GA RG OT

Down some ibuprofen every few hours, stay focused. No matter what you're involved in, drop a sleeping aid at 10pm. Without your health you are of no use to anyone.

GA RG OT II

It's always like this, the music takes precedence and I start losing touch. The phone is the first to go, then the emails. When I stop writing emails on my Crackberry, you know I'm in another world.

GA RG OT III

Moving slowly but thoroughly, effectively. Miffed by this illness that won't stop fucking with me. And the little bugs in the software, I need to call pest control.

GA RG OT IV

I finished recording the drums for one song today. My obsessive compulsiveness kicked in and I recorded the entire song a few bars at a time, several takes per bar. Now I'm straight outta "Comptown". Such a feeling of accomplishment to power down all those preamps and microphone power supplies, but sandwich bags over the mics. Until the next song.

GA RG OT V

I recorded drum takes today and, despite my 103 degree fever, shit was sounding tight. Shaking the dust off these old bones. Some elastic time, some close mic augmentation, and it was starting to sound like a real record. Realized one of my overheads was barely getting level, it's that cheap 1/4" patchbay voodoo again. Tomorrow I re-record all the drum takes I did today.

I forced myself to sit in front of the fire and just watch. I had to fight the urge to rearrange the logs for the hundredth time.

GA RG OT VI

Slowly things are beginning to take shape, one tedious piece at a time. I can feel a heartbeat in my eyes from straining in this microscope, painting with a single hair brush. I'm so far removed from the ocean, even from the cold front outside.

Here,
I
Strain
To
Rise.

GA RG OT VII

Deer families dragging their tracks in the tall snow. Flat tires and cars that won't start. Falcon in a nest outside the window. Hundreds of pounds of soundproofing all around. Pipes that don't burst. Sticks that bust.

GA RG OT VIII

Despite 0 degrees that feels like minus 14, I still walk around the house without a shirt, complaining about how slow the wifi is.

GA RG OT IX

Walking into the stiff, sub-zero forest temperatures, three hours before dawn. Possessed with an urge to hear ultimate silence disturbed by the echoing gunshots of frozen tree limbs snapping. So cold all you can feel is paralysis.

GA RG OT X

I am cumbersome with rust, blowing cobwebs off the spines of my ability. I neglected myself, I neglected to mention.

GA RG OT XI

Mama Winter shakes a fist and sneezes on us, we all get sick.

Song To My Work

There is no one
To show these songs to
Do not call a friend to witness
What you must do alone
These are my ashes
I do not intend to save you any work
By keeping silent
You are not yet as strong as I am
You believe me
But I do not believe you
This is war
You are here to be destroyed

Winking Eye Bagz

I can't believe I'm actually at the point where I'm setting up mics around a perfectly tuned, double kick drumset. It's taken so long to get to this point. The fun part. Milking the nectar from those sweet mics and pres, trying new (to me) mic placements, listening back to that first shitty, disappointing take. Yuk yuk!

I haven't been documenting with photos for two reasons:

1) I downgraded to a camera-less Blackberry.

2) I've been filming some of the studio set up and "pre-production" (not my favorite term) process. I'd like to eventually make a short film so people can see what goes into making a record like this. And my weird loner recording style.

I should probably be taking photos along the way as well, I never regret having them. Maybe someday I'll have an intern. My cats are useless.

While I Paint My Masterpiece

I'm averaging about three hours sleep a night, yeh dawg! It took me about 16 hours to figure out that the problem I was having was not with the way I was using Elastic Time but the part was played completely wrong. So much snow and shoveling it is quite relaxing. My mind is hazy and I'm trying to stay on course. But I keep dreaming about selling my dream car.

Brasil

Fingers crossed for a festival gig in Brazil and Argentina. I've never been there before so bringing my little songs to South America will be an adventure, fo' shuh.

Found a lot of photos I thought were lost forever, including my shows in Singapore, Australia and New Zealand from a few years ago. Mostly photos of beaches and friends but also strange hotel loner pics.

Drums assembled not, all over the floor. It's always such a chore for me to find the optimal tuning for each drum-- I'm a guitar player really.

Saw a new local band called Nukkehammer starring the coolest dudes on the planet-- Matt Miner from Teeth of the Hydra, Dennis, and the awesomely-named Laser. Old dudes playing hardcore like it's 1989. That's my vibe!

Louisville is not home anymore, and hasn't been for a long time.

Blue Snow

We put a DVD into the fireplace and watched it. Turned on all the outdoor lights to film the snow as it settled on the forest. Pressed the noses of foxes and ran through some easy chords. I haven't been under a blanket for 2 hours straight, I'm lifting eyelids like grocery bags.

Bitter Wank

Its finally warmed up to a toasty 26 degrees. I made an angry purchase of Pro Tools LE upgrade to 8.0 and the Musicians Toolkit 2 upgrade at around 3am. I felt I wasn't alone. Got a super cool email from Steve Albini, a man who manages his time better than anyone I know. And a link from Harmony Korine about a Louisville-based weirdo that offers a free cunnilingus service. I regret procrastinating on quality phone time with righteous peeps-- Brad Wood, Jenny RTX, Wendy Mullin, Britt Walford-- but I'm too immersed in studio and home stuff to look up from under all this hair. Free time, sporadically available, is spent turning off the mind. And turning on Netflix Watch Instantly. Current viewing: Species. I'm touring Brasil and Argentina this year-- INTO IT.

Jackals

Black fly creeping down First and Thirty Eighth Street. I'm Ray Charles tonight, trusting my partner to be my eyes. I can smell the blood in their breath, its thick and hot like cheeseburgers. Not sure why I'm smiling. "Bring on the jackals," methinks.

A Lot More Fun

"How much fun is a lot more fun? It ain't much fun at all."

- David Berman

I've never cared much for New Years Eve, I'm an old scrooge. There was so much pressure to have a good time when I was younger and it was always disappointing. I thought my whole year was foredoomed.

I love New Years resolutions though and always look forward to conquering them. In fact, I make them throughout the year, strange ones. For example, "I won't ask questions or say I'm sorry for a fortnight" or "No professional haircuts for a year, only friends are allowed to cut my hair." I met many girls with the latter. The former was really really tough. "How are you?" is a question! I'd have to find creative ways to rephrase questions into statements.

My studio is unending. I had to blow a $1000 on upgrades and $80 on 20' midi cables I no longer need. Grr.

I Did It

I can't believe I did it. After all this time I finally have a decent recording studio. The first time I put out a recording where I played all the instruments myself was in 1993. I've been collecting gear and moving my studio around ever since. Live From A Snoot Snout, Whatever Mortal, etc was all recorded at my Clover Lane house. 1968 was done in a tiny box in the East Village. The studio has been through so many changes-- covered with spiders in the dank basement of German Village (not to be confused German Town in Louisville KY), reduced to a corner of a room as a cassette player. I've never had this much clean space to work with and it's remarkable. Just yesterday I finished all the wiring. Today I tested all the connections and patchbay business and then scrubbed everything until it glowed.

Life
Sounds
Amazing.