Hey, I was worried that while I was in the mental ward and my hotmail was erased again, that you wrote over there and I missed your response.

I don't know about life anymore to give advice anymore, for life is weird now,

fucken symbolism gets so deep and it engages the fabric of my entire past with a godfather that starts the trip and ends the trip, and he doesn't even ever say a word to me this man.

No man who ever cared about his life ever threw it away.

He taught me the secret to destroy myself, the first brick the tip of the pyramid, and when I wanted to own the Bowery I made the transition.

I have been in the bowels of the Intrepid air carrier with him on a photo shoot, and tonight, I went into the task of fucking myself up with gusto because he sent the signal to me along time ago. My future, my career, my destiny, my purpose on this planet was coerced out of me. No man that wants to be something like me could ever make it on desire. Desire has nothing to do with it. We do what we can and no more. In fact last night, after I was so carefully put together after ten years in hell, and then seasons lying on my back, and then I just broke free again and I took this man and I tried to destroy it just because I don't want anything. I don't even want what is coming to me, and then I went with my desire for me as an animal being, again later in the day, with little assistence I willfully destructed my body again in spite of every fucking little sign in my life to make me, and then I paid the price, I was walking wounded when I saw you with your girl, I couldn't even raise my left hand to wave, my heart was done, and then, again, when the godfather sign came and the Yankee game was over, I willed my being to face death through sex again, because my brother fufilled a premonition that had been hinting at me all day, and I went with my intuition, and I didn't put my ear to the radio waves, I chose oblivion for the third time, when prudence would have laid down, instead I attacked my heart and when the train horn came after it was all over, the architecture of the neighborhood called me outside and I saw lightning in a cloudless sky twice, and I knew I was Thor. I smoked a cigarette righty and lefty to anchor the experience when anyone else would have laid down and died, and I faced east and stared at the skyline and my iris opened and closed and opened and closed to the maximum, and all the lights integrated, all the colors, and this whole charade made my bloodline real, which is why life is fake, and hell hellps. I walked by a bench with peacocks on the back of it in caste iron and I remembered my mother telling me about some sect that worshipped peacocks, and I disrobed an pressed my naked back into the peacocks and it made a shiver that brought back the one thing that was missing, that I was a flower fat with rain and then the dew descended and dropped a petal to the naked grass that couldn't take anymore moisture, and i was that flower that Kerouak stared at reaching enlightenment in Dharma Bums. I was an organism cocky and yet all the way through deceived betrayed, but loving beguiling trusting this time around because I was lead by the nose all the way back from an early grave so many would have sunk into, but not me because life wants me one more day, and i will rise for it, like blood that likes boiling and knows no other way.

Beautyrock Records wrote:

Coach-

I have been chewing on this for quite some time. I really appreciate your critique.

The CD wears a lot of cologne, indeed. Way too much. On purpose. Major themes are self-obsession and trying way too hard. A lot of it is tounge-in-cheek, designed to break down inhibitions and allow us to laugh at ourselves.

That being said, I agree with pretty much everything you said. Very cool insights.

Pete

David Vaccaro wrote:

Very great guitar, you do have a smooth voice, musical as always on the street but it is syrupy on the CD. I think the voice can even be improved with a tweaking of an equalizer. I don't think you are aware of the harmonics of your voice.

The desert island thing was pure poetry, I was thinking about compying the lyrics and putting it on like my date site profile, that is what it is like, especially the ones that investigate the deserted cities of the heart.

The cockiness I guess has to be done, but you gotta a girlfriend, so, I don't think you have to put yourself out there as a sex symbol, but i know you, you got moves on the court, in fact you were pretty unstoppable, you had to be defended. So you got some transference of ability through the expression of manhood spectrum.

I am impressed. I always liked you man, but at times your cologne was too strong on the CD, if you know what I mean, because, man as cool as you are, you ain't Barry White. Just the pure musical abilty you have alone should be the driving force, I think the thing about machismo is that it needs no cologne. You have all the ability in the world, but the musci buisness liek I wsa describing you on that day is more complicated than it appears. The twisted metaphor for the anti-demonization of mankind is something only the ones who make it understand the rules of. Actually I was thinking about writing a poem about the music lyric rules, these past two days, I might as well, while I have the whole rule structure in my head.

Dave Vaccaro