It's my perpetual lack of focus that will destroy me if I let it. It sure seems like I spend hours writing songs, but I spend more time playing through fake books and zoning out with a pen in my hand. It doesn't take me a particularly long time to finish a song, but it takes me forever to start one.

Pretty soon it's going to be New Years, and Beach Party is supposed to have another EP and an album finished.

Thunder in the Valley
I played a gig out on the Van Ness extension Tuesday, accompanying a violinist during dinner at a PBS [several]- hundred-dollar-a-plate fundraiser. Patrick plays exceedingly well, and surprisingly imaginatively. I just don't know if I can afford him if I ever want him to play for something.

The people were pleasant, they had spicy cheese, and during dinner we watched lightning skip toward us menacingly. Before the keynote speaker, the host of "California Gold" (the theme song to which Patrick and I attempted to play unsuccessfully) was able to extoll the virtues of public television to Fresno's cultural elite, the sky opened up, and everybody was skuttled to shelter.

The next night, Beach Party played for Cigar Fest, our first gig in over a month. We moved some CDs, got the word around about our Koffeeheads homecoming, and played to a completely apathetic crowd. Some girls watched us from the the other side of police tape, and they would have appreciated us more if we'd played "Smoke Two Joints," but they cared enough to stick around.

Songs, Though...
What can I do but keep plugging away?

I need to find a groove. A pattern for writing songs. I've been making more lists, and that helps me organize my head a little better.

Ah, fuck it. I'll just give everybody in Beach Party a copy of the Real Book, and we'll play PBS fundraisers till we're married and start teaching.

-Max