Today is Juliet’s birthday. Happy birthday.
This evening, I saw one of the strangest things I have ever seen. But I was right there in it. so I can’t say that I just saw it. I was a part of it. I was there in it. this twilight zone of a town, where the tides have to be slightly tainted by some foreign matter that creates the strangest people you could ever meet. In America, but not of America, this land of people that time forgot. In the world, but not of the world. about 2 am.

I'm walking jazz to her car and she asks ‘do you know Elvis?’ ‘yeah. Of course. His new CD is fucking awesome. Have you heard it?’ ‘No, I mean Dean, father Bloopy’s friend. he's right over there...’ and she points to this guy leaning against a telephone pole. ‘you mean the parking lot attendant guy?’ I ask. ‘yeah, but everyone calls him Elvis because he’s an Elvis impersonator when he's not being a parking lot attendant.’ ‘No way. for real?’ ‘yeah.’ We get up to the guy. they talk a bit. ‘will you sing us a song?’ he’s got a guitar there with him. on this busy street corner in front of this giant parking lot, in the middle of a busy Friday night on South beach. And he starts playing blue suede shoes. But he’s fucking great. That's the thing. he sounds just like Elvis. But not cheesy and hamming it up. but like really good. authentic. Getting into it with his eyes closed. And we’re standing there watching and listening and all these cars are going in and out of the lot and he's standing there with his eyes closed singing blue suede shoes and two o'clock in the morning on this street corner dressed up like a parking attendant. And then some of their friends from high school walk over and just casually listen and every now and then talk to jazz like this is no big deal. Then he goes into suspicious minds. And some guy comments that ‘this is the fourth time he's played this tonight...’ I feel like I'm in a time warp. Like I'm in one of those movies or TV shows and I've hit the wrong button and ended up in some strange mysterious world and I can’t figure anything out. Where the hell am i? People grew up here. they were born here and they grew up here. on these streets. and in this town. and this is the product of that. what I'm seeing here tonight. when we travel the country we are reminded that the country exists. but here there is none of that. there is nothing of the real world here in Miami. it is a country all its own. gay boys in sleeveless shirts and sandals are everywhere, and the most beautiful exotic women who cannot take their sunglasses off or talk to you about anything except the latest DJ or dance club or designer drug or drink or fashion show, which are plenty. And yes, the occasional Elvis impersonator who moonlights as a parking lot attendant. I walk around in my usual all black and people ask me ‘where are you from?’ I have to pause for a second to think about it. ‘where am I from? where am I now? how did I get here?’

To Cleo: “...don't get defensive. I'm your biggest fan and supporter. You know that. I will never turn against you. Even when I'm against you, I'm not really against you. Ok?”

Later that night, I was in bed, unable to sleep, as every night since I sold my house and moved to this temporary little rat trap in the ghetto known as South Beach, thinking, praying, freaking out, talking to God.... “God, its me again.” “I know.” “I know I don't have a disease and I'm not dying or anything. Mom’s o.k. Beav’s o.k. Madelynne’s o.k. I'm o.k. But you know, I'm still freaking out here. I'm not sure how far I'm supposed to take this music thing... I'm not getting a lot of money. I think we’re getting kind of close to the breaking point aren't we? Shouldn’t I be getting a break sometime soon?” “You're getting a break soon. In the last six months you have made a lot of progress...” “But the last six months have been filled with rejection and hopelessness...” “Don't worry. You can worry now. But you don't have to. Or you can choose not to worry. You are on the right path...” “God how do I know I'm on the right path?” “You know. You feel it. You see it. You trust it...” I listened...

I thought about Rufus wainright in a recent interview when he was asked how he felt when I heard that Alanis Morrisette was a big fan and loved listening to his cds. his answer was ‘I feel great about it of course. But I just wish her 20 million fans would feel the same way...

I understood his comment; too well. The irony. Doing what you love versus the mixed reaction that may cause in the mass’s desire to purchase your goods.... the lust always for more. I thought of the fanmail we receive; from as far away as Holland, the Ukraine, Australia now, the UK, Turkey. The French love our new CD... as well they should. You don't get more French than ‘what can I do to sleep with you....’ ‘And yes its an amazing feeling God. And it makes me happy. And I am so appreciative of that. But I just wish we were playing stadiums right here at home. That's all I'm saying... when do we get to that?’ ‘You will. You have to trust.’

“I mean, God, if there's something missing, whatever it is, just tell me. I'll fix it. just tell me what's missing...” I listened. “fishy.” “yes?” “Enjoy the ride. that's what's missing.” “What?” “In the bigger picture of your life, of who you are as Fishy the artist... that's a magnificent thing. You are living the life of Fishy, the singer, songwriter, performer, writer, thinker, lover, and friend... but you aren't enjoying it... you are getting too caught up in the small details..” “Genius gets lost in the details...” I whispered. “Yes.” “Think of your influences and inspirations for a moment. Think of their lives...” I thought of Leonardo Davinci, Picasso, Paul McCartney, and Thomas Edison.... “You are forgetting that this is an entire lifetime that you are getting to experience. You are living your biography. This is it.” “I can’t take the rejection anymore God...” “Because you didn't get into the NEMO festival?” God laughs. “Well God you have to admit... when we received that letter today... “there were so many talented artists who submitted and we only had 225 slots available...” I mean, fucking Christ God, pardon my French, but 225 fucking slots available and they didn't choose Transcendence? Now God? What the hell am I missing here? You and I both know that most of those bands just blow! Right? I'm talking like you can’t sit through ten minutes of their show without wanting to get the hell out of there because its so boring and predictable and they didn't have a slot for us?! I can’t take it....” “and maybe that's the way other people feel about you and your music...” God responded. “Yeah and that's the part that freaks me out God... how do I know? if I'm good or not? How does anyone know?” “You can’t judge it by how other people feel about you... you have to be motivated by something within yourself. As you always have been. Fishy.” “Yes.” “Fishy. It isn't the appreciation you are looking for anymore.” He was right. our fan base is big enough now. we receive enough CD sales and fanmail and congratulatory letters and calls and pats on the back to make us feel like we’re doing something right. It’s the money I'm looking for now. Honestly, God, I just want the money now.” I laugh to myself and wait for a response. “I want the big payoff now for all this hard work.” “And so you will soon receive it because that is what your attention is on now.” He was right. I never focused attention on making money with my music before. I was always focused on the MISSION of it. capital M, as Juliet would say. Never thought about the money. never wanted to sell out. just wanted to make the best art I could. But things are different now. I feel like I'm at a crossroads now. I have to make more money from this. I have to make real money. Big money. I am ready to sell out. “You don't have to sell out Fishy.” I heard in my head as I drifted off to sleep. I whispered, “I hope you're right God.... I really do. But I don't care if I do now. I just want to keep doing this and make big money from it. so don't worry God. if I have to sell out, I will...” I smiled and fell asleep. 

Current Spin: June carter cash, wildwood. Her last one. I think you may have to be a fan to appreciate this one. I'm just starting to dig in. Still digging into Elvis’ new one North. Amazing. the guy just never stops creating. He is the real deal. He's taking the art form to a new level.