May 2012
Me trying to think of what a polar bear was called: Water bear? White bear? Ice bear?
"Welcome to the Wild West"
So. The last time I blogged I apparently accidentally quit music. I can only imagine I must be poor at expressing myself considering how easily people misunderstood me. Somewhere around the time my mom called me to check if I were okay I figured I was in way over my head/totally sucked at venting.
This time I’ll try to be brief and see how that works:
1) I won’t ever quit music, I just may not release some of my own for a little bit.
2) Sometimes I’m just taken aback at how cruel people can be because deep down I’m just some naive/affable suburban middle American wuss.
3) I’m very grateful to all the people who support(ed) Folie A Deux and Soul Punk.
4) I felt I owed it to those people to let them know I wouldn’t be able to tour as much as I (and hopefully they) had wanted.
5) I guess I got carried away with the sarcasm and hyperbole in trying to say that.
I’m not depressed. I’m super embarrassed/humbled by all the compliments/heartfelt support I’ve gotten in response to my blog. No worries: Things are rad by me. I’m still writing and working with other musicians. Really focusing on being more of a co-writer than a producer. The best stuff is when I feel like I’ve sort of tricked the other writer into writing a really good song on their own. It’s really rewarding to watch somebody inspire themselves.
I’m kind of amassing non-musical hobbies for the first time in my life: Collecting Silver Age X-men, learning how to taste whisk(e)y like some sophisticate (started with mostly Irish but learning a lot about Scotch, some good Japanese ones, and a bit of Bourbon…BTW drink responsibly or something), and taking acting classes (note that the latter is in the hobby category of my life…I don’t expect much more from it than to have some fun and holy smokes I am).
-p.stump
P.S. Dear Cracked.com: Sorry I threw you under the bus…I meant I’m cool with being teased by people who elevate it to an art form…was far more honored than offended.
so relieved.
gather by rose mclarney
Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.
Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.
You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are apples.
