My heart has broken open. not broken. Just broken open. love... wow... it had been a long time. I feel completely raw. I had forgotten what it was like. No wonder it is all the talk of the world.

Break...

There is the theory of the hypnogogic state of consciousness... this is the state just before you fall asleep, or just after you have fallen asleep. Just when you begin dreaming, but you are still awake enough to be aware that you are asleep. It is as if you are watching yourself. Your dreams are very vivid. Ideas abound. I don't remember who it was off the top of my head, maybe Davinci or twain or Einstein... perhaps none of them, but I remember the story where he used to sit at his desk with a string attached to a bell hanging above him. just as he fell asleep his arm would fall which would make the bell ring. He would then wake up out of dreaming and immediately start writing down everything he could remember from the dream great thoughts can come out of this state of consciousness. There is another story about another man, again I cannot remember who it was, who used to do the same thing by holding a ball in his hand so as soon as he fell into sleep his grip would loosen and the ball would drop to the floor waking him up and he would also immediately write down everything he could remember.

It is a given that artists of all kinds, writers, composers, etc leave pens and notepads by their bed and all over their home so as not to miss an idea. as Loren eisley contemplated once ideas are so fleeting... one minute you are in the center of it and in the next minute you don't even remember that you had an idea at all about anything. It is quite remarkable how the brain works like this. kind of sad and frustrating but very true. I do have a pen and pad next to the bed of course, and in every room of the house. always have. in the car. in my back pocket of course. and it is true, I find that some of the best ideas come just before sleep.... in that hypnogogic state somewhere between being awake and dreaming... when it is hard to tell if you are thinking or you are dreaming. This is a magical place. some of the best ideas come from this state. But the problem of course is in the remembering. Hence the tricks that past creatives have invented to wake themselves up out of it and take advantage of it. By my bed I keep a special pen I found online that has a light at the very tip of it so you don't have to turn on a light in the room. You just give the pen a little twist and this light comes on, enough to light up the paper you are writing on. It’s a brilliant invention. I would be lost without it.

When I am really knocked out and can’t even sit up to write, I use another method whereby as I get a thought that I wish to remember the next day I hold my hand up in the air for a few seconds with my forefinger up signifying that I have one idea to remember in the morning from the night before. if I get another I will hold my hand up again for a few more seconds with two fingers up to remind myself that there were two ideas. And so on. I have become accustomed to automatically asking myself how many fingers I had held up the night before just before I fell asleep in order to re-trigger those thoughts. It almost always works. 90% of the time I can remember upon contemplation what the thoughts were so I can get them down when I first wake up.

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....

Worked every day this weekend. Most days till 9 or 9:03 at night. No day off yet. But in the end, it will be worth it. Momentum trails all around me. Just huge leaps and bounds. That book peak evolution should be mandatory reading for everyone. Before you get your driver’s license or something. Like a bible, but better. 

As soon as I start thinking of something, I see it start to manifest around me. Getting good at noticing optimizers, blocks and flows. Investment bank contacted us about buying or investing in AF. This could be a great thing, an amazing thing. Cleopatra and I have worked together for too long. Time to let go completely. Big sighs of relief and cries of release the last two weeks realizing it and letting it all go—you can literally feel chunks of reality lift off of your body when you discreate or let go of things—you feel lighter, more free—this is how we explain miraculous healings of physical ailments or sickness or disease when someone heals something mentally or emotionally. You can actually feel it physically. Spent the last week cleaning and organizing my office and my hard drives. Deleting entire folders filled with years’ worth of files. Just letting this whole aspect of my life go. Filling garbage bags with years worth of folders and documents. Jumping up and down--celebrating the end of an era. And the beginning of a new one.

On the smoking front. The worst part is over. But there is something worse than the worst part when it comes to not smoking. The weight gain. You just tend to eat more. Its fucking crazy. I've gained 4.5 pounds. I swear to God I would rather die at 40 skinny than live till 70 fat. 

Last Movie:  Secretary. O.k. so what was that? Francis  recommended it. now I'm worried about Francis .  

Current Spin: Travis, the man who.  What an amazing album. amazing. this is like a Beatles album. every song is as good as the next. Its just beautiful.  

Yea so if you smoke, no matter what it is, wow, what an adventure stopping is. I never wrote about it before. That’s a private matter. A man and his smoking. I just always pretended it away, denied it, resisted it. For a lot of reasons. One because I loved it. And two because I hated it. if you're young, smoking can be your best friend. And I think that's fine, you know. I'm not all anti-smoking. I am anti-cigarette companies and their whole deception and propaganda machine always promoting to us that its so cool and so much fun and you know smoking has never been fun. Its almost always the source of a lot of pain and tragedy for most people, especially the families of smokers. I mean, smoking is kind of a one way street. Once you hit thirty and you're still smoking, you're kind of fucked. Because supposedly it gets pretty hard to quit. And then everyone who loves you is fucked too because they're the ones who are going to live with your raggedy ass as you age and then die about ten times faster than everyone else around you. that's not fun or cool.

But still as long as you can kick it before thirty, smoke up, cause it is fun. That's the irony. And it gives you something to do. so yea when I hit about 25 I was reading these new years resolutions by all these celebrities. I was on a plane flying somewhere. And I was reading all these guys had the same resolution, Michael Douglass, Ozzie, Richard Gere, George Michael, they all wanted to quit smoking. And they were all talking about how hard it was and how they tried so many times. So I kind of freaked out cause they were so much older than I was and I thought, fuck, if I'm going to quit I better quit now cause I don't want to be some wrinkly faced old fart still talking about this shit twenty years from now. So I just told myself that I was stronger than all of them and I could do it. So one day I did it. I used everything available. I read books about it. Went to lectures. Did the patch. Took all these vitamins. I would get so drunk every night the first two weeks that I would just pass out just because I missed cigarettes so much. But I just told myself just do whatever you have to to quit. You can do it. so I did it. and never looked back. and that was great. And its been great ever since. It’s a great feeling not to have that always hanging over my head.