I'm not exactly clear on how much use this blog actually is, but i like that it is a completely separate entity from the social networking sites.

A BIG DUMB GRIN.

Every once in a while I find my self able to lean back and confidently tell myself that I have nothing to complain about. Realizing and breathing it in is remarkable and rare. I aspire to pursue dreams and then perspire when all the variables come tumbling out of the box we call doubt.

We feel our thoughts rattle through our core. The little things carry us and then those same little things become larger than our rationality. You have to ask what is going on here as I often do. I search large dark rooms furiously for this quiet white whale.

I lean into the wind, however. I’m gliding on smiles. My surroundings frown and my soul beams. I have no clue where it’s coming from, but I’ll take it and hold in my hands for a while, thank you very much.

Disappointed in my dreams lately.

I can remember wandering around a hotel for some time. I knew where my room was, but people I knew were hanging out and talking loud and obnoxious and you could hear them through the entire hotel. I didn't want to associate with them, obviously(?). Eventually leaving the hotel, which I'm pretty sure was in New Orleans, i find myself in an underground garage with an exit to my left and tunnel area to my right. Above me is a sign: "Espresso Bar and Sandwiches!" with an arrow under it pointing into the looming tunnel. I was hungry and tired and did what any good person would do, I began into the tunnel to find the promised oasis. Of course, there was nothing but a dead end with empty tables and without souls. I sighed, I think.

I remembered the exit from back where I came and headed that way. Things were going pretty good, I could see the exit and I was walking. "Cool", I thought.

Then a guy is coming at me with a hood and waving his arms yelling. I was definitely about to get mugged. (Why I let myself get mugged in my own dream, i haven't a clue).

As he gets closer he suddenly was holding a wooden kitchen chair. He raised it with a grimace and tossed it my way. I hit it out of the air and woke up, because all of this was just too much to keep handling. :)

Look Good Demo

This is a demo for a song I've recently written.

Enjoy, if it's enjoyable to you.

An Extended Metaphor.

I am standing in the wings with my back to the stage. I am not able to move from this position, and some would call me stuck. But to label me stuck doesn’t really look the situation in its eyes. You would have to go back and read the history and really chew on everything that has happened to understand that if I move without serious intent or planning, it could lead to some quick embarrassment on my part.

Are you familiar with a Mexican standoff? Two men will stand back-to-back, ten or twenty paces apart, with sweat walking down their forearms. Each of their hands hang tense next to a pistol, preparing to launch into action like a cat waiting in the grass. Their minds might drift to thoughts of their wives; maybe they imagine who would attend the funeral if they died today. But their thoughts are quickly gathered, as they must focus. Very soon, at the same time, they will both twirl around in slow motion, kicking up dust clouds, with handguns free. It is here, in this place, when your life is being held in another person’s palm, that we all sweat, and we all fear.

For me, I have no clue what sort of story will be playing out if I turn around. The fear of the idea is chewing on every thought entering my mind. The idea that I’ll have some sort of script or rehearsed lines to throw is laughable. I wish someone would just sweep me up out of this mess. But how long can I honestly just stand here scared stiff with only faint hope keeping me warm?

-By David Roller

December 8th, 2010