Challenge: write a song and a story every day. How: Start with free writing for 15 mins. In the first minute before you start, pick a theme and write on that. Whatever is in your head, let it out. Write a song after 15 mins is up. Don’t Stop Until your done. Theme: Old Lost friends Free Write (8:38pm) Hey brother, the time was right and I felt it those nights, on the backs of what we knew and the places we would find. Around all the turns and the parts my brother car took too, the endless 3am nights that hung over us and into the next work day. And we cleaned golf clubs and greeted members the next day laughing talking about the next night coming. You were central to my childhood and you were braver with girls and funnier with words and border line insane at times. You were a cannon ball, most of all, you were a sparkler in the summer you were a boy too grown up to be a man, your father didn’t give you anything and yet you had it all figured out. You were hurting and I was too, but not as much as you. Back in those summers, Marco was that centre of it all. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. He was just himself, all the time. I still remember the night we finally Met his polish girlfriend and their friends. It was the first moment I felt grown up. I felt like I belonged and I was the cool kid. I was trying to be an athlete and I was quite a golfer, I played music and no one knew. I was mysterious and I was always intense. But those nights with some mikes hard and a sticky kitchen floor I dance with that polish queen and we laughed and we reminded ourselves of what we set out to be. We ran through the parts of boyhood together. I drank until I had my fill and I learned what it was to be young. I drove my car the next morning out of there, put on those khaki shorts and clementine shirt with “Chris” On it, and rode to work for 6am. Bring the carts up for the day yes sir yes maam a wry smile in my eyes with bags under them to boot. We think we need to put it all together in life and make a change and commit to discipline and the self lonely pursuit of being better. But the root of all development comes from you and a mate just riding around in golf carts, access to the place, sneaking into the curling rink and shooting hockey pucks, chipping the ice and drinking warm beer. Sweating profusely in the heat. That’s how I learned to talk to a girl. It was Marco.

80’s

It starts When nobody was looking It starts Alone in the dark It ends When friends Fall in love again It starts At the part Your never expecting Ya ya ya It starts

bills and pills and mouths to feed It’s all about the money Starved for more then what I am walk Livingston street tonight in my head Child’s mind in a box by the door My hearts in the attic, it comes out no more I am still a grain of sand Sitting there and left to stand I am still a comeback kid Im that charger off my back Ride the badlands till It cracks The seam of dreams and wild schemes —— When I was younger I would see colour and hear songs and feel the vibrancy of the moon. My guitar would signal a tune and it would come together. But then I got older. In my head of course. More then one thing in my life took me from my Music. Everything became boring and everything became dull. Colour me with a tv show or girl I didn’t know or a conspiracy or a broken president and I left my room. I left the room where I would sweat and cry and obsess over a guitar on hot nights and write and write and write. I believed in writing hit things and changing the world with my guitar strings. Commitment is a secret rarely heard about. Write until the calluses come back and write some More. That’s how you start to become original. It has to be a lot. More then you think . I’d call them music days. The moment I wake up music filled my day. I could be working my menial job sorting grocery shelves or driving the skyway stuck in traffic but I’d still be a star musician writing about the best parts about humanism and living and loving and everyone could come and sit in that park and breathe it. We could all be one again because of my pen. That’s what Paul and Michael and Elvis and Mick and Bruce and all of them had. A belief to change the world. No left or right or Jew or Catholic or Muslim or Christian or athlete or nerd or loser or winner we were all winners we were all one. We rocked and fucking rolled and we sang our songs So at 33 my life a mystery and chat gpt and separated families and doomsday clocks and flying cars and us verse them why the fuck cant I re start and renew and slow dance and rock and show people what an artist can do.