After ten years working the tenured, safe, secure endeavor, Every day’s a burden. So I quit. In the face of great recession, the economy in question, The common peep’s obsession with job retention, I still quit. The time had come to get busy living. To get to getting, instead of sitting waiting for every red city light to hit green. And to live this dream is, to me, to make the music. To play the tunes that make you ruminate over your half aten reuben. Over what’s past, fate, and prudent. So what’s the best way to do that? Gestate the new track? Work all night and segue into the next day after you lose track of the time? Cause time sure flies by, but you knew that. And let’s not forget the sound that a true groove makes. The thunderous ruckus the neighbors above us who love us, But just happen to hate... And they tap on the gate... And we’ve been jamming since eight... Let’s just say it was obvious truth be told. Soon we chose some fond address for this new abode. Some roomy hole where you feel home, The studio. Four bare walls and a blank canvas The more I stare it’s all just plain cavernous But the plan’s in transit, so I built. It started out strong with some fervor. Hitting it hard all day long in a dirty work shirt. By day thirty first I was feeling a little worse for the wear, Ensnared by the many layers of the minutiae. All in pursuit of six rooms roughed in spruce studs, But man does it drain you, something I was still getting used to. Working twelve plus hours a day, still just pounding away, Found crouched down on the ground with a loud power tool howling, in pain. I’m drowsy now, I’m bound to be lousy. Ten thousand pounds of lumber calling out my name, All them walls to be framed, Cautioned pause from the guns and saws and often thought that crossed my brain, Doubt and wonder if I’ll ever get out from under this weight. The rough in was the toughest, umpteen months away and plugging. So tired of spliced wire, sore thumbs, and plumbing. But such is life, cause it sucks when you start from nothing. And so it goes, seven days in a row each week, then behold it’s November. And in flows the cold cause there is still no heat, no vents, no duct work. Just try and remember I chose this road who’s slope is upward. Ten months pass and this thing still ain’t been completed. I think I need a reprieve from this routine and this list that ain’t receded. Indeed, ain’t been a thing deleted, I’m heated. I don’t even wanna read it. And right about now I feel it, there may never be an end to see it. Each achievement is fleeting, rinse and repeat it till I’m depleted. Almost conceding defeat, but still somehow believing, Feeling like you’re anticipating the birth of your first born and only. Waiting patiently though he’s holding out, full grown and ornery. Kid’s got a grip on both ovaries and won’t let go or be told to evacuate. And he’ll make you wait till he’s damn good and ready, And as you stage one last push you’re already gasping and sweaty, Little bastard is heavy. It’s about time he arrived and met the rest of the family. So I keep my head down and my nose to the grindstone. The going is slow, the time don’t fly by and it grinds on, I despise it. Though I realize that won’t die till this winds down. Time comes nigh, sky splits wide, and I’m finally finishing. And as I drive the last nail, I find something hits me. Some sudden clarity Clarence, this here is just the beginning. And this story you just heard ain’t just my story alone, It’s widely reported by imported mortals and more than you know, Who aborted their home with boats and oars and rowed across the border. And turned up on a new coast with a plot birthed to prosper or die. Burned up the two boats that docked with their doubts locked inside. Every out now blocked, better outfox if you want to survive. And to any of you, who chooses this route, I salute you. It proves fortitude for ignoring all the bruises that’s included. Just know that I rowed in the same exact boat that you did. And as the natives celebrate with strange exchanges of amusement, I’m perusing, taking in views and making friends with newest musings, But please excuse me, it’s time for me to go make some music.

Night after night, ninety nine days in a row. No one in sight, fighting the war all alone. Just getting started, already falling apart. Unending hardship leaving me lost in the dark. Never again have I said In states that I’ve faced such as this. And yet I discover I still have not learned Facing my greatest regret. How many times over and over again? Floors and the lights and the board and doors and the trim. Calculating all that’s needed. Cutting all the other pieces to length. Back to painting all the ceilings. Past the point of ever being the same. Never again have I said In four letter words that I meant. And though I’m not willing, there is no quitting The only road out is ahead. Every night Everyday Off the chain It’s all the same. Every night Everyday Caulk and paint It’s all the same. Every night Saw and blade Chalk and tape It’s all the same. Every night Walls are straight Hall can wait Install the drain It’s all the same. Every night All the same Thoughts are strange Exhausted brain Gone insane Crazy for sure. Every night All the same All the same Every night Every night All the same All the same.

Down in the deepest, so far away. Would you hear me if I scream? I don’t know what got me so far astray. Bound to the process, my ball and chain. And I did it voluntarily. There is no going back so find a way. Now at my weakest I want to say, Shoulda left this as a reverie. Though I know there is no hope in playing safe. Crouched in this recess, my saw and blade, I could use ‘em here to set me free. Here I go, grab a hold an be brave. Is this the point where I pull out the knife? Is this what it comes down to? Is this the point, you do what you gotta do. Whatever it takes. There’s no other way Under this weight, In utter dismay, My thunder has waned It’s hard to muster the strength. For every nail and every screw, Everyday, this will never be through. Could buy into fear, the opportunity’s mine Could cry in my beer or go back to the grind And happen to find in probably half of the time, This master plan in my mind has come to pass and I might Be free.

One in a million, or so I’ve been feeling. And not for the best. I’m hardly conceited, but part of me has got to ask. One in a million, one with a question, And no where to turn. I fast learn I’m baffled by the answer I’m after. One piece or two ply? Two sheets in what size? Somebody else has to know. Can’t help but feel alone Loose ends all untied, Move left or cut right? Debating on which way to go. Can’t help but feel alone. One in a million, hunting and sifting printed diction For the unknown. It’s thick with the fiction, the legit bits are hard know. One in a million must be a good thing, Unless you’re the one. Desperate and knowing that you might be the only. One piece or two ply? Two sheets in what size? Somebody else has to know. Can’t help but feel alone Loose ends all untied, Move left or cut right? Debating on which way to go. Can’t help but feel alone. These ten million hits that I’m dealing with Have pretty much proved to be futile. Tell me now where do you go If it ain’t on the first page of Google? One in a million must be a good thing, Unless you’re the one. Desperate and knowing that you might be the only.

I stare at the trap under the sink. Smell the air, the pungent of the stink. And reappears, this unrelenting drip. Almost in tears, I’m fed up with this shit. Takes all I have to keep from giving in. Pack up my bag and leaving Michigan. Cause I don’t care no more, but you know that I once did. I can’t bear this chore. New woe that I must fix. How do, how do you do the things you once did? Like pick up the pieces and make them fit. Cause I don’t care no more, but you know that I once did. I don’t care no more, but you know that I once did.

Feel your eyes start to close, Your consciousness wane. Keep your ride on the road And stay in your lane. And try as you may, To try and stay awake. See the signs and ignore Just keep up the pace. Here tonight as I roam, My steps I retrace. Some were wide, some were sloped, Some not even paved. And this I did find How they twist and they wind away. Some were high, some were low, But never were straight. One more mile as I coast, I remember the pain. All this time in the yoke, The hours and days. If you look you will find Almost every time a way. Ten thousand miles in a row And only one more remains.

Start right where you stand, no wrong place, Heads or tails Fork and knife in hand, piece by piece Eat this whale. Look not at the size on the bone, But your plate. Think not of the time spent but How else would you spend your days? Is there any better taste? Wet weather rages, step out your basement and face it. Are you still holding? Don’t be afraid of the rain in your face, just embrace it. Are you still holding? Whatever it takes is the price that you pay for tenacious. Are you still holding? This moment’s your greatest, don’t waste it, run out and chase it. Are you still holding on? This will take so long, so it seems, In the midst. Think of what is done, half a whale. Half still left. Hear the voice of doubt, will this end? One more bowl. Spear your final ounce, now you know The pond is full with modest goals, the impossible. Wet weather rages, step out your basement and face it. Are you still holding? Don’t be afraid of the rain in your face, just embrace it. Are you still holding? Whatever it takes is the price that you pay for tenacious. Are you still holding? This moment’s your greatest, don’t waste it, run out and chase it. Are you still holding on?