Met with Sony France today. The rep was very flattering to us. Said he was a huge fan of the band. Had this big smile on his face the whole time. “wow. You sing like bono and look like Michael Hutchence! You're fabulous!” with this thick French accent----I was thinking ‘that would be great if this were 1989...’ but now how does that help us. Lol. ‘Michael was one of my best friends. What a shame....” Hadn't heard that name in a while. Said the band could blow up faster in Europe than America. it was a strange meeting. Business-wise it was a good meeting. but it was deeper... one of the reps and I just connected like crazy. can’t explain. We just sat there talking so directly and candidly, staring into each others eyes. felt like a reconnection with a soulmate. It was profound in a way. He told us this story where when he first met Johnny depp he looked him in the eye the same way and said one day Johnny you are going to be a big star. And Johnny just had this yeah I'll see it when I believe it attitude... then about ten years later Johnny walked in to this party and saw this guy there. by then Johnny was a big star. And he ran up to the guy and gave him this big hug and said ‘you were right man’.... etc... then he looks me in the eye and says ‘you are becoming a big star now. but you are going to be bigger. Believe me. I know. I will make it happen.’ He says with this strong French accent and wide open eyes.... I was like, ‘I'm glad you think so. I'll believe when I see it bro.’ ‘We need to get you to Europe,’ he says. You’ll do great there. You're very spiritual and we love the spiritual in France.’ [this is where I was really taken by the whole thing. I mean, he's holding the sleep with you CD, and he’s talking about how spiritual it is...  leave it to the French. I couldn’t believe that I was sitting face to face with someone who GOT IT, who actually got the spiritual nature of the work, rather than just the surface context of it. In America no one has gotten spiritual out of it. They just think its about sex... which it is, but only on the surface.]

Deeper still, there seems to be no end to this sadness. it is a deep and profound sadness. something to be in awe of. Something that is thick and murky... dark and pensive. If I were not an artist I would have just jumped in front of a bus or something, or jumped off of a tall building months ago. but I can appreciate it. there is a subtle appeal to profound sadness that if appreciated correctly can be endured and almost admired... beloved... whatever the fuck that means. I find myself fantasizing about taking my .357 and blowing my brains all over the place. I don't know why. I just do. like I said, if I wasn't an artist I think I'd be freaked out by this, but I just try to appreciate it, watch it come, watch it go... prob too much caffeine, too much stress, not enough sleep.

This state can come in handy. It has its benefits. More than the obvious artistic benefits. Sunday night after our rehearsal Vancouver and I left the studio at about one in the morning. We were both exhausted. we went through downtown. And I had to stop at a  light. This is something you don't want to do at one in the morning in downtown Miami. especially with a back seat full of guitars. But we had to. just go Vancouver says to me casually. About the light. No dude. Its cool. we were both half asleep. We hear this tap on the window and we both jump. Fuck Vancouver says. Fuck dude! Go through the light! I look over next to me and there's this guy standing outside my window with a gun pointed at me through the window. A skinny black dude with red eyes. Obviously a little cracked out and loaded. Fishy fucking go man! Vancouver yells. I reached down and grabbed onto this bottle of mace I keep next to my seat. I opened the window. ‘fishy what the fuck are you doing?’ Vancouver whispers to me nervously. ‘how can we help you bro?’ I say to the guy. ‘gimme the guitars.’ ‘dude we can’t give you the guitars. We’re musicians. These are the tools of our trade. Like that gun is to you. sorry man. Can’t do it.” I turned away from him and started to roll up the window. “I said gimme the motherfucking guitars!” he says back to me. “Fishy we have to give him the guitars man! He has a fucking gun man! Vancouver is saying. he is panicking in the passengers seat rocking back and forth in his seat. “Bro. Look. I know what you're going through. You need money. you want the guitars so you can sell them. Whatever. I feel for you. but were not giving you the guitars and that's that. you want some money? let me see if I have any money...” I started to reach into my pocket... “Don't fucking move man. Stay right there. don't move. Gimme those guitars goddamnit. I'm not fuckign around now.” his eyes were wild. He kept looking back and forth to his left and right to see if anyone was coming. I looked back up at him. I could have sprayed his face a hundred times already with the mace. This guy was out of it. “O.k. listen man. Don't piss me off. I'm trying to be respectful of your situation here. I was going to give you money. But don't piss me off. You want money or not?” “I want those mother fucking guitars in yalls backseat is what I want!” he waves the gun at my face and then at Vancouver. Vancouver jumps in his seat. “oh fuck! Oh fuck! Fishy give him the guitars. God man lets just go man!” he is yelling. I look at the guy, “Bro. I know you have a gun. And I know that's supposed to scare us and normally I suppose it would. But for the last six months all I have thought about is blowing my own brains out with a gun that looks very much like the one you are holding in your hand right now. as much as it may upset my friend here to have my brains splattered all over his face, all I can think of is how cool it would be. like a movie or something,” I say,  “so with all due respect, you're not scaring with me that gun.” “his face tightened up. “you're fucking crazy man!” “You're calling me crazy? And you're the one standing there pointing a gun at us. that's crazier. You know how much trouble you could get in? What if we were cops? Now bro, am I going to give you some money or are you going to blow my brains out? because those are your options. I'm not giving you our guitars.” I turned away from him and started to roll up the window. I didn't look back at him and I looked dead straight in front of me. I could see Vancouver in his seat rocking back and forth nervous as hell. He peers out of his eye and whispers to me, “Fishy he's walking away...” I look over to my left and sure enough this guy is slumping away off into the shadows of the night. “Oh my God he's fucking walking away! Holy fucking shit! You saved our guitars man! You saved our guitars! You are fucking crazy! But you saved our guitars man! I can’t believe this. Holy shit!”

Finished mixing nothing is cohesive last night. now we choose the song order for it. French classes suck. Very hard language. Not getting it yet. frustrated with it.