It's taken years to hide the devils, to live with them and not let others see them. The strange thing is the demons attack me and drag me down when I’m alone. I’m happiest to be with casual people: The happiest time of adulthood was when I tended bar in a small dive where there was a casual closeness beween us all. Another happy time was my last term at CalArts, when I moved out of the dorms and into a house with six other crazy students, who I could just hang out with and had the Arts in common. Before that in the dorm, I felt completely isolated and tormented by thought of worthlessness ( my dad had died less than a year before.)Aloneness used to be a comfort zone, where I studied and read and composed…and prayed. Somehow these last few years I have become alone and the solitude has become like a hospital ward at night---- hushed tones, everything sterile. Just before I moved to Chicago, my marriage was falling apart, one of my closest friends died. After a divorce and settling down at church, another circle of events seemed to throw me off. My mother passed away, my boss, mentor and pastor transferred, and then I was forced to move to a different apartment ( a former WWII mental hospital). More and more writing and music became less and less important. The time I’m most comfortable is sharing a few beers with friends and let the world drift slowly by. This has not made me happy. I deride myself for being a failure and a disappointment. And alcohol has caused me to be more unreliable. I am a frustrated teacher---my work with choirs is a form of teaching. Teaching is a means of sharing what I’ve discovered and more importantly encouraging others to discover things on their own and in turn share them with me.