So You Know...

This is the Sort of Thing that Happens to Me a lot, and Makes Me Grateful to Live Such a Fun Life Around Music:

I intended to call a woman from DiscMakers, the company that will be doing the duplication of my CD, and dialed the wrong number.  A man picked up (named Gus, very nice guy), and I was all flustered and sounding like an idiot because it wasn't who I thought it would be. 

The end result of the misplaced call? A show booked for December! Haha!

Monday, December 13th, 8pm
LIC Bar
45-58 Vernon Blvd.
Long Island City, NY 11101
http://www.licbar.com/

And to think, I tell myself, this is just the start of this life.

The Specialest

There's always so much I want to tell you
But I can't -
That would seem overbearing
Make a normal person say "whoa. ok-ok-ok-ok!"
So if I could, for once
Share absolutely everything with you
That I want to
It would be something like this:
Yesterday I felt life as a full-time musician
And it was incredible.
I spoke at NYU
And the students really cared what I said
They were receptive to me
And to my music
I held my own on the stage with some people
I really really really
Really really really
Respect.
It was beautiful, hot, and windy out
Muggy for a change
And I sat in Washington Square park with Karly
And we rehearsed for the show that's tomorrow
Oh! I wish you could somehow come to my show
There's so many of my own songs I want you to hear
Oh! I also booked my CD Release Party
It's going to be November, on the 12th, a Friday
And I know that you normally work then
But I'd be completely blown away if you might think
To come visit for it
So, rehearsing in the park was great
With Karly
We played "Jolene", the song by Dolly Parton
Do you like her?
I think she's amazing.
And Karly sounds so good on it.
It took me awhile, but I figured out a good harmony for me to sing
And we'll play it tomorrow
I do wish, again, that you could hear this show.
My friend Nathan is going to play saxophone on 3-4 songs
He's just amazing - he and is wife -
They are in Barnaby Bright
Music that moves me, spiritually,
Literally.
You must hear them!
And, my friend Lissa is playing songs with me, too
And our "signature" song together
Is "Going Back"
The song I wrote about my parents separating.
She is great!
So anyways, after the park I went to see my friend Blair play
At the Living Room
Hey - that's where my CD Release Party is!
November 12!
She asked me to sing some songs with her,
One I did was from her record, where I recorded background vocals
The other was Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes"
I thought I slayed it, my voice was all warmed up.
After that, I went up to Prohibition to play
And it was fun
I met a guy from Buffalo, Ryan Doyle,
Who is friends with some other musicians I know
Good, talented guy - he played cajon with me.
I got home late, and thought of how you were doing
School going well?
Work not too bad?
I can't wait to get upstate to play this weekend in Rochester
See some friends
See my Mom
Wish you could meet my Mom
She's a special woman
The Specialest
A new word I made up.
But the overwhelming theme of all this
Is that life as a living, working musician
Is amazing
And palpable
And exciting
And terrifying
I've learned that whatever I'm scared of
I need to do
Because that means it's important to me
And I'm scared of working full-time
On my craft
And on me.
So, there really is so much I want to share with you
-and this was just one day of stuff!
I wish you could see all the cool and interesting things
I get to see and do almost every day
But this sort of rambling is way too intense
For a normal someone to really digest
And think appropriate
So instead I say:

"Hey I know you're sleeping.  Just getting home from a gig and was thinking of you.  Hope all is well, talk to you tomorrow."

Babe, can hear me now?

There is a town in north Ontario,
With dreams, comfort, memory to spare
And in my mind
I still need a place to go,
All my changes were there.

Blue, blue windows behind the stars,
Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the sky,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Leave us

Helpless, helpless, helpless
Baby can you hear me now?
The chains are locked
and tied across the door,
Baby, sing with me somehow.

Blue, blue windows behind the stars,
Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the sky,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Leave us

Helpless, helpless, helpless.
-Neil Young

Some Live Music for your Tuesday...

To Wallow

wal·low/ˈwälō/

Verb: (chiefly of large mammals) Roll about or lie relaxed in mud or water, esp. to keep cool, avoid biting insects, or spread scent.


I will feel worthy in 10 months
Of whomever I want
And my real self
That is more than deserving
Will be able to have
Who I want

Because of my insecurity
Of my outward appearance
I try too hard
And put women off
It's literally me saying through actions
"LOOK! I KNOW I LOOK LIKE THIS
BUT I'M A GREAT GUY!
I CAN DO ALL THIS STUFF
THAT SHOWS YOU
CAN YOU BEAR WITH ME A SHORT TIME!
I'LL LOOK BETTER SOON!"

So I wallow
As a Large Mammal
In this thick Mud
Keeping cool from the Indian Summer Nights
Feeling like I always punch in a Higher "Weight Class" of women
Than I really deserve
Which is ironic
Given me being the big one,
She the small one.

I wallow
To avoid being bit
Because putting myself out there is so time consuming
So intense
And most often, foolish.
Why would I ever think I could have her?

31 days

I've been on this earth for quite literally 326 months.

I started out weighing 11 pounds at my birth, and at my largest was almost 32 times larger than that.

August 19th, 2010 will forever be a crucial day in my life. 

It's the day I read about a Philadelphia Eagles player who had laparoscopic gastric band surgery, lost about 100 pounds, and is now in the best playing shape of his life.  It's the day I walked by a darkened office at my job, in passing, and saw my reflection in the dimmed glass wall.  I turned, and looking myself up and down. And I thought, "I don't want to be like this anymore."

And I resolved to change.

So here I am, one month and one day since that day, and am now 10 pounds lighter, with absolutely no signs of slowing down. 

My goal is to have lost 100 pounds by May 31st, 2011.  Which happens to be Memorial Day, and my sister Elicia's birthday.  So, on that day I honor not only my sister, but my grandfathers and uncles who served America.  And hopefully, I will celebrate the new and improved me:

-The Me that is always on-going, and always going to battle obesity.  I feel that even if I were not obese, that I would always "feel" obese, because it's something I will always battle.  But it's a battle I can win.  And one that I resolve to win.

-The Me that will have shrunk about 7 inches of waist, 2 shirt sizes, and who knows how many inches in my chest, torso, and face.

I am 10% there to my goal.  I have lost 10 pounds since beginning on August 19th.

DESPITE my deviances from two weekends ago, and my frustration over having to calorie count each and every thing on my phone this weekend, I still achieved results.  And I will continue to have a great day today. 

On my way to the Nutritionist today, I had the usual "this is stupid, why are you trying to lose weight" kind of thoughts from my Irrational Mind.  It always tries to show that progress is so slow and so unrecognizable, and therefore not worth it.  I actually muttered this out loud to myself, walking down the street:

"Fuck you.  No, fuck you.  Now, come on!  You work too hard, John! You deserve to be thin, and you will be thin!  Now come on, let's go already!"

It was the tough love, challenging, yet sensitive way of instructing that I often do with others.  And it really motivated me.

I responded to myself, "I know, I know."  A man walked by and looked at me strange, hearing my talk to myself.

Looking for that Room

This is the busiest I've ever been in my entire life.  I play in the following groups/variations:

John Schmitt (solo, original music)
John Schmitt (solo, cover songs)
John Schmitt duo (w/ percussion, either Ryan Vaughn, Craig Meyer, or Andy Mac; cover songs)
John Schmitt trio (w/bass and full drums [rotating group of musicians]; cover songs)
The Foggy Dudes (duo/trio with Brandon Warren and sometimes Scott Tofte; Celtic Folk/Rock)
The Bay Ridge All-Stars (6-piece Motown/Party Band; cover songs)

I play regular gigs each month at the following places:

Prohibition (upper west side)
Caffe Vivaldi (village)
Wicked Willy's (village)
Slane Pub (village)
The Red Lion (village)
PJ Harper's (Valley Stream, Long Island)
Pipin's Pub (Bay Ridge, Brooklyn)
The Back Fence (village)
The Snooty Pig (Corning, NY)

These monthly shows are in addition to any original music shows I might have at a variety of local venues in New York and upstate or in Philadelphia.

On top of all that, I work 40 hours a week at a cancer hospital, from 9-5pm everyday.  I am in charge of Workers' Compensation for the hospital, and I have a variety of other responsibilities.

I am several thousand dollars in debt, and everything I earn goes towards bills or towards paying for my album.  I have no savings or cash-in-hand.

My bass player of over 6 years, with whom I have always played here in New York, has just quit my band.  He never seemed that into my music to begin with, but he did play on my record that will be out soon.  I must now teach all my songs to someone new.  I no longer have the luxury of having my "own" bass player for an original gig, and will rely on the very capable, yet very busy, bass players in the "scene" here in New York.

When I think of the debt, the 3-hour-a-clip shows that I have to play, and the thought of not only releasing this album, and having the money to do it, but also promoting, mailing, and touring, my head hurts.  Add in teaching someone new my songs who I can rely on, promoting and trying to grow and cultivate a NYC audience, and my current quest to lose a mountain of my own weight, and I'm reeling. 

Oh, please don't forget things like my 40-hour a week day job.  And things that are really, really important to me like my family, and my close friends.  You know, the stuff that does matter.

This is a giant pity party, yes, but for once I'm putting everything down that's going on.  And I haven't even mentioned my search for a woman to share my life with.  Is there really even room for that?

I'm not asking for anyone's pity though.  The point I'm trying to make is that in my darkest hour, in my most confused moment, in the space between what I want and what I need, I will be okay.  I will sing. 

In my confusion and crumbling confidence in my own ability to sing and write music, I turn the TV off that is my brain: two sides quabbling back and forth like a news channel, and I sing.  Something familiar.  Something I know will sound right.

I'm struggling, and I really mean that.  It's a struggle.  With my diet completely under control though, it's gotten a bit easier.  But money....sigh....it's just the worst.  If I had $7,000, I would be mailing you all an album in 3 weeks.  If I had that, I'd begin the massive embarking on my music career, and not look back. 

Instead, it's $300 here, and $500 there.  It's traveling 5 hours each way to make $80 after paying for gas and tolls, and then going to work the next day.  It's relying on less and less sleep, not because you just can't sleep, but that the mental constructions you've made tell you that you are wasting valuable time by trying to get a good 8 hours in.  It's feeling anxious and guilty when sleeping in past 8am or 9am, and then not feeling motivated to do work.  It's never feeling that I can have what I want, yet I still pursue it.  It's feeling like a fool when I don't get it.  It's maintaining relationships, appearances, and delving into a scene where everyone else gets to sleep in after a really late night.  Or sleep at least until 8 or 9am.  And you're halfway to work or working by then.  It's knowing that in a room full of complete strangers, I could move them, could compel them to think, make them laugh, and warm them to me through my singing, playing, and writing.  But it's constantly looking for that room, and then constantly thinking it doesn't exist.  And fighting between those two sides of me, who are bitterly opposed to one another.

I don't want your pity, and understand that my life does not suck.  I do and see things that almost no one else has done or seen, and I could never be accused of wasting my life away.  I'm getting after it.  I have goals in mind.  It's a total grind though.  It's a struggle to believe, and to keep going. 

So, tonight is a show with the Bay Ridge All-Stars, tomorrow with the Foggy Dudes, and Sunday it's John Schmitt solo (covers).  That's my weekend, beautiful because I can play music, but also unrelenting.  And work awaits me Monday morning, as she always does.  Hope you get to relax, at least!

Back to 1600 or less

Update:

Back to it, as of Sunday morning.  Currently back to it as well.  Still disgusted at my choices from Saturday, but I'm moving forward. 

To the woman fighting house and home
You must endure.
And to the people around her
I beg of you to listen.

It's So Easy to Stray.

On Saturday, I ate:

Whole Grain Oatmeal, topped with fat free strawberry yogurt, strawberries, and blueberries. 
Then, large Powerade Zero.

And, urgh, here we go:

Sliced Steak Sandwich, topped with mozzarella cheese, peppers and onions
Banana
Hot Dog and Bun
Corned Beef and Cabbage Sandwich
1 pitcher of beer

THEN:
6 more drinks, causing a good buzz, leading to:

10 Buffalo Chicken Wings
Bleu Cheese Dressing
3 slices of Pizza

I did some of the math, and it was about 4,000 calories for the day.  I'm pretty much ashamed of myself.

No excuses, no matter what or why.

I am writing this as a personal note to myself, on how easy that was to do and to stray, and how it affected your digestion, sleep, dreams, and your recovery the next day.  YOU WORK TOO HARD FOR THIS CRAP.  Pun intended.

Back to the straight and narrow today, and also tomorrow.  You will succeed.

Lucky Number ____

I was running late, a product of taking a leisurely stroll to the subway, and having to stop to take money out of the bank.  But nonetheless, I didn't think I'd get there by 5:45.  It was a beautiful, beautiful fall day, and stepping out into Union Square was like seeing New York City for the first time: the bustle, the car horns, the street performers, the merchants, the students, the cell phones, the brisk walking - the people.  The sheer volume of people.  When you get to the top of the stairs at Union Square, you always need have a beat to adjust, assess where you need to go, and then take that initial step forward onto the park stone.  I was headed down University Place, to 11th Street, and making a right, and straight on until morning.  Not really, but until I saw the recessed apartment complex I visited two weeks prior.

I just wasn't sure what avenue it was near, and thought the walk there had been noticeably long the first time, so I was prepared to go all the way to 8th Ave., almost 5 avenues down, if need be.  I had music blasting, and the leisurely stroll was so nice except for me forgetting to change out of my very uncomfortable dress shoes I wear in the office.  I always wear sneakers to work, and then home.  In my satchel lay two very important documents, one in particular I was proud and anxious about, almost praying that it would turn out to be what I had hoped.

The other settled a dispute, ensuring I could arrive and make my appointment without issue.  It was critical, and I knew I was correct about it.

I pass Jack's, a restaurant my friend Alicia works at, and I look for her in the mirror.  I already knew she was not there, as she is only there on Sundays, but force of habit I guess.  A bald man was behind the bar.

Alicia, like so so many other people, have been enormously supportive and vocal about their support for my new initiative.  She has coached me up, just like tens of others, and has helped me remain focused.  She's a good friend, and a very entertaining bartender.

So, I digress, I pass Jack's on my right, which means I've hit 11th St., and it's time to make that right.  I'm now going eastbound towards my appointment.  I pass 5th Ave., and there's a church on the corner, but I don't look to see the name, and keep going.  A woman passes me with her massive dog, looking like parts pit bull and parts greyhound.  I turn my music off, and then look up, and oh! I'm here.  Great.  Right on time, too.

I go into a brightly lit, white walled room, with no windows, and Ms. Podel greets me.  She is tall for a woman, red hair, and in great shape.  She has kind eyes, nice glasses, and always very well put together.  He office is cluttered but I get the sense she knows where everything is in case she needs it. 

She has the US Open Tennis match on her computer playing when I enter, and she congratulates me on settling the dispute about my appointment.  It's stupid health insurance, I tell her, and I had the Summary Plan Document in my satchel, along with assurances from my work's account representative, to make sure our visit would not be denied again.

I am eager, I tell her, to know where I stand.  I've been fighting for weeks now, day-in and day-out, knowing that I am making progress, but my irrational mind refuses to let me enjoy it.  Up until now, I have had no defense for the demons who chided me at every turn, telling me it was all useless.  I knew I needed to see marked improvement to truly be able to fend them off.  And so I speak up.

"I really need to know how much I've lost."

Without missing a beat, Ms. Podel says: "Then let's get you up on that scale."

"Right now?"

"Right now, come on."

There are two scales at her office.  The first, a metal, very futuristic one, that measures much more than weight: % fat, % muscle, BMI, blood pressure, and so on.  I had stepped on this scale two weeks prior, only to have it return a reading of "ERROR".  We tried several times, until we realized that I was too heavy for it.  It only went to a certain weight.  I would need to step on the black scale.

Well today, Ms. Podel placed me again on the black scale, and as I turned away from her, facing the wall, I winced as I knew the number was coming up.  All the sacrifices of the last 14 days! All the good, thoughtful decisions! All the monitoring of exactly what is going into my body! All the walking! All the disgust looking into a mirror! All the energy I now felt from my new lifestyle! All the blog posts and facebook posts and tweets! All the reassurances and well-wishes and support! All the mental battles to forget 27 years of morbid obesity and focus on 14 days on the straightened path! It was all coming down to this moment!  I could do nothing else but brace for impact...

"Seven pounds.  Great job, John."

"Really? Okay great."

And with that, a RUSH of information floods into my brain.  That foe that stood next to my "real" me inside my head - the irrational mind, the little boy - whatever you want to call him, got his first dose of cold, hard, evidence.  PROOF.  This works!  This really does work.  And I have began the fundamental change towards a life of health, moderation, and harmony.  And you cannot, absolutely cannot, deter me anymore.  I've done it! I've jumped off the cliff into an unknown, with tremendous anxiety, and realized that the landing is soft, it is comfortable, it is all life. 

My appointment continued, and I showed her the other document in my satchel - my food journal.  I received praise and lots of recommendations for how to improve it.  It was all-in-all a tremendous experience.

I left energized, and feeling like I could walk for miles and miles.  As I bounded down 11th street back towards Union Square, I had a side-moment with myself, something I do quite often with others.  One of those after-the-smoke-clears, "you know, that was really awesome" kind of moments.  But with myself.  And the number 7 flashed in my head, and I thought of what 7 pounds really feels like to pick up.  And how it represented 7% of where I hoped to journey towards.  And in two weeks, I had done so much, have not felt hungry, ate heartily and fully, and have succeeded.  And there is only more to come, because the train does not stop.  It never stops. And without my trying, my body produced a grin.  A wide-eyed, toothpaste-commercial kind of grin.

One more thing: as I sat in my appointment, and we were about to part ways, Ms. Podel and I booked another appointment for the first week of October.  It would be 4 weeks from now, and she felt that would be a great amount of time to see some improvement.  "Just think, John, the next time you're here, you can use the silver scale."  I right then willed it to be my goal.

I.M.T.O.D. (Irrational Mind Thought of The Day)

Here's my Irrational Mind's thought of the day: 

"All the work you've put in to be healthier, with the food choices, the calorie counting, and the portion limiting; the thousands of calories you've removed and replaced in your diet...and what has it gotten you?  Probably about 4-5 pounds off.  That's all, John."

You see, I've been at this now for a little over two weeks (15 days to be exact), and noticed that clothing is looser than it was before, and that my belt is tighter, and that I'm sleeping better, that my digestion system is much smoother, and I'm trying more diverse foods.  And I've lost weight!  BUT, my little boy inside me wants to discount all that, and show me the futility of all this "work" as only amounting to a 4-5 pound weight loss.  I'm hearing how this kind of change is too all-encompassing, too drastic, and that at various points in my life recently, I've even openly remarked that I was "fine" with being a "big guy."  "So just be 'fine' with it, John!  This is absurd.  You really don't like baby carrots.  They sometimes taste like dirt."

So, I am reminded of my beginning declaration that stated:

"I can only control what I do today, not yesterday, and not tomorrow, and not 6 months from now. And today, I will make the decisions necessary to choose health and life. I will have a good day today."

And so, Little Boy inside me - that disregards logic, hard work, effort, and wants to fulfill the primal urge - sit down, shut up, and finish your lima beans, because this train cannot stop, and must not stop. 

So I turn inward.  And I will have a good rest of the day today.  And play two good shows tonight.  I'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.  And whatever progress I've made is worthwhile, and only helps reinforce the present, and future.  It is not to be compared with the distant past.

Exerpt from an old post: "A Season of My Faith's Perfection"

A season of Faith's perfection. When the Warm Light unites us all, And we cannot put it out.  When my friends band together In this fucking intense New York City, Hold one another, Cry with one another, Drink with one another, Shout and fight with one another, And grow with one another.  We are a different breed: the Intelligentsia of Greenwich Village, & You, Intelligentsia of the Lower East Side, & You, Intelligentsia of Park Slope, & You, Intelligentsia of Williamsburg.  We are all a breed unlike no other: One-stop-Shops, Artists, Entrepreneurs, Businessmen, Businesswomen, Lawyers, Engineers, Producers, Consumers, Advocates, Lovers, Fighters, Soldiers, Friends.  The circles of musicians Eventually meld into One. 

We all believe...we believe That time and effort Spirals us forward Into Progress.

Liberty Cabbage - Rufus Wainwright

Sometimes I think You're trying to kill me

with your stars and stripes
and sometimes, sometimes your Liberty Cabbage goes dry
but still your arms are strong
your blood runs furies inside me.

Cities of gold, mountains of purple,
Hot dogs and hamburgers eaten on your laps,
While you sit and watch them kill me with their stars and stripes
and sometimes, sometimes your liberty cabbage goes dry

but tears do flow from those eyes blue as the pacific
your table cloths checkered as chessboards
And your smile is wider than the Continental Drift
But why do you,
Why do you sit and let them stone my friends and loved ones?

Sometimes I think you're trying to kill me
with your stars and strips
and sometimes, sometimes I think you might succeed