I think the secret to being happy in life is knowing from the get-go that life is never going to be as good as you want it or need it to be. We’re constantly having to cut things out of our life that please us. And if you are a hopeless hedonist, then you create other problems with backlash. So, you should recognize this now.

Maybe it’s not enough to know it, actually, maybe you have to be able to accept it. That’s the problem. On one end of the spectrum, you have people that are too stupid to realize any problems. They’re happy. On the other end of the spectrum you have the people that recognize the sad reality of life and accept it. They make the best of it. They’re happy. Somewhere between the extremes is the rest of us, with varying degrees of acceptance and denial. We also have varying degrees of happiness.

I think about all the shit I need to deal with on a daily basis, and wonder Why in God’s name do other people need to make my life more difficult? I know, I know, I do it to myself. I can’t always see it coming though, not always. I know that when I finish writing this blog, I am going to go outside and smoke a cigarette and make a phone call to someone who is annoying the shit out of me…

I need to quit smoking and possibly pare down my group of friends. Instead of having a giant bunch that includes some real leeches, maybe I should just have like two. The two I know for sure don’t suck. And I’ll just stop returning the phone calls of the rest. The very act of doing that means I have to cut out two things I enjoy: smoking and hanging out with lots of people. Something’s gotta give.

I don’t remember my dreams very often. Up until just a few weeks ago, I could probably count the number of dreams I remembered on my two hands. It just doesn’t happen very often. The dreams I remembered were generally pretty cracked out versions of life too. For instance I once had a dream in the sixth grade that went like this:

I was having a party in my parents front yard and everyone from school was there (probably 30 or 40 kids). My older brother Jacob and my dad were walking through the crowd and sticking pins on all of my friends’ shirts, and the moment they did, my friends would turn evil. Soon enough, they were all evil and they started chasing me down the street. I kept tripping, but they still couldn’t catch me (like a bad horror flick). Finally, I got to the other end of the street and climbed up on a house. As I stood on the peak of the roof, they would charge up at me and I would tear their pin off and then toss them off the roof (tearing the pin off rendered them non-evil, so I am not really sure why I felt the need to be pushing them off the roof also). Finally it was just down to my brother and my dad and I made a break for it. There was a big greyhound bus parked on the street (which is strange because that kind of vehicle is never even driving down an out-of-the-way residential neighborhood street). I got into the greyhound bus, and it was full to the brim with logs cut into fire wood. I sat down into the driver seat, and then I noticed there was no ignition, but there was a gaping hole where my feet would go. I was going to have to run start the bus a la The Flintstones. I did and eventually pulled into a supermarket. At this point my brother comes riding up on his ten speed bike and reaches in the window and grabs the keys, turning the ignition (that wasn’t there before) off. I woke up.

Lately I have been remembering dreams a lot though. What worries me is that they are all relatively normal. Last night I had a dream that I couldn’t find my jacket which is where my cigarettes were, so that I could smoke. Two nights I ago I dreamed that two of my friends that hadn’t talked since the one moved away from the city, had finally talked. Last week I had a dream about a friend who moved to L.A. Now he was back in NYC and he had a hair cut and he was a total ladies’ man.

I don’t mind not remembering my dreams that often, but what the hell does it mean when you start having normal dreams and they are still dreams that stress you out? All of these dreams are causing an anxiety that persists well after I wake up. Any ideas?

So the Radio show went very well. We did a forty minute set and then interviews afterward. I felt like we killed the interviews, and the performance was the best we’d done yet. I was exhausted, though, because I was up late for work the night before and only got a few hours of sleep before I had to wake up to do the show. So I came home afterward and crashed on the couch for awhile.

When I woke up, I headed into Rockwood Music Hall to catch a couple of acts. I saw Zach Williams and Old Springs Pike. They are both really incredible, and if you get the chance you should check them out.

That’s all, I’ll let you guys know when the radio show will air…which should be in a week or two.

So, I am doing a 40 minute set with radio interviews tomorrow for an online radio station called Break Thru Radio (you can find them here). I am excited while at the same time hesitant.

I am excited for all the obvious reasons: it’s exposure, they found me and that’s pretty cool, and it’s something I’ve never done before. I am hesitant for all the right reasons: I have to actually play un-fucked-up versions of my songs, it’s at noon and I hope my voice is warmed up, and it’s something I’ve never done before. Cheers to me playing a good set, eh?

In other news, My friends have known for a long time that I decided to take a furlough away from the world of dating a few years ago. Some of my songs have even chronicled this feeling, i.e. Fool’s Gold. I recently decided to come out of retirement and delved into something with a friend of mine. What did I learn? On Furlough is a good place to be because it never really is what you think it could be.

So I decided to see what I could get out of a live recording last night and it turns out that some of the tracks weren’t too bad. I posted them on myspace because, seriously, it’s about time I put some new tracks up there. The new tracks include one of the tracks that used to be there, only live now (Fool’s Gold), and the rest are all songs I have written recently. As per usual I have, backing me up, two incredible musicians in Ryan Vaughn (drums) and Chris Anderson (bass).

For those of you looking for new music from me, I believe this should do. Feel free to comment the songs by clicking comment under the song title. I don’t really think anyone actually does that, but I’m more interested in finding out what people would actually put in that area (it’s not really gonna kill me if you don’t though…seriously). I guess I wouldn’t actually mind hearing what people have to say.

The wonderful World of Myspace

There are several new songs posted to Luke’s Myspace page from his live show at Rockwood Music Hall on Jan. 13th. Check here for details. Click here to listen!

I really was only going to post that last entry tonight, but then I clicked on a google adsense which was helping me decide whether or not I’m “fugly.” How would you describe my lips? thin, plump, juicy, or fat? I went with juicy. I think I answered wrong. I hope I’m not wrong.

Anyway, I believe it was the wise sage Dr. Phil who said, “The definition of stupidity is doing the same thing every time and expecting different results.” I just love the guy, can’t get enough, but that’s a story for a different day (I guess you can’t hear sarcasm in written text can you…). I bring this up because after I filled out the survey that would supposedly answer the burning question of whether or not I was truly fugly or not, I had to keep rejecting advertisement pages that kept asking if I wanted more information on anything ranging from Netflix to Crohn’s disease. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand it’s a serious disorder, but Netflix is something I thought we cured in the 1800s. Regardless, I just kept pressing submit on every page, and I kept thinking that maybe the next one is the one where I would find my answer.

Right before I quit clicking “submit” on pages, I saw an advertisement for a page that said, “Are you diabetic?” Seemed like a far more legitimate question to be seeking an answer to, so I just quit altogether. Why answer real questions when you can answer silly questions? And why answer silly question when there just doesn’t seem like there’s a point (or an answer in sight, for that matter)?

Maybe I’ll become a member of PeTA. That’s something silly and “important” at the same time.

I just got off work bartending. I think I’ll probably kill someone now…

I almost missed the ball drop this year. I was at a party out here in Brooklyn and misjudged how much time I had left ’til the big moment, so I stepped outside to smoke with someone I’d met at the party. When I got back inside there was 5 seconds left of the old year and it was about time to shout and make noise in the way that we’re accustomed to when ringing in the New Year. Something else we’ve grown accustomed to? New Year’s Resolutions.

This is something that has always annoyed me. I think, basically, because I’ve always felt that New Year’s Resolutions are something to be made, but not to be kept. Awfully cynical right? What you call cynicism, I’ll call realism. Why? People don’t change. At least not over night. Every once in a while it happens (there’s always exceptions to any rule), but generally when someone sets down a New Year’s Resolution they are on their way to breaking it by the night’s end. So in lieu of this, I’ve always said, “I don’t need a specific day to bring about change in my life. If I want to change, I’ll do it any day of the year.”

That being said: I don’t change, but then, I don’t try to change either. I get into relationships (romantic or otherwise) and make the same mistakes I always make. My lazy self hinders the progress of my dreams still. But this is what I mean by people don’t change. Someone doesn’t generally turn from a slack-ass into a do-it-yourself motivator. Someone doesn’t generally turn from a selfish lover into the most giving counterpart for which one could ever hope.

I’m not really writing this to whine about my own insufficiencies as a human being. I’m not necessarily writing about your insufficiencies either. My point is that changing ingrained problems in your personality doesn’t happen overnight, that’s why there are therapists that make lots of money to counsel people for years and years. It’s one week later, so I don’t really care where you are with your resolutions today. If you already fell, then give it some more time: these things don’t happen over night.

As for me I’m good. I’m by no means perfect, but what I have seems to be working for me right now. Plus I’m stubborn and arrogant, so I think I’m better than I really am, and see no reason why I should change anyway.

I got together with Chris and Ryan today to rehearse. That was good. It could have been better had I not had to work last night. I had nobody in the bar at around 1:15 and then this guy came in and drank two beers that lasted him until 4:15. He was sloshed by the end because he had already had a lot to drink prior to the whole thing. Nice guy. Really wanted to talk religion and philosophy though. My only problem with talking religion as a bartender (when no one else is in the bar to get annoyed) is that I don’t want to offend this person who is paying my wage.

Regardless, Louie (my visitor last night) was a nice man, and religion only consumed 2/3 of our conversation, so there was a full 1/3 where we had truly interesting discussion about a host of subjects (life, love, work, death). Louie (age 44) talked about the women he met and dated when he was younger and how they were better women than he realized then, wishes he could do it over again and hold onto some of those women which of course is impossible because you can’t step in the same stream twice. It made me think about my current and past affairs. I’m happy with where I am.

Also there was this lady that came in and ordered a Black Russian a couple hours before him. I made it. I charged her. She proceeded to bitch about the price for the next 1/2 hour to the old man beside her when I stopped listening and walked to the other end of the bar. Finally she stopped when I threw a glass at her face, shouted, “I don’t control the prices Bitch!” and tossed her out on her ass in the sub freezing windy night in the East Village. Then I woke up. She was still whining.