Here's a new song I wrote the other night,


Never Enough from michael waskom on Vimeo.

You know not to keep doting on this whole floridaImisshomepityme thing, but I really think it's the south in general, that I love. I just want to live in a southern beach town, or in the south in general. I could see myself living in Tuscaloosa Alabama, or say Charleston South Carolina, Gainesville obviously, hell even Valdosta Georgia. I just like the south, sue me.

Also, I honestly hate being sober, I know that I have a problem, like that I am an alcoholic I know it. But the shitty part is that when I'm sober I can't sleep, like at all. I also get paranoid, and I become obsessive and moreover compulsive. I'll clean things repeatedly for weeks and then live in total squalor for a month. I'll drink over 100oz of water a hour and chew ice in a really weird way, I chain smoke. These are not exaggerations.

When I drink I can fuckin' relax and just let life go by instead of being all pissy about stupid shit like what I want to do with my life.

You could say, "oh michael, when you drink you're just not facing your problems...that's why you like it" but that's not the truth. When I'm drunk I face shit, I just don't take it so personally and I'll let things slide. I'm just tired of being either sober and fucking crazy(read back a few monthsago, or drunk and hating myself for being drunk.

Isn't there a happy medium... say sober and hating myself, like normal people?

The bottom line is that I'm a dreamer. I have been my whole life, I can be anywhere and still dreaming that I was somewhere else.

The problem with dreamers is that the reason they're dreamers is because they're not doers. DOING takes money, and you dream because you can't obtain your dream. Rich people aren't dreamers, they just do because they can.

In this world there are two types of people, those who want to be Astronomers & those who want to be Astronauts, the astronomer gets to study all of theses great things from far away, but they never get to go into space.

I suppose what I'm meaning to say is that Growing up in a beach town, never more than 10 minutes from the water, winter time is a magical time for the beach. Cold weather is such an anomaly for the beach to me, which is why it makes it all that more special.

What am I gonna do?

So I lied. I'm a liar. Bitch as I may about how I feel stifled by my surroundings, my lack of money and how I feel I'm bound for greatness and nothing short of traveling for the rest of my life can make me complete, at the end of the day when I lay in bed I really miss Bradenton.

When I really think about it, it's the only place I want to live. Taking Cortez out to the beach and going north seeing what I believe is the last true blue collar beach town on the west coast of Florida. Or drive south and see some of the whitest sand in the entire world and coquina shells everywhere. A downtown that's not getting any bigger, my house that's minutes from the beach, the fucking smell of orange peels because they make Tropicana orange juice a few miles away.

Sure there's no jobs, and there are 3 cars for ever 1 person, but fuck I love it.

I could move to Copenhagen, and be happy and I'd still miss that tiny beach town, I can't get over it like how you can't get over your ex's, you just want to go back to them, it's all you know.

I could go to New York and maybe be happy, being an anonymous mess and I'd still want to go back and live in the old house I grew up in.

Listen, I'm DYING to see what's out there, the entire world, but like an addict I always come back to fucking Bradenton. And here's the deal, I don't want to feel this way, I envy people who feel like they can just moved city to city hanging out and never coming home.

I hate myself for what I haven't accomplished.










Fountains and flourescent lights.
When season has come
the snowbirds have crowded the nights.
And old townies are tired
of the beaches and bars
being packed so tight.
And bridges, and traffic, and inlets,
are locked in their fight.

And on these boats,
ride the hopes of working class boys,
dreaming of girls, from far away points.
And better things. Like winter flings.
And longing after spring has sprung.
And they fly north when winter's done.
And we get burned in summer's sun.

Fountains and fluorescent lights.
When season has come
the snowbirds have crowded the nights.
And young townies and tourists
find unlikely love at first sight.
And swear that they're never leaving
and that is their plight.

This winter is lasting forever,
at least for tonight.
And I know that you're never leaving,
until your flight,
takes you off,
and out of my arms,
and into the air,
so far from your charms,
that I can not bare,
another year,
in this long forgotten beach town,
we once shared.

This winter is lasting forever,
at least for tonight.
And I know that you're never
leaving me again.
No, not again.