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.