A Thank You and an Update on My Car

Hey Everyone.

Thank you for contributing to my efforts to get back out on the road. We're still quite a long ways from the goal, but we got the money close enough to the dial to get my car repaired, so I scheduled an appointment with Harry, my mechanic friend that lives in Glendale.

Another musician friend of mine Matt, hipped me to him when I first moved to Eagle Rock around 6 or 7 years ago. Harry tries his best to help us musicians out and not charge out the nose for the work he does.

This repair would cost me easily $1,500 to $2,000 in shopping around to ask, if not more from a certified Honda Dealership.

The engine maintenance I need is not easy work.

He will have my car for two to three days to repair it. I just got off the phone with him, and he laid that knowledge at my feet as well. I was unaware. He said, “this job isn’t like replacing your breaks. I have to take a lot of things apart.” He does. He means the frickin’ engine. He needs to take my engine apart. That’s sensitive work. That’s like my car getting heart surgery.

It's preventative maintenance, but Timing Belts and Serpentine Belts are not things you want to go out while driving a car. It will literally ruin the engine, if either goes out. This maintenance will give me another 70,000 to 100,000 miles of driving a car in good health, hopefully. Holy cow do I need that. Let me further explain.

This is important to me. Why?

Because trying to build enthusiasm and a fan base around music is next to impossible these days. It’s repetitive work, and often thankless.

Music is not something that people champion as they get older. It’s looked at as something one can take or leave. When we are younger, we experience music like a religious experience.

This realization doesn’t make my job any easier.

The way I look at it is that the key hole to a person’s heart is narrow. It takes a conglomeration of events at times, for people to truly pay attention to my hard work. Especially the lyrics of all things.

For example: your wife or husband suddenly leaves you. Sleeps with someone else. You are hurting in a way you have never hurt before.

You listen to one of my songs, and you begin to cry, because you realize that you are not alone in how you feel in that moment.

That is how narrow that keyhole is. It took all these horrible events to bring a person to their knees, to finally listen to the words of a song, that might have popped up on accident in a playlist or maybe was purchased with good intention but never listened to until that moment.

This is humble work I do. It requires me to visit far away places over and over and over again. To constantly post on social media that no one who follow my accounts ever sees anymore these days because of an ever changing algorithm. To gain new subscribers on a mailing list, only to watch them leave as digital numbers that lower with every email out to them. Luckily, they are replaced by new people that I find through my continuous efforts and acts of creation.

So, I thank you for seeing that, because you are helping me to continue the hard work that I cherish and revere and look at in a spiritual light, even if those around me do not.

I do. And I truly believe that with all my heart and soul. I am on my path in life, and it is not easy—but I am here to tell you that I am in it for the long haul.

I think you know that though.

All my gratitude and sincerity and deep love for seeing me, and not an image of me.

If you are interested in contributing, you may do so here: https://gofund.me/a67fcb1e

Mike

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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My Mom

This is my mom.

She has lived quite the life.

She grew up during the Great Depression—as a farmer no less. She told me stories of the times when candy was purchased with a single small coin, but had a much larger value in that century.

As a young child in those times, she was sent to the grocery store to beg for bones from the butcher, so that my grandmother and grandfather could prepare bone marrow soup from those meager remnants.

That’s what poverty looks like.

My grandma and grandpa and mom and her siblings… they all were tough.

My aunt contracted Polio. She initially was right handed, but after getting Polio, had to relearn how to write with her left hand. My grandmother was patient and brilliant, and taught my aunt how to overcome Polio by learning how to write with her other hand that wasn’t affected by the paralysis of the disease.

I remember my aunt having a hobble to her locomotion, and never knowing why until my mom told me the above mentioned.

My grandmother was a hell of a musician too. My mom plays as well… now I do too.

… and I’m probably not tough like they were. Resilient, maybe? Yeah, I’d say I’m resilient.

My mom was raised on a farm in the Central Valley, so she knows the meaning of taking an animals life to eat, because she would have to do it, and my mom loves animals. It’s the circle of life, and she knows that first hand.

Dinner wasn’t a chicken neatly wrapped in styrofoam, covered in clear plastic wrap, purchased at the grocery store.

That’s the reality I know.

My mom has taught me a lot of things over the years. She has a lot of wisdom. I always listen to it.

Most of the furry friends we had growing up, were all rescued from one dire circumstance or another, because it’s the right thing to do: help a cat or a dog out that’s shivering in the middle of a freeway median, with traffic passing at 70MPH.

… and I’d like to think that she passed on to me, some of the things that I admire about her the most. I’ll try my best to carry that torch, and keep it lit.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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The State of Professional Music Creators in 2025

I woke up in tears this morning.

I am mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. I try my very best to remain balanced, working as a musician. However, when I say I get up at 4:30AM to work, I really do.

It shouldn’t have to be this way. I also realize that I am a very driven person with purpose and meaning.

As mentioned previously, I do the job of many entities in pursuit of playing my original music. No one else works this hard for me, so I do.

In my humble opinion, these tech companies and social media companies, abuse us artists. They abuse us people, as well as our mental health.

They treat musicians and artists as beasts of burden, walking in circles on an imaginary grain mill.

Streaming services steal nearly all profits from musicians, and tech companies make it next to impossible for folks I have spent 15 years connecting with, to even see my posts.

I know that I need a break from posting on social media everyday, not just in this feed, but in all the Facebook and Reddit groups that I post to, that you have no idea that I post into, because people do not see my posts on Facebook Like Page or my Facebook Digital Creator account that I write you from, so I am forced to spend even more time on here trying to connect with people in private groups. I do what I must to find an audience of likeminded folks. I think that this is calculated on part of social media entities.

Admittedly, in the eyes of so many, I am a nobody musician.

I don’t think that.

I think I am very talented, because I have worked for that, for 46 years. I am a damn good songwriter and lyricist.

I am being treated as a tangible object with no feelings by big tech, when in fact, I am extremely sensitive and empathetic and capable of helping so many people with the music I make.

This is my path in life: being an artist. I have known this for a long time. It is no one else’s place to tell me otherwise. It would be from ignorance if you did.

I assure you, these tech companies and social media conglomerates, are not doing anyone a great service. They divide people by spreading divisive topics of conversation, such as politics, for example. While it is a person’s prerogative to share ideas on Facebook, it rarely changes a person’s mind in my humble approximation, so efforts to do such could very well be fruitless.

Sharing ideas on social media with one another is great! I like that. All I am getting at, is that the Facebook algorithm being used, are based on human behavior and propogate according to human short comings and extreme virtues, such as the propensity of argument or the act of caring and empathy.

Other topics do make it through, but normally because of the abundance of connection the individual has achieved through time spent on this platform consistently or the nototiety the individual has amased from being really good at something in the outside world. Kudos to both, deeply and truly. It is time spent either way, and our choice to pursue that which makes us happy is good at its core.

I digress though. I woke up in tears this morning because I am defeated.

I am making really good art, and releasing it every week, and it isn’t reaching its audience.

I ask for help to stay a float, and it’s met with scrutiny by some, and open arms by others. People have absolutely the wrong idea about artists. We work harder than most people on this planet.

If you don’t believe that, try doing it yourself and see how far you get. I have been at this for a long time, so I know from experience.

As a songwriter, I am an observationalist (and a really good one at that).

Legacy musicians: help out your brothers and sisters right now, because we need help. Things aren’t the same as they were when you were coming up. I assure you of that.

Yes, I am trying to do something about it. I was on the phone with a Musician’s Union for two hours yesterday, I have Zoom meetings lined up next week. I am a nobody trying to fix the fucking problem in the real world.

There is a bill going before Congress this year that would force streaming services to pay out half of the monthly fee you give Spotify or Apple Music or so forth, to the musicians. There is zero regulation on these companies in that regard, and they really do steal all of the money from musicians and build oppulent headquarters for themselves with those profits. If you don’t believe me, check out the Spotify headquarters in New York. If you to try to protest outside of their building, you will be removed by the port authority, in no time short.

I have musician friends who have visited the headquarters of one such major streaming platform there and openly said to the tour guide, “oh, so this is where all my money is being spent.”

You can help too if you would like, but first, you need to see the problem. I sure as hell do.

Share this blog maybe. Or don’t. I will do what I can on my end as a “nobody musician.”

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Gratitude and a GoFundMe Update

Gratitude:

I’m grateful for the corporate gig I played in Anaheim the other night at the Convention Center.

I had just got loaded in and set up and had some time to kill before my set, to write you this.

I'm grateful for everyone who has been contributing to my GoFundMe to help get my car fixed, help with my electric bill, re-up on merchandise to sell while on tour, and hopefully go to the dentist to have my teeth looked at for the first time in a long time.

So far, $1,050 has been raised out of a goal of $4,500.

https://gofund.me/f6189a80

I’m grateful for my the time I spent with my best friend yesterday.

We don’t get to see each other as often, and time is our most precious commodity.

He brought out this wicked cool lens: Carl Zeiss Biotar 58mm f2.

We were eating at Stout in Hollywood a few days back, right around the golden hour, drinking a few beers.

He got up and snapped these shots.

It doesn’t take a lot to be happy.

Anymore these days, it’s a choice I make as soon as my eyes open. The choice to not cry, and to smile and be happy. Nonetheless, having good things to have gratitude about, helps immensely too.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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New GoFundMe Campaign Launched

I am working on raising money for a few efforts, most notably getting to the Kerrville Folk Festival in May. My car needs quite a bit of maintenance revolving around a timing belt, a tensioner, idler pulleys, water pump, serpentine belt, a set of brake pads, and a few other bells and whistles. The cost of parts has gone up on these things as well as the cost of labor. If you feel up to helping out a bit, I would be so honored. I’m also trying to refresh my merchandise as I have sold out of most everything I have, and get caught up on a power bill that is pretty out of control:

https://gofund.me/16929c3a

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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My Friend Mar and I

Mar and I

This is my friend Mar. I haven’t been able to visit him for almost a month because I caught the Bird Flu and wanted to be on the safe side, and not risk him getting ill from me.

Mar and I met from a Synchronistic event. I couldn’t care less if you believe in such things. They sound incredible and maybe even silly, unless you have experienced one yourself. They make you a believer, I assure you. It’s as if something larger than yourself winks and nudges, and lets you know it’s out there.

Mar feels the same way.

Today we talked about his experiences in the Vietnam war. He was born in the Philippines, but fought as an American soldier, because he is American.

He is 78 years old, and still kicking ass. Thank you for being my friend.

The Original Story of Mar and I Meeting One Another:

https://mikevitalemusic.com/inside-my-head/2025/3/24/friends

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Kerrville Folk Festival | Kerrville New Folk Song Competition

You could probably blind fold me with dental floss in this picture, however, the smile is very much me as well.

I’m thrilled to be heading back out to Kerrville, Texas to play the Kerrville Folk Festival, New Folk Competition and more importantly, to re-connect with friends I made last year, and to hopefully make some new friends this year. To me, that’s what life is all about: making friends, authenticity, and to be fearless.

Let’s face it: I’m lousy at competing, especially when it comes to music.

Thank you for letting me tell a few stories again. It’s all I want with my life: to tell stories, and to listen to them from others, and to have the words “welcome home” said to me, again and again.

Home isn’t a place: it’s people. My two cents.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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If I Only Had a Brain

First off, this is only slightly my own arrangement of this classic masterpiece of music. Harry Connick Jr. arranged this song as a young man, on piano. 

I adapted this from his arrangement. I did so, because I cried uncontrollably the first I heard it.

This is “If I Only Had a Brain.”

Patreon:

https://www.patreon.com/mikevitalemusic

Consider becoming a paid member.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Synchronicity I by The Police

One of the happiest days of my life was getting to see/hear The Police live when they did a reunion tour. My girlfriend at the time, Katie: she knew me. She bought good gifts. This was a gift to me—a birthday gift.

Katie had a lot of other baggage that made it difficult to be in a relationship with her, but when it came to seeing me as a person: she definitely saw me.

I think about Katie sometimes—and not in a I-want-her-back-kind-of way. Moreover, she lives on inside of me. I find myself saying things that she used to say to the cats we had together. She lives on in me in that sense—making a mark on me that will last a lifetime.

Thanks Katie (if you ever read this),

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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New Songs for the Month of April and The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith

I find that taking the time to talk about things that are going to be done, or have already been done, is something I would one day love to delegate to someone else. It could be my cat—but more likely a bi-pedal human with an awesome brain, sense of humor, and kindness, and an aptitude and pension for music business.

If that’s you and you like my art, please reach out.

I’m doing the juggle.

Speaking of juggles, I wanted to drop you a quick line—so I am, to let you know about all the new singles I am releasing in April.

One of the new singles, has brought me good fortune—but I can’t announce it until later in the week. This is the release schedule fort April though.

April 5th - Mess It Up

April 11th - Graceland

April 18th - And It Stoned Me

April 25th - Rare Bird

My goal is to be releasing one song a week, so I have been since February.

On a side tangent that also is not a side tangent: I’m concerned about the economics of musicians. Having been a professional musician for a number of years, I have continuously watched musicians be mistreated in a myriad of ways: whether it be as a gigging musician or even within the realm of selling the art (as an album or singles).

I posted yesterday about reading “The Wealth of Nations” by Adam Smith. I am trying to solve the problem of musicians being taken advantage of.

If it wasn't a record label in 1996, it is Spotify and Apple Music now.

Musicians should not have to invest $10,000 in an album, only to essentially provide it as an expected service to be consumed for free. Sure, someone pays Spotify $11 a month, but we as the creator of the art being consumed, do not see that distribution of wealth. That doesn’t feel right to me. It feels queer, in the traditional sense of the word. We even do it with words: take them and repurpose them without thought of how that effects others around us.

So, I consult the book that fashioned the use of what Smith referred to as “Commercial Society” but what we now call “Capitalism.”

Self interest was of huge concern to Adam Smith. He devoted chapters to it in the “Wealth of Nations” as pointed out by Prasannah Parthasarathi in the introduction of the edition I purchased yesterday. Wisely so. Look at how musicians have been getting fucked for years.

My solution came from a friend I made in Photo Club named Matt Sloggy. He is an Economist based out of Riverside, California. He spoke to me about Reciprocating Economics. What does that look like? Allow me to show you.

A company like Spotify or Apple Music or Deezer, could have a department devoted to publishing Songwriter and Full Band Material to Television, Netflix, HBO, Movies, Commercials. We flood their service with art: they could be reciprocating by doing the work of getting high paying placements for us. It’s a lot of work making music: thank you for being selfish and not paying attention to how musicians are literally dying from suicide overworking themselves. If new companies in America are going to be subsidized with Tax Payer Money, pay it forward to those who are from those taxpayers, who are directly providing the service you are offering. What you have done Spotify, is shoved your service between the musician and the audience with a shoe horn: a shoe that has no damn sole.

People make the argument that humans are innately selfish. Even if that is true, Smith mitigates this notion in the following manner:

“It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interests. We address ourselves, not to their humanity, but to their self-love, and never to talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantages.”

We have value, brothers and sisters. It is time we take our value back rather than give it away. Adam Smith was a wise and intelligent person. We should listen to wise and intelligent people who take the time to write a treatise of Economic Theory. Because holy shit, have we not lost sight of the beginnings of “Commercial Society” in favor of what we now call in modern nomenclature, repurposed: “Capitalism.”

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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So Beautiful, or So What

I’ve had several songs bouncing around in my head like a 1980’s pinball machine: long hair and leather jacket, 4:20 on the clock. Ping ping. Ping ping.

The clickers and clickety-clack of flippers, knocking that shiny reflective orb into the playfield.

Playing.

We all need a lot more playing. Taoists call it Wu Wei. It has a lot of different names. It could just be takin’ it easy. Easy riding. Chillax. Effortless living. The Way.

The Dude.

I was tasked today with having fun. Just doing whatever the fuck I wanted to that makes me happy, in the moment, so I did that. It has been a beautiful day. I choose to feel happy. I could have woke up miserable too, and I did cry—but I then said, no, today will be a good day. I choose happiness.

Speaking of dudes. I visited my dad yesterday. I’m getting over that Bird Flu (not sure yet but it hasn’t been a normal cold or flu or what have you; it’s been 10 days).. Novel viruses. Coughing up the stuff in my body that no longer serves me. I didn’t want to get him sick, so I waited to see him.

He’s supine in a bed, and he suffers being where he is at. He just wants to go home. I totally get it. We all just want to go home. Like Odysseus in The Odyssey. Back to Ithaca. The war’s over; I just wanna go home.

He’s had multiple strokes over the past several years and he also does everything in his power to hide this notion amongst other things, while also not doing the best job of that either. That’s okay by me.

I’m happy we got to the bottom of things yesterday. It was Scooby-Doo and the Gang, all piling into the Mystery Machine, to solve the case of why my Dad is the way he is.

What I really want, is to grow old with my Dad and for him to fight for his life. It’s a gift for all of us, especially—especially when we treat it that way, for what LIFE really is: sacred.

Sacred as the human breath. Voluntary and involuntary. The perfect way to calm down: controlled breath and meditation.

It’s the simplest forms of what all of us have, that will make this world a better place.

Say, (CBT) Cognitive Behavioral Therapy as a friend of mine, put it to me, over the phone. I mean, just talking in plain English to each other and being as honest as possible,

Breathing. That’s simple too.

There are all these simple answers to problems, right under our noses: our mouths.

Every action, was first a thought, before it is acted out.

Think about it.

Life is what we make of it; so beautiful, or so what (that was one of many songs pinging around this playfield of mine/mind).

My Dad

When I was twenty-two years old, my dad grabbed me by the throat, threw me over in a rocking chair and began to choke me to death—spittle showering my face, while he volleyed demonic and sweltering red-faced obscenities towards my shocked and gasping expression.

Meanwhile, my own mouth-gapped response, changed color to a ghostly white from a lack of oxygen.

I had, moments before, locked him outside the house, after he chose to walk outside that beautiful French Double Door that my parents had chosen together in a custom home on Sweet Street—to fist fight his own son.

What on Earth could I have done to warrant him trying to murder me in a moment of unbridled rage?

I had told him to “Stop talking to my mother that way. She is your equal,” at the dinner table.

Moments before that, he had told my mom, ”Shut the fuck up, woman.” That is not an exaggeration or a misquotation. That is the way my dad would speak in private to my Mother, and to us Children.

I would often hear from complete strangers, growing up, how lovely of a person he was.

My thoughts would wander back to watching him as a child, try to murder a VCR with a butter knife in rage because it wasn’t doing whatever it was that he thought it should be doing.

Sometimes, I would think back to the day he hit and slammed my older brother against a wall and physically assaulted him. I was a young child with no musculature to help my older brother. My dad also kicked him out of the house as a minor at the tender age of Seventeen.

I would thank back to me dad breaking a wooden cutting board in two using it to spank me, or the welts and cuts on my body from a cowboy belt buckle, in which the buckle and leather were striking and hissing against my skin from a similar form of punishment.

Him throwing a radio across a room and smashing it against a wall simply because his favorite baseball team lost.

Him calling me a stupid asshole, when I proudly purchased my first electric guitar and amplifier with money I earned through my own hard work on a paper route, beginning when I was twelve years old. Yes, I started working for money when I was twelve. I’ve had a job ever since; sometimes even two or three of them at a time.

Him once again calling me a stupid asshole when I proudly answered a question he asked me regarding what I was going to do now that I graduated from California State University Fullerton on my own dime. My parents didn’t pay for my education. I did.

Him spending twenty years of his life asking me when I was going to get a real job, in my pursuit of doing music professionally.

Him loaning my own car out to my younger brother for six months after rebuilding the engine, while I made the car payments and insurance payments. He chose this piece-of-shit-used car for me, before I went away to college, and then made me pay for it. I didn’t argue. I just did as I was told. I walked to work for six months in Fullerton and continued working my ass off at the Home Depot.

Him spending hours at a time by himself in a car watching a mobile television plugged into the cigarette lighter, running the car battery dry, while on family camping trips to Santa Cruz.

Endless arrays of memories like these…

My mind would stop wandering, and I would snap back to the present moment with this stranger: I would just politely try to pull my cheeks up towards something that resembled a smile, when faced with people who were telling me what my dad was.

This is my dad:

He often speaks from a place of complete ignorance, while simultaneously being completely unaware that he is doing it.

One of my Aunts calls him a “little stinker” on occasion as if he is an innocent little kid, because she knew him when he was an innocent little kid.

If she means asshole—yes, I would agree, that is what he is. He’s an asshole. I tight wad of sphincter, that spouts waste and shit, and punishes punitively with little thought, self-reflection, empathy, or even sympathy.

If all this seems harsh to you: my sincere apologies. This is my life. This is what honesty looks like. We could all use a bit more of that.

These are the stories of my life.

Why do I tell them? So that people may know that they are not alone in the way they feel.

None of this is meant to hurt my father. Frankly, I told him that I am doing this. I have told him this to his face. He knows that I am doing it. I told him before I did it.

No, I am not exercising demons either. I did that years ago. I am a well-adjusted human through hard work and determination and effort and education and therapy and reading.

I am also a storyteller. That is what I do for a living. It is what I was put on Earth to do.

So, I will return to the original story:

My family is gathered around the dinner table. My mom often cooked all the meals. That was her responsibility.

While we were eating, my dad asked me what I learned that day attending College of the Sequoias. I was taking a two-year music theory course from Dr. Timothy Lynch. We were studying composition, music theory, ear training, and dictation. Dr. Lynch had me able to dictate simple music from a piano, to standard music notation, by listening to what he was playing on a piano. Something I never thought or dreamt I would be capable of doing in my life.

I answered my dad, and told him that we were analyzing a composition by a particular composer.

My dad stopped me, and corrected me on who the composer was who wrote the piece that I was talking about.

My dad was incorrect. I know this because I was just studying the composition that day. I was literally answering his question, and then he corrected me on something that I just was working on.

Rather than argue with him… I paused. I thought for a second, and said the following:

“Dad, why am I in school? Didn’t you send me to school to learn?”

He didn’t answer.

I continued, “This is what I learned today.”

He replied, “Well, you’re wrong.”

I said, “No, I am not.”

He volleys, “Yes you are. Michael. You know, I used to play trumpet. I know a lot about music. That piece was written by Tchaikovsky.”

I replied, “No Dad. You are wrong. That is not even remotely close to the correct time period of music that we are discussing. I am talking about J.S. Bach. We are learning to compose in the style of Bach and the rules he used to compose music, such as no parallel fifths or octaves and using Augmented Sixths: Italian, French, and German Sixths. Please don’t argue with me about this dad. I’m just answering your question.”

My dad, replies “Well, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

At this point, my mom interjects: “Jim, please stop.”

My dad says: “Shut the fuck up, woman.”

Me: “ Don’t talk to my mom that way. She is your equal.”

My dad stands up and kicks his chair away from him: “ You wanna take this outside?”

My reply, “Yeah, let’s take this outside.”

He rushes with enthusiasm towards the backdoor. A beautiful French Door set, that is the entrance to a gorgeous backyard that my mom maintained and created with love.

He pulls the door open violently and takes his stance outside to beat the shit out of me.

I slowly close the door on him, and lock it, and shake my head at him.

He begins to violently beat on the door.

My mom starts begging me to open the door.

I refuse.

My dad’s anger and rage and hatred swells. He beats violently against that door and shouts like the animal he is.

My mom, pleas to me: “Michael, if you don’t open that door, he’s going to break it.”

I unlock the door and take a seat in the rocking chair to receive my punishment.

My dad thrusts open the door, grabs me by the throat, throws me to the ground, and begins to choke me to death.

That is a part of my dad that none of those strangers ever knew. That is a part of my dad that you didn’t know. Now you do.

I love him. I forgive him. He has made me who I am today, and I am grateful for that. I fall on my knees in gratitude to him for making me who I am.

I am proud of me.

This story is called My Dad. Thank you Dad. Thank you. Thank you.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Graceland and a Dream of Mine, Analyzed

I had a dream a few years back where I was at The House of Blues. It looked a bit like the one I used to perform at in Anaheim, California. Near Disneyland. But certainly not identical.

Paul Simon was in that dream. I was sitting at a table with him and two other musically inclined gentlemen. You might call us skeezy musicians: I lean towards storyteller, with a pension towards taking liberties.

I needed to use the restroom. I got up from the table and headed towards a set of binary doors, one to the left, and one to the right.

I took the door to the right, and was immediately greeted by a person trying to squeeze by me with a backpack brimming with who knows what. I don’t even know—and I’m the one slow cooking this chili con carne of a dream.

Ironically, he was exiting, just as I was entering. It was an awkward exchange between a doorway.

What I found on the other side of that doorway was a bustling kitchen of people—chefs and other assorted folks working in tandem.

I appreciated seeing this for a moment, but also didn’t find the bathroom.

I head back to the table I was sitting at with Paul Simon. He wasn’t alone either. There was a drummer I knew from living in Long Beach, as well as the bass player from the band Weezer, that left the group after the success of their first album. Matt Sharp.

I make some sort of snide crack about the restroom being cursed and that I couldn’t find it to begin with.

Paul replied, we all feel that way from time to time.

Everyone chuckles.

The drummer and bass player and Paul all have a short chat of sorts, before the bass player and drummer politely bid fair-well and leave.

I once again feel the urgency of the restroom—and as I rise, Paul showers me with kind compliment and I reply the pleasure being mine.

And as I stand, I notice that Paul is sitting on my coat.

As much as I would love to think that image in my dream was Paul Simon—all of those people are me.

We find Grace on the inside, in a house of blues. Not always what we anticipate either—especially when trying to get there urgently.

It’s not as hard as you think to analyze a dream. It’s all symbolic. Metaphors. The cast of my craft and poets alike.

I found grace hearing what my friend Rory sent me today. It was his second guitar part for this arrangement.

Wow, music is magic and casting spells—and dreams? They are wild. Primal. Older than your language. When symbols ruled for communication in a young monad’s dream.

This is Graceland by Paul Simon.

It’ll be available on all the streaming services April 11th.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Home Life

This song took on a special meaning for me recently. It was my favorite song on an album called “Heavier Things,” by John Mayer. The song is called Home Life.

The chorus of the song, he speaks of wanting to live in the Center of a Circle: that is a Monad.

He also speaks of wanting to live on the side of a square: that is referring to the Golden Ratio and φ. You will see this if you look at the Symbol of a golden ratio which has been used for years by both artists and mathematicians. It is the mathematical ratio for an infinite spiral, arrived at my the Fibonacci Sequence and The Ratio, Phi. It is an infinite set of numbers, like Pi, which deals with circles, and leads back to the Monad.

Both are symbols: The Monad and The Golden Ratio. John may have done this on purpose. He may have done it unconsciously as well. I would like to ask him myself in person one day.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Friends

Yesterday was magic. I assure you. If you were me, you wouldn’t be able to put it into words either. You would just give it a try though.

I experienced Synchronicity. I met a man named Mar holding a very small copy of a few Bible verses, standing by his rod iron white gate. I’ve passed his house, thousands of times on morning walks or runs or any sort of locomotion, really.

Mar is an older Filipino man and delightful and was praying to skies for a friend, as I was talking to one, pretend. I ceased talking to my pretend friend for a block, and thought it would be nice to make a new one. Then I saw Mar.

I smiled and said good morning to him. He was glowing! So was I. We were effervescent, like a cauldron or a soda pop.

We talked for about 45 minutes, and he invited me inside to sit and chat. I gave him my number on the back of an envelope and I shared with him one of a million favorite books that I thought he might like, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho.

It’s not the first time I’ve ever experienced something like Synchronicity, but—I find people curling their face in interesting knots and not’s like an anti-effervescent stroke of magic, when I start telling the story of such things.

I love making friends. Often, I just don’t feel like I have the time, being suffocated by ambitions or the real world. What does that even mean?

You touch a table—yet do not touch the table. You may even say, you are the table too. No, that’s not a joke. That’s Quantum Physics.

You are surrounded by the gift of magic and so am I. Please don’t take it for granted.

As I arrived back at my bungalow, my best friend Josh invited me to a photo club meetup in Chinatown, and suddenly I am surrounded by brilliant Scientists, and Celebrity Photographers, and Economists, gathering to do something they love. I made all sorts of new friends and my heart is full. I toyed with Vintage Cameras and resolved to the ease of an iPhone. I took pictures of people taking picture! Who does that (me).

I assure you, the world is what you make of it. Literally.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Want and the Stories of Mike and Julie | My Neighbors

On an economic level, I share more in common with an individual who is homeless than I do with that of a person who is upper middle class or upper class.

I am a professional musician trying to make a living on the music I write. I am lower class.

The first song I ever wrote was about a young girl in Visalia who tried to commit suicide off of the side of a highway overpass, into oncoming traffic on the 198 freeway. She survived. I only showed this song to one friend: Elizabeth Rosenberg. I was around 20 years old at the time.

This song above, is so many years far removed from that first song. I am going to be 46 years old in April.

This song is not just about homelessness; it is about recognizing the value of each other. It is about recognizing that which makes us similar, instead of focusing on that which makes us different.

I talk to people. Sometimes it's on my own time. Sometimes it's on theirs. I had four or five people call me on the phone the other day and I talked to everyone, and showed my love by listening and being engaged, being present, and enjoying their company for as long as I could, before needing to get back to work.

This includes friends I have made who are homeless.

Rather than share the lyrics of this song, I will share their stories as best as I know.

MIKE

I met Mike when I first moved to Eagle Rock in Los Angeles. Mike has been homeless for approximately 40 years. He grew up in Chicago. Sometimes, I would bring a cup of coffee from my house to him, and we would sit and talk about his life. He left Chicago in his late teens out of fear. He said he witnessed something that he shouldn't have, and left Chicago because there was a person trying to eliminate him as a witness.

I listened. His story—it's hard to know whether there is reality to it or not. What I could do though, is ask him if he had family in Chicago who would take his call. He said yes. I asked if he knew their number. He said yes. So, I offered him my phone, and encouraged him to reach out. I also said, that whoever wanted him dead, has long forgotten about him and that his family would most certainly be happy to hear his voice. He refused.

One day as I was passing by, he said hi to me, and said, "hey you're a musician right?" I said yes. He told me that he always wanted to learn guitar. I told him, that I would be happy to gift him a guitar and teach him how to play. All that he needed to do was to show up at 11am in front of the mini mart by my house, and I would bring materials to teach him. He didn't show up and that's okay.

One day I passed by him in front of that same mini mart, and he was excited to be the recipient of 12 brand new pairs of socks. He asked if I needed any socks, and offered me a few pair of socks. I told him that I have plenty of socks, and that I would feel better about it, if he kept them and used them for himself.

I haven't seen Mike in a few years, but I love him.

JULIE

I don't know Julie nearly as well. She has her good days, and she has her bad days. She is schizophrenic. She has not told me that, but I am fairly certain this is the case.

She often speaks to people I can not see, but not always consistently. Sometimes she is more lucid than on other occasions.

She screams in terror at 4am in the morning at invisible entities that I do not see. However, she is terrified of them. Genuinely terrified. I will hear her banging on road signs, screaming for these entities to leave her alone. Begging them at times. Ordering them on other occasions, with words of authority and conviction and profanity.

I have gone out to check on her in the early hours of the morning, to make sure she is okay, when I can hear her pleas and banging to be left alone. It is on those occasions that she has shared with me that one of the entities is covered in blood and repeatedly tries to molest her.

She does not remember my name, and I don't mind. She often does not make eye contact with me. Sometimes she does.

She has upset my neighbors on a few occasions using our shared garden house for the yard to clean her clothes. I found her doing this once, and merely asked that she would approach me beforehand, before using the hose.

----------

I do what I do, because it makes me happy. It is humble work. I have traveled all over the United States sharing my stories and the stories of others, with people, such as yourselves. I have met many of you and connected with many of you, from this pursuit.

I am incapable of fixing the issue of homeless by myself. I need help. I need your help. We elevate each other. That is what we do. That is what we can do. Like anything, it starts at a thought—but manifests to reality by action.

I manifest my life. You do too. It is not our responsibility to judge what is impossible or possible. It is our purpose to pursue what makes us happy and to attempt to elevate each other.

I have spent my lifetime devoting myself to story and song. I know I am good at it. I have watched myself win over entire rooms full of people that did not show up to see me play, and I have done this in rooms all over the country.

This is just a song. It does not change anything, immediately. I hesitate to sell this one. I would prefer for people just to listen, as I have listened to the stories of Mike and Julie, and countless other friends.

It can easily be ignored as well. The choice is yours. It always has been.

It is available to stream on all the streaming services, as of now:

https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mikevitale/want-live-in-2025

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Simple

Simple

Words and Music by Me

I know that I am simple

Perhaps the butt of jokes

The swishing tails of bovine

Two by two in yoke

Pulling the plow is good

I’m happy to be of use

I wasn’t always docile

A call to help refused

If you look into my eyes

You may see they’re soft

You may see into my heart

As I’m drinking from the trough

My sharp edges dull

In head and horn alike

How may I be of service

To the people in this life?

I know that I am simple

It was here I found my mirth

The light of sun was clouded

By earthly things and worth

To sew the seeds in Spring

To harvest in the Fall

To laugh when things are funny

To answer when people call

If you look into my eyes

You may see they’re soft

You may see into my heart

As I’m drinking from the trough

My sharp edges dull

In head and horn alike

How may I be of service

To the people in this life?

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Our Own Personal Rainbow

A rainbow. It requires three ingredients: moisture, sunlight, and consciousness. The latter. That is what I wish to speak about.

You may be familiar with the thought experiment “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

The rainbow is refracted light. However, it requires us to be seen. It requires an observer to be noticed in the fashion which I describe.

Scientifically, sunlight is being refracted through rain drops or mist or other such moisture, however, it is the observer who creates the rainbow. Without us observing it, there is no rainbow: there is just rain, and sunlight.

And, when you and I are standing next to each other, admiring that beautiful arc of color in sky, we do not see the same rainbow. It will be unique for either of us, depending on the location at which we are standing, relative to that phenomenon that appears to us in the sky.

A beautiful ghostly image, that disappears the moment we stop paying attention to it, or when the sun is obscured, or when it stops precipitating: whichever of those three come first.

Our own personal rainbow—and this notion, when understood, applies to much more than rainbows. 🌈

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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Good Morning

I try my best to go on these morning walks.

Sometimes I just think. Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes I write. Sometimes I listen to podcasts and audio books or whatever else seems nourishing.

This morning I was listening to an idea that John Archibald Wheeler, theoretical physicist, had in regard to The Universe.

Him and several other Physicists saw that we are active participants in what we perceive as reality. The Universe is dreaming us up, just as we are dreaming up our own existence by everything we say, think, touch, and feel.

I like this idea. It is the basis of Quantum Theories and the computers being built right now with qubits. Possibilities. Infinite possibilities. A cloud of possibilities with one manifestation at the present moment, determined by the duality of these two dreamers, dreaming at the same time with each other.

But in real world terms, it can be as simple as saying good morning to the person you pass by on a morning walk, or as complicated as believing you can make a difference in this world. You do regardless.

Think about it. And Good Morning by the way.

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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I’m sorry, I don’t believe in sentences.

I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, however, I can’t—for two-fold reason: he’s dead—and I never knew him in-person.

I found him on a book shelf in Portland on accident.

He is just my speed though, with titles to books, such as “What is the name of this book?” and “The Tao is Silent.”

His name is Raymond M. Smullyan. He strikes me as a ball of creativity, never destined to be at rest on a flat surface. He could tip the world even in his absence. A mind that’s always moving something, if not me and my sense of humor.

If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is. He could do that too: magic I mean. Illusions.

He was an advanced mathematician. Polyglot. Loved puzzles, to the point of being a Logician. And to boot, he was a musician.

He’s over my head. Sometimes he’s in my head, and I’m like “get out of my head” but without the quotation marks because that was in my head.

I’m trying to say that I like him and I’m happy he took the time to share his thoughts with others, such as myself. Maybe you might enjoy him too.

I leave you with his thoughts:

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe in sentences.”

And

“I have free will, but not of my own choice. I have never freely chosen to have free will. I have to have free will, whether I like it or not!”

WHO IS MIKE VITALE?

I am a storyteller, songwriter, singer, music producer, traveling musician, Jungian dream analyst, all-around curious fellow (Spiritual, Mathematical Historical, Scientific), Taoist, and much much more, based out of Los Angeles, California. I’m constantly releasing new music, in all sorts of different genres. You can listen to me below, on Spotify:

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