One of those mixes, you know those kind of old-timey jazz vocal mixes, that makes you think everyone in the world grew up wanting to be Chet Baker, or at least a version of Chet Baker that lived. You know that piano jazz trio with vocals sound so popular at brunch spots in white neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Don’t get it twisted. The music is more than solid. It’s a vibe. It’s just moody enough to be perfect for a chilly autumn morning. For this chilly autumn morning. It’s just right.

I’m not familiar with any of the people on this tracklist but that’s probably just as well. It would just open up rabbit holes that would keep me preoccupied until some point in January. Here it is though:

00:01] Forrest Nolan – Sinatra [02:39] Laufey – Like the Movies [05:23] Anthony Lazaro, Sarah Kang – Time Traveling [08:34] Mac Ayres – she just wanna see me right now [10:38] Laufey – Best Friend [13:24] Bruno Major – Regent’s Park [16:23] Ardhito Pramono – fake optics [19:46] Eloise – You, Dear [22:55] Jeff Bernat – My Dear [27:00] Bruno Major – Second Time [29:37] Cody Fry – Falling in Love [33:31] Ardhito Pramono – Plaza Avenue [37:39] Bruno Major – Fair-Weather Friend [40:45] Gabe Bondoc – The Weight [44:09] Mac Ayres – Alone With You

Not a familiar name among them, but that’s okay No reason why any would stand out to me. It’s a big world and this isn’t my normal fare. You know that if you’ve been following on at home.

I started journaling a couple months ago. It’s what I did before the advent of blogs on the web and I’ve been going at it pretty faithfully every morning. It’s dull. It’s mostly recovery stuff and records of my crushing insecurities. I had thought perhaps it would come to more, perhaps something creative. I’d even considered poetry but then remembered I’d never ever written poetry except maybe to get laid or so someone or another would pay attention to me. Why not be honest with this stuff? Does anyone write poetry because they like to write poetry? Wow, that comes off as so cynical and judgmental but we’re going to stick with it. No backspacing. No editing. Editing is for punks and who reads this anyway?

There hasn’t been any poetry though. Not yet. It could still happen. You never know when I might want to get someone’s attention and impress someone, like hey what are you doing, oh nothing just working on a new poem because I do that when I have really strong feelings.

God, I’m so sensitive and arty. The life of every party. I have feelings. Oh I have feelings and I’m having feelings right now. Love me. Comfort me. Hold onto my great big feelings and hope those feelings turn towards you because everyone needs those great big feelings. Everyone is looking for that big love.

Sorry, some wartime cynicism. Some in-between battles skepticism. One day the war will be over and flowers will grow here because the ground has been so well fertilized with this bullshit.

Anyway.

So far these journals have been musings on daily readings, and a chronicle of my insecurities and fears.

Right here though is about music.