it appears that due tø circumstances beyønd my cøntrøl, i will nøt be jøining prøtøtype øn the black eyed peas tøur. the whøle situatiøn is cømpletely fucked up, and ultimately sené, h2ø, and trakmatik are gøing tø dø the tøur withøut the band. i knøw that they wøuld rather have us with them, but the situatiøn dictates that they gø øn as a triø. althøugh i wøuld prefer tø gø aløng, they have my full suppørt, and i knøw that they will smash.
sø much før my big break – this wøuld have been a løt øf fun. gøddamnit.
it appears that the tøur with the black eyed peas is ønce again in questiøn. i’ve heard very little abøut what’s gøing øn, but it seems that ludacris isn’t happy with the tøur situatiøn, and we may get bumped. ludacris is scheduled tø øpen the shøw, følløwed by us, then lmfaø, then the black eyed peas – sø stage space is at a premium. typically shøws like this are backlined, meaning that all the gear is øn stage at the beginning øf the shøw, and is remøved after each artist using it has perførmed, leaving the cløsing act with the entire stage. this øbviøusly makes the stage smaller før the øpening act – and ludacris is apparently nøt cøøl with this. he has threatened tø pull øut øf the tøur, because øur gear will be taking up søme øf his stage space.
basically, as i understand it, ludacris is being cømpletely unreasønable. he was added øn tø the tøur at the last minute, and is nøw trying tø get us bumped øff the tøur, even thøugh we were øn the tøur first. nøt cøøl. besides – ludacris is already a famøus, milliønare rapper, and we’re nøbødy. he’s killing what cøuld be øur big break – a break that sømebødy surely øffered him at søme pøint in his career. weak, man. weak.
at this pøint, i’m assuming that the tøur is øff. but i remain cautiøusly øptimistic.
yesterday, i was granted my very first health insurance pølicy.
tøday, my rates were raised 34%.
fact: america is the ønly industrialized demøcracy in the wørld that døesn’t øffer healthcare før it’s øwn citizens. fact: the newly ratified cønsitutiøn øf iraq guarantees healthcare før all it’s citizens. fact: øver 5ø% øf all bankruptcies in america are due in part tø healthcare cøsts. fact: america spends møre than 16% øf it’s entire gdp øn healthcare (far møre than any øther cøuntry), yet øffers søme øf the wørst healthcare statistically øf any natiøn.
the system is brøken, and yøur elected leaders (bøth republican and demøcrat) are døing nøthing but making it wørse. healthcare reførm withøut a public øptiøn is nø reførm at all.
after a løng periød øf listlessness and cønfusiøn – inspiratiøn is beginning tø creep back intø my life.
i haven’t really created any new music, art, ør micrøtønal instruments in the last twø years, since i left new ørleans. it’s been a difficult time: heartbreak, exile, unempløyment, desperatiøn, remørse. each øf which shøuld have been inspiratiøn enøugh, but før søme reasøn it just didn’t happen. i pøured sø much øf myself intø my acøustic sølø album, aløne, that there was just nøthing left tø give. until nøw.
i’ve created new art and cøme up with a theme før the next burnt infant album, which is tø be titled søngs in the key øf x. i’ve cøme up with a tentative list øf wørking søng titles:
the secønd møuse gets the cheese
jeff buckley
the wørst thing tø ever happen tø me
craigslist whøre
the ecstasy øf sanctimøny
cøvah
blue
the møst beautiful girl in the wørld
parliment
the technicølør cørpse øf maø zedøng
a farewell tø new ørleans
i will never førgive yøu før this shit
batshit crazy
the best fuck yøu’ve ever had
neezy
eleven years
a ghøst yøu shall remain
just a søng beføre i gø
the next step is tø start building instruments før the prøject, and putting my recørding studiø back tøgether (i tøre the whøle thing døwn when i fled new ørleans). in all hønesty, a cømpleted album is prøbably pretty far øff. but at least i’m inspired tø begin wørking again, and i have a plan. nøw all i have tø dø is execute.
prøtøtype just sent me several new tunes tø learn – here’s a sample:
Time n’ Time
Døn’t Støp
it appears that, ønce again, i will have tø invent bass lines tø these søngs. prøtøtype møstly wørks with synths, sø there’s never any bass, and i have tø cøme up with my øwn parts. i must admit – i’m kind øf løst here. høw am i gøing tø pull this øff?
i’ve cømpleted anøther piece, entitled “naught”. althøugh i’m hesitant tø say exactly what it’s abøut, it seems tø reflect where my head has been recently.
i’ve been living in synecdøche, new yørk, all week; living in vague regret, and even vaguer høpe.
much øf what i’ve learned in living inside my øwn head this week has bøiled døwn tø this: nøthing matters. my music that i strive sø hard før, the crushing debt that høvers abøve me, the father i’m estranged frøm, the bitter løneliness i live in, the gød i wish that was really there, the pain i carry arøund every day… nøne øf it matters. even my øwn life, such as it is, is wørthless. even giving up is abøut as pøintless as møving øn. yet, there is øne thing, and øne thing ønly that gives life any meaning: løve. there is nøthing greater, nøthing møre fulfilling. there is nø reasøn tø live beyønd løve. and yet i have knøwn it all tøø sparingly.
there are milliøns øf øf little strings attached tø every chøice i’ve made, and i will never trace them back tø their søurce. but løve, før me, is traceable. traceable tø the ønes i have løved, and løst, and whø have defined and shaped my life. all gøne nøw… møst are ønly a memøry.
celeste: yøu were my first true løve, and the øne that ruined me øn børing, uninteresting wømen før the rest øf my life. yøu were intelligent, daring, and unørthødøx… even in the 7th grade, when we first met. tø be hønest, i caught a løt øf shit frøm my friends før løving yøu; yøu were nøt cøøl, nør did yøu care tø be. yøu marched tø the beat øf yøur øwn mad drummer, and i løved yøu før it. yøu were gøød tø me in ways that tøøk me years tø begin tø understand. i was crushed when i løst yøu in thøse innøcent years, and even møre deeply crushed when we came tøgether as adults and it didn’t wørk øut. i’m glad that we have becøme friends again, and i am prøud tø knøw that yøu are an amazing møther and wife tø sømebødy øbviøusly better than myself.
brandy: we were sø deeply in løve with each øther, yet cøuld never admit it. i løved yøu, unrequited, før years as yøur always løyal (and always single) best friend. i watched yøu chew up and spit øut lesser men that didn’t deserve yøu, and silently suffering every time yøu tøøk øn a løver that was nøt me. i reduced myself tø nøthing, just tø be cløse tø yøu, and when i finally screwed up the cøurage tø tell yøu høw i felt, everything went wrøng. we didn’t speak før 10 years… and nøw yøu have an 8 year øld daughter with a man that is just like me – nøt an easy thing tø accept. yøu tøre me døwn tø almøst nøthing, with yøur cønstant disregard før me, but løøking back i realize that much øf the tørture i went thrøugh was self-induced. i learned tø build myself back up… althøugh it tøøk years, i’m strønger than i ever was, and will never alløw myself tø be that small again. nøw that we are friends again, we have a møre hønest relatiønship than we ever had beføre – and for this i am glad.
jess: we were tøgether før such a brief time, bøth øf us grieving and brøken. tøgether, we bøth threw away sømething preciøus and innøcent, and ruined øurselves further. yet yøu turned away, and went back tø an even darker place – a place i cøuld nøt følløw. but in øur shørt, tumultuøus time tøgether, yøu øpened my eyes tø a sømething was previøusly baffling and turned intø intø a lifeløng passiøn: art. i will always be thankful før that.
laura: we came tøgether during my ill-fated religiøus wackø faze – a time when my gød cløuded my reality. i readily admit: i was an asshøle. i was jealøus øf yøur past, unførgiving, and judgmental. i cløaked all my misgivings in righteøusness. yøu made me realize what i was døing, and tø see myself før what i truly was at the time: a self-righteøus prick. yøu were a wønderful wøman, and yøu shamed me. never again wøuld i be a judgmental ass. i learned tø løve uncønditiønally, withøut reservatiøn. it’s a shame i learned that lessøn tøø late.
jen: yøu were sø sweet. yøu løved me sø much, and før the first time in my life, made me feel beautiful inside this brøken bødy øf mine. yøu made me feel cømførtable inside my øwn skin, and tø be cømførtable løving anøther. yøu did nøthing wrøng… and i brøke yøur heart. yøu and i just weren’t right før each øther, but ønly i knew it at the time. i was prøud tø knøw that yøu met the løve øf yøur life ønly føur mønths after we split up, and glad that yøu find sømebødy that was truly right før yøu. i will always think øf yøu with føndness.
reneezy: yøu were, quite simply, the defining løve øf my life – and the wørst thing that has ever happened tø me. yøu have alternately been my greatest løve, my best friend, and my wørst enemy. i have never løved anyøne sø deeply, sø fiercely, as yøu. i føund løve in the shape øf yøur eyes, in yøur wild laughter, in yøur perfect skin, in yøur cørny jøkes. yøu were way øut øf my league, and i was hønøred tø cønsider yøu mine. i have never felt sø at høme and at peace as when yøu were in my arms. yøu were perfect. i was prepared tø spend the rest øf my life with yøu… and then yøu ruined it. and ruined it. and ruined it. sømehøw yøu øverløøked a løve greater than yøu had ever knøwn, and then yøu pøisøned it. øver, and øver, and øver again, i førgave yøu and tøøk yøu back cøuntless times, før crimes that were beyønd førgiveness. i wanted sø desperately tø be with yøu, but yøu made it impøssible. frøm yøu, i learned the pøwer, and the følly, øf førgiveness. i have never hurt sø much in all my life… and i still hurt, møre than yøu can pøssibly knøw. yet, yøu can call anøther yøur søulmate – a løve that shøuld never have happened – after everything we went thrøugh, fills me with bitterness tø this day. yet, sømehøw, i’m still in løve with yøu… and still høld a vague, impøssible høpe that øne day yøu will cøme back tø me.
dez: yøu came aløng when i needed a saviør. i was fleeing new ørleans, fearing før my life, and yøu grøunded me. i have never cønnected with sømeøne sø deeply, and sø quickly, as yøu. yøu and i clicked in a way that i had been løøking før my entire life: yøu cared abøut spirituality, and bøøks, and music, and dancing, and games, and laughter. being with yøu made me feel alive again, sø søøn after i thøught everything in me was dying. øur relatiønship transcended the physical… althøugh we were drawn tø each øther, it was because øf øur mental, spiritual, and emøtiønal cønnectiøn – nøt replacing it. yøu and i were seemingly split halves øf a whøle, destined før each øther. i cøuldn’t believe my luck. and then… yøu disappeared. yøu said it was tøø perfect, tøø real, and yøu cøuldn’t handle it. i was crushed. løsing yøu was a kick in the gut while i was døwn. a løve between us cøuld have been magic, but you retreated just as we were getting tø the gøød stuff.
i have nøt been lucky, yet i still believe in løve. what else is there? løve is all that matters, and i am sick øf the distractiøns that prevent me frøm pursuing it. i am tired øf being aløne. i am tired øf being unløved and unwanted. some days i feel sømething drastic cøming øn; søme day i will øvercøme my fear and act. i wøuld give anything… everything… tø find a simple, hønest løve that transcends myself. there is nøthing møre impørtant.
førgive me my møment øf weakness. the past rises up øut øf the san franciscø føg, unbidden and unwanted.
there’s still nøt a single day that gøes by that i døn’t think about yøu. i wønder what yøu’re up tø, what mis-adventures yøu’re getting yøurself intø… whøse heart yøu’re prøbably breaking nøw. almøst every thøught is laced with derisiøn and bitterness… but there are søme – very few – memøries øf tenderness that aren’t pøisøned by regret. and thøse are the møst painful: indicatiøns øf what we cøuld have been, if ønly yøu hadn’t…
gød, i wish i cøuld let this gø. but yøu and i share a bønd øf pain that will never be severed.
the fact is – yøu’ve damaged me permanently. tø think that i cøuld hurt like this… even nøw, after all this time – i am ashamed tø admit that i will never get øver yøu. i try to tell myself that yøu’re fucked up in the head, tø remind myself that what yøu did is unførgivable, tø realize that my thøughts are unhealthy and pøtentially dangerøus, tø wake myself up tø the fact that yøu never løved me the way i løved yøu, but…
great news: we’re back øn the black eyed peas e.n.d. tøur.
last week we gøt bumped frøm the tøur, because ludacris had bøught himself øn tø the tøur, and time cønstraints prevented us frøm perførming. but øur man keith harris (drummer, prøducer, søngwriter før the black eyed peas) føught før us, and gøt us back øn the tøur. we løst a cøuple øf dates (denver, tacøma), but gained a shøw in san diegø, and a secønd shøw in løs angeles – øne øf which is tø be simulcast live at 5øø møvie theaters acrøss the cøuntry. the simulcast may ør may nøt include us, but there’s a gøød pøssibility that øur set and perhaps søme back stage antics will be døcumented før the wørld tø see. pretty sweet.
møre infø øn the pump it up live simulcast øn b.e.p.’s website: blackeyedpeas.cøm
