I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand.

Wow. This week seems like it started by spiraling awesomely out of control and it has yet to stop. It is a strange and blessed place to be when your work (the thing you do for money) is also part of your work (the stuff you have to do that comes from deep in your insides and doesn't give you a choice but to expel it.)

For money, I write for a living. But I write, most of the time, about things that move me—records, opinions, performances, human error, jealousies, etc. So, to live, I have to take my regular output and shape it into something other people might be interested in reading. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. I am constantly at odds with my decision to sell my work, but in the end, well to this end at this time right now, it works for me. I love my job. The publication I work for is very kind to my work, and gives it a platform. I appreciate that. I also appreciate that my job is mine. 

On Monday, we played a show with Foot Village that meant a lot to us. I think there was so much riding on this show emotionally, it left our wonderful drummer Fez's body in the form of vomit. All over his drum kit. Mid-set. I couldn't be more proud of the those 15 minutes we did play. Maybe someone got pictures of it. I hope so. 

Wednesday, we stopped by Uneven Studio to chat with our friend Bryan about the mixing and mastering of our new record. Seriously, I cannot wait for this piece of work to come out into the world. I want to share it with every single person I know, and maybe some who I don't know. There is so much of us in this record, and I think for the first time, all of our instruments and Vee's voice will be heard with equity, if that is even something you can hear. We go on tour in less than a month, so here's to hoping we have it out on tape by then, at least.

Also, our friends at Brass Tree released the video of our show/session at their house/venue at the beginning of the month. I can't say I didn't feel awkward about cameras being that close to me while a room full of some people I knew and some I didn't stared at us with their arms crossed. But that is a general response we tend to get—I don't know if it is our music, or just us as people that makes observers stand-offish. I hope sometime that can change and we can inspire more people to react with their arms and legs. 

Trauma comes in so many forms, and is expressed in so many ways. This week has felt both turbulent and good—there was information I was privy to that is too personal to share on the internet, even ambiguously, but I have to say, it shifted my perspective. It is funny how a heart can break, even just a little bit, for something that hasn't happened and never will. But as a writer, I can live inside the fantasy of what if very clearly, if I just put my pen to some paper and make it happen.

Writing is sexy.