Thank You Meester Minor...

RIP Martin.

As I sit here, alone in my apartment in NYC on a rainy Friday night, my mind does what it does best: think, ponder, and reminisce. Reminisce about a simpler time, the dinner with my girl and moms digesting in my belly, and the music that has been the single constant in MY life (much like Desmond Hume in LOST).

I am normally conscious of my fellow neighbors, but tonight, in sweatpants, I can't help but tap the trigger known as the volume to one that seemingly tries to reach through the stars and straight to heaven...where our good friend -- THE MEESTER -- Martin Fierro, has gone.

If nothing else, his music and corny-ass jokes will live on.

"Cole's Law" is ringing through my ears, as I wallow in the comfort known as life...and music. Probably my favorite sax player *EVER* for the style and grace he exuded, I will always think of Zero bringing me into the "Pits of Thunder" at The Wetlands in the mid-90's, the sit ins with the Steve Kimock Band at the Great American Music Hall in San Fran, and for one more magical visit over the last few years.

Always a humble musician, and more humble human, he will be sorely missed...especially by my ears.

Thanks Meester.

"Be sure to wear Zero underpants."

Sippin' the Sweet Life...

Hornsby. Champagne. The girl you HEART.

Shit feels gooooooooooooooood. Mellow, relaxed, and a maestro on the keys as the wild concrete jungle winds down around me.

After a week that saw me sign on for *MY* first apartment (fuck, better late than never), make over $100,000 at "real" work (a LOT of which is mine), and cut my hair this morning by myself (not a ton, but ENOUGH) in the bathroom since I was SO motivated by this week's events, I can;t help but smile, smile, smile.

I can't help but think for all the bad luck I've had over the years (fuckin' field goals wide left!), this week showed me hard work PAYS-THE-FUCK-OFF. BIG-TIME.

Let me start here : almost 2 years ago, I flat out QUIT my dream job at the editorial side of Rolling Stone. I was a wild-man, filled with the spirit of life, but defeated with the fact that my favorite band, my favorite thing in a lot of ways (School! How many peeps say THAT?!?!?!), and the fact that the family dynamic was changing. As much as i am a (phish) "KID," I never knew what being a "kid" felt like again until the joys of my family's life emerged from the womb. Timmy, Jr., Christian, and Isabella (sorry Matt, but I always think of 12.30.97 = a shade before my newest niece...whoops!), are true miracles.

Life, my friends, is a fickle and funny thing.

Watching them, along with other children open presents on Christmas morning at my house, I, for the first time in my life, realized why parents work so hard all year to get that bonus check -- to see the look on their kids' faces. It is, in a word, simply: PRICELESS.

But, back to my point before I Ramble on (like Rose), there's another thing I'm almost of proud of as my nieces and nephews this week, and it's NOT the $$$$. It's the fact that I will be published in Relix come this April, something I have always wanted (in some ways more than RS, but never thought would make sense.

Well, it does. I learned from my 6th grade science teacher to "always stick by your guns." Well, my guns have taken me from New Rochelle, across the wonerdrful U.S. of A. severla times in chase of Hemingway, Hunter S. Thompson, and the constant high, only to land me back home where I truly belong; where my blood runs deep : NYC.

So, on this Friday night, which once used to be the biggest concert, pu$$y, and beer night of the week, I am comfortable sitting by the Bose iPod contraption that produces such amazing sounds, sippin' my bubbly, watching my girl make guacamole, smile, and realizing that the pen is much mightier than the sword (but not the guitar).

Thanks and love to you all...

BVAOSA