Then the week flew by: Labor Day day off play date first day of school private event band showcase second day of school weekend.  Whaaa..?

Here I am, home for a week, and still floating between my many lives: rock-star-for-hire, father/husband, local working musician, house keeper, citizen of New York City.  I'm rushing to finish the upcoming CD of my music from the top-rated comedy podcast in the nation, contending with as-yet-unfulfilled orders for the recently-released Hay Jude disc, and Google-mapping directions to tomorrow's house party in MT Kisco, NY with Godfrey and the boys (hot & fresh off a summer of touring).  All the while, I'm doing my best to maintain a happy home for my ladies.  And for the record, I will be memorializing the 3,000 souls who left this earth 10 years ago in my own quiet way: living peacefully on Sunday, spending time with my most precious loved ones, and TURNING THE TELEVISION OFF.

I apologize if it has taken me too long to send you your Hay Jude disc, or if too much time has passed between blogs/videos/Beatles reviews/email blasts/etc.  Life keeps happening, and it will not wait for me to edit tour videos or update a website.  Fortunately, I have a small-but-dedicated audience of people who know that Life comes first for me, and I don't take any of you for granted!  

I need an intern.  And a vacation.  

Be well

JM

I've never believed in end times, apocalyptic prophecies, or any of that nonsense, and I still don't.  But after 3 weeks on the road and bus-induced sleep deprivation, Mother Nature's bitch-slapping of NYC had me confronting and challenging my own iron-clad belief systems.  And it was terrifying.  (First an earthquake, now a hurricane.  WTF?)  

Despite all appearances, I was a nervous wreck for a few days.  I started to wonder if I'd actually be spending the end times on a tour bus going thru Kentucky, Illinois and South Dakota.  Panic and dread were making it hard for me to focus.  Onstage I felt like I was phoning my performances in; backstage I was avoiding people because I had nothing to say and couldn't make eye contact with anyone.  I was nervous, restless, pacing around the venue, constantly moving as if I were trying to get away from myself (which I was).     

Mindful living is knowing that we can decide how we react to our experiences.  That's why lukewarm cups of bitter-tasting coffee don't get tossed across the catering room in disgust.  That's why I didn't kick the speakers in when the bass amp crapped out 2 nights ago during soundcheck.  I was keeping it together and behaving rationally, but my anxiety and frustration were still simmering under the surface.  

But last night, I put an end to it.  Nervous, edgy, anti-social…that's not me.  That's not who I am.  Tensing every muscle in my body, in an effort to suppress uncontrollable sobbing fits, doesn't help anyone.  My job right now is to be a calm, reassuring voice on the phone to my family, and then get my ass onstage and rock out.  And that's what I did last night, with the help of my awesome band mates and our tough-as-nails crew.  

I took a deep breath and made the decision to let go of my fear and panic, and act from a place of strength and calm instead.  I hit the stage and let the music wash over me and rejuvenate me, as I have my entire life.  Last night's show in Aurora, IL rocked harder than ever to the sellout crowd, and we all knew it.  The post-gig vibe on the bus was jubilant, as it can only be after a kick-ass, sold-out show.  We all deserved the credit, but I was relieved because I was back, baby.     

Of course I'm concerned for the well-being of my loved ones, and for the well-being of my city.  But my loved ones are doing everything right, and they've got it under control.  My dad is at my place, taking the air conditioners out of the windows.  Jill is strong, smart, and cool under pressure.  Our apartment is in a brick pre-war building, and it's stocked with groceries, flashlights and batteries.  My family is handling their circumstances calmly and efficiently.  I should be doing the same thing.  

I'm incredibly fortunate to do this job, and I'm living the dream.  I'm also a fragile human being sometimes, and occasionally anxiety gets the better of me.  I'm not afraid to admit this, but I'm also not afraid of facing it down and defeating it before it stops me in my tracks.  I also can't always do it alone; I'd like to take this moment to thank Steve Murphy, Toni Freeman Greene, Ian Williams, Mark Volman, and Barron Melton for their calming words of reassurance when I needed to hear them the most.    

Be strong, New York.  Don't be scared, but don't be stupid either.  This, too, shall pass.  

Be well

JM