Posted on by Rugged Troubador

Road Reverie

If you’ve been driving long enough, you start to get this sense of surreal detachment… almost a dream state, where you’re not tired, but you’re not fully awake either – you’re just… driving.

The world around you flies by like a simulated movie, the road stretching relentlessly on, cars and vans and trucks and buses whizzing by you, ahead of you, behind you. All thought seems to subside; you cease to be a person, and you start to become another inhabitant of restless America, another robotic vagabond in the traffic flow, growing ever-further from home.

But then another cup of coffee and you start to remember: Hey, everywhere is home. As long as I am behind the wheel of this car, my trusted steed, I can inhabit any and every place on the earth. No more need I worry of being lost, of being estranged, of being lonely. For as long as I’m alive and I have a destination, albeit an invented one, no one is more on the right track than me.

Who said there’s anything unpleasant about being alone? I love being alone. Make no mistake: being alone is worlds from being lonely. Being lonely is one of the saddest things on this earth, but being alone is one of the most empowering. Yes, the days are sometimes long, yes, the hotel room is sometimes a little too vacant without someone to share it with at the end of the day, but all in all, I have my thoughts, my words, and my music. And there is always room for one more.

Another town, another state, another attempt at “settling down” – but I should know by now that for the hungry traveler, any such attempt is short-lived. As soon as everything is in its proper place, just before the dust remembers to settle, a stir will happen somewhere inside the soul – a phone will ring, a woman will smile, a breeze will blow – and then it will be out the door, back on the trusted steed, flying on the wings of fate to another invented destination.

Posted on by Rugged Troubador

Where I Belong

Wow, this is my first blog in, like, over a week. Inexcusable.

I’m sure if you’ve followed my goings-on via Facebook, you’ve learned of the recent unfortunate event that has left me temporarily not able to walk, and also back in the old West Virginia hometown house to recoup. And so it is.

I do not, however, anticipate my stay to be long, as I am all too familiar with Nashville’s magnet-like ability to pull me back after some strange circumstances force me away – again, only temporarily.

Actually, I see this time here, back in my stomping grounds, as time that I will use well to my advantage, to grow, write, and – well, mostly write. Oh, and record. As it turns out, my little brother, Thomas, happens to be something of a producer in his own write, and as long as I delegate to him, seems to be able to hold my hand through the process of home recording, one that I’ve up until now avoided like the plague.

But, as Nashville producer and engineer Chad Fowler (who actually got it from one his past attorneys) told me, “He who has the content, has the power.” So it’s a deed that has to be done. I’ve made it a goal: create 30-60 work tapes by Thanksgiving Day, November 27, 2014.

I hope you can all hold me accountable for this goal that I’ve set for myself. And if you can’t, don’t worry, I’m sure my wallet will. Feel free to shoot me a motivational and/or tough love message: “Get on yo shit!” or something of the sort.

I’m thinking of posting each work tape up on a new page on this website, to be offered for your listening pleasure or as an actual place where it can be. As always, comments, suggestions, critiques, outbursts, and other kinds of remarks are welcome, and encouraged.

In the meantime, here’s a song. Thanks to Robert LaSalle, my cowrite on this one. He made me sound good.

Until next time… Happy Sunday.

 

Image source: allposters.com, http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/26/2695/PCOUD00Z/posters/alfred-eisenstaedt-hat-belonging-to-painter-andrew-wyeth-on-top-of-bed-at-home.jpg [Accessed June 22, 2014]