MAY 30th 2021
I see that shows are coming back and it puts a pit in my stomach. This 56 year old thinks it might be hard to start that old engine. During the "no live music" era I had a built in excuse. Sure I'd like to play some live shows, but what can you do? There's a pandemic and no venues are operating. I could calm down that hard driving son of bitch inside me that will never let me just sit and do nothing.  I could just fall back on the pandemic "I know you want to do shows but we can't. It's not up to us" Then I could just get up tomorrow and go to work, because labor is really what I do best. Don't get me wrong, holding down a job and being able to really excell at labor has been a blessing, but not part of my dream. I should be more grateful though. In the next four or five years I will probably retire with a full pension. All because I could pick heavy things up and put them down. All because I could endure long hours and a horrible work schedule. Fact is that has always given me security. Not enough folks can hack that stuff and that means  job security for those who can. That's me, obscure musician and skilled labor glutton for getting in the trenches. Could I have spent my time in better ways?

I'm getting off track here. Shows are coming back and I don't know if I have the stomach for it all anymore. Now I might be just comiserating here, venting, processing, crying, I don't know. i told my brother these same feelings years ago and he said "You'll be complaining and playing shows when you're 65." He's probably on to something there. 65 doesn't even seem that far away. Maybe I will have learned how to give myself a break by then. I'm saying I havent missed promoting myself. I do not miss trying to sell another release or get you all to come to my next show. I don't miss the anxiety of wondering if my performance will be good or will I go home yelling at myself for not singing very good, or forgetting my lyrics, or flubbing my guitar parts, etc, etc. Maybe I'm all burned up. Maybe I've spent to much energy trying to do the impossible. Humility is coming for us all.

I'm working on bringing an old mono Scully tape deck back to life. I'm thinking it might be cool to record my new album on that.
Once a week I try and walk over to Brandi's house and practice with her. Viola, vocal, and nylon string guitar. I have a real nice batch of new songs. I like things real sparse, and I'm not so sure that's always the best for my songs. If I can't get the Scully up and running I think we'll go to a proper studio. maybe we'll even do both. I wasn't in a hurry to begin with and the pandemic really slowed my motivation. Not being able to share your creations with others is the real quick sand. As soon and the music leaves your head and enters the world it is already compromised, and that's ok, it's just the facts. It is a baby born to the world that looks a little different than what you had in mind. Then you're excited to show it to a few close folks. Everyone tells you how cute it is, how beautiful it is, how great it's going to be. That of course is a bit of a false reality. The tricky part is when you present it to the greater world. When you get your expectations up, hopes for its success. THAT IT WILL BE MORE SPECIAL THAN THE REST.

Have I written about this all before? I go back and read journals from 5 years ago. Same bullshit different year. Negativity is one of my problems, that and self pity. Sound like therapy?

We've (Brandi and I) cutting some demo's. Maybe I'll try and post one here. Eventually I'll have a new album to share, and then all the worry can start. My life is without want. I have a stable home life, and wonderful wife, and the cutest dog you've ever seen. My home is small but cozy. Did you make it all the way to the end? Good for you. 

Sincerely 
Barry James Brusseau

April 18th 2021

I love stiring my coffee. Made some nice demos with Brandie the other night. Weather has warmed,, and i can't put off the yard work much longer. Amber and I went for a long walk yesterday. Not sure what to do with myself.

September 13th 2020

Do you keep the shades drawn on a day like today? I don't think so (have you heard Clem Snides new album? Forever Just Beyond? it's damn good). Should I be doing something more productuve with my life? It nags me. I take a breath, and for the last week every breath I take, brings smoke into my healthy, 55 year old, pink, lungs. You can't get away from it, the smoke, the fire, the Hell State Of Things. Driving to work all week has been like navigating Dante's Inferno. The State Of Things. 

Fire is in the hills around us, not close enough for Amber, Gordon, and I to evacuate. Close enough for folks around here to pack a bag, and I want to ignore it all. Looking out the window, and watching the news tears at my want to ignore (ignorant). No, not us, it could never happen to us. Sure those flames are in the hills around us, but a long way away.......right? We don't pack a bag. The fire is far away in the hills, but the smoke is here. It just hangs like Greg Turner at my first apartment, he who had no friends, no where else to be.

I'm off in my own head, and thinking about writing music for strings. Sure, I can write a little symphony. Oh and I'll sing behind it. A whole new album of songs with just strings and me singing. I tip my reading glasses up on my forehead and think of the possibilities. Then I lose focus and get bored.

This morning I'm making a mix tape on my reel to reel deck. I enjoy making tapes. I think it's all I want to do this morning. I've been accumulating some instrumental albums and yes some have strings. I want a tape for morning listening. Like today before my wife wakes, just sitting with my dog, writing on my little website, listening, coffee drinking. In moments like this I will water and tend to the house plants.It's at times like these, when I'm tending things, that I feel content, like this is all I need. Garden, care for something, tend things without expectations, foster peace in my mind. 

Now I tip my readers back again, and I'm off in my minds eye. In that eye I see myself in a suit, and sitting behind a piano. I'm playing with a little orchestra and everyone is amazed. Then I picture myself with a big, gray beard, and Einstein hair. I'm a composer now, leading an orchestra. Playing brilliant songs that this high school graduate, with no musical training has composed. I am revered, and loved, and admired. Then I come back to reality, slide my glasses back over my eyes, and write it all down.

And the fire is out there. The smoke is here. I've opened the blinds. With every breath I take.......................  

JULY 4TH 2020             happy 4th of July!

Not being able to play shows gives me a chance to feel what it would be like to quit playing live. Gives me a chance to give a trial ride for laying that all down. You know, trying to make something of it all, trying to achieve some status, trying to keep all the eyes on me. I think I'm already letting some of that go. I mean I'm 55. The thought reoccures to me, "it's over".   To a certain extent it is, but then again it is not.

I've started working on some stuff here at home. Working on recording new material with Brandi Starbird. She handling the viola and background vocals. We recorded three new songs last weekend. At this point I'm calling them demo's, but maybe it will be called a real album at some point. Any way we're having fun.

May 7th 2020

Coffee is good and is killing me. I snuggle up to it, hold it in both hands. I praise it, encourage it along. I can feel it eating away at my insides, weakening me, destroying me softly. I love the smell of my murderer. It makes me feel so good and is killing me. Doctor take anything you want from me, but not my coffee. Let it kill me slowly. Isn't everything killing me anyway? If not coffee, what be it? What be my murderer? Other things were killing me too fast. Taking all in an avalanch of despair. This murderer coffee, will not take me to jail, or other morally bankrupt places. Coffee still loves me and shows it in the first drink. Not a sip, but a desperate gulp. That's why I let the poison cool. Then I can take a big mouthful. Feel the love go down, and rise at your best. It makes so many promises, and then, the grand plans can begin forming, as the ground beans go to work. It Just Kills Me.