Want by Mike Vitale

I wrote this song shortly after moving to Los Angeles. I was astounded by the tremendous amount of homelessness in my neighborhood, and in Southern California in general. And if those numbers weren’t astonishing, the pandemic exponentially increased the homeless population to a scale I could never possibly imagine.

I don’t have an answer to fix it. I really wish I did. I am an empathetic person, and there are millions of reasons why an individual ends up on the streets—and while I do not have a solution, I can say that I see possibility. I see value. I see the potential of a person. I see the sense of community amongst the ranks of people I know on a first name basis in my neighborhood. I see the folks who are suffering from Schizophrenia, and Tourette’s, and Manic Depression. I see self-medication. I see people. I see you. I see me.

Want

words and music by Michael Patrick Vitale

A tall glass of water

A safe bed to sleep

A roof overhead

Warm food to eat

A world full of want

Desires and dues

Everyone needs something

Without exception too

Someone to hug us

When we’re feeling blue

Someone to love us

Through and through

Everyone wants

We’re all living proof

Everyone needs something

And I’m no exception too

Maybe under an overpass and over this life

Feeling all alone and cold and scared and hungry at night

Empty as a Dixie cup, discarded just the same

Crumpled up and wasted under pliable walls, blankets, and rain

Who here marks value on things you can count

Please add up all the tents and tarps standing about

Everyone here needs a home and no one ever wants to feel alone

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Winter Tour This Week

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In My Dreams... #2

This dream was on the very next night after my last dream.

I was walking in an unfamiliar space. A concrete space. Great acoustics... reflective. I knew, intrinsically, in the context of the dream, that I was there to pick someone up from school.

Just as I was getting ready to walk through the unfamiliar entrance, another individual walks right in front of me—unaware of my presence behind them. It is someone I recognize—another musician—a now famous musician. I greet him.

He turns around, and gives me a warm smile. He says hi and encourages us to both continue towards our destination.

I continue to follow him into what now appears to be an auditorium like amphitheater. There are children sitting on the steps.

As I round the corner, I notice the person who I am there to pickup. She notices me, and promptly collects her things. She is around 11 years old. She is my ex-girlfriends’ youngest daughter. Her name is Grace.

I was there to find Grace.

I wake up.

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Balancing My Time

I was talking to one of my guitar students the other day about making the time to practice guitar.  She was telling me that she was juggling a lot of activities in her life and it was difficult to find the time, which I completely understand.  So, I began a discussion suggesting time management and so forth—when it suddenly occurred to me: I suck at time management myself.

There are so many responsibilities that I juggle within a day, it behooves me to prioritize my time and activities quite often.  Normally, I fill up a blank 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper with bullet points of things to do.  I scratch them off as I progress through my day, and I feel a sense of accomplishment scratching off my accomplishments by nightfall.  Nonetheless, I suck at time management.  Do you know what I mean?  Sure, I get lots of stuff done.  I also stress myself out quite bit.  Sometimes I forget to eat because I get so busy working on a project, that I lose track of time.

But, probably my worst offense in this department, is getting too wrapped up in one thing for long periods of time.

I decided to make a spreadsheet the other day to keep track of how long I work on things.  Practice guitar for an hour.  Write for an hour.  Etc..  So far, I'm sucking at that also.  I managed to make the actual spreadsheet—haven't been using it every day though.

Perfect example of me getting too wrapped up with something:  I spent a solid 8 to 10 hours recording yesterday.  Why?  Because I was having fun.  If anything, it was quite a productive day, given that I'm a musician and a songwriter and all.  However, there were a whole bunch of other things that didn't get done yesterday due to the fact that I was hanging out with my friend Anthony, recording, and having the time of my life.

I should be more organized and block my hours of operation off to 1 hour increments.  I can be like a T.S. Eliot poem where his sad protagonist, J. Alfred Prufrock, measures his life out in coffee spoons—30 minutes to practice singing, 1 hour to play guitar, 5 minutes to write this blog.  No time to check my grammar.

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