READ

There is nothing left to chance

2011-07-01T21:20:00.000-07:00

It's so interesting to look back on things. I love studying timelines- finding the points at which things took a turn. So much of what we go through in our little lives is looked over in anticipation for the day ahead of this one. I have tried to slow down long enough to recognize the blessings, understand the mistakes, and lift up the victories.

There is nothing left to chance.

That's my mantra. I speak it over and over again in my subconscious, letting it shape the thoughts that then become actions.

I should also say that I take no credit for the good things that have fallen my way. I try my best to only expect the good things.

Nashville has quickly become a very good thing. It was a good thing before I even knew it was coming.

When I decided to finally make the leap it was as if the universe smiled and sighed calmly. I was ready, it was ready, everything was ready.

I must say, to come to a new place and to be given a basket-full of friends made just for me is more than any one person could ever hope for. To meet those friends in the first week of being here is almost laughable. It was like I pre-ordered them in the mail and BAM...there they were, waiting on me. I love you all. Really I do.

I have the most comfortable house with the greatest, most "chill" roommate. I love my work and the constant challenges it brings. I love the weather. I love the restaurants. I love the people. And I LOVE the music.

Most of all, I love that I was given the chance to hold my heart out again. As taped together as it was, the greatest thing happened. I looked down, and there was a heart, just as beaten up as mine, held out for me. Naturally I took it. I pulled it in and held it tight, and with a little bit of time it started to heal up. So did mine.

It's so interesting to look back on things- to see how everything happened for its own, very special reason. I love that.

Its Done

2010-12-31T18:10:00.000-08:00

So I'm taking a moment to myself before heading down to Cajun's Wharf for our New Years Eve show. What a year this has been. I have learned so many things about myself and others. It's interesting to look back on a year- to see the blog I posted at the beginning and then to be sitting here now.

I am not exactly where I thought I would be, but I am very very close. I can safely say that 2010 was my year. I tracked it, wrestled it to the ground, branded it, tamed it, let its spirit take me and lived to tell about it. I watched a few kingdoms fall, and few friendships fade. I gained a new appreciation for honest love and a new fear of the vengeful kind. I let myself go, and I began to rein it all in.

I found a new strength that will serve me well throughout 2011, and I have begun the process of living in and for the moment I happen to be experiencing at a given time.

Last year, this time, I was arriving at the New Years Eve show I created for myself. I landed the press, I sold every ticket. I filled every seat, and I deemed it a small victory wrought with struggle. True grit, I say. And now, an entire year later, I am calmly writing a blog before taking the stage at the biggest bar in town for a crowd that I didn't have to fight to get. Will we be getting paid at a fair ratio to what that bar is looking to make? Absolutely not. But hey, there's always next year. haha

I opened the Arkansas Times on Wednesday to see a full page photograph of the Mercers and myself. The caption read, "...arguably Little Rock's finest cover act." It feels good to be liked.

Honestly, I have not one complaint for you, 2010. You brought me all the things I wanted, and you washed away all the things that muddied my boots. True, I made a large helping of mistakes, but I'll not hang my head. I'm proud of where I am, and I am thankful for those who have helped get me here.

Next year holds so many things, so many things for all of us. My prayer is that I'm paying attention to the good stuff and letting all the rest pass over me like a rainy day.

2011, here I come.

Love and Happiness

2010-12-12T17:02:00.000-08:00

"...something that can make you do wrong,

make you do right."

Lord help us all. Haha.

I have been a fool in love, but I do not regret it.

There's something nostalgic about being the fool for love's sake. You certainly don't have the upper hand, and you cannot carry on as if your garments were meant to be kissed. There is nothing righteous about fumbling your way through planned encounters or thinking all day about what you could possibly text that might peak his or her interest. But the fool in love does this unabashedly, unapologetically, and without caution. And honestly, what's a fool got to lose?

I'll tell you what the fool has to gain. The one thing, the only thing, that makes all the public displays of embarrassment remotely worth the trouble is hope. There is no assurance, I REPEAT, there is no assurance that the fool in love will gain the admiration and affection he or she seeks. It is the hope that someday the unrequited lover, they so long for, will look up and see them standing there juggling three enflamed monkeys while balancing atop a house of cards. The hope that maybe, the object of their soul desire will find them interesting enough for a second look.

Ladies and gentleman I have been the fool for enough minutes and hours combined to earn top ranks in the art of Foolery for Love's Chance. Its a real title, I swear. As part of my acceptance speech for my medal, I gave a monster of a closing argument to the equal parts judge and jury that was my foolish desire. I ebbed and flowed my way through the recounting of my struggle and my ridiculous show of "PICK ME! PICK ME!" It was epic.

At that point, like every other fool's dream, mine came down to the verdict- Shall I, Desire, desire you, the fool?

After all, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." Right?

Well, the trouble is, once you've exhausted all your magic tricks and shot off all your fancy fireworks all you're left with is that question. Do you want me or not?

I don't know why the house of cards all fell in my favor, but last night...last night after the odyssey that truly was my wits end, my checkmate,

he picked me.

Merry Christmas.

Graceland.

2010-12-01T11:33:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I want to write about today.
There must be something in there that wants out because I sat down and opened this "new post" window. A lot has happened lately. I've realized a few things about myself and the people around me. I saw a goal through to the end, and I paid a visit to Graceland.

Regarding the first point, I expect a lot from people. Maybe too much. I expect people to care. I expect people to love me back. I expect people to show up. I expect people to spread the word. I expect people to applaud, and I expect people repeat all of the above.
What have I learned?
Expect nothing and appreciate everything.
I used to show up to a gig expecting a line around the block. WHY? What on earth would possess me to think that much of what I had to offer?! haha. I tell you what happened- I was always disappointed. Furthermore, I was never living in the moment (why would I live in a moment I was disappointed with?) Instead, I was always looking to the future. "The next one will be bigger," I'd say.
Most of the time this ended up being true, and somewhere in there my appreciation started to out-weigh my despair. I can say now that, overall, I'm in a place of gratitude. Completely.
Don't let me lie to you though- there are still pauses of discouragement, but they are not conclusions.

Recently I put on a concert at Wildwood Park for the Performing Arts. It was the biggest event/show that I have ever tried to actually make happen. Of course I've had lofty dreams, piles and piles of them, but for some reason this one was realized. It took most of the strings my friend John Willis could pull, and all the energy and time we had to get it off the ground. But we did. :)
With the help of Jody Edrington, Adam Melton, Chris Marsh, N'ell Jones and a whole host of volunteers we planned, and speculated, and hoped, and prayed and pulled it off.
It was the greatest concert of my little life. And I was in every moment of it.
Were all 625 seats occupied? No ma'am. Did we raise the kind of money I was planning on raising for Big Brothers Big Sisters? No sir. Did I give all that attended every once of my soul from beginning to end? You bet your ass I did.
I could have been disappointed with a whole host of things that happened or did not happen, (and again I'll say I had a few pauses) but I found that after the concert ended and I had a few days to stew on it that I was increasingly overwhelmed with joy and accomplishment.
We did good.

Graceland-
That shit is real.
To walk through the archives amongst a steady flow of people- a flow of people that started when Elvis died and continues every day, morning to night- is to be a part of the mania that is the legend that is the musician that was the man. I mean....it was crazy!!!!! I've watched all the specials and I've heard all the songs. I've studied the way he focuses his attention during a song, the way he listens, and the way he directs. And now I've seen with my own eyes the chair he sat still in and the rooms he filled with his God-given charisma. I kept trying to imagine myself there with him but couldn't. I would stop to study one of his famous outfits and imagine him filling it out. I don't know how else to say it; I was absolutely inspired.

I wrote this one more for me than for you. So if you found it a little long winded and redundant I do not apologize. haha!

If you want a place in the sun, you've got to put up with a few blisters.
- Abigail Van Buren

Unrequited

2010-09-27T12:33:00.000-07:00

I'm dumb to even write about it. But oh how I need to.
I love romance. I love painful, gut wrenching, heart-bursting, tear staining love. I love a classic sort of affair-the sailor goes out to sea, drowns, and so his lover ties a brick to his/her waist and meets him at the bottom.
I love a Last of the Mohicans kind of love- you get pushed off a cliff...then I'm tipping myself over as soon as I reach the edge.
But the unrequited love- damn it all to hell.
It's awful!! Its horrific even. And yet, here I am covered in mud, still hanging on. My good friend Allie Fancher-Smith wrote a wonderful song with the hook, "fool, fool am I..."
To be the fool in love is to be the pitiful idiot in the corner. There's got to be a lesson in amongst all the suffering, because lets face it- we do this to ourselves. We cannot blame the person for not loving us back. We just cannot. Its us.
Imagine a tornado, barreling across a grain field. Everyone in town is running for dear life- running for shelter given by some dugout or ditch, and there you are (there I am) hauling ass in the opposite direction flailing about, jumping up and down, yelling up at the funneled beast, "For God's sake take me with you! Pick me up! Pick me up! Pick me."
Well that damn tornado can't even see you its so caught up in its own draw. You get sucked up, not because the tornado wanted you in amongst its collection of debris, but because you threw yourself into the mix! So there you are, swirling about, getting knocked around and beat up by flying cows, loose bricks, and bits of other people's memories and things. As soon as the funnel cloud has had its fill it dissipates. Just as fast as it had appeared it's gone again and the sky breaks open. Who's left? You are. Laughing at the thrill of being noticed for a few seconds and crying at the onset of withdrawal. let's face it, you're addicted to severe thunderstorms.

You are not as deep as you think you are

2010-06-08T11:51:00.000-07:00

I remember it like it was yesterday.
My mother was washing dishes and I was pacing from the refrigerator to the dining room table and back. At that time in my life I found that I was less prone to stuttering if I could move some part of my body in a steady rhythm. I grew up with a severe stutter that only buried itself deeper and deeper into the involuntary firings of my brain as I got older. This regression went from a funny way of mimicking my best friend at the age of four to complete debilitation at the THOUGHT of needing to say something by the time I reached junior high. Ask me to read something out loud and you might as well have asked your cat to read it to you because I would go into a total state of mental and physical lock down.
I remember one summer when I couldn't say, "hello" if I answered the telephone. It wasn't the word that held me back or the "H;" it was just the fact that I was expected to say it! So I would wait until the person on the other end would finally say, "Hello?" And then I would answer them as if they were crazy; as if to imply that I had been waiting on their response for ions. "Yeeesss," I'd say, "did you not hear me the first time?"
On this particular occasion in our kitchen I was reeling about some great tragedy I had no doubt suffered that very day. I had a way of playing back an event as if Scarlett O'Hara had endured the hardship instead of me. With great dramatic fervor I recounted every second of whatever it was I felt had wounded me so. It must have been something about my lofty ambitions for fame that had started the conversation because I remember going on and on about how much it saddened me that "the people in this town are just so satisfied with going to work and coming home and going to work and coming home," and how I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that, "most of the kids I'm in school with don't plan past this weekend's party much less the careers they AREN'T going to pursue." I kept ranting and complaining and pitying and moaning about all these dreamless, hopeless people that frustrated me to no end until my mother finally slammed the plate she was washing down into the sink. The water was still sloshing back and forth when she slowly turned to me, both hands submerged and planted under the soapy dishwater, and said, "You aren't as deep as you think you are." I stood there stunned. "Have you ever stopped to understand that they are living their dream? That the normalcy of every day is all they ever wanted? Just because their dreams aren't as grand as yours does not mean that they don't have them or that they are any less magical."
I think she went on proving her point but after that I had tuned her out. I was still hung up on her first statement. I remember turning on my heels and ominously marching past my dad and brother who were planted in front of the television. I carried myself up the stairs, back straight, head up, as if I were supporting the weight of one of Scarlett O'Hara's dresses- dress upon petticoats upon petticoats upon slips upon corset. But it didn't matter. I liked the weight of my late teens because it made for a more dramatic collapse onto my bedroom floor. I laid there and just cried and cried. "HOW COULD SHEEEEE!!" HOW COULD SHE THINK I'M NOT AS DEEP AS I THINK I AAAAAMMM!!" She crushed me with one sentence.

Sometimes, as a child, after I had been spanked I would run to the nearest mirror and watch my reflection as I cried so that it would intensify the experience. The site of myself bawling would cause me to bawl even better! Certainly at this particular moment of devastation I did the same thing with the mirror above my dresser. I'm sure I pulled myself across the floor, and then pulled myself up until my head was just clearing the top of the dresser. That way I could watch myself crying but feel as if I were lying on the floor. I was all about the visuals.
So there I was crying about what my mother had said, and it never occurred to me that she was talking about herself; not until way later in life when I was thinking about it as an adult. I was just going on and on about how pitiful these people were and she was one of them. Well of course I felt awful and I finally understood what she was trying to say. These days I don't pity anybody with the dream or better yet the reality of just to being normal. I envy them! Of course I'm still in hot pursuit of the things I've always been chasing, more so now than ever before, but there is a part of me that wants what all those people from my hometown have. A rich, normal, everyday kind of life.
So here I am again. I have just been through a necessary break up, I'm trying to hold onto the tail of my star as it shoots across the sky without me, and I can't help but feel that I am too deep for my own good; so far from the depth that my mother THOUGHT I lacked.

More to come.

Local Crooner Attempts Self-Tanned Perfection

2010-04-08T08:21:00.000-07:00

"Crooner is an epithet given to a male singer of a certain style of popular songs, dubbed pop standards.[citation needed] A crooner is a singer of popular ballads and thus a "balladeer".[citation needed] The singer is normally backed by a full orchestra or big band. Generally, crooners sang and popularized the songs from the Great American Songbook. "Crooner" was originally used as a negative term, and many people given the term, such as Russ Colombo, did not consider themselves to be crooners. In an interview, Frank Sinatra said that he did not consider himself or Bing Crosby to be crooners." --- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crooner

What the hell? I don't know what I did to deserve this title. "Local crooner Cody Belew this, and local crooner Cody Belew that." Any press is good press, right? That's the way it works I guess. I just feel like its such a lazy thing to print if you've never even been to a show from which to draw such a conclusion. I'm not asking for "Local bad ass" or "Local super-nova mega voice." Just do your own research and coin your own phases rather than copy and paste from one online blog to the next.
One guy associated this horribly descriptive noun with my name and it stuck. Now every local online calendar starts with that heading. In the words of Charlie Brown, "Arrrrgg."

Beyond that little glitch most everything else is going rather well. Shows are going great. New people keep showing up with more new people. The Mercers are sounding SO good. It's pretty cool. I've been working on a few shows for the solo project. Though we haven't gotten together since the album release show, things are looking up. I've got a handful of songs that I'm ready to move forward with. Just have to get all my ducks in a row. It has been overwhelmingly awesome to have all this feedback pouring in from people either purchasing the CD or buying the album online on iTunes or Amazon.com. I just can't get over the fact that people are genuinely interested in the work that I've created and that I continue to create.
I'm ready to get things rolling with merchandise development. I've got a few artist in mind to call on, but if you know of anyone good please let me know! My mind is in a constant state of thoughts firing. It's a lot like watching the flight schedule screen at the airport- boom boom boom. As I was driving to work this morning my mind settled for a few seconds on the idea of "Cody Belew" license plates. Then I giggled at my bold sub conscience and its lack of self limitation. Who thinks up things like that?!?! Me and Billy Ray Cyrus I guess.

I made the mistake of testing some self tanning spray that was sent to us at work to try. To have been a fly on the wall... geez. After standing in the shower, in my underwear, to spray from my feet to my thighs, I decided I needed to blot and blend. (A key technique, any reputable spray tan professional will say.) In my haste to try the product I failed to plan ahead. I only realized that I needed an old towel from the closet down the hall when I also realized that I had sprayed myself into a corner- the shower to be exact. There were two rugs between me and that closet, two fluffy white rugs. Being of athletic descent I easily spanned the distance from the tub to the floorspace on the other side of the first rug. Then while channeling a younger version of my father I did some sort of offensive football move around the second rug; failing to take into account the wall that runs the length of my hallway. So as I celebrated my successful run I turned in horror to see a large bronze smear on the wall where my right ass cheek had been. This meant two things. The wall was bronzed, and one ass check was not. Luckily the spray easily came off the wall with a quick scrub down. I found out later on that it does not come off the body in the same fashion.
Now I've never been one to do ANYTHING half assed. That being said I went ahead and sprayed my entire body blotting and blending as I went. Unfortunately I was so caught up (as Usher would say) in getting an even coat that I didn't realize I had worked my way out of the shower onto the very rug I had successfully dodged minutes before. I was hunched over with that can-o-tan awkwardly crooked over my shoulder. Imagine someone trying to reach a bug bite square in the middle of their back. ITS IMPOSSIBLE! So there I was, hunched over, trying to sling self tanner across my back to the far reaches of my lower shoulder blades and beyond. ...spray...sling...spray...sling. This was my approach. And it worked! The trouble was by that point I had sweat most of the stuff off of my face and it was now running down my neck. ...blot...blend....blot...blend. Furthermore, as the foggy brown mist settled around me (and along the inner cavity walls of my lungs) i noticed that the toilet, sink, shower/tub combo, and yes that fluffy white rug had the same George Hamilton-like tan that I had worked so hard to administer to myself alone.
The directions on the box said to let the tanner work for 4 hours before showering and lifting heavy objects. I tried very hard to follow the rules but its sort of difficult to do when you're carefully trying to scrub the shower, sink, toilet and walls without letting you arms meet your rib cage and keeping your inner thighs from mashing together (as if mine ever do.)

When it was all said and done I had achieved a wonderful tan. It was even- darker where the sun normally hits and lighter where it doesn't. My face looked naturally kissed. Surprisingly, my back was all copper-toned, and so on. The box said to pay close attention to one's knees and elbows as they tend to darken more than the rest of one's body. I did this. What the box failed to mention are one's hands. This all happened three nights ago and it looks like I'm typing this blog with Snookie's hands from the Jersey Shore! It's HORRIBLE! Dead give away. Red Alert.
But hey, they match the mysterious bronze stain that breaks the even tan-line across the lowest area of my back and runs down into the crack of my ass- sweat no doubt being the evil nemesis that laughed when it knew it had averted my almost perfected blot...and blend...

Have a good week.
Catch me at Cajun's tonight with the Mercers
at Michelangelo's on Saturday with Rodney Black & the Real Music Lovers.

2010-04-05T20:45:00.001-07:00

2010-02-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

NEW FACELIFT FOR MY WEBSITE!!!

www.codybelew.com

cheers.

Taking the Stage

2010-01-28T18:31:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm about to head down to Sticky Finger's for the first round of the Arkansas Times Musician's Showcase. I entered the contest on a whim and I guess on that same whim I got in.

Frantically I put together the band that will join me on stage tonight at approximately 11:00.

We're the third slot.

I'm nervous.

With the Mercers I don't get that way. We're such a well oiled machine, and at the end of the day I can pretty much know how a show is going to end up.

But this is different. This is my music! Up until now I've mostly kept it all to myself, but after tonight it's out there. Its up for debate and to be processed thoughtfully, or casually in one ear and out the other. I put some of my roommates maxi pads in the arm pits of my shirt for fear of being docked points for obscene pit stains. Luckily they are sticky on one side so hopefully they won't fall out when I lift my arms during emotional/ showy sections of the set. At first I thought she wanted me to put the sticky side against my hairy pit, but after a moment of giggling she explained that "the sticky side goes against your shirt...idiot."

Hopefully that will be the only hiccup of the evening.

I've very proud of the work me and the guys have pulled together in the past two nights.

More than anything, I'm proud to expose this little bit of my creative outlet- the window to my soul if you will.

Here's to seeing things through.

I'll keep you abreast of the results!

The Year of the Self-Made Man

2010-01-10T21:48:00.000-08:00

Well here we are again, off to a great start.

I'm so very excited about the new year. All my loose ends are finally being worked into the weave of things. Tori Houston took photos for my album last week and I absolutely can't wait to see them.

My idea for the concept was realized with Mark's help. He knew the exact location of the exact motel I described to him. I wanted to find a dingy old motel that was sort of locked in 1972. Success came in the form of a little motel in Conway. It was very clean, but was a time capsule if I've ever seen one. IT WAS PERFECT!

I'm going to pick up the pictures tomorrow. Then it's up to Rosemary to deliver with her eye for graphic design.

I don't know what I'd do without my talented friends. Most of the time I try to do it all, and then right when I think I'm unstoppable I remember that I can't take pictures of myself and I can't do the graphic layout for my album. What can I say, it takes a village.

2010 is fast becoming "The Year of the Self-Made Man." I'm literally making something out of nothing when it comes to the launching of my quote, unquote "music career." But with each show, and each blatant request to be featured in local magazines, and each facebook fan request I seem to be tracking a little progress.

At the end of the day it's up to me anyway so why shouldn't I be the man behind the curtain?

Sorry to disappoint you but, yes, that's me back there pushing all those buttons and pulling all those levers.

Before long, everything will come into focus.

We'll understand it all by and by.

Magic

2009-11-26T16:52:00.000-08:00

I performed last night with Rodney Block and his Real Music Lovers.

We killed it.

I'm certain that we will share the bill over and over from here on out.

As much as I love my Mercers, its amazing to stand in front of a band with a different perspective and a different current.

The best part was my closing hymn; "Magic," by Robin Thicke.

We killed it.

In other news, people are starting to buy tickets to my New Years Eve show. I hope like hell the thing sells out... I guess anybody would. The Mercers and I are seeing a bit of success come our way due to the buzz surrounding our shows. Each gig is packed with people I've either never met or had met only a show or two before. Its humbling and exciting all at the same time to see the ball start to roll.

My album is one mandolin track away from completion!!!! Everybody pray that we can wrap that up real soon.

The most exciting news I have to report is that Roll Tumble Press has agreed to create a New Years Eve poster like no other for my show. Christie Turk and Caleb Pritchett, the geniuses behind the press, are drawing up the plans for what will surely be a design fit for art school text books. Theirs are the sort that artists everywhere should study and draw inspiration from. I'm in constant admiration of their work and I am so blessed to be their muse for this project.

Stay tuned for more to come.

Peace and Love.

My debut album "Paradise" coming soon

2009-09-18T08:34:00.001-07:00

I am very excited to announce that my lovechild, whom I have been nurturing now for a few years, is almost ready to release out into the world. The album and it's title track are called "Paradise."
I've been blessed by having a handful of my talented friends lend their musicianship and perspective to this long-awaited project. All the songs started as simple lyrics and melodies that I've never been able to forget after initially scribbling them down.

Also, my website, www.codybelew.com, is finally up and running. If everything is going as planned then you probably found the site first before clicking your way over to my little blog.
...and I'm so glad you did!

All of my show dates and appearances will be listed there on the calender page so check it out to stay informed!

If you're a new friend, I am so happy to be a part of your life.
If you're an old friend, you know what to expect and I can't wait to see you again!

Stay tuned, and thanks for visiting my blog.

"I Like You" by Sandol Stoddard Warburg

2009-08-06T11:57:00.000-07:00

I like you and I know why.
I like you because you are a good person to like.
I like you because when I tell you something special, you know it's special
And you remember it a long, long time.
You say, Remember when you told me something special
And both of us remember

When I think something is important
you think it's important too
We have good ideas
When I say something funny, you laugh
I think I'm funny and you think I'm funny too
Hah-hah!
I like you because you know where I'm ticklish
And you don't tickle me there except just a little tiny bit sometimes
But if you do, then I know where to tickle you too
You know how to be silly
That's why I like you
Boy are you ever silly
I never met anybody sillier than me till I met you
I like you because you know when it's time to stop being silly
Maybe day after tomorrow
Maybe never
Too late, it's a quarter past silly
Sometimes we don't say a word
We snurkle under fences
We spy secret places
If I am a goofus on the roofus hollering my head off
You are one too
If I pretend I am drowning, you pretend you are saving me
If I am getting ready to pop a paper bag
then you are getting ready to jump
HOORAY

That's because you really like me
You really like me, don't you
And I really like you back
And you like me back and I like you back
And that's the way we keep on going every day

If you go away, then I go away too
or if I stay home, you send me a postcard
You don't just say Well see you around sometime, bye
I like you a lot because of that
If I go away, I send you a postcard too
And I like you because if we go away together
And if we are in Grand Central Station
And if I get lost
Then you are the one that is yelling for me

And I like you because when I am feeling sad
You don't always cheer me up right away
Sometimes it is better to be sad
You can't stand the others being so googly and gaggly every single minute
You want to think about things
It takes time

I like you because if I am mad at you
Then you are mad at me too
It's awful when the other person isn't
They are so nice and hoo-hoo you could just about punch them in the nose

I like you because if I think I am going to throw up
then you are really sorry
You don't just pretend you are busy looking at the birdies and all that
You say, maybe it was something you ate
You say, the same thing happened to me one time
And the same thing did

If you find two four-leaf clovers, you give me one
If I find four, I give you two
If we only find three, we keep on looking
Sometimes we have good luck and sometimes we don't

If I break my arm, and if you break your arm too
Then it's fun to have a broken arm
I tell you about mine, you tell me about yours
We are both sorry
We write our names and draw pictures
We show everybody and they wish they had a broken arm too

I like you because I don't know why but
Everything that happens is nicer with you
I can't remember when I didn't like you
It must have been lonesome then

I like you because because because
I forget why I like you but I do
So many reasons
On the 4th of July I like you because it's the 4th of July
On the 5th of July, I like you too
If you and I had some drums and some horns and some horses
If we had some hats and some flags and some fire engines
We could be a HOLIDAY
We could be a CELEBRATION
We could be a WHOLE PARADE
See what I mean?

Even if it was the 999th of July
Even if it was August
Even if it was way down at the bottom of November
Even if it was no place particular in January
I would go on choosing you
And you would go on choosing me
Over and over again
That's how it would happen every time
I don't know why
I guess I don't know why I really like you
Why do I like you
I guess I just like you
I guess I just like you because I like you.

spinning spinning

2009-08-05T11:06:00.000-07:00

Today I creep along.
The pit of my stomach is numb.
I must find myself in order to give myself.
I must drink Lilac Wine.
I will find you in my darkest hour.
I will search you out and fall at your feet.
I will turn myself over to you.
You must hold on to me.
You must.

A slew of violations

2009-08-04T12:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, post time.

What a summer it has been! Wow.
I will be going into the studio at the end of this month to record my long-anticipated first EP. It will be seven original tracks that I am very very proud of. I can't wait to turn them loose for everyone to absorb. The project will be the combined efforts of Michael Wallace, John Willis, Wes Saunders, myself and a few others. The time has finally arrived.
In a completely different vein of my life, I finished the first draft of my children's book, "Grinucha the Witch and the Awful Shoe Switch." It took me a year to complete, and in my naive position as a novice writer I was almost scammed by a crooked literary agency. I went so far as to sign a silly contract, but was able to dissolve it in the 72 hour window of submission. So nothing lost but a little pride, and an immense amount of knowledge gained. I'll take it.
I am working on the second draft right now. I LOVE the process. It's like putting together a puzzle. I have the picture in my head, and all the pieces are right here in front of me. Now I just have to put the whole thing together. Rosemary is editing these first drafts for me before I submit it to a real live agency. (insert famous quote about success reached by earning it, not by expecting it.)
I have not yet been able to settle my nerves and my mind since the attempted break in a few months back. I think I would handling it better had we not been home. But we were home, and that created a whole mess of terrible thoughts that swirl round my bed at night. Or when I have to force myself to go out to my car after dark. Or when I'm contemplating taking a shower but won't do it unless someone is home. Not because I'm scared, but because if the water is on I can't hear everything that's going in and around the house.
I know it's all very silly, but it's where I am right now. The silver lining to it all is that I rearranged my room (so that I wouldn't sleep between the windows but facing them.) It spurred me to make new curtains out of some old ones that I had in the attic (so if someone happened to be outside my window they couldn't see in between the blinds and the window frame.) Needless to say, I LOVE the new set up. It tells a much more comfortable story, and I like the way it looks at first entering the room.
I'm excited for whatever is around the corner. I know good things are in my cards.

Soon enough this blog will be a link from my website, codybelew.com. It will be the information hub for anyone wanting to track me down. It will have show times/dates, news, photos, video links, etc. So there will no longer be an excuse for things not to happen. The arch will have been open, so y'all just come on in!

2009-07-01T13:30:00.000-07:00

New post, and blog revamp coming soon. I PROMISE!!

What a year

2009-05-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

I have successfully completed year 23 of my life. So very many things have transpired. I left my cabin home that I still miss more than I expected. I have continued my persuit for fame and started the cultivation of my worldwide fanbase. Babysteps.

I have maintained the lifestyle of which I desired for myself, and with that I have worked my ass off. For the most part I enjoy my day job. I am not very fond of my night job, but I am fortunate to have it. I have my moments with the church choir, but the music literature is so good I can't help but love singing it. As a headliner, my own shows are going as planned. The crowds have been very enthusiastic and that is a refreshing situation. I look forward to the coming months as they with surely bring more and more instances for applause. Like the Blue Whale's sole diet consists of krill, I live off of the afformentioned praise that fills the spaces from song to song.

I lost a dear friend, the last of his kind, and the first friend I have ever had to say goodbye to. There are still quiet moments of grief, but I have so many good things to remember. Call me crazy, but I see him every where in amongst random passing seconds and fleeting thoughts.

I don't know what this 24th year has in store, but I am ready to meet it head on. I don't know why, but this, I feel, is going to be the year. The one that defines the rest of my life. Now, I may be eating those words sooner than I think, but I'm going with what my soul keeps telling me.

Any of us could die at any minute of the day. If my time should come sooner than yours remember that I laughed. All the time. Remember that I loved. As honestly as I could. And for God's sake remember that I sang. All the way to the end.

I mean, I'm not PLANNING on dying you know. but I must think these things up!

the sixth of six

2009-02-10T14:13:00.001-08:00

So I'm doing what Marko told me to do... open the sixth picture folder on your computer, upload the sixth picture, and blog about it.

This picture was taken during a very fantastic night. I suprised Mark by telling him I wasn't going to come to a party hosted by some of his friends. He got really mad about it, and I just fed the fire, so that the surprise would be that much sweeter. We had dinner, and I hung out with his friends. Two amazing things happened that night. There was an explosion at the fire pit, and I finally got to meet Daysha. (she is the one on the left.)

I love this photo of Daysha, Alex, and I. It is a sweet reminder of a sweet memory.

And now a message to Marko:

Don't worry about a thing. I will hold you in my arms. Period.

Bar Fly

2009-01-16T11:00:00.000-08:00

The grand opening of Off Center was quite a success. 350+ people packed into the place and gave it the welcome it deserved. I was humbled, anxious, and a little sad all at the same time. Buddy's dream had come to life.

Adding the horn players to the mix was probably the best thing I could have done. They bring such an awesome energy to the music.

We opened the show with an 80's classic. Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer." I was trying to talk the band into cutting it up until the very last second. ...good thing we didn't. It was the perfect opener.

After that, the show rolled on as it was planned. For the most part. There were a few glitches in the music, but the crowd was awesomely unaware.

The responses, praise, cheers, and accollades have been flooding my facebook and my email.

I never would have imagined such a thing.

Buzz is good.

All my life I've lived for applause, but I've made the shift from that immediate gratification to the sustainable energy created by good buzz. ....So don't ever say I'm not doing my part to save the planet.

Marko continues to bless my life with a kind of love I thought I would never know. Without sounding like a Danielle Steel novela, it's sort of hard to describe. Only those who understand what I'm trying to say really understand what I'm trying to say.

hahaha.

He's a keeper. 'nough said.

Tonight John Willis and I take the stage at Off Center. We'll be serving up a mix of americana, r&b, pop, country, and diva. this first show will kick off what I hope to be a lasting "act" that everyone finds refreshing.

And I'm hoping for a HUGE payoff. lol

Everyone please pray for my vocal chords, they're all but used up this week.

I hope you're having the time of your life.

But think twice.

...That's my only advice.

Soon and Very Soon

2009-01-05T09:19:00.000-08:00

T-minus 5 and counting....

This time Saturday I will be anxiously waiting among the nameless faces littering the baggage claim arena.

I'm going to look good.

I'm going to look really good.

I hope you'll have your back to me, so I can sneek up on you and say something coy like, " been here long?"

Or maybe I want you to see me from a long ways off so that I can take my time walking. That way the anticipation can build and build.

This trip was good for so many reasons. You were able to spend a wonderful month with your best friend- this, I think, is most important.

While you were away I was able to miss everything about you. My love for you has mutated into its own living, breathing thing. It wears my life like a dressing gown. And it keeps my soul in a locket, nestled close to it's chest. It eats my thoughts for breakfast, and it inhales my dreams to sustain its existance.

I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Maybe I'll just prop you up on my bedside table and just take you in like the grand canyon. hmm. So many options.

You're job is to come back.

...let me take care of the rest.

And still I sing

2008-12-24T10:43:00.000-08:00

Well Buddy, you've left me in quite a mess. I've been trying for hours to pull myself together to no avail.

I just sit. and stare.

like an idiot.

My sweet friend. You represent the vast knowledge of music that I will never know. Even if I spent the rest of my life accumulating I would never reach your level of sainthood.

But that wasn't what you and I were about, huh? It wasn't about knowledge or ability or perfection (even though it was, indeed, all these things) we were the music. ...so much bigger than you and I.

I'll never forget the countless moments. Me propped up on the arm of your couch, you at the keyboard. When the genius was creeping in, your breathing would grow heavy, I would start to grin, and then all at once we were on fire.

Oh, how you could play my friend.

Then we would just talk and talk, and laugh. damn.

I hope you know how I have wept for you. I honestly couldn't get enough of you. So to just leave like you did was a little selfish. I don't know who I should blame for that, but anyway...

I will love you forever. Fly on.

If only I were a bird.

2008-12-18T11:43:00.000-08:00

Well I'm doing my very best.
I'm so proud that you're getting to have such a WONDERFUL experience, and for such a long stay. However, I can't help but let my selfish, lonely heart bruise a little.

And I quote, "There are millions of peoples here, but he only speaks of you."
These are the words I will live by until your sweet return.

Then, I quote," Do you know how much I miss you?" "No," I said, "how much?"
"The whooooole world."

And these are the words that will continue to knock the wind right out of me.

I am a slane man. If ever I was a trophy, I am perched in your glass case.

Pin me down against it all.
I'll cash out, I'll say uncle.
Lay it all on the line.
Bet my weight in gold.
Stake your claim in that.

And why must you employ
Such a sneak attack
To cripple me so?
You like to win,
I know.

Taken Down

2008-12-01T21:23:00.000-08:00

There's one thing you can always count on when it comes to time.
It will always keep going.
When you realize this you will also understand how small you're stake in things really is.

I love to compare this notion to the image of me fishing as a child. I was never content to fish in one spot too long. My dad was always saying in a loud whisper, "just let it sit there for a minute! The fish will bite if you'll be patient."
I never understood why he was always whispering while fishing... as if fish have ears. So there I'd be, staring down my bobber, until that moment when I thought it had been taken down. I would jerk my fishing pole as hard as I could, flinging my bobber, hook, line, sinker, and that poor little cricket up over the boat into the distance behind me... only to realize that my vision had been lost in the ripples caused by that sweet summer breeze. I was too quick on the draw.
Before long, we were on the move. My dad was just as impatient as I was. And it was
then that I wanted to be still! We would glide past COUNTLESS perfect spots. I'd frantically cast out ahead of the boat, only to catch up to and then pass my bobber in seconds. Stretching out over the back of the boat, I would let it sit until the boat was dragging it along then I would find another perfect spot in the distance and cast again.

One always wants what one can't have.

Time is like that boat, dragging us along. But it has taken me to a wonderful place in my life. I am very happy at the moment, and I have time to thank for that.

I still look out into the distance, but I've not been looking back, trying to remember old "perfect spots," in quite some time. ...weeks even!

I am so thankful for the time I get to spend every day being loved and knowing that I am in a very sweet sort of love. I never expected it to happen at all much less with such timing. But there it is, all the same.

There you are
Standing in this one time
this one place.
Here I am
Jealous of the sun
who warms your face.

But when the night comes
You are all mine
you give the stars
and fireflies
reason to shine.

The Beginning

2008-11-23T08:29:00.000-08:00

I've decided to begin a "captain's log."

This way, if something horrific ever happens, there will be a trace of me floating around this world wide web.

I love to write, so this whole "day 1, day 2" thing should come as second nature.

There should be a beginning. I know, I know, this is the beginning, but I want there to be a definite start.

I think I'll start with the exposition of my life. That way, you (the reader) and I (the tragic hero) will have been properly introduced.

I'm from the country. I loved to play in the dirt; it was my favorite thing when i was little. I don't mean making mud pies or burying toys. I would strip down to nothing and sit in the finest, most powdery, spot I could find, and do my best to become a part of dirt I so enjoyed. Hours were spent sifting it through my fingers; clouding it up around me as if it were a magic dust. I transgressed rather effortlessly from dirt to song.

My earliest memory of music plays out like most- I was in church. It was the little stone church down the road from our house. My mother would take me down there so the eldery people, great aunts and uncles could gush over me. They would stand me up on a stool and I would sing "this little light of mine" while Mrs. Stroud, an ancient christian woman, played the piano.

Where my memory starts to differ from most is in the fact that I don't just remember singing that song. I remember the way everyone reacted, and the admiration that crept up from the pews. It bit me; not the holy spirit, but the energy of it all. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I would learn, over time, that, if the song was right-if I was doing my part, I could control the emotions of an entire room.

So the evolution of me continued. I spent most of my days, as a kid, outside. I spent countless hours trying to will myself to fly, making up potions, and building forts in the woods. All the while singing to myself and the the hills around our little farm. I would pretend that all the trees choking the hillsides were my audience, and the hillsides my stadium. I would echo up and over the sea of leaves and they would throw my songs back at me. It was a lovely marriage. At one point I misunderstood the physics of sound waves and I took their definition quite literally. I assumed that if I could hear a plane flying by, then surely whomever was riding in them would hear me singing back. For some reason I was sure Reba McEntire was aboard any one of those passing airplanes. Whenever I heard one coming I would stop whatever I was doing and run to the nearest corner post along the barbed wire fence, scramble to the top, and sing. Boy did I sing. I was certain that if she only heard a note or two she would DEMAND the pilot land her plane in the field beside my house. She never did.

Time after time, stage after stage, I grew up singing to whomever would listen. And still I sing... because they're still listening.