Mountain summer, still blazing true, and never ending. The days are as beautiful as they are full of life, yet still blue as a pair of eyes. It gets harder as the hours wear on, to not forget it all and wheel to the west, confident the oasis is abroad. Sometimes things are easier to pretend when they’re not in fact staring you in the eye, so much for so little. But the summer wears on and the heat will find it easier to blind than to steer, and steering clear is far from here. No words are left for a mountain summer, still so blue.

It’s not always easy to feel ok when staring at the faces in the sky. Surrender is necessary in order to find comfort, and only then will true comfort be felt, but that which deems comfort is completely without control. To have no control may or may not be of some comfort, it all depends on whose face we see, but nobody could say they knew who it would be. Entertain the faith then, or not, depending on how much control would then be felt, even if this yields no comfort, but why then even try if it does, in fact, not matter? The control we now give is one of the imagination, as there is no longer any detail left from which to fly, the colors will be seen when you at least try.

Hello.

This is strange that I’m reading this to myself, it’s like my brain is telling me what to say but still, I don’t know who exactly is saying this. Is it me, Jimmy Hunt? Is it I? Are we one in the same? Do we know who they, we, us, or I are?

Or am I just hiding in the closet in your room?

Will you see me before I see you?

Will you lock your door next time you leave?

Strange days these days, from a heavenly abandon atop the mountains to a performance out of place and for some, out of mind. Strange vibes for the tunnel vision in others. I feel we all begin to understand the vibration of singularity in a purpose, but not all. These are the days we cover ground one cannot retrace, or even compare to again, not while constantly looking forward to the next road ahead, a far stranger place no one could or should face alone. Why is making up for lost time such a consistent theme? Perhaps it’s all a test, gauging whether or not we could even face a further road, for if we cannot even understand our singularity now, what chance do we stand. And then there’s the music. How much further could we have been? Am I to blame as well? hopefully these and other worries will dissipate simply based in the fact that we do worry, but the irony is they probably won’t, and we will continue to search for the reason, nevertheless resulting in more questions. Not enough words to answer when there are so many questions. These are the days, strange days indeed…

It’s 8 a.m. and I’m at the coffee shop. Got up early to write before practice at noon. Teaching Cody from Major Magic some twenty-five songs in three days. He’s doing a fine job. I know I could never learn and remember that many songs in so short a time period. Props Cody.

It’s an empty headed morning. Dark, cloudy, threatening rain. I’m sitting at my usual table by the window, drinking coffee and trying to pump myself up for a couple hours behind the keyboard.

Listened last night as I went to sleep to an album called “Hospice” by The Antlers. It’s an incredible album; some of the most profoundly sad music I’ve heard in awhile. But now it’s morning, and perhaps the best morning band I know is Wilco…but then again I think Wilco is one of the best bands I know period–except, no–there is a case to be made for morning music verse night music, in that even the same album can translate completely differently depending on the time of day during which you listen to it. Remember the day we were stuck in traffic in Charlotte on our way from Raleigh to Clemson? (Was that it?) And we put “Sky Blue Sky” on the boom box. Oh man! I felt it then. The stars aligned. Everything made sense. Life was beautiful.

Wedding this Saturday in Hendersonville; a first for DITJ. We’ll see.

Much like the rest of the country/universe, Boone has been effected by the economy, resulting in minimal hours if hours at all for a college graduate looking for work. As a musician, this isn’t exactly comforting, yet it holds some sort of inspiration to actually use ones craft to make a living, or at least practice more. There has to be hundreds of little kids or ambitious elders who want to play guitar right? And if there really was this amount opportunity to give lessons, I really wouldn’t be too worried, charging $20 an hour. The drive to win over a lesson instead of the competition actually forces one to learn more about what it is they practice, mainly out of fear of the competition. Perhaps given this, this is why the depression and other economic downturns were good for the entertainment industry, as many would-be artists and performers actually became BE performers under the stress of having no other choice if they wanted to live. And as for the performances themselves, things must be impressive in order to keep people coming back, so lets get impressive. Hopefully Do it to Julia, especially moving to a different, far more competitive city can stay afloat, not only by sheer luck (we could use it) but by pure dedication and skill, that we have not yet scratched the surface of. Stay tuned, and go see live music.

Where else would, or could experience such a beautiful summer as the one in Boone? Last night a few of us got together with a few friends to talk about some things, make dinner, and drink a few… mint Juleps, anything to bring the band closer and feel the music flow on many planes. Ryan is still out of tow with his lover Maggie, as is Mr. Matthew Rossino experiencing Atlanta and all it’s greatness, but the cabin stands strong friends, and there’s nothing to top a cookout in the woods with the ones you love. This is the first blog, and people aren’t even aware yet that this site is up, mainly because we have not told anybody because it’s not done yet. Perhaps it has been long enough, and we have ourselves some sort of format where people can www us besides myspace, so hello to all, and we all hope this is the first of many.