February 26th, 2006 Mesa, AZ

Seriously, WTF??

I don't know how it happened. At least, I don't know how I allowed it to become such a problem. You see, I have never watched very much TV. In fact, I sort of hate TV. I have always watched sports and news on a regular basis, but that's it. In high school, my opposition to the mind numbing static box was quite militant, as this picture of my first car suggests. The car is probably worth a journal entry of its very own, but we will save that for another day.

URGENT:

I am now formally announcing my addiction to TV, and Tevo is to blame. I think I hated TV mostly because watching it required me to be in a certain place for a certain non-negotiable time period. Anyone who knows me personally knows that this requirement is unreasonable and in many ways thoroughly unrealistic. Tevo has solved this problem. I can now watch shows whenever I want, and I do.

On Monday, we have 24, House, The Bachelor: Paris and we will soon have The Apprentice. Who could ask for anything more?
We will get to Tuesday/Wednesday and my identity crisis in a moment. Stay tuned.
On Thursday, how could you miss My Name is Earl and The Office?? That's right, you can't.
I was watching Love Monkey on Fridays, but it was CANCELLED. Who does that? They should have asked my permission first. Do these people at CBS not know who I am? In their defense, Jason Priestly really WAS awful, but he had such a minor part! This was not reason enough to cancel the whole show.
On Saturdays, I rest and recuperate from a stressful and tiring week of TV. This is simply to prepare myself for Sunday. You see, on ABC every Sunday is like Christmas. It starts with Extreme Make Over: Home Edition. You can't go wrong with that. After a little feel good drama (and a little dinner) comes the always entertaining Desperate Housewives. It might not be the best show, but it's definitely worth watching.
Then, with great anticipation, comes Grey's Anatomy. Without question, this is the best show on TV. I will take this one step further. This is the best show in the history of television. I don't care what you say. Do not send me e-mails refuting this point. Do not try to convince me that your sentimental favorite show is better, whether it be My So Called Life, Greatest American Hero, Friends, Seinfeld or whatever else. All messages attempting to do this will be unceremoniously deleted. You are just wrong, and eventually you will see the light.

Now that we have that cleared up, I must confront my identity crisis.
I REALLY want to hate American Idol. There is a part of me that actually NEEDS to hate American Idol. Prior to Tevo, it was easy to hate the show because I never actually watched it. Look at me now, just look at me! Intellectually, I know it's awful. Musically, I am aware that it is a complete disaster. So, tell me, WHY CAN I NOT STOP WATCHING??? Part of this can be attributed to the fourth celebrity crush of my life. First, it was Claire Danes. Juliana Hatfield was next, followed soon after by Katie Cruise…uhhhh…Holmes. Now, I am smitten by…well, forget that. I am totally, unabashedly in love with Katharine Mcphee.

That's right. My future wife is an idol girl. She is flawless. My love is talented, dorky, self-deprecating and HOT. It's meant to be. You watch.
Who does this? Who has an idol crush? What am I, fifteen? What the hell has happened to me?
Even without my imaginary lover, I know that I would probably still watch.
Something is voraciously overriding my mind's basic desire to crush my Tevo box into millions of tiny little pieces.

I would tell myself to get out more, but I go out all the time. I would tell myself to sing more, but I sing almost 24 hours per day. Perhaps this is why I can't ritualistically destroy my Tevo box. It just hasn't interrupted my life that much. I guess that's the whole point. I watch TV at my convenience (as I do most everything else), usually just before I go to sleep. Still, it really IS depressing on a number of levels. Had I not just written what might be the best song of my career (seriously, I am so excited I can hardly sit still), I would probably check myself into television rehab. I suspect that my friends are already plotting an intervention.

Take my advice, don't get Tevo. Ignorance is bliss.
I am going to go play in traffic.
Wait...shit. Scratch that. The previews for the next Grey's Anatomy look too damn good.
Thanks for reading this nonsensical drivel.

Enjoying what few brain cells I have left,

Justin (and Katharine) Simison

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February 4th, 2006 Chicago, IL It's not that Chicago is really that cold this weekend, I think Arizona has just made me a sissy. Plus, I realized at the airport that I forgot to pack a jacket. Seriously, with the exception of naive Phoenix residents, who does that?? It gets worse actually. Going through the security line at Sky Harbor, they made me take off my belt. Of course, my belt did not make it to Chicago. While I was putting my shoes on and getting all of my stuff together, I must have forgotten it. So now, I'm freezing my ass off and my pants are falling down. Have I mentioned that I hate planes? I am having a great time here though.

So how the hell is everyone? I know I keep saying that the site will be updated more regularly, and it will. I promise. The band has kind of been in hiding lately, but all of this is about to change. We are going to start playing regularly again, thanks to the saving grace of purple pills. I don't know if Ashley Simpson is full of shit or not, but I know that acid reflux is legit. Since August, right after we finished recording the CD, my voice has been crippled by GERD. I'm not going to get into the mechanics of it, you can look it up if you'd like. It sucks though, it took my passion away from me for six months, but I've managed to steal it back. With the purple pills and some vocal therapy, I am starting to sing better than I ever have and I CAN'T WAIT to get back on stage again. Singing is what I do, so the past few months have been really hard for me. I think I've made it through the worst part though, and these gigs in March can't come soon enough. I have written some new material too, so be looking for some of that if you can make it to the show(s). One song, called "Understood," is posted in the lyric section. The band hasn't rehearsed it yet but I'm hoping we can have it ready in time. As for the album, it IS coming. I am obviously a terrible prophet when it comes to projecting release dates, so I'm giving up on that. It will be out when it's out, and I hope you agree with me that it's well worth the wait. I think I'm going to go play in the 1/8 inch of snow that fell today. Be well, Justin

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November 7^th, 2005
Mesa, AZ

I have been putting this entry off for three months, and I’m really not sure why. Writing a journal entry doesn’t take a particularly long time, nor does it require the use of my quadriceps, now sore from hiking in the beautiful hills of Sedona, AZ.

So here I am, officially one year older, ready to tell you about our tour, our album, and Jesse Yarbrough’s strange obsession with my mom (and yours).

This has been a remarkable year for me, both musically and personally. I can say with great confidence that never has so much happened to me in so short a period of time. A year ago, I had a few songs and a makeshift band. Now, I am proud to be part of an amazing band made up of some of my closest friends. They are my brothers and sisters, to be sure. We had an amazing time touring the Midwest this summer, and are anxiously awaiting the release of our first album. I have an amazing family, some great friends, and no one will ever tell me that I didn’t work as hard as I could in pursuit of my dream, which of course is to sing my ass off.

What more could a guy ask for? Whatever it is, I have probably experienced that this year too. I can’t divulge everything to you guys, after all. What fun would that be?

So where did I leave off anyway? Kansas??? Wow. That feels like two years ago. The remainder of our tour was incredible, the highlight (as always) being the Midwest Music Summit in Indianapolis. This event was fabulous, as it always is. To kick off the weekend, we went to see Nate Larson’s solo set upstairs in The Upper Room. We knew the room well, as it was the scene of our showcase in 2004. Nate was in rare form, and everyone was having a good time. After Nate had finished his set, Jesse, Keli, Danielle and I thought it would be fun to walk around Broadripple and see some of the other bands. Does this sound unreasonable? Well we didn’t think so either, but God punished us. Without warning, the most unbelievable thunderstorm of my life flooded the city in what seemed like no more than five minutes. To add to the thrill of knee deep water swirling itself through the street, incredibly loud sirens began to go off. Tornado warning??? You must be joking. Jesse was relieved though, as he was convinced that the Soviet Union had been restored and we were now under attack.

Speaking of Jesse, he is convinced that he can bring back “your mom” jokes. At first I was reluctant to agree, but I can resist no longer. You can say “your mom” after pretty much anything, and it is ALWAYS funny. Jesse is truly a cunning social analyst.

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July 8, 2005
Norton, KS

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July 16, 2005 Colorado Springs, CO I've always heard that the lovely city of Albuquerque was sort of a "rough" town. Yeah, right. I'm pretty sure I've never heard a gangster rapper talk about New Mexico. Maybe I missed it. To second that thought, I'm pretty sure Billy The Kid is dead (although I am a huge fan of Young Guns II) and the chances of being caught in a classic western shootout are unlikely at best. I mean really, how rough could it be? Wow. I have to admit, I'm a little shocked. In fact, on two separate occasions during our brief stay, I have been legitimately afraid for my life. Really. After our gig, which went very well I must say, there was something of a brawl outside the venue. That would be easy enough to avoid, although the fact that our van was in the middle of the action posed something of a problem. After just a few seconds, the police, the FBI, the fire department, the dog catcher and the CIA came rushing in to save the day in dramatic (if not completely excessive) fashion. However, it seemed like they arrested two guys who had very little to do with the situation, both of whom happened to be black, which I'm sure is not coincidental. After about fifteen minutes had passed, a bunch of policemen on horseback came to the rescue. What a relief! I am not making this up. What in the world is going on in New Mexico? Seriously. Cops on horses? What? If an officer on horseback ever pulls me over, I will laugh and drive away. There must be something I am not understanding, because I don't get this at all. Later that night, we went to a local restaurant that's quite popular with the college crowd. I had been there once before after our show last summer, but the experience was definitely different this time around. When we walked in, our bags and pockets were searched, we were patted down, and some police officers used their metal detecting wands on us. What?? I am trying to eat. I was unaware that this endeavor would involve a Secret Service background check or a flight to France. That's Albuquerque for you I guess. At least it's warm this time of year. Sorry for the slow posts, it's been hard to find a place with internet service on the road and I have given up on trying to do it on my cell phone. Twice now, I've been keying in huge journal posts on my phone and by the time I hit the send button, we're in the middle of nowhere and I have to start all over because there's no service. Finally, all of us in the band would like to thank our friend Lindsey for putting us up and being the coolest girl in the history of New Mexico. See you in Denver.Justin

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Have you ever found yourself lying in bed trying to find cool patterns on your walls or on the ceiling? I do this all the time. Does that mean I have OCD? Am I even more a freak than I thought I was? Hotels are the best, because they free you from the monotony of your normal ceiling/wall patterns and provide you with a whole new scope of creativity. Just yesterday, I was standing in the shower performing all of my normal cleaning duties when I noticed a particularly peculiar pattern on the wall. Perhaps the creator of my residence knew that one day I would occupy this shower stall? Yes, perhaps. The odd thing is, I've showered in this exact same manner for nearly a year now and I've definitely never noticed this before. I have taken a picture so you can see what I'm talking about, just don't tell anyone that you've been in my shower. My Mom reads this, after all.

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Honestly, I can't even begin to tell you how frustrating it can be to find the right band members. Quite literally, it took an entire year to build the band that you have seen at the recent Arizona shows. I was really upset when it finally became obvious that the Justin Simison & Pushing Atlantic arrangement that we had put together (again) would not be able to continue.

I'm not sure how it happened, but we got really lucky this time. I thought the search for a new drummer and bass player would take months, but all it really took was a single phone call. I have been putting off this announcement for a while because I wasn't exactly sure how well we'd click as a group, but I was worrying for no reason. I have to say that looking back on our recent rehearsals, I have never been happier playing these songs. In a lot of ways, it's like I'm hearing them for the first time.

Darren Bergman, Chris Benevidez, Nate Larson and myself would like to introduce......

Watching Kelly play her bass is sort of like watching Sarah Jessica Parker dominate Darth Vader. There really isn't much to say beyond that. In fact, I have been staring at the screen for ten minutes trying to think of a description better than that one, but I can't. I wish we could set up one of those "actual size" picture comparisons with Kelly and her bass. You wouldn't believe it if we did. She is feisty, hysterically funny and a brilliant jazz player in addition to having the coolest last name a musician could possibly have. Hmmmmm. I must say, it's entirely possible that we might have some GUYS at the show now.... Who would have guessed?

Jesse is a freak of nature. While he is not yet old enough to consume adult beverages, let me assure you that he is in fact old enough to drive. He is also old enough to date your sister, so watch out! It's always the drummer that gets the girl, after all. I've always wondered about the reasoning behind that theory, but it seems to hold up. Jesse's sense of time is not to be reckoned with. Don't bother with one of those atomic clocks that you see at Best Buy, just call Jesse. A lover of jazz and Monopoly, Jesse likes long walks on the beach and seems to have a strange fascination with exotic footwear.

That's all for now, hope to see some of you soon. Don't forget to call your mother. Whatever you do, don't let me forget to call mine.

The Yankees still suck. In fact, it's to the point where it's getting embarrassing now. I love it.

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Have you paid your taxes today? I have not. Do you think if I just quietly slouch in my desk and forget about it, the good folks at the Internal Revenue Service will in turn forget about me? Hmmmm. I will spare you all from my manifesto about why the tax system is the way it is and how we should change it. For now I will only advise that you not complain about tax issues in public forums. For example, do NOT say "What am I getting in return for this tax money that I am spending?" Gasp!! What a terrible question! Also, when looking at the deduction sheet that is attached to the remains of your paycheck, do not say "Who is FICA, and why do they make more than me?" Who are we to ask such a diabolical question? Finally, do not ever question the motivations of the elected officials who demand that we bend over and collectively take one for the team. They are untouchable of course, sitting high above us in the temple of compassion where ambitious interns take care of everything and where guys that hate each other call their adversaries "distinguished gentlemen." Really.

Personally, I like the British system better. Have you ever been flipping through channels at 2:00 AM and upon passing C-SPAN noticed a bunch of guys with whigs and silly accents screaming at each other? Now, those guys know how to have an argument.

So yeah, I actually have serious stuff to talk about in the midst of this banter. I had a topic planned for today's entry, but that will have to wait. As is always the case, things just don't go according to plan.

Nate "Deuce" Cherrier the fantastic drummer we've had with us for a year now, has left the band. Life has been a little weird for Nate lately, and he just felt it was time to try something different.

Also, some of you have seen us play with Michael Neary who recently came aboard to play bass. Michael has really been missing home lately, and has decided to move back to the lovely land of Wisconsin.

I want to thank Nate and Mike for their contributions to the band as well as for their friendship, which will of course continue. I am a better musician and a better person for having known them. Please join Nate Larson, Chris Benavidez, Darren Bergman and myself in wishing them the absolute best. Salut, boys.

We have already begun (and perhaps even finished) the process of searching for new partners in crime. The future is looking very bright and I assure you that lots of surprises are in the works.

Thank you all for your support and for continuing to come out to our shows in Arizona. For those in other parts of the country, we have not forgotten you and will be visiting a town near you in the coming weeks and months.

To those of you who have asked about the record and MP3s, it's coming. I promise. This stuff takes time, you know? I am pretty close to this project so my opinion isn't exactly objective, but things are sounding really, really great and I think it will be worth the wait. I don't expect to post any more MP3s until the project is released, but you never know.

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A new religion is murmuring within the soul of America's weary children! Still warm from the cultural meltdown, the ashes have spawned a new passion, a new faith. Born of disappointment, bitterness and the devastating effects of MTV, it sounds like an army of six billion men and women simmering beneath the murky depths, a cavalry of love galvanized for the final battle where hate is the only casualty. This love is a mighty thing. Indeed, it makes an army out of a man stopping tanks in the street with only his conviction and the overwhelming desire to speak with his own voice. This new doctrine must have an anthem to lead it into battle with the shipwreck of postmodern America. It will be music and music alone that ushers in this new community of lovers and dreamers. We can no longer be islands of isolation in this sea of 'tolerance,' afraid to make waves with the stirrings of our hearts! We must be bold, earnest, passionate, idealistic and unwavering. These are the characteristics of America's tomorrow. Let your faith in the music consume you! Let it remind you that the cowardice of our parent's generation, characterized by a lack of conviction and a surplus of opinion, a lack of revelation and a surplus of information, is not what will characterize our generation. Let your music, as we strive to let ours, be a mouthpiece for a new generation, characterized by passion, patience, and above all, a relentlessly unconditional love. Turn off your television. Open your eyes. Listen. "Let the music keep our spirits high. Let the buildings keep our children dry. Let creation reveal its secrets, until the light that is lost within us reaches the sky."

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I have always been a very superlative person. I was always the kid saying something like, "This is the greatest (insert noun here) in the history of civilization. The New England Patriots would make an excellent choice if you were looking for an appropriate noun, but I will get to that some other time. Sorry to all the Philadelphia Eagles fans out there, but this isn't your year.

Anyway, I was always thinking about which records I'd bring if I was stranded on a desert island, who was the best singer, the best president, the hottest girl, and so on. That's part of what made the movie "High Fidelity" so cool, because I actually grew up talking like that. So, whenever I think of a best/worst list that's worth posting, you'll see it here. Also, we're going to have a link in the Fan Uploads section where you can post your own "list." If you have a list that you want to post, send it to list@justinsimison.com and we will look it over. The list can be about anything, but as you can imagine, there will be some standards. The lists that cross the line will be unceremoniously deleted. So yeah, here's my list for today. This is off the top of my head, I'm sure later I'll regret this list and want to repost it. That's what makes it fun though, I'll wake up in the middle of the night thinking "Damn, how could I have forgotten ____________?!?!?

Marc Cohn - (Self-titled)
Faith No More - Angel Dust
The Blake Babies - God Bless The Blake Babies
Depeche Mode - Songs of Faith and Devotion
Jackson Browne - I'm Alive
Counting Crows - Hard Candy
Buffalo Tom - Let Me Come Over
Miles Davis - Kind of Blue
Pearl Jam - Vs.
Lemonheads - It's A Shame About Ray

Ugh! There's so much I am forgetting, I just know it. This was probably a dumb idea, I'm thinking that it's just going to keep me awake. Oh well, it's too late now I guess.

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I think it's the ultimate goal of all artists, musical or otherwise, to truly inspire people. I know that for myself their could be no greater satisfaction. I can remember hearing songs like Jackson Browne's "Sky Blue and Black" and Counting Crows' "Anna Begins" and thinking, "Wow, if I could ever touch someone the way this song has touched me, that would be the most amazing experience of my entire life...."

Musicians are always cautious when talking about their influences because they're afraid that their perceived "originality" will be compromised in the process. That may be the case, but the truth is that the most important part of skilled songwriting is taking the lessons of one songwriter, mixing them with your own and applying them in a different way. I always loved Tennyson's line, "I am part of all that I have met," because it's so true. Musicians are basically just giant sponges. It's the stuff that we absorb, all mixed together with our own perspectives, that truly defines our music.

In the early spring of 2003, I was basically ready to give up on music as a professional endeavor. I had become disenchanted and totally uninspired by the music business and the new "music" that it was producing. I was ready to hold my nose and dive into the abyss of the corporate world. Then, later that spring, I had the opportunity to see one of these singer/songwriter/hearthrob kids (who's name I could not remember, let alone pronounce......or spell) in the lovely city of Las Vegas. My friend Sami had invited me to go, promising a free ticket if I would accept the responsibility of driving and not falling asleep on the way home. I was mostly concerned with watching the San Antonio Spurs eliminate the Los Angeles Lakers that day (which they did), but I figured the Vegas casino monitors would allow me to do both. So I went, reluctantly, fully expecting to hate this Jason Mraz character.

Obviously, I didn't. That show literally changed my life, or more specifically changed the way I look at it. I think I was just trying too hard, which I suppose is sort of my nature. When I saw this kid so effortlessly on top of the world, it really made me see how completely I had been missing the point. His attitude, not to mention his voice, inspired me in a way that I never thought possible. When I took this picture of Jason and Sami, I had no idea how important that experience would become.

Almost two years later, I feel like I'm writing the best songs of my life and I'm singing better than I ever thought I could. Watching Jason play again in Tempe the other night really made me realize how far I have come, and how much of that I owe to him. He was, once again, the reminder that I needed.

I'm sure that every musician has a story like this, but I think they're terrified of saying so. I guess maybe that would make them sound like any other fan, or maybe it would diminish their "larger than life" persona if they were found to be in such awe of another artist.

Well, I don't care about any of that. I am part of all that I have met, after all. The greatness of Jackson Browne, Ella Fitzgerald, Faith No More, Evan Dando, Depeche Mode, Motzart, Elvis Costello, Miles Davis, Jimmy Eat World, Digable Planets, Juliana Hatfield, Hank Williams, Pearl Jam, Public Enemy, Duke Ellington, Gram Parsons, No Doubt, Guns N' Roses, Usher, Counting Crows, Norah Jones, Arrested Development, Frank Sinatra and all of the other artists who reach the pinnacle of greatness, I am in awe of them all. If I have my way, I will rip off at least one thing from all of them, knitting them all together into Justin Simison's musical quilt.

However, I can say with great certainty that were it not for my little Jason Mraz moment, I would have given up. I know that I would not be where I am today, and I probably would have wasted the last two years without even writing a single song. Quite literally, he saved my musical life.

I want to take this moment, however cheesy it may be, to thank Jason Mraz from the bottom of my heart.

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New Hampshire actually feels even warmer than last year, which of course was warmer than the year before. That's just today though. When I got here on the 27th, it was 5 degrees outside with a wind-chill that must have made it feel something like -134. Living in Phoenix has really messed with my system, I'm not kidding. I walk out to my car on some Arizona nights and I swear it feels like it's 20 degrees outside, but yeah, no. The trusty digital thermometer in my car usually reads something like 48. My family and I leave Cape Cod for this part of New England a few days after every Christmas. It's always been a wonderful little vacation inside a vacation. Everyone talks about Central Park and Boston for New Year's Eve debauchery, but I would much rather stay here in the quiet woods of North Conway with my family.

Anyway, it's wonderful to be home again. It's amazing how close your family can be when there are thousands of miles between you for most of the year. It's especially good to see my brother and his better half again, because he wasn't around when I visited Cape Cod this past summer. I keep telling him that he should buy stock in Gillette. I'm not kidding, he can render a brand new razor utterly useless after 1.5 attempts at shaving. Immediately following the completion of his shaving endeavor, it looks like he needs to shave again. I couldn't grow a beard if I tried, so I'm not sure where he came from. We have been calling him, affectionately of course, Osama bin Brendan.

In other news, I have achieved "no talent ass clown" status at cross country skiing. I have been downhill skiing since I was three, and the skills and experience that I have gained over the many years since then had made me think of cross country skiing as something of a lesser man's sport. Let me assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, while I can't remember the last time I fell skiing downhill, I am unlikely to forget the last six or seven epic cross country disasters. My ass is blue! Actually, I'm not sure about that because in these conditions I have no way of making a thorough inspection to ascertain its true color. It hurts, that's all I know.

I think 2005 is going to be a defining year for me. I suppose I say that every year, but it's always true.

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