The Word Awaits

Smile. The world didn't end. Despite all of the news specials and conspiracy theories, the sun rose in the morning. People woke up.
It's the weekend, and today is the first day of the new cycle. Full of possibilities. Full of life. Time to put an end to all those inhibitions that kept you down and made you feel like you were less than perfect. The world has never seen the real you. The you unafraid of the unknown. The you unafraid to be you.
Be different today. Understand that, someday -- maybe a million years from now -- the world will actually end. The sun won't rise. People won't wake up.
But not today.
Today the world awaits you.

Nothing is Guaranteed

It's sad that it usually takes something tragic for us to remember that life is unpredictable.  Control is an illusion. And despite our best efforts, right decisions, and good luck: nothing is guaranteed.
It's cliché to say that every day should be lived to the fullest. Besides, it's not very practical. But you should love every day you get to be alive. Whether you spend it at work providing for a family, hiking Mt. Everest, or just taking some time to yourself to listen to your favorite playlist, love that you get to do what you're doing.
It might not be your idea of perfection.
It might not be your idea of exciting.
But here you are.
Reading this.
Breathing.

Pull Over

Pull over and watch the sunset. Or tilt your head to the sky and feel the rain on your face. These sights and smells and sensations we take for granted. They'll be gone someday.
So why not seize them now!?
Jump out of bed!
Stop and enjoy the freshly cut grass. Freshly fallen snow. The roses --the first whiff always like a crisp, fresh kiss to the nostrils. Hit the open road with someone you love and drive until the engine stalls and the car sputters to its death.
There is too much of this world to see. Too little time. And in too much of a hurry to get somewhere else, we tend to miss the miracles right in front of us.

Duet

I've been listening to a lot of music lately. My idols, mostly. The Scorpions and Deep Purple and the rock-n-roll that's molded my life. I've even had the fortune to perform alongside some of these legends. And wow --- what talent. Such raw passion. Unbridled by the microphone. The amps melodically thumping LUB DUB LUB DUB with their heartbeat. A musician's true-blue line.
I've been listening to a lot of music lately and wondering -- if I could perform a duet with anyone in history, who would it be?
I'm stumped, and so I leave the question up to you.

Jet-lag

Day is night and night is day. You're hungry at times you shouldn't be. Your head feels like it's been spun for hours on a turntable, then left to stumble through the morning, or evening -- you can't quite remember which is which.
Is it six in the morning or six at night?
Time for breakfast or dinner?
Is it today, tomorrow, or somehow -- yesterday?
Such is living with incessant jet-leg. Life on the road. Pit stops at airports in between time zones. You finally realize time is a concept forged by man for his own sense of ego. For some sense of control.
But when you're jet-lagged, almost everything seems out of control. Upside down. All you can do is weather it, hoping that, sooner or later, all things settle as the should. The show must go on.

Home

The thing about home is -- you can leave it, but it never really leaves you. And once you're back, it's like you never left. Surrounded by friendly familiar faces, the sights and smells and bitter cold nights spent curled under a thick warm blanket. Home stays with you no matter where you go. It crosses continents and oceans, and survives even in the melting temperatures of L.A. Home has instilled in me my passion, my values, and my love of rock n' roll. It's become not a place -- but a part of me.

Video Shoot

What you see on screen is not what you see behind the scenes. It's only six in the morning, but the set at Beso's in Hollywood is bustling with two dozen men and women hard at work. Key grips adjust a light, making sure it reflects off my cheek in just the right way. Not too harsh, but soft, a comforting and warm glow, like a reassuring pat.
The director paces the restaurant, points every which way, a general in the mists of battle, his mind a million places all at once.
In back, the actresses prep with makeup. Two stylist for four girls. Brushes and blush and hairspray. Steam billows from a portable iron. Someones looking for eye liner.
Time to block out the video. Chart each and every step I'll take from 'Action!' to 'Cut!' There's a girl with celestial emeralds for eyes on my arm. She follows me into the restaurant. To a table. I pull out her chair.
On the second floor, catering has coffee and breakfast.
A photographer snaps another photo inches from my face.
Cameramen swarm, circling me like vultures  "Can you sit up, please?" they ask. "Move a little left. A little right. Good, good."
It's almost eight and we haven't shot a single second of footage. Two hours of preparation  Two hours of checking, rechecking, and checking again the cables, the angles, the continuity.
"We ready?"
"We're ready," says the director. He waits quiet. All is still. Until he puts into -- "Action!"