Don't be a negaholic-

Sometimes you get thrown out of the mix and you feel responsible for
having to play that game where everyone wants you to catch up and be a
part of some 'inner circle' of gossip and the latest fads. Why do you
bother?

Sometimes getting even, means getting thrown back through the roughest
parts of your life, and experiencing them all over again, just because
you're THAT pissed off at someone. Is it worth it?

Sometimes love can be a burden. It can drag you down, even if you go
kicking and screaming. It's worth it. Have you experienced it yet?

Sometimes getting a phone call at three in the morning can be the most
inspirational moment of your life. Even though you were dead asleep,
and you dreaded answering the phone. Someone close to you needed to
talk, and it made you realize that you were important enough to them
that they assumed you would listen. Were they right?

Sometimes the scars hurt more than the wounds ever could.- Feel it.

Sometimes free-falling is the only correct choice.- Dive.

Sometimes the most irrational explanation can be appreciated because
it took thought and tact.- Savor it.

Sometimes the chance to look back and reminisce about your life and
all of its consistent inconsistencies can be more valuable than never
waking up tomorrow. Open your eyes.

Sometimes we pollute ourselves, and poison the ones we love with hate,
malice, and greed...Only to find that we're condoning the inevitable.
A life of loneliness. A life of what 'could have' or 'should have'
been. Misery enjoys company, but once in a while it finds a window to
crawl out of late at night while you're sleeping, and it feeds you the
illusion of it NEVER existing. I promise.

Sometimes, you never realize that you only have one chance to prove
yourself in life. Whether you believe it or not. The reality is -
you're fucked. Can you accept that? All hypocrites have the most
fanciful dreams and hopes for themselves. The key word...SELF.
Selfish. - sorry, you aren't going to win the lottery. No-one is going
to give you $2 million dollars in cash because you lost someone you
loved and you have that pathetic look on your face. Manifest destiny.

Sometimes money makes the world go round, until it catches on fire,
and we have nothing to sell but ourselves. - Too late. It's already
happened. You'd better run while the time clock is turning. Look busy.
Look important. Yeah, that's it. You're number 1.

Sometimes we say things we don't mean, and mean things we could never
put into words. Maybe you shouldn't talk at all?
Sometimes hoping to get your point across is all you have to live for.
Just like being the "yes" man of every group. Just like shining your
shoes, because you think that someone might notice your chapped lips.
Just like running a marathon with a cigarette in one hand, and a
martini in the other. Like singing a song in a language you don't understand.

Sometimes being a product of your environment, means finding a new one
to grow and evolve into... Even if you desire not to.

Sometimes....

There's all of this love being poured out, but it's just spilling onto
the floor. It's like bright red paint, and you're all watching me make
a mess of the new white carpet. The drinks shake. The guests run out,
and the host drops his mouth open as my poor little heart is emptied
in an "oh no" expression.

Sometimes, I feel like the spectacle of a nightmare.

Sometimes, I just want to wake up.

Sometimes...

I just don't know anymore.



-z-

Once more with feeling...

I am starting this blog entry with a happy, and love-inspired video. Mainly to show you that I am:

A) NOT a pessimistic, whiny bitch

B) NOT a complete cynic

C) NOT unhappy with my life.

To the point:

I am a musician.

A starving artist.

Twenty five years of hoping and praying for a break.

I moved to Ann Arbor, MI with the mentality that the grass is greener here. For quite some time I had been living at home with my Mother and four younger siblings, helping them along and going through a horrible grieving process from the death of my Grandfather. He [my Grandfather] inspired me in so many ways to pursue acting, modeling, photography, and most of all music. When I was gifted my first guitar from him at the age of fifteen. I was beside myself, and quite unsure of what the hell I was supposed to do. I had been playing piano from the age of nine, and didn't have ANY idea what the stringed contraption could do. So, like any ambitious and bullheaded teenager, I taught myself to play it. Breaking in your fingertips to play chords and notes on a guitar for the first time is NOT fun. You get used to it. You get used to your wrist hurting. Getting a cramp in your hand. Having your fingers smell like copper and nickel..

I got used to the whole process of being a guitar player, and writing my own songs to strum along with.

NOW- at this point in my life, in 2011. What I am NOT used to is being told "No". Or- "You can't" and even "we just aren't interested anymore" and my favorite "We cannot afford to continue paying you" Remember the part where I said I am a starving artist? Well, I wasn't fucking around..Since October of 2010 I began hosting an open mic night at a local restaurant in downtown Ann Arbor. For the sake of privacy, and not to name bash, we will call it "Yuppies". I have been hosting, performing, and coordinating a very diverse open mic night at YUPPIES for over a year. I have also been an employee waiting tables, training staff, and bar tending at YUPPIES for three years.

There is a sense of security, and stability at YUPPIES that I haven't felt with other employers. At least, there was... I also host another open mic night at a place called (for privacy sake) YAWNERS. YUPPIES and YAWNERS are owned by the same financing and service company. So of course it was easy for me to get my foot in the door since I knew all of the management. YAWNERS open mic night started in October of 2010. The one year anniversary of the open mic at YUPPIES. I was just told yesterday on the phone that YAWNERS can no longer continue to afford to pay me, or keep me there to host an open mic night.

The entire company that owns YUPPIES, YAWNERS, and other places like YOELLA, and YARMINS... These are fictional names... Is being harassed by licensing and copyright companies.'non profit' BMI- broadcast music inc.http://www.bmi.com/about/?link=navbar  Wants an astronomical fee in order for artists/musicians to perform cover songs at both venues. Not only do they want money for music, but people are not even permitted to DANCE at certain restaurants and bars, because they do not have a DANCE LICENSE. I can understand some of these licensing and zoning issues, but WHAT THE HELL? Are they going to tell me I can't use my left hand when I take a piss too? I was told an exact amount of what they want, and I will tell you it is over $10,000 dollars. When I was given this information, I was astounded, not only at the sheer NUMBER of what they are asking, but the audacity to press for this kind of money, when really no one had a clue that it was illegal in any way to do another artist's music at a live venue. We are not distributing DVDs, Cd's, or making money by copying these artists. Merely taking a song that we love, and giving it our own inspiration.

Michigan has the worst economy in the entire United States, at least it did four years ago According to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan our unemployment rate is still over 11% as of November 2010... When things like this happen, I can only wonder WHY would anyone attack local venues. We are struggling to rebuild our sense of community. We are fighting to keep our heads above the water. Now the only thing holding us back is a license to give music to the masses? ART is FREE. Expression is FREE. Love and laughter for something you enjoy is FREE. Who the fuck has a right to tell me I cannot express myself in song, and do it in a restaurant in front of people? Oh- that's right... BMI. Sorry sir, you can't dance here. It's not allowed.

Quite recently in Detroit, a huge venue called Theater Bizarre (this is the true name) was attacked by the city for local ordinance and zoning laws. Theater Bizarre has been putting on 'one of a kind' shows for YEARS. http://www.mlive.com/news/detroit/index.ssf/2010/10/detroit_shuts_down_theatre_biz.html 

Now someone wants a piece of the cake. So, people complained, made a phone call, harassed a republican, and made it obvious that the city of Detroit has NO RIGHT to put on free shows. Artists have NO RIGHT to be artists without upholding zoning and licensing laws that have never been an issue before. Laws that are so minuscule compared to the people getting held up at gunpoint right down the street from the area. Compared to young women getting raped behind abandoned houses. Compared to Prostitutes coming up to my car and asking me if I want some love tonight... Detroit is dying. Michigan is dying. Ann Arbor is a lucrative college town, but there is no spirit here. People are afraid to really go out and start something that creates a change. When did the music business for local artists become such a monopoly? When did this town become so pretentious?

I travel outside of Michigan quite frequently, and when people ask me about Detroit, they sound afraid. They say that it's dangerous, they say that it's full of crime and murder. Have they been there? NO. So shut the fuck up!! Quit giving my city a bad reputation! If you're in the wrong place at the wrong time in ANY major city, you might get mugged. We have Wayne State University, and so may amazing historic buildings. Casinos. Riverwalks. Festivals. The Tigers! The Damned RED WINGS!! It's like saying to someone from Pittsburgh that all they're good for is men that beat their wives, and kids that kill their parents in the middle of the night... Detroit is full of amazingly talented people. youtube.com/detroitfireguild - Full of circus and sideshow acts galore! Bands and singers like Mike Posner http://www.mikeposner.com/ . There are several painters, poets, and civil rights movement LEGENDS here. Do you think that Rosa Parks would be sitting on her ass letting people tell her what to do with her voice? When did this state become such a crumbling enterprise? What happened to FREE ENTERPRISE?! Are we comfortable being told what to do with our creativity? Are we really that miserable that all it takes is a slap on the wrist, and a threat of being fined by the state to just throw in the towel?

So yes. I am angry. I am outraged.

Being told that something you created can no longer exist is like getting an unwanted abortion.

This is my income.

This is my lifestyle.

I need music to survive.

     YUPPIES and YAWNERS have been quite an experience...

I hope that this blog inspires you to stand up for yourself and what you are passionate about.

Be proud of where you come from and what you are capable of.

The future is yours.

-z-



Dead animals make me hungry

In my Ghetto:

We do not jog.

The Ann Arbor Transit Authority is what really moves the people. To, McDonald's, Burger King, or Kentucky Fried Chicken, Mostly.

We do not say hello to our neighbors.

Instead we call the police on them, while simultaneously yelling at our girlfriend about how she's a "stupid F***ing B****" and "You don't DO IT right anyway!" or "Make me a drink ****". And of course, my absolute favorite, "Why are you messing around with a MARRIED MAN anyway! Get out of my Husband's apartment!" Expletive, noun, verb, unknown origin/insult...

YESTERDAY:

I attempted to start my New Year's Resolution, like so many countless others.

(Except this woman...She seems pretty content, right?)

 Every day I get a text message on my phone that tells me random facts, either about a celebrity birthday, something that happened that day in history, or facts about sports, animals, and random things that no one really gives a shit about half the time - so we decided to read texts about it, share it with our friends, and pretend we're cool. See, like right now, i am going to tell you a FUN FACT:

Only 8% of people with New Year's Resolutions complete them through the month of January. Beyond that only 48% make it to the mid-year point.

So, I've decided that I will not be a statistic, and yesterday I attempted to begin Jogging again.

Now, I live near a very busy intersection on the border of Ann Arbor (home of U of M) and Ypsilanti (home of Crackwhores), so it is difficult for me to really feel healthy. Breathing in exhaust, and running in the road doesn't seem too wise, but I attempted to find a way to do it anyhow and mapped out a backroad that is less congested. It is quite scenic and is exactly 1.5 miles from start to finish. 3 miles is a pretty good start to this "resolution", so I mapped it out on Google, and set out for GLORY.

You know, at first it wasn't so bad! I had a good pace going, there was a chilly breeze, but I was getting my blood pumping. I was feeling really great about myself, I scoffed at some people waiting for the bus as I ran by with my headphones on. I am hot sex. I can run a million miles. I am like Mercury the messenger, only cooler and with baggier clothes on. And less naked. I am a Kenyan. I will run from the tip of Michigan to Alaska in three hours. If I was ressurrected from the grave I would come out of my tomb RUNNING.  "yeah! Heart rate is up! Woot! Wow, it's fucking cold outside....

*running* ugh, my nose is running too"

*runs more* I better look out for traffic                              *looks to the right*                              

*immediately looks down* 

HOLY FUCK MARY ASS CRAP!!!

 *hurdles dead animal remains*                                                    

 *stumbles*

--DRAMATIC PAUSE--

That was sick....

I'm hungry...

Oh look- a dead possum... and then of course, when I ran past the possum, I wasn't sure if it was pretending to be dead, or if it really was... So I cautiously crossed the street while glaring at it in anticipation of a rabid attack. They're vicious you know. I mean- they really know how to put up a fight. Shit, if I was at gun point I would probably drop to the floor and pretend I already died too.

Or, start foaming at the mouth... Either way - I WIN.

Well, by this point,  I had already reached my 1.5 mile marker, so my body was in hunger mode. There were some berries on the ground that looked appetizing, until I realized it was bird shit. So i just kept running. you know, looking back at the whole experience now, and reading what I had encountered... Working out doesn't sound very sexy.

It sounds like a bad scenario where you'll likely get maimed, shot, or mauled in no specific or general order. I should protest Jogging. It's bad for my mental stability. I blame the possum for my post-traumatic stress disorder.

That is all.

Good luck with your New Year's Resolutions.

-z-