been driving and listening to more music than normal

refuse to skip songs

just letting it come from the chaos of random

been a lot of old country lately

johnny, waylon, willie, all three hanks

then i heard colter wall

he is

exactly my mood

deep voice, story telling in lyrics, like old man johnny in the last heart breaking years

normally i do a mix of punk and hip hop, from late seventies to now, avoiding mainstream, socially conscious, gifted lyricists and musicians

listen to it all really

but i have my leanings and my moods

some days it is all about the beat

some days the anger

have a collection of heartache music

songs of longing and sorrow, of things i gave up for lent, of things i will never taste again

but certain albums defy category

the first two white stripes albums

hank three straight to hell

die antwoord tension

johnny cash american one

flaming lips clouds taste metallic

eels daisies of the galaxy

they take me to another time, or place

vivid dreams of scenes in my life

bully, open mike eagle and the bronx have been the litany of sins this last year and change has brought on

my sabbatical from emotional distress

and i feel myself coming out of the coccoon at times

becoming whatever new form the lashing pain has made me into

but the music always fires that memory center

colter has opened a place as a kid sitting on a barstool in a dark bar while dad drinks lite and the stories get bigger and bolder

how could i not have ended up drinking

this was a special place

jimmy buffett and old country

i had already found metal and snuck in rap

this was the exact opposite of my taste

and i loved it

getting high with warren and listening to hank jr

a country boy can survive

made me a musical monster

billy knew every seventies hard rock song

and i would jam slayer all day and when everyone left listen to elvis and simon and garfunkel into the night

creedence clearwater revival was the same as murder city devils, just slower

so i sit in the car

one more song and then plaster on a grin and attack the day

and transcedent ramblin railroad blues comes on and i am reaching for a cigarette and my shot glass

needing a joint and time to decompress

‘if i don’t leave here tomorrow, i’ll blow out my brains, either way there will be sorrow and you’ll never see me again’

a malignant malaise settles and drapes me in an outlaw country haze