I wrote a new song tonight.  I wrote something.

I don't feel like I have written in years and I think it's what has made me a little crazy.  Out on the ridgeline that kept the United States Marine Corps base in 29 Palms in the shade from the Mojave Sun is where I started.  I'd grab my notebook, pencil and pack of Camel Wides ('cause I felt that writers generally smoked...that the aftertaste somehow sparked brilliance and opened veins.  I felt I still benefited from the nicotine without having to inhale) and trek up the side of the mountain.  This is the time where I would cut myself with the words that I would write and find that even though the blood was flowin...I was actually healing myself.  I was finding peace and closure with all the things that caused me pain.

This was before music.  Before guitar.  Before Navar.  This was when I was a Lance Corporal in the USMC with a buzzed head, a desert sun burn and a broken heart.

This sounds so lame sometimes.  So weak...like toughen up...be a man.  I guess in some ways I did and other ways I let the one thing that has always helped me through times of trouble.  Writing.

My brother tells me he doesn't believe in writers block.  I think I tend to agree.  I think I end up just being lazy or somewhat scared of what I will write and who will read it.  I care a lot about what others think and feel...probably too much.  I spend a lot of energy hoping and wanting everyone happy.  Some would ask "then why don't you ever call me back?"  To that I'd say...I guess I'm just getting more tired, selfish and lazy in my age.  Maybe it's something else...I don't really know.

One of my friends asked me the other day how often I have been blogging.  I told him that it's been a couple weeks.  That I got sick and then I just forgot and got busy with other stuff.  I started to rationalize why I had deprioritized this site and recording music...like it wasn't what I know I love to do.  He then asked what I thought it was about me that loses steam.  What about me that accepts distrations as excuses and is somewhat ok with it.  To that, I just don't even know.

This is a heavy post...I know.  But I feel like things are heavy now.  I am about to move into a new apt.  I am coming to grips with who I really am and what I can accomplish.  I have lived by sayings and cliches that say "nothing worth anything comes easy" and other similiar sentiments.  To be honest, I feel like I haven't done anything yet.  Nothing really worth anything yet.  Scratched at the surface without the guts to see what's deeper.  Time ain't on any of our sides.  It's only there to pile on the regret and then take it all away in the end.  Depressing...maybe.  But sometimes reality is harsh and it is our job to move forward with a good solid heart, positive intentions, a rigorous work ethic and unwavering optimisim that this isn't all for nothing.

Yeah, writing does help....

Don't take any of this the wrong way though.  By me saying I haven't done anything yet, I am not downplaying the importance of all my life's accomplishments, experiances and relationships.  They are all very near and dear to me and have brought me to where I am today.  I guess I mean that I just don't feel like I have worked very hard and this all has come too easy.  With what I am asking of myself, I feel that life is going to taste better and the concrete is going to resonate with the sounds of my beating heart.

Yes, I know this is all self indulgent Ben.  Well aware.

Love pb

p.s.  Next post will be full of bullshit and shallow thoughts on women, music and NYC...I promise.