an hour or more. big phat stogies and whiskey. We walked out of there feeling good. all smiles. The wind howled. We buttoned our coats. At least you can get drunk in New York. You never drive so you don't have to worry about drinking and driving. ‘God man, we can stay drunk 24 hours a day if we want to. I never thought about that before.’ ‘good one man. Just what we needed to realize Fishy. I already drink too much. I mean drink too much.’ Hey lets stop in there and get some massages... o.k. good idea. Hi. Can I help you? yeah, we’d like to get some massages. Is that cool? sure. Walk back here. disrobe and wait in here... before I know it there's this tiny Japanese girl crawling on my back. I swear to God. she's got her knees planted in my butt cheeks. I'm half out of it... is this really happening? What the hell kind of massage is this? an hour later, I meet Dasher in the front. “dude was your chick doing anything weird?” “yeah totally man. She was kneeling and crawling all over my back... I wasn't sure what to do.” “Dude I swear mine was like scooping me. it was out of hand.” “dude we gotta come back here tomorrow.”

Last screening: Solaris with Georgie boy. Incredible film. I will write a song about this movie.

I started drinking caffeine in June of last year after about five years of being off of it. At this point I can really feel it. you always read about how bad it is for the nerves etc. they call it a drug and I have always been inclined to brush it off, but lately I have really noticed the effect of it. I find that by five or six I am feeling totally out of my mind. Hard to sleep. And then when I wake up in the morning I feel back to myself, really peaceful, like ‘wow, I feel like I went through a fucking tornado yesterday.... I wonder what that was all about. But I feel fine now.’ now I'm starting to realize that its probably caffeine...

[o.k. its 8:30 now and instead of my usual three espressos for lunch, I only had one, and that's on top of the usual two or three for breakfast, and I feel really really good. I actually think I feel less tired and stressed out than when I normally have the three. we had just recently read this study they just completed that showed that men who take caffeine feel and perform much more stressed and confused than participants who didn't take caffeine but a placebo instead. that's what led to my recent research. They had assumed that the men taking the caffeine would be more focused and more energetic, and the men predicted the same thing. but the study showed the exact opposite was true. less focus and more confusion and wanting to ‘give up’ at their tasks. But I would assume this is for more cerebral tasks as opposed to merely physical endeavors. Because when I'm working out or snowboarding I definitely feel more focused and energetic. So maybe it depends.]

The other thing is that another recent study showed this correlation between caffeine intake and suicides. Scary. Anyway, I'm going to climb back down now for a while. see what its like on the other side.

Today we were at a meeting at the record company’s in this huge building downtown. i had to go to the bathroom really bad. You know one of those like holy shit I have to PEE now moments. So I excused myself and ran all the way down the hall to the bathrooms. And you're talking like a mile down the hall. When I got there the men's room was locked. I was like fuck. I thought about calling the secretary from my cell phone and asking her what to do so I didn't have to walk all the way back down the hall. But I didn't. I checked the women's door and it was unlocked. I looked down the mile long hallway and then at the unlocked women's bath room door. There was only one thing to do. i opened the door slowly and said “hello” in this high pitched voice trying to sound like a girl. No answer. O.k. cool, the coast is clear. I'm going in. They don't have any urinals in girls bathrooms, although I'm sure that lesbians will see that that changes soon enough... So I head into the first stall. Close the door. I'm standing there. ahhhh such relief. God that is such a good feeling. ‘please don't let anyone come in. Almost done. Just a minute more. please don't let anyone come in... o.k. I'm done. Cool,’ I'm thinking. And then I hear the door open. Oh fuck. What do I do? o.k. jump up on the seat. Try to balance up there for a few minutes. No man, just sit down. Just act like you're a girl doing your thing. Yeah but anyone can see my fucking shoes are huge. What kind of a girl wears size ten combat boots? Dude whatever just sit the fuck down. Fast. o.k. so I sit down. The girl comes in and sits in the stall right next to me. o.k. that's weird. Guys definitely don't do that. we wait until the other guy exists before we will even think about entering another stall. Especially if its right next to an occupied one. oh fuck I'm thinking. this is not good. what if she has to go number two or something. I cannot listen to that. this could get bad. this is not good. I gotta bail. So I stand up to leave, but before I can leave I hear this ladies voice coming from the stall, “goddamnit, I have my period.” I'm like o.k. I am getting the hell out of here now. but then, “excuse me... do you happen to have any pads with you?” by this point I'm already standing up. combat boots and all. now of course I didn't happen to have any ‘pads’ on me. so I didn't say anything at all... “Excuse me, I'm sorry, but do you have any pads with you?” she asks again. I open the door sloooooowly. I answered her in this high pitched voice. You know the one, “no. sorry.” And I just bolted out of there as fast as I could. I ran down that hallway fast so if she came out she wouldn’t see it was me in there. man that would be weird. You never know who that could have been. Being in the Sony building and all. Could have been Madonna or JLo or something. imagine if it were JLo and she was doing number two... and then the next time you're at some party and you see Ben... you’re like ‘uh yeah...jennifer... she's a very nice person...’

Hey you gotta go when you gotta go. and just because we’re on the subject I have to relay a similar scenario from over  the weekend because its even funnier. So me and Bloopy are on our way to rehearsal at my house but we’re stuck in traffic. Infinito is waiting for us. the other guys haven’t arrived. Infinito calls me like three times. he's left his key at his house. I'm like dude relax man. We’ll be there in about fifteen. He's like, ‘dude the only thing is that I have to drop a dog baaaaadddd.’ See that's the thing about Infinito. He lives and dies by his dropping the dog. I look over at Bloopy, ‘Infinito’s at the house. he's forgotten his key and he's gotta drop a dog.’ Bloopy just looks at me with this twisted face. ‘gross.’ But we’re used to it from being on the road with him. we have had to pull over in the middle of the night on the road and just sit for like an hour while he takes care of his business and we’re all just sitting in the van falling asleep. He always comes back so happy. and demands to tell us all about. “dudes don't yo just love when you drop a dog? Isn't that the best feeling in the world?” and we’re all like, ‘dude, yes. now lets not talk about it.’

So he's on the phone panicking. “Dude you gotta help me get into your house man. Seriously.’ he says. “I gotta go now man.” ‘o.k. dude listen, try the cat door. You can get in through there.” “dude I already tried. Its locked.” “the cat doors locked? Weird. O.k. dude you have to try my bedroom. Maybe one of the windows are open. You can slide in through there.” “O.k. stand by. I'm walking over there.... no dude they're both locked.” “Dude try the French doors. See if one is open.” “I already tried them. this place is like fort knox man. Which is good because my drums are in there. bada bing. but I have to go. man I'm just going to pop a squat in your yard.” “Oh c'mon man. that's gross. Can’t you wait for like ten more minutes?” “No man I have to go. its like diareah or something. I can’t wait...” “Oh my God dude!” I scream, “please spare us the details.” “Infinito is going to pop a squat in the yard I say to father Bloopy. He just gives me this look of horror. “o.k. dude I have to go. Bye” and he hangs up. so we drive on. Five minutes later my phone rings again. It’s Infinito. “Dude where's your hose?” I'm afraid to answer. “Uh what bro? Please don't give me any details.” “I'm looking around for leaves, but your yard doesn’t have any big enough leaves. Can you get some bigger trees or what? I have to find a hose.” “Dude that's gross. Its around the back of the house. Where are you?” “I'm on the side of your house and man its ugly. You don't want to see it....” “No, you can say that again. I don't even want to hear about it.” he's still on the phone. “dude I'm walking around to the back of your house bare-assed with my pants around my ankles looking for your hose... where is it?” “dude its around the back of the house. Please clean everything up man. I can’t rehearse like this.” I look over at Bloopy who still has this twisted look on his face. “He’s walking around my yard naked looking for a hose.” “oh man. This is crazy.”

Now of course stranger things have happened. I am reminded of the time on the road at this gig in Atlanta. We finish the gig. We go get some food. Head back to the hotel. next morning we start on our way down the coast. I go to make a note with my trusted Hand Crafted German Rotring Mini pen that I keep in a pad in my back pocket. But its gone. I spaz of course. We destroy the van looking for it for an hour. finally we remember that I had loaned the pen to Vancouver at the club the night before. so of course we have to turn around to get it. if its not bad enough that we are now driving over an hour in the wrong direction to go get a lost pen, what was really funny is that we are headed towards a closed bar in the morning to go look for a three inch long sliver pen in a pitch dark night club that was left there the night before. but it gets better. Miraculously we do find the pen after some searching. I was a happy camper. And so we were on our way. but then after sixteen hours of straight driving we finally arrive home. it is 3 in the morning and we are unloading the van. We are exhausted. We unload everything from the van but none of Vancouver's four guitars are anywhere in sight. Somehow we managed to drive sixteen hours in this van and no one noticed that there were four guitars missing. After an hour or so of “searching” the empty van and close to a thousand “oh fucks” from Vancouver I decide that before we all succumb to Vancouver's unintelligible theory that some thieves broke into the van during a brief stop at the infamous ‘café risque’ strip rest stop (yes this place really does exist) that I would call the club just in case. As it turns out the guitars were there, found right beneath the stage where he had left them the night before. so we drive an hour back to the club to obtain this little pen but no one happens to notice four large guitar cases... that I am sure we all crawled right by numerous times as we crawled across the floor of the club searching for the pen. yes things like this do happen.

Every now and then we get these hits of clarity. I'm sorry God. I will never doubt the process again.

“John Adams writes that in 1776 no more than a third of the population was on the revolutionary side; one third was openly or covertly loyalists, and the other third was that dependable minority to whom the gallop poll pays regular tribute, the people who know nothing, feel nothing, and stand for nothing.”
--Alistair Cooke

Last screening: Federico Fellini, I'm a big liar. Documentary about Fellini and his films. He speaks of being influenced by Picasso throughout his life. I would say that everyone was. Perhaps the most potent, consistent, influential artist of the last century. For me I always keep his books around, always carry a bag of inspiration with me to the studio and along with ten or so cds I love in that moment are always a few Picasso picture books. If I need something that I cannot find in myself or if I wish to communicate something to one of the musicians I will open up the Picasso book and look at a few pages of his paintings. That usually does the trick. In the paintings of Picasso we see the infinite potential of ourselves as the artist; you don't take the easy way out so readily. And you don’t find yourself so immediately settling for the norm, or for the expected. it easily translates to music or film, this underlying sensibility; for me at least, it does. A quick glance at one of his paintings will make me question the song, change chords, transpose the key, switch to a different time signature; just because of something I've seen in his work. Not a lot of painters do this for me. Filmmakers more. what is painting? But just paint on canvas? But it has an air of something so much grander? Life changing, life affirming, life creating.... but its just a painting. And one could say the same thing about music. its just notes and rhythm. But in music are these little worlds. Infinite worlds. when our art transcends the mere expression of the individual, when the expression of the individual becomes transparent, disappears entirely, then we’re onto something. then we’re making great art. grand art. something bigger.

The fellini films did that on occasion. the woody Allen films did not. You never lose the fact that woody is right there creating what you are seeing. Three steps beyond the camera. Bergman did it. Spielberg does it. in schnindlers list you never think about the writer director even for a moment. You find yourself immediately thrown into this alternate universe, this world all on its own, and for a brief three hours it is all that exists to the conscious mind. Some say that certain artists are just too big, too larger than life to allow the work to over shadow them, like with woody Allen. Their personality ios always going to come out through the work. Or with fellini as well. you always know your watching fellini. Pink Floyd did that. in their middle period. Their work certainly transcended any one of them as individuals. Or as a group. it stood alone. apart from them as people so to speak.... unlike say the work of Dylan or Lennon in his 70 to 75 period when  he was just using his music as a means of self-therapy. Which is cool too. which is where I've been at the last few years. But take dark side of the moon, where its just this masterpiece that transcends the whole group.... like it came from outersppace or something or led zeppelin IV, or houses of the holy, or physical graffiti. Just these monoliths floating in space....

I would like to do that as an artist. the new new new CD that we have begun preproduction on now... that is how I would like it to be. bigger than we are. not so personal. Not personal at all. but something that transcends the artists, that transcends the creators. The trick is to step out of one’s self I assume. Fellini said, “At first I start out directing a film. And then at some point the film starts directing me.” this was huge for me to hear this from another artist. I mean, as artists we know this. this is the way it is for us. I assume for everyone who creates. This is the nature of good art. but whereas with my work up until this point it has always been about me. its always been about “I.” “I'm” into this now. “I” have learned this. “I” like this. “I” think this is cool. “I”want to do this. the albums have always been about “I've been on these adventures and this is the story of those adventures...

I know this. I can objectify enough... now... to see this. But as when you think of great opera, you think of a great opera... not necessarily the composer as much as the great opera. The work by itself. So how to step away from one’s self enough to create great work outside of one’s self. That is the challenge for the self-obsessed artist....

Scientists discovered ten new giant objects they believe to be black holes in the andromeda galaxy this week. its awesome how far we are now in our research of the universe.

Bush held a little soiree today at the white house. signed a new bill that makes it a separate crime when a woman is killed or injured who is pregnant. Called the violence against unborn victims act. I agree with it one hundred percent. Me and Rosie are always talking about it. she is very pro-life and I am very pro-choice/life if you can dig that. Even though we both agree that as soon as a baby is conceived it is a living breathing being. That said, I am still pro-choice. Have to be. hard though. Real hard. Hard to get the whole thing and nail it down in your head. Only thing I can do is pray about it. and that makes it even more confusing.
God
Yes Fishy
Who are you?
I am you Fishy.
I know that. But do you exist outside of me?
I exist in all things.
Well what if there were no things in the whole universe. Would you still exist then?

So with the signing of this new bill many are afraid it will be the beginning of the ending of the great and final battle for women’s right to choose. Slowly, starting today, its going to grow into something very emotional here for a lot of people. And even though we understand it—for if my pregnant wife were killed I would surely mourn the loss of my unborn child just as much as my “born” wife----this subtle move has the potential to stir up a ton of mud in the ongoing debate.

I switch to the other side for a moment to play devils advocate with myself. I try to imagine what it would be like if I were pro-life. if I really and truly in my heart of hearts believed that there should be a federal law banning abortions of all kinds. That all women should be forced to have every baby no matter what if they should become pregnant.... regardless of what they actually want. I imagine what a world like this would be like... doesn’t seem too fair. But maybe I'm just brainwashed...

God?
Yes Fishy.
So you would still exist even if there were nothing in the entire universe. If it was just emptiness?
I am the universe.
What would be the purpose in that God? of just an empty universe?
Existence is the purpose.
So that's it? You would be aware of yourself. Of your existence. And you would be aware that your mere existence is the purpose of your existence?
That is the purpose.
That is your purpose now as well? To exist? Is that our only purpose too?
Life is the purpose. The purpose of life is more life. And the purpose of more life is life.
God?
Yes.
I wish there was more to it than that.
I know you do. so do I sometimes.
God, are you all powerful or all good?
I am neither unfortunately.
I didn't think so.
I am all life.
Good or bad?
Good or bad.
Don't you long for just goodness in the universe? I mean, when the lion is chasing the antelope through the savanna don't you just hope that for once the antelope gets away?
Then the lion would have nothing to eat.
O.k. fine. Well then don't you just wish that for once all those people that are starving in Africa had food to eat and houses to live in?
It would be nice.
So why don't you do something about it? If you are all life.
That is not up to me. Stars die. New stars are born. Life goes on.
You sound like an existentialist.

Last screening: Max. Hitler and max Rothmans story. EXCELLENT. Great dialogue and acting.