Last April, I posted an entry called "40 is the new 20? The plight of the middle-able" with video, about how people in their late 30's to early 50's were realizing their dreams and acting upon them. Now I'm noticing that the entertainment industry is following suit.

We can thank, oddly enough, reality TV. As much as I hated American Idol and every other Idol show created by Simon Cowell simply because it delivers nothing but more horribly mindless pop drivel to the world, I admire him all the same for allowing his "Talent" brand shows to not be so shallow with things like age or image restrictions.

The trend started with the "Britain's Got Talent" audition from eventual runner up, 47 year old, unemployed, frumpy, never been kissed, unemployed Susan Boyle. The audition was enough to shock the cynical Simon and his smug partner Pearse.

Now fast forward to the American version: Kari Callin. With bilateral cleft pallet and lip, this ugly duckling, that at 43 has never been on a date, yet is proving that age and image mean nothing as long as one actually has the guns in the lungs to do what the "pretty pop stars" can't... and that's actually sing. I mean sing like the famous singers of the past. That Liza Minelli, Barbara Striesand class of vocal power. Those who know nothing about singing call her Broadway power "yelling" but they're not too bright.

Take a look at this audition and tell me what you think:

Now, why am I making such a big stink about these two women? Both are over 40, non pop tart material and are examples of what would normally be a wasted undiscovered talent to a record company A&R rep. Without shows like this, such talents would never have been discovered.

What does that mean in the end? That no musician, singer, songwriter, actor or artist need ever think that it's too late to live any dream. I know many brilliant musicians who don't realize they have genius that could rival Beethoven, yet won't get past their own inner self constructed barriers and soar to the greatness they deserve.

In a related note, I was asked to manage my former manager from back when I was a celebrity impersonator. No matter what, he's a talented singer, but he's 50, confined to a wheelchair, overweight and attends 5 hour jaunts with dialysis three times a week. However, he has an amazing voice, charismatic magnetic personality, a quick wit and a well produced demo project. It appears that our world, so starved for real singing, would now be ready to stand behind him and give him more than just a listen.

The world is now embracing the geeks, freaks and outcasts that we call..."the average Joe". It appears that reality TV has actually given something to society rather than taken away. So reach within yourself, find your inner Superhero or Rockstar or Thespian and do whatever you want to. The only one stopping you now is you.

It's been two weeks.

I'm on the Patch.

I must say.... with the stress of mom's stroke, it didn't help. I had quit on the night of the Blue Moon on June 1st. The second full moon within a month is called a Blue Moon. Usually they have 2 to 6 year intervals between periods. I chose then, after the Darkhours went off the air, to put on the patch and enjoy the twisted dreams the Patch invokes.

Unfortunately, the stroke was 2 days later. But I've coped. So far, I'm getting along. I haven't smoked a cigarette since the close of my show. I think I will be successful with this. So far I have better vocal control and I'm breathing deeper.

One day at a time. But I think I can kick this...after 20 some odd years I can kick this. The smell of smoke and smoke on others has begun to disgust me so I just might succeed.

One day at a time.

About 2 weeks ago my mom had a stroke. It was a "rolling stroke" as they called it. Since then I've been travelling in and out of hospitals and rehab centers on my 3 days off per week and some times on the weekend. Needless to say, my game is a tad off. There are many things I feel I need to blog about, but my time is short and I'm ...preoccupied.

Last friday, they took her back to the ER with complications and infections which lead me to take my night on KMRL off. There was no Darkhours Show that night. Currently they are planning to ship her back to Burke Rehabilitation.

I'm not sure I'm fine with this. Not her going to Burke, cause they're top notch, but it's looking at her that bothers me. Slurred speach, hard to move, hard to hear her voice... Where's that strong Matriarch I've known so many years?
I think it's because at the moment, from what I hear the doctors say, post stroke people are never 100%. This just makes me think my mom is broken.

Yesterday I was sitting with her one on one... teaching her to speak. It was surreal and saddening at the same time. Oddly, I've spent most of the years away from her..now she's seen me more in the past two weeks than in the last 10 years. Trippy.

It's also raised many health issues in my own mind. For example: I now muct consider that my family has a history of high blood pressure. I must now investogate those migranes I get. They think my mom may be borderline diabetic... I must now investigate this as well.

Now I really need to get out on that bike more. I'll have some other more amusing posts for you soon. This place has gotten stale. But then again, I keep adding blogs.

In a short catnap at work at my desk I entered another world behind my closed eyes.

I was at a construction type site. I was armed with a pistol. That in itself is odd as I have never owned nor probably held one. The goal seemed to simply be, find, track and kill my adversary. Like we were both dropped down there for the sole purpose of killing each other.

Now, in this dream I found my vantage point. One in where I believed I was safe from almost all sides. My heart raced in the murky orange of the rusty site. Wood planks helped me make it more of a spider hole. There I sat in wait. My heart raced and my suit was torn in the jacket pocket. It was gray, but now it was marked with dirt from the site.

I've discussed imagery on the Church site. What I find is that many people concern themselves with their "image" more than they're imagery. It's like they just want to act like something they aren't rather than be what they either truly are or want to be. This is where the human condition is upsetting. I believe I am who I portray myself to be. I believe I am as true to myself when I talk to people.

Even when I do my KMRL radio show, I stopped trying to be all spooky and shit for "The Darkhours". I realize that I can still be what I want to be and still be myself. No one wants to talk to a gloomy Darklord all day. I think that it's far easier to get along with people if there's at least a balance of good humour in it all. In fact, I was told that my show was better when I was more myself and relaxed than when I tried too hard by being all... "dark announcery" and shit.

I've actually been accepting things lately. I finally accept my voice, both singing and speaking. I used to hate them both so in the end I was trying to be something I wasn't by trying to change them,. Then I realized that in doing that I wasn't being true to myself or my image.

I don't think I'll be hiding from myself anymore. My question remains... do you? Are you truly yourself in the face of your friends? Are you a disciple of imagery or fakery?

It's actually one of those "milestone" birthdays... and I'm sitting in the Laundromat contemplating.

I'm not thinking about Bey who went into the vet today for surgery tomorrow. Ok... I'd be lying if I said he wasn't on my mind. I felt so bad putting him in that box wondering if I'd ever see him again. But I have faith in the gut feelings of those around me who can feel clearer than I in this matter.

I'm not thinking about the inadvertent bills that have hit me this week or what monetary crisis have come my way. No... These are, as they say in the business world, "temporary setbacks".

I'm thinking about the future... The plan...the mission.

Some would have told me that by now, I should have given up on this dream as many in my past may have given up on me.

You long standing readers know that dream. The dream of leading the masses to musical bliss, of saving ourselves, our lives and our ears from mediocrity and building a new world from a new perspective. The dream of recreating our future. The dream of having a vision and seeing it through, nurture it and watch it grow.

The world has yet to know that the sleeping giant wakes. The world has yet to feel the ground beneath them quake. The world has no clue, the magnitude the plan of the madman is...and yet is he truly mad or simply a visionary?

In time they will know...when they feel enriched and excited about something again. In time they will see, when there's a new bounce in their step, an uplifting tune wafting from their parted whistling lips, when they feel that rush of butterflies in their stomachs the first night they sit in the concert audience and hear the first chords.

In time.

Oh...and the revolution?

It's time.

Happy birthday to me.

Signed,

The Magus.

Current mood: Dangerous.
Listening to: Forever Young by Alphaville.

The song Ponderous by 2nu started... "I had a dream the other day..." and so in similar fashion...

The other night...I had this vivid dream that plagues me...

I was with the " out of work muse" investigating this condo on the water. Now first let me describe this place. It was extremely large. The bedroom was amazing. Large and spacious with hardwood floors and a king
size bed in cream coloured linens. I remember next investigating the kitchen. Within it was a huge Sub-Zero refrigerator/freezer. We investigated it's contents and found bizarre large tubs of...something stored. Dreams are odd like that. Details are sketchy, but I remember things ... I even wrote some things down. That's how disturbing it was.

So anyway... I remember looking out of the huge bay windows. They looked out to the rest of this lake community. All the condo houses were brown and the there were trees everywhere. Within the lake was some type of large sailing ship. I believe it may have been a schooner. It seemed to have been there for some sort of exhibition.

Now it gets weirder. The livingroom was mostly white marble. I think there may have been a cream leather couch. Now the problem. There were big sliding glass doors. They led outside. As I walked to the doors and walked out, the water was dark looking. The shore itself was only about 3 feet deep. It looked like a small concrete terrace with no railing.

Here's the weird dream part now. I walked outside and the terrace became as of sponge. Like one of those memory foam mattresses. As I slipped, I turned and tried to yell for help. The " out of work muse" seemed to ignore my cries for help. Hmmmmm...

So anyway... I start to sink into the murky waters. I remember screaming "HELP!" I remember thinking to yself "But... I'm the CHOSEN ONE!!" Then I remember hearing a reply as I spiralled into the deep: "There is another. SHE will replace him."

Now I never thought at anytime if I had a competitor or another to replace me that it would be a she. But that's another thought entirely.

Then I blacked out. When I awoke in the dream...it seems I was rescued by some large muscular black guy. As we stood around talking about it all... I believe that was the point I woke up.

The question is: What does it all mean? What does drowning in a dream mean? What did the dark lords mean by " there is another"? Have I become THAT expendable to the cause? Was this a wake up call?

Does anyone know what this means?

The song Ponderous by 2nu started... "I had a dream the other day..." and so in similar fashion...

The other night...I had this vivid dream that plagues me...

I was with the " out of work muse" investigating this condo on the water. Now first let me describe this place. It was extremely large. The bedroom was amazing. Large and spacious with hardwood floors and a king
size bed in cream coloured linens. I remember next investigating the kitchen. Within it was a huge Sub-Zero refrigerator/freezer. We investigated it's contents and found bizarre large tubs of...something stored. Dreams are odd like that. Details are sketchy, but I remember things ... I even wrote some things down. That's how disturbing it was.

So anyway... I remember looking out of the huge bay windows. They looked out to the rest of this lake community. All the condo houses were brown and the there were trees everywhere. Within the lake was some type of large sailing ship. I believe it may have been a schooner. It seemed to have been there for some sort of exhibition.

Now it gets weirder. The livingroom was mostly white marble. I think there may have been a cream leather couch. Now the problem. There were big sliding glass doors. They led outside. As I walked to the doors and walked out, the water was dark looking. The shore itself was only about 3 feet deep. It looked like a small concrete terrace with no railing.

Here's the weird dream part now. I walked outside and the terrace became as of sponge. Like one of those memory foam mattresses. As I slipped, I turned and tried to yell for help. The " out of work muse" seemed to ignore my cries for help. Hmmmmm...

So anyway... I start to sink into the murky waters. I remember screaming "HELP!" I remember thinking to yself "But... I'm the CHOSEN ONE!!" Then I remember hearing a reply as I spiralled into the deep: "There is another. SHE will replace him."

Now I never thought at anytime if I had a competitor or another to replace me that it would be a she. But that's another thought entirely.

Then I blacked out. When I awoke in the dream...it seems I was rescued by some large muscular black guy. As we stood around talking about it all... I believe that was the point I woke up.

The question is: What does it all mean? What does drowning in a dream mean? What did the dark lords mean by " there is another"? Have I become THAT expendable to the cause? Was this a wake up call?

Does anyone know what this means?

Now here's a strange ammendment to the last entry.

Last night. The moon was no longer full, but it was bright. Waning about 10%. The night was clear and stars came shining brighter and clearer than I had viewed in quite some time. Meanwhile, I was going out mundanely to take the garbage out. I had my headphones on, reviewing the work yet again. The winds were picking up. At times I swear they were responding to the emotions I was feeling as I oddly got lost in the music. Lost I tell you!

As I walked outside...the winds greeted me. They wanted to be my herald for the moment if not for the night. The more I thought of the song as it played, my mind slipped into some ethereal future place. A period in the fabric of the existential future. For a brief moment as the song played...I felt...it. It was powerful. It was intense. As I reached the crescendos and the choral parts, it really hit me. It hit me in a way that's hard to explain. Like some supernatural movie, each strong point of the choruse...each emotional explosion released the Epical Epiphany. I felt as if I could channel and control the winds with but an emotion filled thought.

I hope the weather is the same tonight... It was incredible. It gave me more than hope. It gave me promise. It was a sign that this song will be intense and touch others as they have never been touched by a song before. All doubt begins to escape me. I am clearer now.

Ok... Life isn't so bleak anymore. I don't know why I get into these funks...especially around my birthday. Maybe because I have so much in my head. I get frustrated. Like with the music. Everyday I'm haunted with songs... Melodies... Erie things that waft so beautifully in my mind like musical ghosts. It frustrates me that I don't do anything with it... Because I use the fact that I don't really play anything as my excuse. Did I take the time to learn the Fantom S dvd? No. Did I take the time to learn the 3 music programs I have? No. Did I do anything with Consecrate since last frikkin December? No.

Ok... So my car still sits as a heap in my driveway, Consecrate is totally useless at the moment and I'm about to have another birthday with nothing to show for it. Ok, I set stupid goals. "Give yourself a present." I said to myself. "Have the car fixed by or before your birthday. Have 2 songs (or at least ONE done by your birthday." Ok... So I blew that. But y'know what birthdays do? They give you a kick in the ass. So July 15th, I have made arrangements to have a weekend summit in the studio. Yes guys and ghouls, I caught up with my Engineer, Rob a.k.a. "J.J. Flash". Why Brian had me calling him Merlin, I'll never know. Merlin from Spectre is a totally different person. Either way, I've been feeling like a dick calling this guy Merlin. He must've thought I was an idiot or something... Or so totally eccentric that I make up names for people like I'm Michael Jackson.

Speaking of Michael... How about that verdict, huh? Hmmmmm...Heh... Michael. That's kinda funny the whole thing.

Similar to my "Day of the fours" post, I figure it's time to talk about a few things. It's 05/05/05 and this world just gets odder and odder. First of all... Let's just stay out of Florida and Georgia for a while. Those are just hotbeds of oddities these days... Between missing children showing up dead in an industrial swamp (that just doesn't smell right) to missing girls and sex predators to the folly of Yuppie scum who stage their own kidnapping because they got 'cold feet' for their wedding. This morning I woke to stories of makeshift grenades exploding at the British Consulate place terrorist panic back into the minds of New Yorkers.

What I find amusing is the resurgence of god and Catholicism in politics and media...intensified since the death of Pope John Paul II and the installation of Pope Benedict XVI. Teens are reported to have value changes to abstain from sex and other vices. This may sound great to some, but it will most likely fade like the post 9/11 "neighborly feeling of brotherhood". Goodness in the world has a limited shelf life when human nature returns to its natural course. It is amazing how people deny themselves the smallest pleasures in life for the sake of unknown, intangible benevolence. I guess that's what faith is all about. This led to an interesting discussion amoungst colleagues on the differences between god and religion vs. Magick, ethereal existence and the paranormal forces of the world. Both rely on some semblance of faith.

Speaking of magick and faith, I want to tell you of a dream I had the other night... Mull this over and surmise the meaning.

How did I spend my day of ascension... In jail, wouldn't you? It's a fun place to go. It has pretty white cross bars, a wooden bench for a bed and a nice stainless steel toilet that was ...well...stained.

I had some tickets to take care of, so I took off the morning from work. I figure, I'll go in, pay the fines and go. Well... It seems that since I've had a history of getting these 511 tickets (driving with a suspended license) spanning 10 years, and another history of never appearing in court, they think I have little respect for the law. No... I have little respect for places that can't bill properly.

Last night I had an odd, but intrinsically beautiful dream.

I was walking with a friend though many desert hills. We were transporting some sort of large apparatus upward through these hills. By the time we got there, we had pulled it into some sort of courtyard. This courtyard was not that vast. It was black and outlined with windows. These windows where apartments.

Now all the while, on the way to this place, my friend and I were talking about why this had to be. Why we had to build this thing and why what was to happen to me was to happen.

So...we arrived under moonlight, and began building this giant black iron apparatus. It seemed to be made of giant heavy carved crosses. I put in a very large bolt that worked like a cotter pin into the base of the cross to hold it erect. These crosses made sort of a crown around the center cross which looked large enough to actually tie a human too. This huge structure had steps for many to come up and see the center cross.

While we worked, I began to sing... It was a song of my own creation. Then later my partner began to sing the song with me... Then a voice from the window joined in. Then more and more... Until all the windows were filled with singing people. Some came down to greet me and join in on the singing of my song. They sounded like a beautiful harmonizing choir. They smiled as they sang. It brought joy to their hearts. The laughed and smiled and sang strong and triumphantly.

Some where crying. Unsure if they were tears of joy or sorrow. Some where friends of mine. One brought down a picture, drawn poorly in crayon by her son with a picture of a crucified man signed "Please don't leave us" and it was addressed to me.

I was to die later...to be mounted on that center cross and to leave the people with a song in their hearts.

After the song and crucifixion, the people left... and I was alone to stare up unto the sky as my black cross held me high in the air, the song resonating in my heart.

26 days into this self imposed "boot camp" and I'm not sure I'm getting anywhere. Oh sure, I've been writing more music, but I seem to be dead in the water. I have to be the laziest person in the world with the biggest dreams and the most excuses.

I watched American Idol the other week. It was a rarity as I HATE American Idol. It just happened to have been taped by accident. It was the Houston auditions. And I think ..."who are these people to tell us what a pop star is?". They crush the dreams of hundreds who possibly were diamonds in the rough. Many who probably would have been pop-stars if someone hadn't told them to pack it in because they were a "professional". Then you turn on the radio and wonder how THEY got there. My biggest pet peeve is American Idols "Johnny Bravo" mentality. They write the songs, write the music, write the video and some schmuck just needs to wear the suit and sing what they give them like a good pop-puppet. Do these winners know they're being used? I'd love to see the record contract for these people. They're cut out of writers rights, publishers rights and probably have a poor point spread. But do they KNOW that?
I believe a pop-stars life can be between 16 weeks and 6 years. Then they become old news. Cult figures and Icons are the reality of music. Bowie, Stewart, Jagger, McCartney... Still producing records and people still buy them. And I mean BUY them. Not download them.

Y'know, a woman from U.S.A. Records once told me about 3 years ago, that my old demo was "dated. It sounded like it would do well in the European market." She wanted to know if I was German. Ok, tell me this... Is it the general consensus that European music sucks if it's not British? It's a closed mind that thinks that way. The music industry is weird. If you suck in America, you can be "big in Japan". Just ask David Hasselhoff.

Seriously... What that told me was that I was too lazy and willing to let my old demo be my crowning achievement. So now the music project has a new direction. A new sound. Yet I gave myself 6 months to produce 2 more. That was my goal. One of several (previously posted just before the end of '03 on this Blog).
The ultimate goal to get this thing going fast... I may LOOK immortal, but time doesn't like waiting long.

What have I done so far after 25 days? Not a fucking thing. I may have lost a pound or two...but I stare at MTV and think "Man! I've a long way to go. They want a package...I'll GIVE 'em a package!"

I was watching the Golden Globes last night. Funny how the mind wanders. Simply by gazing at the formal attire, I felt my mind wander into some future time...to some future awards show...where I was wearing a tux of my own design. A design idea came to be for a pseudo-futuristic yet Victorian tuxedo jacket. Now to test the feasibility of this design. My mind is always wandering... designing... writing ...thinking ... dreaming... rehearsing...creating...
philosophizing (is that a word?).
But can I really buckle down and pull this off? I don't think I have much of a choice. It's shit or get off the pot time.

My keyboardist got engaged in the last few months.

Although I am happy for her... She has a tendency to drift whenever she's involved in a love interest. Basically, she disappears and is harder to find.

At this point in the project, I hope she will be able to continue to provide an excellent work ethic in relation to the project.

I had an odd dream that I posted today in Dark Dreams and Interpretations on the Dark Forums.

At first it seemed mundane with odd twists... But the more I think of it, I think I see the symbolism.

The furniture sales job I had in the dream: The alternate path of my life if I fail in the project.

The old women: The Crones of Maid mother and crone? Possibly just a symbol of my "future audience" if I continue to stay off the path to endarkenment and neglect the music.

The pretty girl and former employee of this store who is now a rising star actress: She represents all those who followed their dreams and gained success as I may fail on the current path.

The cement truck driver: My frustration over my situation manifested into a violent act fueled by rage over my own present plight.

The rug under the coffee table: The possible future debasement of being servant to old crones rather than musically iconoclastic philosopher/prophet.

The coffee table:An un moving force, simple for most to move and overcome, yet oppressing to me in this dream.

That's my thought on this dream. Anyone else can view the extended entry to read the dream and comment.

... and I'm in self induced D'Sarian Boot Camp. I have a declared a 6 month martial law on my life to get all that needs to be done, DONE by mid year. A tad harsher than a typical "New Years Resolution". Only in this fashion will I fulfill the scripture of the "Lore Tellers".

1)Prepare mind and spirit for the inevitable outcome upon success in this project.
2)Prepare the BODY for the same.
3)Complete2 more songs to add to the existing one by mid year.
4)Hire new entertainment lawyer.
5)Shop product vehemently, seeking September release and target Halloween.
6)Retain and maintain a relationship witha muse.
7)Affirm my spirituality.
8)Complete the creation the rituals and tomes of Endarkenment.
9)Create the inner circle of endarkened advisors.
10) Find a good agent/manager.

I suppose those are my 10 Commandments for the time being.

The day after Samhain...
The world is a different place to me today. Not in a loooong time had I practiced the mystic arts in even any remote sense of it's ritual word. This time the gloves were off. Rather than spend time with the amateurs of all Hallows, I chose to stay inside and do the work for what the holiday was meant for. That spooky feeling you got on Halloween? That was us. The endarkened. The movers...The communicators... The conduits of the underworld. For everyone needs to make a sacrifice.

One thing I always hated about halloween... Is that even though it's a creepy chilling night that brings me giddy glee, it's really full of posers. Those people who dress in costumes as what they are not... They annoy me. Like the woman who thinks that dressing like a witch is to dress gothic. Meanwhile they laugh at you because you ARE gothic or Metal or mystically inclined. And when asked to know what bands she likes, she tells you "Britney Spears is my idol! Oh my costume?...hee hee hee... I just wanted to dress funky like a witch for Halloween. Hee hee hee!"
MAN! That makes me twitch." What are you?" You ask. "Oh....heh... I'm like this dark sorcerer dude... Heh... I thought it would be fun!"

Ok...Dressing like Yoda or Neo and stuff like that...characters from film? Fine. But when you start making costumes that reflect other peoples real life? Mildly annoying. Now the obvious are acceptable. The green faced, wart nosed witch...Ok, so they watched the Wizard of OZ one too many times. I can understand that. But dressing like a vague attempt at Morticia and not even pulling it off correctly, irks me. I'm sure those of you reading that are endarkened understand as well.

Enough about that. The morining after and beyond, I felt surges in my psyche I thought long dormant. Mind and spirit are forming into a weapon and a tool. Body is following. All will culminate to a glorious machine.

Yet, while I ses the world through newly endarkened eyes... I can only fathom whats next! Like a new found friend...I wander of into the future a new man...prepared to finish what he started as the millenial prophet.

Ok... I've just learned how to kick this place up a notch. I figured out how to put in pictures!! (the secret is to have a space to host the images . So I enlisted the services of www.BoRComimagespace.com) I think that's hella cool!

It's getting closer to that time of reckoning with the dark forces. I need to pick up a few things to fully utilize the power of the ritual. I have never felt more alive than I do lately. Not since I first fell off the path to endarkenment have I felt such surges in power within me. Growing stronger in belief day by day (as aging removes belief and replaces it with programmed reason), I feel that the time is nigh. A few short days and I will do things mystically I have never done before. The reward will most certainly be the fusion of man and prophet. I will go ahead with the emergence of the NEXUS. All alternate timelines will align and come to a crossroads. The future ...OUR future will begin to take shape that day for both all of you and myself. So mote it be. Make it so!

Ok... The hallowed night aproacheth. Yet I'm having a lapse in maturity. You see... A dedicated prophet to his cause would be the type to sequester himself within his own sanctum sanctorum on Halloween night and feel the air of the undead walking and chant to the powers that grant favour to the endarkened. Now the inner child who is spoiled and has wanted to have the keys to the kingdom handed to him because he feels it's his right, simply wants to go out and party. There's always something mystically joyful about going out on Halloween. Especially on a warmer night.

About 4 years ago or so, it was a warm balmy night in New York suburbia which is uncommon at times come the 31rst. That was a night that I drove up and down a legendary lost road that was rumoured to have some sort of killer albino Satanists that lived there that would chase you off the road if you traveled more than twice up and down and only if the statue of the Virgin Mary had it's lights off... Or something like that. Anyway, this one Halloween, I drove up and down it like 8 times, blaring the theme from Halloween and Ave Satani out of my open t-topped 300zx. I think the scariest thing was that these people, because of the warm weather had decided to have a barbecue that night and would sit in waiting with freakish pranks to pull on passers by. For me to drive with my tops off was asinine to begin with, but I was thrill seeking. As we passed the first time, (mind you, you're already creeped out by this horrific road and its legend) they did several things, like wait in silence and darkness when they heard a car approaching on this quiet street and throw firecrackers at the cars or shine a huge spotlight on them. One time they even made as if they were coming after you to attack wearing scary masks or animating a scarecrow. You were sure to pee your pants them.

Y'know.... Come to think of it. I think I want to get a house there. Only they say the roads not on any maps. Hmmmmmm.

There were many Halloweens, when I just felt like driving in the night air with the tops off, blaring of course... The Halloween theme (John Carpenter). Sue me, I'm whacked.

Any way, that was a BIG digression. So I asked a few witches what they were doing. One tells me that she'll be doing her rituals before she goes out and then again when she gets home afterwards to feed off the energy still in the air at 4am... That's HER way of doing things. It's like you can't fit it all in one night. And Saturday night is the 1rst and it's November and that feels like a whole new month and like it's Thanksgiving already.

But still, to properly serve the dark masters, a full night of ritual, prayer and respect is what's needed... Maybe even a little bloodshed. I mean, considering what I'm asking, it's no small favour. I would ask for guidance. I would ask for success. I would ask for support . I would ask for the Grand Reward. I would ask to be allowed to share of myself and my word and music without restriction. I suppose they'll want alot in return. So if I were to look at the bigger picture... I suppose I'm to believe that there will be bigger and better Halloweens for me in the future. To say such is an affirmation of the power my future holds. That I will succeed in the musical venture. That I will gain a following...the type of following that will celebrate WITH me. The type that can share in the power collectively as a brood. Eventually, I think the best bandmates should be broodmates. A band made of fans who understand me best... That's the dream band. Like John the Baptist, I will rally us all together. As to what I'm preparing us for is another story entirely. But I'm sure you'll all have a pisser!

So I guess (and this is why blogging is good because it helps you work things out on paper), I shall stay home and make the cat float around the house.

Ok... I have this customer (by the way, during the day I'm in sales) , who has been in and out over several weeks trying to buy a few items. As they are high end long term items, sometimes people feel they can't buy them as fast as I'd like.

Anyway...due to my Karmaic (is that a word?) hospitality, the wife has dropped off things like home made delicious carrot cake (forgive me diet, for I have sinned) and eventually the large purchases were made.

Now, these are people off the street as customers who now consider me a friend of the family. They know I have a project. Great! But even better is that they have a very prominent Entartainment Lawyer who is a good friend of theirs they say I should talk to. They put in a good word for me, so I hope I don't get screwed. Now the question comes: Do I call him now and establish contact with only ONE song in the can and another started? Or do I wait until I have a few more?

This is how I've made my contacts over the years. Through business. I got my attorney for my lawsuit against Allstate Insurance that way.

Anyway...I think I should strike while the iron is hot. Maybe get at least a consultation while my name is in his mind. Even with one song, it shows I'm working on SOMETHING, as I tell him there's more coming.

I don't know... Y'know, feel free to lend an idea or two here... I don't bite...without my fangs at least. Heh.

So the Muse asks me the other day...when at work, what is done to advance the cause? Have I done at least ONE D'Sarian thing today. Once in awhile my other friends ask that too. I sit and ponder why they are asking...I mean... How simple do you think these things are? If it was so easy, EVERYONE would be doing it.

Then I think, hmmmm...I suppose thats the best way to attack the problem. On a day to day basis. It's one thing to have plans, but, what good are plans like "what my concert tour show will be like", when I don't even have a contract? Hell I don't even have more than the ONE song!

Well, I'm changing that. Yesterday I spent some time at my keyboardists house. We have begun the planning for "Killer Tune". Killer Tune is the story of a serial killer who constantly eludes police. It's designed to be creepy and disturbing. My keyboardist on this project is Lara Sky. Lara Sky, who worked with me producing "Darkside", is like the complete opposite to me. Her whole philosophy is mostly on the lighter side. She is the yang of my yin. In some ways that works. She can grasp what I'm doing, even though she may not like the subject matter. I write dark hienous things that no one else wants to write or sing about. SHE however, envisions her stage persona as some sort of futuristic godforce for good, like some silver coloured anime character. Throw in a few belly dancers and Buddhist icons and dancers and that's her show. Sounds cool. She has the same philosophy about touring that I do: For your $25 up to $85 concert ticket they charge these days, you should get to see a SHOW! Show us something! Don't just sit on your ass and sing blankly into a microphone. I mean, I've seen some BAAAAAD shows in the past. I would watch them and swear I'd NEVER have a lame-ass show like that.

Anyway...I digressed. Her comment on "Killer Tune" was that it was more of a project than just a song . I don't think I've ever written anything as elaborate as this. She asked me if I keep all these things in my head. Without knowing me, I suppose you wouldn't understand how boggling it is. I don't write sheet music. Neither do I read music save from the failed ancient guitar lessons I took 6th grade. Oh did I tell you that I don't play any instruments? Well ...let's put it this way.... I stare at my keyboard and hunt and peck the notes in my head. Then I practice that. Repeatedly. But the oddity is the orchestra that plays these scores in my head. So peculiar it is. I don't hear voices in my head...I hear music. I hear choirs, I hear strings, I hear orchestras and kick ass guitars.

Ny brother brought by an article on how unsigned underdogs can get help breaking into the music business. It listed 3 websites that discussed selling the songs as singles to TV/Commercial/Motion Picture soundtracks. I think I may just stop by the sites and take a look. www.LukeHits.com ,www.tonos.com and www.digicirc.com are the targetted sites. I'll check them out to see what the deal is.

So what did I do for the project today? During my down time at my job, I reflected on yesterdays work. I am currently rewriting the intro and outro which is a spoken dialogue script because all my songs tell stories. THAT'S what I did for the project today.

So this isn't one of those fun entries... It's just an entry. My Daily Dark Thought.

The true example of those who can't ...teach.

One of my best friends who I don't talk to that much anymore calls me. That should be a good thing. He calls me to tell me he has a son. A newborn. Fine. Congratulations. Yet he has no intention of marriage . I don't think he's thought that out.

Now...everyone has dreams and goals and desires... And after many years, I believe I'm following the right path. A little slow, but the right one. Now of course I KNOW, it's not going to be easy. I know that there are a ton of other artists out there trying like squirrels to get a nut. I don't even think I want to be like some high profile singer...I, like Ozzy "just want to make music, that's all". I want to be what we as a species need: a voice. Music says nothing to us or for us these days. Decades ago it did. Nothing has any emotional staying power.

My friend tells me things like :"a record exec will ask ...'Does he have a look? Does he have any stage experience? Does he get stage fright? can he handle a crowd of thousands? Does he have a following? Does he play regularly?' What do you have to offer?' What are you going to say? 'Well...He has a WEBSITE!' Millions of people have websites these days! You say you have a book of songs in your head...but you need them on disc. That's like having a CD player and no CDs!"

Ok ...so... I have a website and a song. This weekend I expect to start on the next one. Yea... I'm a little slow on production, but the drive's there. I can't include the 10 year old project because it's dated.

Ok... I admit, I'm lazy and I procrastinate. Most of us are. YES! I should be working harder past the obstacles in my way...but sometimes they seem so overwhelming. Does that stop me? No.

Part of my funding is being divided to fix my car that was in an accident and the fucker that's at fault has Allstate. Those bastards never pay without a day in court, so I have to fix the car out of pocket to make it driveable again, then file with a court, hire a lawyer and sue like Sue was my middle name.

I digressed...anyway... My friend made a point to mention my alleged contacts and how they don't wait forever... Y'know, that's why you never go for the second level in the contact ladder until you have a product, press kit, marketing and demographic plan in hand. I KNOW they don't last forever. Missed opportunities are just that ...missed. So you make new ones. I'll contact the first tier to get to second tier when the time comes. I'm still young yet. I keep this all on a need to know basis.

He said that if I can't find a band, I should hire one. Tell me this...if you hire a band...what's to say that with the conflict in musical ideas, you'd get on CD, the exact product in your head?

When I recorded "Darkside" last year... I found ONE keyboardist who was amenable to the idea of creating this new sound. Now she wasn't that keen on most of my subject matter , but she was the closest to understanding my psyche behind it. What I would REALLY want is a Jim Steinman to my Meatloaf. A Twiggy to my Marilyn. A Garfunkle to my Simon. But like the old adage, we all say..."I just want to be at least for a brief moment in time... understood."

I have another keyboardist I was contemplating recording with...but his forte was singing about sex drugs and rock and roll...which these days is a little too 70's for me. He thought my themes were too dark and that I and even this website was a little creepy for him. HELL can he play though!! But still... What could I expect from a non-like minded individual? I think there may be added stress in the translation since I don't really PLAY anything.

I remember when I recorded a song about hate crimes called "The worst 4 letter word...Hate" 10 years ago... I was in the last hours of the mix, running out of money and I had my DJ friend come by the studio. His input was to "turn up the drums". Well by doing that, it turned a cool...almost industrial type song into a Latino Hip Hop sound that I hate listening to, lost affection for the song and abandoned finishing it.

Back to my friend who was scolding me, so to speak...he told me he was a manager once for about 3 groups. I asked him "Well where are they now?" Jokingly I said "Where's Tupac o' cigarettes now?" He said he didn't know nor did he care. Can I really listen to a man who failed to successfully manage 3 bands as an authority?

What my true goals and attack plan are...are just that. Mine. I'm not trying to reinvent the wheel... I just want to make it roll better. But a sportscar wheel is useless on an SUV, so my wheel may not be for EVERYBODY.

I have trust issues when it comes to this project. I Believe its' hot. I believe it will change the face of music...then again, so does every musician. So I guess we'll just sit back and see the next episodes as they come.

Here's a silly question... On American Idol...how many of those pop star wannabe's were ever on stage besides a High School play?

Can you tell I'm a little ticked by that conversation I had? Recommendations for future back seat managers: Get ALL the facts first before you spew.

PS: I told him I'd call him back as I was called away from the phone. He said "You won't call me for another year because you don't want to hear what I've got to say about this."

He may just end up on my "I must prove you wrong list".

So many years have gone by... And I'm not THERE yet. Where is "there"? That's both an easy yet difficult question. "There" is the point in my life when I've reached the ultimate goal. It's not this idiotic job I have that pay the bills. It's that point where all the things in my head come out to the world. It's been 10 years since my last attempt at a demo project and I can see where I've changed. I looked over my old lyrics the other day. Even the post high school ones. Aaaah, yes...the standard statement comes from reading them..."If I only knew then what I knew now."

Now, although I think I've got the proper formula, is time still on my side? Are the dark fates that guide my hands still willing to wait for me to get my act together?

I think I'm trying to reflect here. Too many hatreds of all that I have become. The things I used to do seem so distant in the past. The mystic powers I possessed...where are they now? I am a skeleton of the hellion I was then. The problem with getting older is that they tell you to grow up...be more mature. Only when you do that, you lose site of who you really are as you become re-programmed.

Programming...now THERE'S a funny thought. We're programmed as children by our parents. Their agenda is to make us either better than they were or at least clone themselves. My father was a cold unfeeling man. If anything, he just wanted me to be just like him and in many ways he succeeded. Probably all the WRONG ways. My mother just wanted ONE of our clan to be successful like dad.

I wanted to be in the arts. Funny how I came from a family of artists, yet no one pushed me to pursue it. It took forever for them to realize that that's where I was heading. Mom was a model...one of the pioneers in her industry. She painted here and there and so did my father. My brother can't seem to make a single idea work in business after getting a Masters in it. My sister is married and living in my dead aunts house. I think she got the best deal of the bunch as my oldest brother at 49 still lives at home in my moms attic. Funny...they had so much belief in him...now he comes to me begging for money to save yet another failed business venture. I have not the time nor resources for that.

My money is tied up in too many cookie jars. I invest not in stocks and bonds and crap like that... But in people. I believe in my room mates dream and wouldn't mind throwing it all away into that project because I believe it will work. See... my belief is the reason you are reading this.

Let alone the money I put into producing music. Funny thing is... I KNOW I have good product. I KNOW I can make it with the ideas in my head. I ALSO know I'm scared shitless. I hold myself back. I procrastinate. THAT'S the by-product of bad programming. I'm so busy thinking in both directions... "What if I fail?", "What if no one likes it?", "What if I can't do as expected?"....Oh wait! Here's the capper: "What if I make it, get to that highpoint and then lose it all..?!?" I sometimes act like one of those people that live the relationship in their mind before they even say "hello" to the girl they're looking at. You know the type... " Oh we'll meet with a glance, throw ourselves into a passionate relationship, get into that over comfortable stage...then begin to drift apart as she's caught sleeping with my best friend and leave me crushed and crying in my Cheerios".

Aaaah yes... The doomsayers. The ones that never go forward due to fear. But as it would seem, I'm just like them.

Where is that daring D'Sari that lived on the edge? Where did he go? Where IS that trendsetter? Did he become bloated and stodgy in his cushy job getting fat like a yuppie?
I look at 10 year old pictures of myself and look at them and ask "What happened to you?" You had IT! You're SUPPOSED to have IT." Perhaps it's time to "reach inside and find solace in my darkside" like I'm so busy singing about. I mean...where is that mystic feral wild child that prowled Gotham's underbelly? Better yet...where is the prophet to record mans tears?

Heh..."prophet". There's a powerful word. John the Baptist was a prophet. Fat lot o' good it did HIM. My problem with these terms like IT and PROPHET? I was never programmed to think in any form of greatness... Thanks Dad. At least not in the sense I think of greatness. Mom's ideas of greatness meant politics of law or medicine. I remember when she pulled me out of all those High School programs... Music and Drama, Forensics... Art Director of the Newspaper and Yearbook... Thanks Mom. DA Vinci needed parents like you.

How the fuck did Manson get into this thing? It's one thing to have supportive parents...but who supported THAT? I mean...did his parents know they were pushing him to be ...HIM?

I won't get lost in a tirade about other artists...not here... I have my boards for that. If I do it here, it sounds like petty jealousy. I'm not jealous... I just feel I'm waiting in the gate for the next race. Only problem is the race is now.

Funny... My friends believed in me, but my parents didn't. My parents programmed me so now what?

Well... At least I'm going on with the music. The message will be made. Must crawl before I walk. Lets look at it this way, I don't want to be one of those guys listening to his sons band in the garage saying... "Y'know son...your DAD was a singer once..." and then pulls out his old lyrics and CD's (embarrassing his young son in front of his friends because CD's are SOOOOOOOO turn of the century!) and then gets lost in reflection of what he MIGHT have been one day....

Ok...I'm getting disgusted ... That's enough for today... I think. You never know. I think this may actually get me somewhere, this, letting it all out thing.