My Life, Through Music, Completely Enveloped in Love

Hi Ann,

I have some more time to write today.  What a crazy busy weekend I had, playing 5 shows in 4 days, and going from Maine to Northwestern PA and back to NYC.

Have you ever been to Portland? It's one of my favorite places to visit.  It still has the character of an old port city, with the cobblestone streets and little corner pubs.  A bit of culture has been injected into it all, and there's great restaurants, live music venues, and a thriving arts scene.  There's a fogginess to the city that reminds me of England, and I think that's what so alluding. 

I have been fighting an inner ear infection for about a week now, which has been plugged since I woke up one morning.  It is no longer painful, as I've been taking antibiotics, but it is frustrating.  The worst was on Saturday, when it seemed to spread to my throat, and every time I swallowed, it felt like I was being stabbed.  Luckily, it was gone by Sunday, when I had two shows to do.

It's funny, it seemed the more I sang, the less my throat hurt!  I was worried that my first-ever performance at The Living Room would be overshadowed by my being sick, but it ended up going amazingly well.  One of my favorite songwriters here in New York, a group called Barnaby Bright (I played you their songs at my apartment), were in attendance, and had yet to hear me play.  They had really nice things to say after the performance, and kept going on about it, so I felt really great. 

On top of that, I was able to book 4 gigs in the Greenwich Village area for me to play my original music, at Caffe Vivaldi and Think Coffee, two places I love to play at, and are all ages.  I'll let you know the dates, and think it would be great if Julia were available any of the days to play a set before or after me.

My music seems to be getting more and more simple.  I find I enjoy playing the contemplative stuff, the more gut-wrenching, to small rooms that pay attention.  I love to sing, and to sing out, but to me, I go to this place unlike no other when I do something very reserved - I think people can see a certain vulnerability in what I'm doing, and they can relate.

I had an idea to do a "Portrait Show" - where I play the songs in a way that chronicles who I am as a person, along with select readings from my blog/writings.  I know that not too many people would be interested in such a thing, but I want to start telling my stories more.  I think if I work hard on it, it can be more universal and less "selfish."  But unlike most of the writers I know, I live or have lived what I write, and there is no division over who I am and what I sing about.  So, my thought is, if I can show this union in a more concrete way, it could bring people in that much more.  Just an idea.

Also, I think I have a new Takeaway.

"It was Sunday morning, and I was driving south from Lewisburg, PA to Harrisburg to meet my two friends, now married, for breakfast.  The previous day had been full of driving and getting stuck in traffic, over 3 hours of traffic, and my patience had run thin before my show at Bucknell University in Lewisburg. I was getting sick, my ear plugged, and I was coming down with an intensely sore throat.  The show was successful in that I played well, and those students who were there enjoyed themselves, but it was not an overly attentive audience or a large one to boot.  I had sang for the first time in a long time so aerobically that my lungs ached, a feeling I missed and recognized as a full effort. 

The road that I was driving on snaked along the Susquehanna River, and the traffic was almost non-existent.  I had driven the road in the pitch dark the night before, racing to make my show on-time, in the rain.  Sunday was brilliantly sunny, with only feathery clouds making up the sky otherwise very blue.  Pennsylvania still had not awoken for the Spring yet, and trees sat bare along the river, waiting for the warmer weather.  It was unseasonably cool, just 35 degrees or so.

The night before I met my friends for dinner before my show, driving the extra 90 miles or so to get to see them.  It was a reunion of sorts, but also a lot of holding, hugging, and making plans.  My friend and I would begin to do some business together playing weddings and functions, as he is a talented audio engineer, and more importantly, family to me.  He and his wife would make time to visit me in Brooklyn, and he and I would make time to share more golf outings.  It became very urgent all of a sudden to remain in very close contact.  We both had very heavy minds lately, well, the three of us.

My friend's father, a man I've known almost my entire life, was and still is terribly sick.  His body is shutting down after a lifelong bout of diabetes, and was now in intensive care and a medically-induced coma.  A young man still, he was a tremendously successful in the medical field, and ran the operating rooms at two hospitals in Maryland.  He was very proud; since his kidneys shut down, and he had a pacemaker inserted in his heart, (thus forcing him to go on disability) he was enormously upset and not taking it well at all.

My other friend had lost her father a few years ago very suddenly.  One of 5 children, she received a call one day that he had died while running outside in the oppressive heat at a track near her childhood house outside of Buffalo.  He, too, was very young, full of life, and a remarkable man.  His loss, to this day, stings even me.  She and her husband have forever bonded over losing him, and you could tell how the talk of my friend's father's illness has brought up those feelings.

Well, there were the three of us at dinner, laughing, swapping stories, making plans, watching hockey, and all the while taking moments to update each other on the seriousness that seems to swirl around us.

Back to my drive.  As the river snaked with the road, I looked to my right for the first time, and saw the might of the Susquehanna, and the life it gives to everything that touches it.  I saw the sun hitting me, on the chilly day, and somehow making me very warm as I drove.  I could not feel the car, now in cruise control, as it made nary a bump as I turned through each S-curve.  I got a text message from my friend asking where I was, and said I would be there in 15 minutes.

I arrived at their house, to find my friend with his coat on, and his wife still in her pajamas.  I asked where we were going for breakfast, and he told me he had to leave to do a sound engineering show for a band concert, but he had waited to leave because he wanted to say goodbye to me first.  He gave me a big hug and said, 'I love ya, buddy, it was great seeing you!' I responded 'I love you, too, man, have a safe trip and a good show.'  He then left.  I went to breakfast with his wife, and we spent time together for the first time since college, when she and I were incredibly close.  We talked about my friend's Dad, my parents, her Father, and about me someday finding a woman.  Everything she said and did was with love.  Same for her husband, my other friend.  Upon my leaving to drive back to Brooklyn, she too gave me a big hug and said 'I love you very much, I'm so glad you visited us.'  It was one of the most beautiful moments ever in my life."

That's my Takeaway now.  My life, through music, completely and totally enveloped in love.  I am not ashamed to tell my friends, male or female, that I love them now.  And I mean it, deeply, and have done so numerous times since then. 

I am so moved by what we as people can do to each other, lifting one another up, sharing small moments and making relationships that last forever.  Moved at how an hour out of my way driving will never be a burden if it is for the closeness of friendship and family; how you take people with you for the journey, even if they live hours away.

Well, I had better let you go.  Thanks for letting me write that out, it was a pretty cathartic thing for me today.  Hope you are doing well.

John

Shows this Week!

Thursday, March 25th: Blue - 605A Congress Street, Portland, ME. 8pm, $5 donation at the door.  www.portcityblue.com

Friday, March 26th: Bucknell University - Lewisburg, PA. 9pm, Free Admission.

Saturday, March 27th: PJ Harpers - 58 Rockaway Avenue, Valley Stream, NY (Long Island). 9pm, Free Admission.

Sunday, March 28th: Pour House, 7901 3rd Ave. Brooklyn, NY (same day as St. Patrick's Day Parade in Bay Ridge Brooklyn). 4pm, Free Admission.

Sunday, March 28th: Living Room, 154 Ludlow Street (As part of Andy Mac's Birthday Show). 8pm SHARP, Free Admission.  www.livingroomny.com

Happy Birthday, Donald Staszczyk

Wednesday, St. Patrick's Day, is my late Grandfather's birthday.  Those of you that know me, know just how lasting an impact he has had on all of us.

Forgive the romantic sentiment and language in the e.e. cummings poem; it captures the way i feel him everyday, the way he is so very close, years after he has gone.

"i carry your heart with me" by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 

This Week

This week I embark on the biggest project of my life, to-date, with the recording of my newest album.  My music career, in its loftiest aspirations, is reaching a breaking point, in that a large step forward must be made from this record in order for me to continue on.  It's exciting and nervous, all at once.  It has been made possible because of donations from family, friends, and fans, and a dear friend-in-music is already doing an amazing job producing it in Caleb.

So think positive things and send prayers my way, because I want so very badly for this to be the greatest work of my life thus far.  I am hopeful it will, and I believe that it will, and that's what I have to go on.

John

Wish Upon a Monarch

**Disclaimer: this is an old writing of mine, that I recently edited to make flow better.  I wanted to share it with those who read here.  It is from my time living on Long Island in 2005**

Wish Upon a Monarch [Sep. 7th, 2005]

by John M. Schmitt

For the sake of this writing

I choose an extended metaphor.

So I guess you won’t know

Exactly what I’m talking about,

But my message will remain the same.

When I speed home at night,

I stick my arm out my window,

Feel the aerodynamics change.

As I shift my arm,

I stare in silence.

In front of me are the Pine Barrens,

With disabled cars,

Remains of blown tires,

And so much history creeping in the Thick.

Very tired, my eyes burn.

When the wind rushes into the front.

This is nothing like driving in Buffalo.

Nothing.

Never felt sleepy in Buffalo,

Never felt weary.

But here, I fight the urge to crash

Because of sweet slumber.

My mind wanders

To the same place as always,

[So it never really wanders]

But metaphorically, wanders

Where all my writing invariably ends.

I pray

But this is not a supplication, praise,

Or prayer of petition I learned about in school.

I think God knows how great He is,

And it’s a given that He knows I think so, too.

In my belief system and mentality,

I also do not find frivolous prayers

[God, help me win the lottery!]

To be a worthy cause,

To be the Good Fight, if you will.

My issues are not of life and death,

Nor of impending moral destruction.

Instead I have been blessed from Above

And have no need to implore God’s power in that way.

But I do pray for one thing

One tiny gift

One spec of wisdom:

Clarity.

I say “Lord, clear my mind up.

I know all things in Your time, not mine.”

“Let me be wise, and follow my heart

and most importantly, Your Will.”

I sometimes recite a prayer I learned

By St. Ignatius Loyola,

Founder of the Jesuits.

It asks God to teach me

A whole list of different, noble traits

All relating to service.

“Know that I am doing Your will

And that You have done the same for me.”

This is how I keep my head in order.

My life, in all areas, needs to start and end

With the Holy Truth.

And it does.

However, this is not an affirmation

Of things I hold dear.

[I do that enough everyday]

No, the point is

I pray.

I pray as much as people daydream, if not more.

And, speeding home, most nights,

I pray to have this nervous feeling cease.

I feel like I have insects bouncing

Literally bouncing

In my stomach.

Interestingly enough, though,

While I do not necessarily enjoy the intial onset

It is something I remember.

It is not painful,

So that rules out any number of incidents

Associated with stubbing a toe, falling,

Scraping, cutting, chewing, swearing,

And so on.

It is not painful,

not at all.

Perhaps I’m nervous??

Maybe I forgot something?

Did I turn that off?

Did I fill that out correctly?

Do I have my phone, wallet, and keys?

No, No, Yes, Yes, and Yes respectively.

It cannot be nerves.

Perhaps God knows what this is

[No need for 'perhaps' in those statements]

And in my Mind’s Ear

I silently hear a whisper:

“Think.”

Fair enough. I will try.

I know this feeling

And I know the insects.

Butterflies.

Monarch butterflies.

Bright orange, beautiful

Monarch butterflies.

Chugging around my insides.

Tickling, twisting, dancing sweetly.

Monarch butterflies.

Poking at me,

Reminding me

Reminding me of why I set out

Set out writing in the first place.

There are few people in this world

I whole-heartedly trust.

Trust enough to write about,

Or use any extended metaphors.

And really, while I speak of those around me,

This is about me,

Feeling something,

Feeling alive.

This is about me wanting to do great things,

To “Measure in Love.”

To plug in, and connect.

So I pray.

For Clarity.

And God grants it, like He always does.

Looking at my stomach,

From up here,

Butterflies are dancing,

As per usual.

I think I like that.

Slowly, gracefully

The tiny one breaks away

And passes into sight,

Cascading through me,

Until it is in plain view

6 inches from my abdomen.

[I’m far too enchanted
To smile, or try to touch it]

I just exist.

Darting to my right,

The tiny one vanishes.

But this is not over,

Because there ahead of me,

In my Mind's Eye,

There in a black sweater

And brand new jean skirt,

There sits the hurting,

Fallen Jennifer.

[Why such a sad, sullen thing
In such a beautiful happening?
God, why are You showing me this?]

She sits, unsure, with uneasy feelings

About what people can do to one another.

But yet, this is not a sad image.

[It is not possible!]

She may sit and sob, and seemingly sulk

Nod, cry, and nod some more,

She may sing, laugh, and reminisce,

Feel, fear, and grow nervous,

She may be MORE SCARED THEN EVER,

But here, in front of you, John,

Here tonight,

Here with the Monarchs,

Here in the Pine Barrens,

Tonight,

Yes, here,

She glows.

She glows as a fire-fly,

As a phoenix glows.

She glows as she shares the deepest,

The darkest, most untouched aspects of herself.

The hurt that seemingly lasts,

She shares it with you, John.

[But this is not sad! Nor is it hopeless!]As I glance up,

I see her outstretched hand.

She says “Here. I thought you might want to know.”

There is her Heart,

Hurting, yet still beating,

Still searching, still needing,

Still terrified.

She gives it not out of romantic gesture,

Or to “win me over,”

But instead shows it With painstaking care,

And a grace.

[all the while glowing...]

She shows me her heart

Out of Trust,

Overcoming the fear in her mind.

I ask her: “What shall I do with it?”

But as I do so,

I finally look up at her face,

Radiating, iridescently glowing.

She just smiles.

[She always smiles]

She laughs, looks away, and cracks:

“Ehh, just don’t tell anybody...”

Capped off with a wink.

I promise not to.

...And the Monarchs start dancing...

Feverishly, with a purpose!

They want me to know something.

Perhaps God wants me to know something.

Perhaps I want Me to know something.

It feels uneasy.

Jennifer notices.

“What the matter?”

But there is really nothing wrong!

In fact, it is one of those ‘epic’ times

When men recall 40 or 50 years later

Where they were, what they were doing

And who they were with.

And tonight, I am in the car,

Speeding home,

Alone,

With Jennifer and the Monarchs.

No, I assure her, nothing is wrong,

All is fine.

All is more than fine.

[The soundtrack kicks in,
And frankly it doesn’t matter what it is,
Because anything beautiful would work.]

As I look forward,

Jennifer looks back,

Holding her Heart so tenderly,

So carefully.

I ask: “You see the butterflies, Jenn?”

She nods, as they dance between us

As one lands on her lap.

It, too, glows as it becomes

A part of her now.

“They’re not here for me,” I tell her.

“These butterflies are here for you.”

She smiles, sweetly, and looks up at me.

And she glows.

SHE GLOWS.

The Monarchs glow.

Her eyes glow.

“Why are they dancing?”

And it is then,

In that very moment,

In that space between

Fantasy and Faith

Where every atom in my being

Knows the answer.

[Even God is grinning like a fool]

There, in the car,

In the Pine Barrens,

With the windows down,

With the wind,

The burning eyes,

The praying,

The glowing Jennifer,

The Darkness,

The Monarchs,

There is the truth...

JUST SAY IT!

“They're dancing, Jenn,

Because I love you.

The Monarchs, you see,

Are my heart,

And you make them glow.

They are yours to do with

As you wish.

But they will always dance for you-

Always.”

Jennifer fades, and with that,

Another ride home complete;

Another daydream at night;

Another wish upon a Monarch.

Today Counts as the First Spring Day

March is here
And I wore my brown hoodie to work today
Instead of a coat
Therefore
Today counts as the first day of spring
Two weeks from yesterday
I take the stage like thousands of others
Singing the songs from the Old Country
Not to make people drink and scream
But to remember the ghosts for another year

My family
Works through things and through obstacles
Instead of running
Therefore
Where there is love there is hope
Two weeks from yesterday
I will spend 4 days straight with my Mother
As she watches me sing songs of my own, and the Old Country
And hopefully as people drink and scream
They might remember me when they leave

My heart
Is something I never really see worth fighting for
Instead of believing
Therefore
Today is like any other day
Two or three years from now
I will wish I had acted differently
And through songs of my own, and the Old Country
I will resist the urge to drink and scream
So I can remember better what I've been through

I have a blessed life
Protected by Grace
Earned by others around me
And I honor them
With a tipped cap
On the first day of spring
For the gift of giving
The gift of feeling
And the wisdom to observe

MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 9: "Caroline the Queen"

Welcome to my blog! This is the latest in a series of "Album Preview" posts I'm doing to raise awareness (and hopefully excitement) for my upcoming album. I need your help! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com to donate to help make the album happen. Thank you, and enjoy the post!

"Caroline the Queen"

Caroline is not a person I know.  And, to be honest, I don't drink regular coffee.  I wrote this song more because I loved the way the chorus went, melodically, more than anything else.  I had written it as a direct influence of my good friend, Alec Gross, who is simply brilliant.  Brilliant writer, brilliant singer, brilliant guitar player, brilliant harmonica player, and a heck of a nice guy.  Here is a snippet of him performing his beautiful song "You Make Sense to Me" with me, Andy Mac, and Matt Jones singing backup:



So, anyways, he has been a breath of fresh air, as far as listening to music.  And his words, though simple, hit so hard and so deeply. While "Caroline" remains a very lighthearted song, I was trying to accomplish a similar goal.  Tell a story, with straightforward terms and images, and use harmony to really make the song catchy.

I wanted Caroline to be a barista because I had worked as one for awhile on Long Island one summer.  To date, it was my favorite job I've ever done, making drinks for people, sharing stories.  There's something so calming about preparing food and drink concoctions for others, I think it's in my blood from my Mother.

The other thing of note in the song is the quote from a Robert Burns poem, from which "Of Mice and Men" was titled, and several other notable works have got their title. Burns was a Scottish Poet from the late 1700's, who was referred to Scotland's Favourite Son. The poem is called "To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough"

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,

O, what a panic is in your little breast!

You need not start away so hasty

With hurrying scamper!

I would be loath to run and chase you,

With murdering plough-staff.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion

Has broken Nature's social union,

And justifies that ill opinion

Which makes thee startle

At me, thy poor, earth born companion

And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;

What then? Poor little beast, you must live!

An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves

Is a small request;

I will get a blessing with what is left,

And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!

Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!

And nothing now, to build a new one,

Of coarse grass green!

And bleak December's winds coming,

Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,

And weary winter coming fast,

And cozy here, beneath the blast,

You thought to dwell,

Till crash! the cruel plough past

Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,

Has cost you many a weary nibble!

Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,

Without house or holding,

To endure the winter's sleety dribble,

And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes of mice and men

Go often awry,

And leave us nothing but grief and pain,

For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!

The present only touches you:

But oh! I backward cast my eye,

On prospects dreary!

And forward, though I cannot see,

I guess and fear!

Every morning I set out to live well, to have a good day.  And everyday I arrive home feeling like I don't know what I'm doing.  There are moments, though, when people can ease that feeling, and seeing them becomes a little treat.  So, this song talks about that sort of thing.  I just don't know a Caroline who makes my coffee everyday.

Here are the lyrics to "Caroline the Queen":

I woke up spilling out
Into a foggy day, without much sense
I take all of my best-laid plans
And still feel like a mouse inside a man

I come through
The longest line just to see you

Caroline
I hang on every word you say
Caroline
You are the Queen of my Cafe
You are the dream inside my day

You've got a certain way
Of transforming the words that leave your lips
Into full-on liquid gold
That strangers take away in sips


I can't make due
With other girls who replace you

Caroline
I hang on every word you say
Caroline
You are the Queen of my Cafe
You are the dream inside my day

My mornings take hours
And hours take days
But it calms my head just to hear you say
My drink order is made


Caroline
I hang on every word you say
Caroline
You are the Queen of my Cafe
You are the dream inside my day
And when I wake it's you I see
And I will take a piece of you with me

So, a total inspirational nod to Alec Gross, to Robert Burns, and to coffee!!!  Tip your baristas, folks!  And, if you're feeling saucy, donate to help make my album possible! Visit www.johnschmittalbum.com today! Please email me at johnschmittmusic@gmail.com for any questions.  THANK YOU!

-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt

MY ALBUM PREVIEW, SONG 8: "Ave Regina"

Welcome to my blog! This is the latest in a series of "Album Preview" posts I'm doing to raise awareness (and hopefully excitement) for my upcoming album. I need your help! Please visit www.johnschmittalbum.com to donate to help make the album happen. Thank you, and enjoy the post!

***RECORDING IS ONE WEEK AWAY! ONE WEEK!***

"Ave Regina"

This is my most recent song, written about two weeks ago. It is an intensely personal song, so there are some bits of it that I cannot discuss. (The names have been changed to protect the innocent)

This preview will be a bit different in that I will discuss some of the main themes of the song, and then provide a bit of the back story, so you can see how it all fits.

1 - Death Imagery: ever since I was a little kid, I've had moments where I am suddenly struck with the notion of my own mortality. That what I've come to see as a constant (my life) is actually always fading really hits me every so often, usually at night. I have a panic attack, and once I calm down I try to accept the fact that life is indeed a blazing one-way street. So get while the getting is good. Or don't. Either way, we know where we're headed.

So, I was very much scared of death and of others around me dying; of the unreached potential and the fear that is associated with that. I never like talking about death or what I want to happen or even about other people's death. It's always been an incredibly nerve-wracking and unpleasant experience (which is probably not that drastically different from others, I know).

To that end, I think if I am able to sing about death, or sing about the images around death, it might finally show some maturity about the subject. After all, fear is a form of immaturity, a way of stifling any pursuit of knowledge about a something. Fear cripples us, and leaves us incapable of learning about the thing being feared. So to write using death imagery, to me, would represent a shedding of that fear. It would be a step forward to being comfortable in my own skin, and in my own life.

"Ave Regina" uses death imagery several times. I talk about dirges, requiems, about dying for "the first time". I'll get into more of these later on. And there's a reason for all the death imagery, which I will also get into. But I haven't had any late night freak-outs about my own mortality lately, and I really believe this is why.

2- The phrase "Ave Regina": In Latin, this means "Hail to the Queen". The more famous "ave" is "Ave Maria", which in Catholicism refers to Jesus' mother, Mary. There are several hymns and prayers that we Catholics sing to honor Mary, who is regarded as the most sacred mortal being ever. Catholics believe Mary was a special person, no doubt, but that she was not divine herself. She is an advocate to God, and was chosen above all others, but she is not God herself. Because of this special designation, she was born without Original Sin, and gave birth to Jesus. Every year, Catholics honor her in May and in October by doing special services and praying things like the rosary.

"Ave Regina" is more a play on words, done carefully of course. As I've mentioned before, when I am truly romantically interested in someone, they take on a regal sort of stature with me; I will blindly follow, do, and say what I think they prefer (sometimes to a fault). I want to praise and constantly reaffirm my affection to them, and try to take care of them. Subtly, of course.

3-The End of Formative Years: I have always said that developmentally, I am about 2 years behind schedule that other people my age. I always seem to lag behind in that respect, and the company I keep, all younger than me for the most part, seems to suggest this as well. For the past 10 years or so, I have been fully in my formative years, transitioning to manhood. Others around me have married, have children, and are well on their way with their music careers, and I am just starting to seek out those things that symbolize the next phase. It is now a time when you discover what is important to you, your life's passions, and the time you become an adult. Or in my case, a man. When your parents don't seem so off-base anymore, and you don't incessantly fight with your sisters. And you actually have fun seeing them. You appreciate things that don't always taste sweet, like coffee and tea, and you enjoy the way it feels to relax, do nothing, and rest. Women become more than just pretty faces, and who they are, what they stand for, and how they live are equally as important. You learn life skills and a certain quorum for how to treat people.

So "Ave Regina" deals with me bidding farewell to my formative years. To laying it rest, and remembering it for what it was. But it is no more.

*********************

The Back Story

I had contemplated moving home to settle down, to move home to be with someone, and that is the real back story behind the song. I was captivated not only by her, but by what it could be like to not sleep alone anymore. I would most likely have to severely reduce my music aspirations, and part of me was okay with that. I would return to the land I left, and do so triumphantly, and spend the rest of my days living there. I could go home and it would be perfect.

Right? Upon dwelling on it, I know now that I could never move home. I cannot divide my feelings up as neatly as another person, and my work with music is who I am. It is a defining characteristic, in the way a beating heart or lungs are, and it cannot be separated. To give up on my music, in any way, would be giving up on myself, something I am incapable of doing. Moreover, I would find a way to destruct the great thing I might have with her, so I could blame it for me quitting on my music. It would be awful.

So the pipe dreams of moving home to Western New York for the conventional life are over. It will not happen. My hope is someday I can return home to live, but life has not dictated that to me yet.

Here are the lyrics to "Ave Regina":

My thoughts are so heavy
My intentions so pure
That I can't even stand
When she enters the door
It's like the Queen is in session
And all I can do
Is sing 'Ave Regina,
Ave to you.'

She can give life so freely
To be honest and brave
That they'll be counting for decades
All the lives that she saved
I will forego the distance
And the walls in between
My sights are now setting
On courting the Queen

So I die for the very first time
Sing dirges and requiem masses
For an age, a place, a time, and a boy
Who watches his pipe dreams pass away.

I had dreams I would move here
And take it by storm
And return all victorious to the land I was born
And when I'm dearly departed
From the land that I started
The Queen and her subjects would mourn

But I die for the very first time
Sing dirges and requiem masses
For an age, a place, a time, and a boy
Who watches his pipe dreams pass away.

So I will stand here and wait
For the one who is always late
I gave up so soon
Just to stay in this room
Singing 'Ave Regina,
Ave to you.'

I gave up so soon
Just to stay in this room
Singing 'Ave Regina,
Ave to you.'

So farewell to childhood and adolescence. Here is my dirge for those great 10+years. When I wrote this, I knew it was the last piece needed for the upcoming album. It's going to be the last song.

Thank you for reading! PLEASE visit www.johnschmittalbum.com and consider giving to make the album possible. Everyday, people's generosity amazes me! Please email me at johnschmittmusic@gmail.com if you have any questions!

-John
www.myspace.com/johnschmitt

Monday

if I met me today
I'd say I were a bitter man
not holding doors, pushing through
pushing through to my station stop
everything is amplified
as the wind blows in my face
lengthening the walk home.

Buffalo, NY

My home is real.
Where I was born so much sums up human experience
Trials, triumphs, banding-together, closeness.
I arrived home and got socked with terrible news
More shocking than anything
And at the same time
I receive loving support for two days straight
From those around me I never really knew that well.
I come to find out
That the terrible news, while necessary,
Will get sorted out
Because it comes from love.
(Everyone is alive, kicking, and breathing. not to worry)

My home is real.
Nothing in this world is as bright or as concrete or as perfect
As we think it will be
And my home is never really great
Never really bad
It's just good. Very good.

I want to hug my parents both
Separately, equally
And my sisters
Their love is so strong, so moving
And so careful.
My mother compels me to live well
By her actions.
My father sees something in me
That I don't think he saw before
And I have the man's respect.
He told me he thinks I work harder than he does
He never, ever, for an instant minces words.
My sister, despite her rush to anger or judge
Has the sharpest intellect, and a huge heart
And is married to her Great Leveler,
Someone I see who gives balance to her life.

Even my dogs are real.
They still jump, bark too much, and smell when they get wet.
But they take part in the household just like me
They share the leaps, the fun, the ball-throwings
That I used to do when I was so young

My bed upstairs is real.
I slept in the TV room upstairs
And I never sleep as well as I do on that bed
To another person, my bed in Brooklyn
Would seem light years more comfortable
The Buffalo Bed is literally stiff and creeky,
And you can feel the pockets of springs
But the blankets are always so soft
The pillows the perfects fluff-t0-stiffness ratio
And they always smell like "good".
I sleep like a stone, very deeply
Despite the cold

My life is real.
I enter March with a large plate in front of me
The High Holy Day on the 17th
And all the Stories to tell
My next album, which must be my life's greatest work,
Now almost a week away from beginning.
I am twinged with guilt, heartache, and sobering sadness
Over the way others have treated me
And the way I see me going round-and-round again
And my life is so real
That in all that
Transcending that
No, fueling that
Is the love from those around me
Mom
Dad
Elicia
Joe
Lynn
Aunt Lisa
Uncle Chris
Aunt Linda
et cetera
Who make a point to affirm their steadfast support
"I'm so proud of you, John Michael."
Yet my work has just begun

I find myself crying these past few weeks
And not because I am upset or sad
In the least.
The love from my family moves me to tears
And I am learning to shake the initial guilt
That I throw on
And embrace it
So the tears are an outward physical sign
Of my soul going through the mind
and into the body
And showing myself and my world
(My world is real)
That I am loved.

So throw your arms around your family for me
And for your own good
Find that real home
And real life
And let people move you.

words and music by John Mayer

Wherever I go,
Whatever I do,
I wonder where I am in my relationship to you.
Wherever you go,
Wherever you are,
I watch your life play out in pictures from afar.

Wherever I go,
Whatever I do,
I wonder where I am in my relationship to you.
Wherever you go,
Wherever you are,
I watch that pretty life play out in pictures from afar.