One of this morning's msgs got me thinking. It read something like, "awesome music. I don't listen to this kind of stuff, but I appreciate it anyway." To which I replied, "thanks for the listen, I don't listen to this kind of stuff, either, but somehow I still write it. go figure . . ." It's just got me thinking again — where does the music come from? For years, I searched for a way for the darker aspects of my psyche to vent and music seemed the natural, non self-destructive route. I tried for years to write grinding, thrashing, driving beats and distorted guitar songs, call it musical tantrum throwing if you will. But in the end, I would always revert to the violin (mostly b/c I really suck at guitar, and I'm not just being modest). But whenever I was done recording, I would find that what I had written captured not the rage or pain of the memory I was revisiting, but rather, some sort of a cure, or exploration of the moment and a final conflict resolution, albeit an aural one. It's been difficult, if not frustrating, to express emotions with my limited vocabulary and understanding of what I try to say. I usually end up rambling on and going off on tangerines here and there and if I am so fortunate to have been in the company of a true listening ear, I've mostly succeeded in causing them concern as to the state of my mental constitution. And so I continue to write music and hope to capture moments of true expression and heartfelt communication. I guess I'm just feeling ever more grateful to all the people out there who have expressed their appreciation of the end products of my brief musings. Thank you for your help and support, however minor it may seem to you, it fuels the purpose of my writing. But it doesn't mean that I'm going to stop trying to not suck at the guitar. One of these days . . . Happy Holidays, el jefe

First of all, a great big "thank you" to all of the people who have visited my tunes page and have left comments that have made my day. It has been a couple years since I have had the freedom and peace of mind to write like I did and I am glad that all of you can continue to enjoy the music. Thanks for sharing your listening experiences with me. Tomorrow morning I go in for an MRI scan. Doc says there's something maybe wrong with my head. But for those of you who know me, we all knew that already didn't we? :P It'll probably turn out to be nothing, but I really am not looking forward to being stuck in a little tube for who knows how long. Well, maybe I'll be able to come up with some new tunes while I'm in there and I'll be sure to post them if I do. Until later, thanks again and I'm looking forward to getting to know you all and your music a little better in the future. Cheers, El Jefe

I'm just coming off a month-and-a-half writing/playing hiatus. Needed to clear my head of all the same old ideas . . . not to mention my jaw was so messed up from my last dentist visit that I couldn't hold my violin. Feels weird to play again -- it's almost like I had somehow forgotten that I even played the violin. But I guess this downtime has given me a little something to reflect upon regarding my music in general. I have always struggled with what I thought was finding inspiration and confidence when in fact it was coming to terms with the fact that I have a responsibility to do something with the musical ability I've been given. It's a luxury to me to be able to play, but more and more I realize and am told how fortunate I am to be able to do what I do. Not that I've never known this, but foolishly I've given in, more times than I'd like to admit, to the voices in my head from my past and present that have always told me that I'm not "good enough." Whatever that eventually means. Good enough for what? I'm not good enough to play? Good enough to let others hear my music? Or good enough to get a recording contract? F all that, I say. I'm good enough to share what I can. It's that sharing of my expressions that says I am not wasting my talent by posing or trying to be better than everyone else. It's that sharing of my music that says all the things that I find I'm always at a loss for words to say. I mean, I can't even begin to form the thoughts that would make the words describing what I experience every time I get in "the groove." There are no words for the anger, the longing, the bittersweet twinges that happen when I go to that place. And I figure it's the same for lots of people out there, too. I think I'm just one of the lucky ones who has a chance to say SOMETHING, even if it doesn't make sense to everyone. That's just not the point. Anyway, "cut the jibba jabba, foo!" as my grandmother's favorite TV character would say. Back to playing . . .

So this is what everyone means when they say they have vertigo. Boo . . . no fun. Just got back from amazing 2 weeks of firsts for lots of things! Gettin' married, catching my first couple of waves, diving in a coral reef and seeing my first volcano. And . . . also caught my first bout of vertigo. Whew . . . thought it was a minor case of the bends, but apparently the doc says it's not. Feels kind of weird, though -- kind of like I'm still looking at everything through a snorkel mask. Maybe it's time to try writing again and who knows, maybe something a little trippier than usual? jefe out . . . blub, blub, blub . . . .