Friday, February 25, 2005
this shit can't be healthy this late...(fever dreams)
I am dreaming, and every word of what follows is true.
I walked out of my bedroom and there was a crowd in the hall, all standing and waiting, each person completely unrecognizable, and none of them agreeing on what we were waiting for. The first guy said we were waiting for a hole in the floor to be filled so we could continue moving. The girl holding his hand said she heard from her brother that it had something to do with a crazy veteran holding a Vietnamese man hostage and screaming in fluent Arabic. The blonde girl in front of them said both were wrong, and we were waiting for the keg to be tapped so everyone could finally drink. When I pressed her as to why they didn't go get a can or bottle out of the fridge, she smiled at me and said those were being saved for someone else, and it wouldn't be right to drink them without this mystery person here.
Of course, the brunette in front of the blonde girl wearing a shirt that said "We Dare To Bare All" told me another story, but I didn't buy her story, so she took it back. With no place to go, I sat in the hallway and waited for the congestion to break up before making it into the kitchen. The second I opened the fridge, I saw a hand on my shoulder and a whist of hair out of the corner of my eye. I could feel someone kiss the back of my ear, and for a minute the room was warm, with that moist feeling to it, the hyper-sexual desire of ghost for a man that could well be gone before seeing how the movie comes out.
There is good news. Really good news, as long as you don't mind stretching the interpretation a little bit. I don't mind at all...rules are meant to be broken, and who are we worried about anyway? Anyone who was ever supposed to notice is tied up staring at an M&M candy bar, gyrating and bending to open the bar, all the while wondering why the room was so quiet. They are fools of the first degree, each one filled with contempt and envy in a never ending cycle, lusting after the transfixed hatred in the last gasp attempt to be full again before the show ends, the curtain falls.
I have known that feeling. I am sure you have too. I imagine you, the grace I'll bet you never even knew existed while massaging the very ego that seeks to explode. It's a dangerous game, this, here, now, with so much at stake, I think most are locked in the struggle to see outside the opaque nature of choice. I'm told it isn't possible. There are six billion of us down here, so for all I know, it is possible. I'd like to think it was, but that is a case of self-denial stemming from an overanxious imagination and too much of anything I can get into my head without damaging the exterior. I'd rather have that damage inside anyway, where no one can see it and where it hides.
In a sharp moment, I come awake, and there is nobody here. The comment boards are dry, not dripping with the venom of the challenged, and certainly not for my Alaskan entrée, wherever she may be roaming at the moment. If I had the choice, I would choose faith in the idea of existence. Every human hope stems from that. But then, existentialism isn't good enough for some. (This is a variation on my favorite old saying "It's all fun and games until the fucking evangelicals and fundamentalists show up and ruin the world for the rest of us decent atheists.")
Loud music bumps and shakes, and the clock hits 3:30 a.m. and I am awake to see it again. The cat sleeps on the bed, blissfully unaware there is anything to be concerned with past food, heat, and the occasional jaw scratch. I watch her for a moment, jealous, as I was with fat Stripes. One of my past selves arises for a moment, grinning, holding a cigarette while present me shakes with chills and fever. "You awful asshole, don't you know that shit can't be healthy this late?" Past self replies with laughter, and then spits on the rug (he was such an ass, both then and now) and leaves. I'm going to follow him, I need a cigarette. Healthy or not, at this hour, there are few options but the last 2 (ok, last 3) bud lights and then a steady diet of nicotine flavored dirty air. Besides, I'm not that sick, and it beats the devil out of me, as REK would say....
----
In other news...I had a song I was supremely happy with, until my computer ate all but the chorus. My knuckles are bruised from punching the wall and almost ripping the keyboard in half, but here is the chorus, becuase it would be a fucking travesty to go back on my word after all that. Long live the writers strong enough to use paper and pen rather than this complicated useless piece of shit. The title was going to be "Last Call At The Second Chance Bar & Grille." Fuck this computer, I really liked that. And my hand hurts. I ahve really got to stop punching walls.
Your memory ridin' right next to me
Pointing out everything that I’ll never see
Reminding me of everything that I'll never be
Closing time second chances are still
Didn't ask you for all the words that you speak
Or the way that you stalk me at night in my sleep
Takin' everything I got leaves me nothing to keep
At the Second Chance Bar & Grille
SO tomorrow I will do some reconstruction work and see what I cn find or remember, which won't be much because if I am already fucked up enough to write something that isn't total shit, then I am already too fucked up to remmeber the wherefore and why of the whole thing. Much like George Carlin, I too desire to meet a gorgeous woman who owns a car dealership and deals powder on the side...that is a really inside joke, most will stand and stare and scratch their forehead....The best part of being bipolar is that every time you get so far down that shit seems hopeless, sooner or later, for no reason, you will totally feel that for no reason, everything is PERFECT. Everything isn't perfect, but I take strange comfort living in a Catch-22 and that is enough for right now.
cf
I walked out of my bedroom and there was a crowd in the hall, all standing and waiting, each person completely unrecognizable, and none of them agreeing on what we were waiting for. The first guy said we were waiting for a hole in the floor to be filled so we could continue moving. The girl holding his hand said she heard from her brother that it had something to do with a crazy veteran holding a Vietnamese man hostage and screaming in fluent Arabic. The blonde girl in front of them said both were wrong, and we were waiting for the keg to be tapped so everyone could finally drink. When I pressed her as to why they didn't go get a can or bottle out of the fridge, she smiled at me and said those were being saved for someone else, and it wouldn't be right to drink them without this mystery person here.
Of course, the brunette in front of the blonde girl wearing a shirt that said "We Dare To Bare All" told me another story, but I didn't buy her story, so she took it back. With no place to go, I sat in the hallway and waited for the congestion to break up before making it into the kitchen. The second I opened the fridge, I saw a hand on my shoulder and a whist of hair out of the corner of my eye. I could feel someone kiss the back of my ear, and for a minute the room was warm, with that moist feeling to it, the hyper-sexual desire of ghost for a man that could well be gone before seeing how the movie comes out.
There is good news. Really good news, as long as you don't mind stretching the interpretation a little bit. I don't mind at all...rules are meant to be broken, and who are we worried about anyway? Anyone who was ever supposed to notice is tied up staring at an M&M candy bar, gyrating and bending to open the bar, all the while wondering why the room was so quiet. They are fools of the first degree, each one filled with contempt and envy in a never ending cycle, lusting after the transfixed hatred in the last gasp attempt to be full again before the show ends, the curtain falls.
I have known that feeling. I am sure you have too. I imagine you, the grace I'll bet you never even knew existed while massaging the very ego that seeks to explode. It's a dangerous game, this, here, now, with so much at stake, I think most are locked in the struggle to see outside the opaque nature of choice. I'm told it isn't possible. There are six billion of us down here, so for all I know, it is possible. I'd like to think it was, but that is a case of self-denial stemming from an overanxious imagination and too much of anything I can get into my head without damaging the exterior. I'd rather have that damage inside anyway, where no one can see it and where it hides.
In a sharp moment, I come awake, and there is nobody here. The comment boards are dry, not dripping with the venom of the challenged, and certainly not for my Alaskan entrée, wherever she may be roaming at the moment. If I had the choice, I would choose faith in the idea of existence. Every human hope stems from that. But then, existentialism isn't good enough for some. (This is a variation on my favorite old saying "It's all fun and games until the fucking evangelicals and fundamentalists show up and ruin the world for the rest of us decent atheists.")
Loud music bumps and shakes, and the clock hits 3:30 a.m. and I am awake to see it again. The cat sleeps on the bed, blissfully unaware there is anything to be concerned with past food, heat, and the occasional jaw scratch. I watch her for a moment, jealous, as I was with fat Stripes. One of my past selves arises for a moment, grinning, holding a cigarette while present me shakes with chills and fever. "You awful asshole, don't you know that shit can't be healthy this late?" Past self replies with laughter, and then spits on the rug (he was such an ass, both then and now) and leaves. I'm going to follow him, I need a cigarette. Healthy or not, at this hour, there are few options but the last 2 (ok, last 3) bud lights and then a steady diet of nicotine flavored dirty air. Besides, I'm not that sick, and it beats the devil out of me, as REK would say....
----
In other news...I had a song I was supremely happy with, until my computer ate all but the chorus. My knuckles are bruised from punching the wall and almost ripping the keyboard in half, but here is the chorus, becuase it would be a fucking travesty to go back on my word after all that. Long live the writers strong enough to use paper and pen rather than this complicated useless piece of shit. The title was going to be "Last Call At The Second Chance Bar & Grille." Fuck this computer, I really liked that. And my hand hurts. I ahve really got to stop punching walls.
Your memory ridin' right next to me
Pointing out everything that I’ll never see
Reminding me of everything that I'll never be
Closing time second chances are still
Didn't ask you for all the words that you speak
Or the way that you stalk me at night in my sleep
Takin' everything I got leaves me nothing to keep
At the Second Chance Bar & Grille
SO tomorrow I will do some reconstruction work and see what I cn find or remember, which won't be much because if I am already fucked up enough to write something that isn't total shit, then I am already too fucked up to remmeber the wherefore and why of the whole thing. Much like George Carlin, I too desire to meet a gorgeous woman who owns a car dealership and deals powder on the side...that is a really inside joke, most will stand and stare and scratch their forehead....The best part of being bipolar is that every time you get so far down that shit seems hopeless, sooner or later, for no reason, you will totally feel that for no reason, everything is PERFECT. Everything isn't perfect, but I take strange comfort living in a Catch-22 and that is enough for right now.
cf
Thursday, February 24, 2005
a show and a late night drive...
OK, not dead, so I guess I will be keeping my stuff...hahahaha. Anyhow, a fucking great show, a long ass drive home filled with good tunes and a readiness to crash hardcore. It's amazing, I was so lost in space on the drive home, I thought I was coming home to someone...guess not. There are nights though, I will really admit that....you know what I mean...
cf
ps - i'm so tired, I just wanted to post quickly before hitting the hay, but I was thinking, if things are always changing, does that mean they can change back to something life used to be? I'll accept the fusion of old and new of course, not that there is much choice, but it does seem rather odd, especially when you can't really see and the highway is flying by and damn, I think I am still drunk, and I know I'm something else. Goodnight all, see you tomorrow, possibly with snow...but probobly not.
cf
cf
ps - i'm so tired, I just wanted to post quickly before hitting the hay, but I was thinking, if things are always changing, does that mean they can change back to something life used to be? I'll accept the fusion of old and new of course, not that there is much choice, but it does seem rather odd, especially when you can't really see and the highway is flying by and damn, I think I am still drunk, and I know I'm something else. Goodnight all, see you tomorrow, possibly with snow...but probobly not.
cf
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
"How Far Out"
"How Far Out"
Imagination running wild,
Far as you can dream
Guessing just how far out flying
Grinning sight unseen
Rambling over sunsets
Somewhere beyond the sea,
Floating in the warm winds,
Floating under me
I know these mornings are few and far between
Like gold coins jangling in faded blue jeans
When you see my smile and you know what I mean,
That once in a million so rarely seen
The simple moonlight running wild
Far as I can see
Guessing just how far out flying
The light that seems to be
Taking in a sunrise
Somewhere beyond today
Both jokers laughing madly
With nothing funny to say
And I wouldn’t be caught anywhere else,
Not sitting like a statue on a dime store shelf
Or tied down to a life too good for my health
My invisible empire and my invisible wealth
Now crazy people running wild
As far as I can see
Guessing just how far out flying
Is mystery to me
Laughing at each other
Always having fun
Laughing about nothing
The running never done
And I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere else,
Not sitting like a statue on a dime store shelf
Or tied down to a life too good for my health
With my invisible empire and my invisible wealth,
I know these mornings are few and far between
Like gold coins jangling in faded blue jeans
When you see my smile, you know what I mean,
That once in a million that’s so rarely seen
And I wouldn’t be caught anyplace else,
Motionless as a trinket on a dime store shelf
When you see my smile and you know what I mean,
That once in a million almost never seen
------------
I doubt I am done editing that one, but so far, I like it, I have the basics worked out, jsut a few minor kinks and some poor language to fix. (Oh yeah, it was started in my Shakespeare class after I started daydreaming about the beach, and how little attachment I had for my environment. I like it, you of course do not have to, it used to be a free country...
cf
Imagination running wild,
Far as you can dream
Guessing just how far out flying
Grinning sight unseen
Rambling over sunsets
Somewhere beyond the sea,
Floating in the warm winds,
Floating under me
I know these mornings are few and far between
Like gold coins jangling in faded blue jeans
When you see my smile and you know what I mean,
That once in a million so rarely seen
The simple moonlight running wild
Far as I can see
Guessing just how far out flying
The light that seems to be
Taking in a sunrise
Somewhere beyond today
Both jokers laughing madly
With nothing funny to say
And I wouldn’t be caught anywhere else,
Not sitting like a statue on a dime store shelf
Or tied down to a life too good for my health
My invisible empire and my invisible wealth
Now crazy people running wild
As far as I can see
Guessing just how far out flying
Is mystery to me
Laughing at each other
Always having fun
Laughing about nothing
The running never done
And I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere else,
Not sitting like a statue on a dime store shelf
Or tied down to a life too good for my health
With my invisible empire and my invisible wealth,
I know these mornings are few and far between
Like gold coins jangling in faded blue jeans
When you see my smile, you know what I mean,
That once in a million that’s so rarely seen
And I wouldn’t be caught anyplace else,
Motionless as a trinket on a dime store shelf
When you see my smile and you know what I mean,
That once in a million almost never seen
------------
I doubt I am done editing that one, but so far, I like it, I have the basics worked out, jsut a few minor kinks and some poor language to fix. (Oh yeah, it was started in my Shakespeare class after I started daydreaming about the beach, and how little attachment I had for my environment. I like it, you of course do not have to, it used to be a free country...
cf
late nights, loud music, pounding keys...
Thursday, February 17, 2005
oh yeah, i almost forgot....
Trying to cheer myself up, I wrote this yesterday...
“This Close To The Water”
Flip flop footprints creeping through the sand
Matching tracks marching down the open shore land
Ocean blue water under clear sunny skies
Wind blown warm weather winter surprise
Scream “Last one in the water is a dirty old dog!”
With Janey playing guitar and Jimmy singing along
The limits of desire reaching down the shore
A momentary lapse of knowing we could ever want more
Afternoon on the front porch, watching clouds float by
Liquor and the landscape and the sun up in the sky
Ships drift towards the horizon
Hear the music in the air
Everybody lounging
Livin’ life without a care
Shallow water warms my legs, wet sands warms my toes
My attention span is wandering, the tide line ebbs and flows
Everywhere I look around is place I want to be
Every scent magnified by the wind through the banyan trees
Nighttime by a bonfire, watching sparks shoot the sky
Nobody thinks of leaving, not when we’re this high
Tomorrow we’ll wake up to the waves crashing down
An all-natural alarm clock for the whole beach town
Afternoon on the front porch, watching clouds float by
Liquor and the landscape and the sun up in the sky
Ships drift towards the horizon
Hear the music in the air
Everybody lounging
Livin’ life without a care
-------
OK, back to life. Today, I don't want to meet or hit on any dykes. A turn on? Yes. Something I suppport? Yes. Something I am overjoyed about finding out about certain people? No. (I probobly sound anti-gay. Well, fuck you, I think everyone has a right to be miserable in their own way, and I'm not stopping you or discouraging you, I'm just saying....)
WHATS SO MAYBE ABOUT KATIE????
cf
“This Close To The Water”
Flip flop footprints creeping through the sand
Matching tracks marching down the open shore land
Ocean blue water under clear sunny skies
Wind blown warm weather winter surprise
Scream “Last one in the water is a dirty old dog!”
With Janey playing guitar and Jimmy singing along
The limits of desire reaching down the shore
A momentary lapse of knowing we could ever want more
Afternoon on the front porch, watching clouds float by
Liquor and the landscape and the sun up in the sky
Ships drift towards the horizon
Hear the music in the air
Everybody lounging
Livin’ life without a care
Shallow water warms my legs, wet sands warms my toes
My attention span is wandering, the tide line ebbs and flows
Everywhere I look around is place I want to be
Every scent magnified by the wind through the banyan trees
Nighttime by a bonfire, watching sparks shoot the sky
Nobody thinks of leaving, not when we’re this high
Tomorrow we’ll wake up to the waves crashing down
An all-natural alarm clock for the whole beach town
Afternoon on the front porch, watching clouds float by
Liquor and the landscape and the sun up in the sky
Ships drift towards the horizon
Hear the music in the air
Everybody lounging
Livin’ life without a care
-------
OK, back to life. Today, I don't want to meet or hit on any dykes. A turn on? Yes. Something I suppport? Yes. Something I am overjoyed about finding out about certain people? No. (I probobly sound anti-gay. Well, fuck you, I think everyone has a right to be miserable in their own way, and I'm not stopping you or discouraging you, I'm just saying....)
WHATS SO MAYBE ABOUT KATIE????
cf
the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald...
Things haven't seem so mixed up in a long time. If the words existed that could convey the acid in the pit of my stomache, maybe I would be able to nail it down more succinctly, but the best I can do is to say maybe it was all my imagination, until I find some sawbucks in my pocket and I realize it wasn't a dream. Anger and frustration are the most apparent guests, but since I am only picking over the bleached bones with all the meat licked off and the blood long dried, it makes perfect snese. I'll tell you now, I can already tell you the wind is blowing in from the Atlantic, even up here in the mountains, you can feel it, smell the salt, dread the rising tide of everything that is coming.
Would it be any easier if I wasn't here? I can't answer that question, except with the usual warnings of isolationism and pride. Since I don't know, the smart money says that maybe I can find a place to go soon. I need to get out of town before I strangle myself. Everything seems like it is dead or dying for me here. Is that too strong an image? Am I overemphasizing how I feel right now? Maybe...I look back and read a lot of what I write and it makes little sense, just gibberash and random shit...Not a lot of good in the world this morning it would seem, though after my big winnings last night, I'm a step closer to easy street... I'm going to stop writing before I say something I regret. Suffice it to say the anger sharks are swimming around my head, and I need drugs and cigarettes and food and a new mood...
cf
Would it be any easier if I wasn't here? I can't answer that question, except with the usual warnings of isolationism and pride. Since I don't know, the smart money says that maybe I can find a place to go soon. I need to get out of town before I strangle myself. Everything seems like it is dead or dying for me here. Is that too strong an image? Am I overemphasizing how I feel right now? Maybe...I look back and read a lot of what I write and it makes little sense, just gibberash and random shit...Not a lot of good in the world this morning it would seem, though after my big winnings last night, I'm a step closer to easy street... I'm going to stop writing before I say something I regret. Suffice it to say the anger sharks are swimming around my head, and I need drugs and cigarettes and food and a new mood...
cf
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
would you believe i was gonna go home?
The music (new Mavericks stuff) is just loud enough for me to whisper into the keys that I sent an email which I fully believe will be misunderstood to someone about 4 hours ago. Now, certainly, I could take preventative steps to make sure nothing is misinterpreted, but sometimes, confusion can work to your favor. In this particular case, I know exactly what the end result will be (no worries for either party) so I am just going to sit here and daydream and write and not worry about the email. Experience tells me that there will be no reply, but I hope this person understands we are on very laissez faire terms. Hopefully, we have made cross-eyes at each other for the last time, at least for a while.
So, for the good news. I may have found a place that will publish a short poetry book I have been working on since the good old Washington Days. Originally, it was going to be entered into one of those ubiquitous poetry contests, but I have elected to go a non-competitive route through the good people at CafePress.com. So, more updates soon, but I am thinking book tour over spring break? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I think I just pissed myself.
Well, another day in the life. Haven't slept well in a long time, but tonight, I have some new tunes, including the single best cover EVER of a Springsteen song. Go find a copy of The Mavericks doing "Downbound Train." Certainly, you recall that the late great Johnny Cash tried his best to do Bruce, including, I think, this song. However, his voice was too deep. I know what you're thinking. "CF, doesn't Raul Malo have a similar deep voice?" To which I say, just listen, he hits the shit like yesterdays virgins.
Speaking of ex-virgins (edging into funny, yet introspective, yet extremely hurtful remarks) still no word from she-who-must-not-be-named. I will not lie, I think this is a bit classless, but shit, you can't make someone return an email, and I was trying to apologize...I guess I intimidate others...except people who know me, and know I am as gentle as a little lamb with rabies. Is that too harsh a characterization? Methinks not, but the psychiatrists say you gotta love yourself. (I'm not currently enrolled in a funny farm, but I've been through it enough to stay current) Fuck them all is what I say. Now, we we're talking about virginity?
(only a few of my loyal readers will get that joke. i hope its you!)
Now, if someone could help me out via email or instant messenger.... do I know anyone in Philly? (CF isn't sure, but he has been through that town and had some good times there. Dead in 2003, good times.) Dev, is that you? If it is (and that would be a fucking miracle, I haven't seen her in years, since my last trip to Pittsburgh, where the Patriots go to win AFC Championship games.) by all means send me a fucking email man!
Well, let's get drunk. See you soon dearest, don't start the car without me. If you have a good cheap idea for spring break, pass it along. I got a car; I just need a destination...
cf
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
too damned stoned to know any better...
Since I have been kind of sleep-walking through life for the last month or so, I began to notice that I could periodically dissappear for a while even from myself. I'm hardly disassociative (bonus points if you email me the DSM-IV info on that...hahahaha) but I can't help but feel like nothing is real right now. It's like jumping in the water and making not a ripple. At first I was stunned, and figured it was a by product of something else I won't discuss here, but after sobriety hit me, nothing changed. I still feel the same way, and I can't seem to shake it. Ah well, vanilla for a while, but at least it isn't Valentine's day.
I'd write more, but today I have nothing to say. The above was more than I intended to write and perhaps it is time to curtail this little blog or whatever the fuck it is. I don't know, I always figured it was a good idea, but so far....ahh the joys of being young and bipolar....hahahahaha.
tell you what...Let these worries take a break, I'm gonna go do something, and I really think you should do the same. Trust me, lets all get fucked up and we won't remember anything that happens today. Perhaps I'll post on the upswing later today, but more likely, I will do some book writing and such. 3 weeks and counting, and I'm trying to hold up the wind with a sail...
cf
ps - striking out this often is hard work. here's to emails, live-in boyfirends, and mistaken intentions!!! I was listening to this when it came over the wire:
I'm not surprised it's come to this
Sooner or later there must be another's kiss
Behind that kiss a promise of a life of bliss
Yeah, great
I won't be takin' the bait
I'd rather drown
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
Imagine everything you've done
Under a microscope on view for everyone
And if the King of Circumspection's here
He's come in vain
I won't be sharing the blame
I wear the crown
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
Nothing's good enough for me
To shake me from complacencyI make my mind up and I'll never be
The kind of man who'd make a choice
For if I hold my tongue I'll never lose my voice
If each attempted act of sabotage destroys all hopeI won't be needing a rope
I'm gagged and bound
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
And if the genie were set free
And by the laws of things like that, he's indebted to me
I'd bury my three wishes
deep down in the ground
So I will not turn my whole life upside down
Though I appreciate the aim
Tell Andy Warhol's ghost that he can keep his fame
I'd only use it to make everything the same again
So don't applaud till the endI'm not around
Cause I will not turn my whole life upside down
Nothing's good enough for me
To shake me from complacency
I've made my mind upI won't make a sound
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
it is of course the Barenaked Ladies. (I once sold seven BNL CD's to pay for a my Buffett tickets back in 1998. Those were the days....) Funny part isn't the song though, but trying to figure out why I found the image so fucking funny. I guess I'm really cynical in my sense of humor. Bon apetite for now,
CF
I'd write more, but today I have nothing to say. The above was more than I intended to write and perhaps it is time to curtail this little blog or whatever the fuck it is. I don't know, I always figured it was a good idea, but so far....ahh the joys of being young and bipolar....hahahahaha.
tell you what...Let these worries take a break, I'm gonna go do something, and I really think you should do the same. Trust me, lets all get fucked up and we won't remember anything that happens today. Perhaps I'll post on the upswing later today, but more likely, I will do some book writing and such. 3 weeks and counting, and I'm trying to hold up the wind with a sail...
cf
ps - striking out this often is hard work. here's to emails, live-in boyfirends, and mistaken intentions!!! I was listening to this when it came over the wire:
I'm not surprised it's come to this
Sooner or later there must be another's kiss
Behind that kiss a promise of a life of bliss
Yeah, great
I won't be takin' the bait
I'd rather drown
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
Imagine everything you've done
Under a microscope on view for everyone
And if the King of Circumspection's here
He's come in vain
I won't be sharing the blame
I wear the crown
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
Nothing's good enough for me
To shake me from complacencyI make my mind up and I'll never be
The kind of man who'd make a choice
For if I hold my tongue I'll never lose my voice
If each attempted act of sabotage destroys all hopeI won't be needing a rope
I'm gagged and bound
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
And if the genie were set free
And by the laws of things like that, he's indebted to me
I'd bury my three wishes
deep down in the ground
So I will not turn my whole life upside down
Though I appreciate the aim
Tell Andy Warhol's ghost that he can keep his fame
I'd only use it to make everything the same again
So don't applaud till the endI'm not around
Cause I will not turn my whole life upside down
Nothing's good enough for me
To shake me from complacency
I've made my mind upI won't make a sound
And I will not turn my whole life upside down
it is of course the Barenaked Ladies. (I once sold seven BNL CD's to pay for a my Buffett tickets back in 1998. Those were the days....) Funny part isn't the song though, but trying to figure out why I found the image so fucking funny. I guess I'm really cynical in my sense of humor. Bon apetite for now,
CF
Monday, February 14, 2005
dust had all settled on the dancefloor...
Ah, the joys of a good nights rest and good Texas music. Everything is feeling really reframed, and the dumber of my roommates two cats just jumped into my closet, and seems to be stuck. Oh wait, that's me...
Anyhow, now that this holding pattern has rescued me from both the divine and the circumspect, it seems a good time to consolidate for a bit before continuing onward. As per usual, I have let the mundane become the complex, and in doing so triggered a whole torrent of foolish ideas, most of which will take some time to explore before eventually discarding, but perhaps the stroke of inspiration is still smoldering under the refuse. Maybe we should call this "precipice" time, because it is kind of funny (not to mention disturbing) to see life like this, and secondly, because the constant tension of thought and action is what seems to drive the whole game. Tension. I am reminded of Phil Ochs' half joke in the monolog leading into "Ringing of Revolution." Hmm, will anybody have heard that dinosaur? I doubt it, but you never know, there are still a few of us Ochs fans out there.
Seemed to have wandered tangentially again. Oh well, things are good this morning, and hopefully, there will soon be something new here to enjoy. In what has become a far too frequent occurrence, the fucking Columbians invaded again this weekend. I fail to see how anyone can claim ignorance or innocence, but I suppose there are still those too ephemeral to reach out and touch the invasion before it withdraws, as it always does. There, that is loyalty! Got me? Well, maybe not, but the point is that as long as bare expectations are fulfilled, even temporarily, what can you do but hold on and enjoy it? Well, the rain is falling and I want to feel it hit my face for a while. Until later, you know the drill. Don't take ALL the drugs, leave some for the rest of us. Here's to the Pats, the Sox, and every other conceivable addiction. But no more Vicodin. Give it to the other cripples, and let them enjoy it.
cf
Anyhow, now that this holding pattern has rescued me from both the divine and the circumspect, it seems a good time to consolidate for a bit before continuing onward. As per usual, I have let the mundane become the complex, and in doing so triggered a whole torrent of foolish ideas, most of which will take some time to explore before eventually discarding, but perhaps the stroke of inspiration is still smoldering under the refuse. Maybe we should call this "precipice" time, because it is kind of funny (not to mention disturbing) to see life like this, and secondly, because the constant tension of thought and action is what seems to drive the whole game. Tension. I am reminded of Phil Ochs' half joke in the monolog leading into "Ringing of Revolution." Hmm, will anybody have heard that dinosaur? I doubt it, but you never know, there are still a few of us Ochs fans out there.
Seemed to have wandered tangentially again. Oh well, things are good this morning, and hopefully, there will soon be something new here to enjoy. In what has become a far too frequent occurrence, the fucking Columbians invaded again this weekend. I fail to see how anyone can claim ignorance or innocence, but I suppose there are still those too ephemeral to reach out and touch the invasion before it withdraws, as it always does. There, that is loyalty! Got me? Well, maybe not, but the point is that as long as bare expectations are fulfilled, even temporarily, what can you do but hold on and enjoy it? Well, the rain is falling and I want to feel it hit my face for a while. Until later, you know the drill. Don't take ALL the drugs, leave some for the rest of us. Here's to the Pats, the Sox, and every other conceivable addiction. But no more Vicodin. Give it to the other cripples, and let them enjoy it.
cf
the last gasp of the weekend and a lady I ca't explain...
Wow, you try to do something right, and it inevitably comes back to bite you in the ass. As per usual, I will put up a good face, but this one really hurts. I tell you, if I had a few hundred bucks to spend on an airline ticket, I would do it all in person, but let's face it, for a variety of reasons; that cannot happen. So instead, I can carry this little fucking goring, galling, omnipresent itch for what seems like ever. How much can you pay for someone else's mistake? And why do people compound it and make the situation more difficult than it has to be? Fuck it man, this is exactly why I do not trust women. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but that is honestly how I feel right now. Chewing on this sordid affair makes me want to vomit, or cry, or just run away to keep my sanity (or what little of it I have left.)
In the long run of course, none of this matters, and I can't prove any of this even exists. I can't define the problem, and I can't figure out how to get past it. 3/22, you are attached to me and I don't know how much more I can take before giving up and relegating myself to also-ran status. (This would be my hideous attitude coming out again. I'll surely feel better by tomorrow morning, and the wound won't seem so fresh, or at least it will clot some over night, and let me breathe a bit.) All I want to do is sleep, and this isn't helping.
I have listened to "Ventura Highway" 10 times back to back. My room is dark, the TV is quiet, and all I can think of is you. How could you not have understood??? I would have moved West in a heartbeat, but that is no longer a solution I can offer. Half of me wonders if you would follow me, and I laugh it off as fictitious and impossible. I need a cigarette. I want to scream, but there is nobody who would listen, and nobody who could understand. I want a close-door meeting with the boss, and I want bargaining rights. You just offered silence and ultimatums. No one will ever know but me, and you, and when I wake up, and shower and shave and look in the mirror, I want everything I see to go away and be replaced by something nameless and faceless, like the people I pass every day, anonymous figures moving towards gratification. I want to spit out every last mouthful of air and refill my lungs with smoke, and my nose with powder. I want my eyes bloodshot, and unable to focus. Then maybe I will be able to see again.
If none of this makes any sense, it is because there is a storm in my mind. I know deep down that I am gonna take a new path to perdition, and let the old one fallow. I am going to fall in love with someone, and we will love viciously, ready to rip each other's throat out for the privilege of proving we bleed for each other. There never was any Valentines confusion (naw, but clever comeback, that has REALLY stuck in my craw. It was all true, and so much deeper than I would EVER tell you to your face) or any of that other garbage. There is only a blank page, and the words to fill it, and the faith to stand behind those words, loyal, and ready to let everything go except the crazy love of another, the mad passion-miracle that burns fierce, and even if the light bulb dims, we will stand together, because that IS ALL THERE IS....
feeling like the last romantic,
or the first fool at the trough,
cf
"cause a free wind is blowing through your hair,
and the days surround your daylight glare
season's crying, no despair
alligator lizards in the air...."
In the long run of course, none of this matters, and I can't prove any of this even exists. I can't define the problem, and I can't figure out how to get past it. 3/22, you are attached to me and I don't know how much more I can take before giving up and relegating myself to also-ran status. (This would be my hideous attitude coming out again. I'll surely feel better by tomorrow morning, and the wound won't seem so fresh, or at least it will clot some over night, and let me breathe a bit.) All I want to do is sleep, and this isn't helping.
I have listened to "Ventura Highway" 10 times back to back. My room is dark, the TV is quiet, and all I can think of is you. How could you not have understood??? I would have moved West in a heartbeat, but that is no longer a solution I can offer. Half of me wonders if you would follow me, and I laugh it off as fictitious and impossible. I need a cigarette. I want to scream, but there is nobody who would listen, and nobody who could understand. I want a close-door meeting with the boss, and I want bargaining rights. You just offered silence and ultimatums. No one will ever know but me, and you, and when I wake up, and shower and shave and look in the mirror, I want everything I see to go away and be replaced by something nameless and faceless, like the people I pass every day, anonymous figures moving towards gratification. I want to spit out every last mouthful of air and refill my lungs with smoke, and my nose with powder. I want my eyes bloodshot, and unable to focus. Then maybe I will be able to see again.
If none of this makes any sense, it is because there is a storm in my mind. I know deep down that I am gonna take a new path to perdition, and let the old one fallow. I am going to fall in love with someone, and we will love viciously, ready to rip each other's throat out for the privilege of proving we bleed for each other. There never was any Valentines confusion (naw, but clever comeback, that has REALLY stuck in my craw. It was all true, and so much deeper than I would EVER tell you to your face) or any of that other garbage. There is only a blank page, and the words to fill it, and the faith to stand behind those words, loyal, and ready to let everything go except the crazy love of another, the mad passion-miracle that burns fierce, and even if the light bulb dims, we will stand together, because that IS ALL THERE IS....
feeling like the last romantic,
or the first fool at the trough,
cf
"cause a free wind is blowing through your hair,
and the days surround your daylight glare
season's crying, no despair
alligator lizards in the air...."
Friday, February 11, 2005
one more night beneath the Terligua sky...
Debating heavily on the merits of figuring out the technical details of my backup plan, should the good Universities scattered across the Southeast not see fit to let me in. (Lately, I am of two minds on this issue. On the one, I harbor some conceit about my ability to write. So not getting in would be a bit at odds with my idealization of self. On the other, well, maybe I'm not any good, and perhaps this is life trying to tell me to move in a new direction. I won't, but I suppose I'll be pretty much on my own as to writing, which is kind of like now. I shall persevere.)
I've been doing an incredible amount of sleeping of late. I think I am averaging about 12 hours, usually staying awake long enough to get homework and classes/work done, along with some pleasure writing and reading. Like Scott Kirby sings, "A full but empty life." Except it isn't really empty. I've never written more than I have been of late, and that is what I need to focus on, not all these distractions of life.
So, for the time being, I am Lebowskitizing my life. No worries, just school, work, writing, and of course, my little friend. Plus, I resolve to watch The Big Lebowski once every day until I have more fully absorbed his wisdom and the ability to ride out the strikes and gutters. (Check this shit out: You know how people always ay "You can't idolize movie characters, because they aren't real?" This line of thinking always bugged me, and I could never understand why. It finally hit me. Out of all the idols people make, movie and fictional characters are the best. They won't let you down. What you see, or read, is what you get. There is no disappointment, because the actions of the idol are limited by the exposition of the film! What could be better than a situation where no one can let you down or be anything other than what they are encased in celluloid or the printed word? This is stunningly hypocritical in some ways. If you can figure it out, I'll give you a cookie. Your choice of flavors.)
Well, guess I should be on to work as I am listening to Pat Green sing about Southbound I-35 for the 5th time and even "Moonshine and Indian Blood" is getting overplayed. Just kidding. Billy Joe Shaver is the shit. Have a good day one and all, the Dude abides....
cf
"we were southbound, 35
headed down the road
hit the border, by the morning
lettin' texas fill my soul"
(Pat Green)
I've been doing an incredible amount of sleeping of late. I think I am averaging about 12 hours, usually staying awake long enough to get homework and classes/work done, along with some pleasure writing and reading. Like Scott Kirby sings, "A full but empty life." Except it isn't really empty. I've never written more than I have been of late, and that is what I need to focus on, not all these distractions of life.
So, for the time being, I am Lebowskitizing my life. No worries, just school, work, writing, and of course, my little friend. Plus, I resolve to watch The Big Lebowski once every day until I have more fully absorbed his wisdom and the ability to ride out the strikes and gutters. (Check this shit out: You know how people always ay "You can't idolize movie characters, because they aren't real?" This line of thinking always bugged me, and I could never understand why. It finally hit me. Out of all the idols people make, movie and fictional characters are the best. They won't let you down. What you see, or read, is what you get. There is no disappointment, because the actions of the idol are limited by the exposition of the film! What could be better than a situation where no one can let you down or be anything other than what they are encased in celluloid or the printed word? This is stunningly hypocritical in some ways. If you can figure it out, I'll give you a cookie. Your choice of flavors.)
Well, guess I should be on to work as I am listening to Pat Green sing about Southbound I-35 for the 5th time and even "Moonshine and Indian Blood" is getting overplayed. Just kidding. Billy Joe Shaver is the shit. Have a good day one and all, the Dude abides....
cf
"we were southbound, 35
headed down the road
hit the border, by the morning
lettin' texas fill my soul"
(Pat Green)
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
captain save-a-ho says gimme your hand....
another lyric poem, i know what you're thinking "Damn man, you always said you disled formulaic rhyme!" and I did. And I do. However, I am thinking that since I am concentrating more on fiction than poetry, and these types of songs are so much fun to work on as a diversion, well, there you go. Plus, one day, I will learn the guitar and put htis shit to music myself!!! Until then, we'll work something out, eh Lisa? hahahaha. The background on this piece is bit reotrospective, you can debate amongst yourselves just how much truth there is in any of this, but I won't tell. More later, I'm working on developing a theme through ten to twelve songs, building on the whole "Tunnel of Love" concept album. The theme won't be love of course, but we'll see where it goes.
"revenge"
the trouble with honesty is it’s always the truth
when to be perfectly honest a lies of more use
though misuse is the rule that defines the law
so much i don’t understand, something you never saw
what are you looking for, who is it you see?
am i so many different people none of them know me?
It seems that again folly chases death
Do you know this story, or shall I give you the rest?
if you weren’t so perfect i wouldn’t be so insane
but for some fucking reason i can’t give you the blame
i don’t think it was any kind conscious choice
more likely just hearing the sound of your voice
the funniest part is how i’m willing to try
like throwing poodles out of windows, expecting they’ll fly
or looking for snowmen dancing jigs in hell
(I’m so optimistic, couldn’t you tell?)
of course on the flip side it could someday work out,
and I wonder if that’s what your my is about
(four months later)
so the trouble with honesty is still the same game
whispers of truth that walk like the lame
now the only question i have left to ask,
was it pre-ordained misery or can i look back and laugh?
i’m one less person than i was yesterday
A new one tomorrow for a new game to play
still, an Aphrodite smile i’d never ignore,
no matter how much it seems that i’ve seen that before
the best part is still meeting and flying around
to make it worthwhile to crash into the ground
i can only assume that’s why people fall in love
let's watch the sky to see someone falling from above
-------
the ending is weak, but it's a bit better than tweedle-dee tweedle dumb, and it's all just word play anyway. Well, the cats are stalking me because they are hungry, and I want to watch the Simpsons...
cf
ps - today was AWESOME for about 5 minutes. the trick as i see it is to make tomorrow awesome for 10. again, I ain't saying, just got a feeling...
"it's great to be young and insane."
cf
"revenge"
the trouble with honesty is it’s always the truth
when to be perfectly honest a lies of more use
though misuse is the rule that defines the law
so much i don’t understand, something you never saw
what are you looking for, who is it you see?
am i so many different people none of them know me?
It seems that again folly chases death
Do you know this story, or shall I give you the rest?
if you weren’t so perfect i wouldn’t be so insane
but for some fucking reason i can’t give you the blame
i don’t think it was any kind conscious choice
more likely just hearing the sound of your voice
the funniest part is how i’m willing to try
like throwing poodles out of windows, expecting they’ll fly
or looking for snowmen dancing jigs in hell
(I’m so optimistic, couldn’t you tell?)
of course on the flip side it could someday work out,
and I wonder if that’s what your my is about
(four months later)
so the trouble with honesty is still the same game
whispers of truth that walk like the lame
now the only question i have left to ask,
was it pre-ordained misery or can i look back and laugh?
i’m one less person than i was yesterday
A new one tomorrow for a new game to play
still, an Aphrodite smile i’d never ignore,
no matter how much it seems that i’ve seen that before
the best part is still meeting and flying around
to make it worthwhile to crash into the ground
i can only assume that’s why people fall in love
let's watch the sky to see someone falling from above
-------
the ending is weak, but it's a bit better than tweedle-dee tweedle dumb, and it's all just word play anyway. Well, the cats are stalking me because they are hungry, and I want to watch the Simpsons...
cf
ps - today was AWESOME for about 5 minutes. the trick as i see it is to make tomorrow awesome for 10. again, I ain't saying, just got a feeling...
"it's great to be young and insane."
cf
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
two more sets of lyrics....
The first was inspired by a beautiful girl who's name I can't remember, but I saw her walking yesterday and the words came out. The second one was inspired by a friend of mine and her ubiquitous IM profile.
-------------
If I Played My Guitar
It’s amazing to be sitting,
Imagining your stare
A risk averting nature
Living life without a care
You move like you like the feel
Of sand between your toes
Waves reflecting moonlight
And a never-ending road
If I played the guitar
Then music I would play
Seamless integration
As the crowd begins to sway
But all I got right here
Is a billion grains of sand
An imaginary audience
For my imaginary band
Lounging in the sunlight
Falling from the sky
Wind and waves and seagulls
Lounging right on by
Happy to be here to take it all in
Next last sunset calls
We look up to answer
To watch the round sun fall
If I played the mandolin
Then music I would play
Seamless integration
While the crowd begins to sway
But all I got right here
Is a billion grains of sand
An imaginary audience
For my imaginary band
The sky darkens around us
Time is in your eyes
Lost reflection melting
In impossible surprise
I can sit all day and night
With palm trees over head
The next last sunset playing
music in my head
And when I played my guitar
Then music I did play
Seamless integration
As the crowd begin to sway
All that stretches beyond me,
A billion grains of sand
An imaginary audience
Watching us hold hands
Make of it what you will, I'm pretty sure there are actually 2 songs in there, one is the chorus and one is the verse. I'll fuck around it with more later, but until then, here's another one.
"Legerdemain"
I was standing by an audience
Watching angels dance,
Standing here immobile,
Totally entranced
Then the sky darkened
And the girls looked up in vain
To the sounds of thunder
Almighty legerdemain
Walking along a city street
Hucksters screaming loud
Looking just to land the fish
Swimming in the crowd
Most people know these types,
These gangsters in the rain
Another case of unholy
Affixed legerdemain
Sitting still in the movie house
Trying to comprehend
The way the hero action star
Manages to survive yet again
He offers up the money lines
Square-faced acting feign
The audience is transfixed
By the actors legerdemain
-------------
All for now, more fun fun fun till Daddy takes the T-Bird away....
cf
-------------
If I Played My Guitar
It’s amazing to be sitting,
Imagining your stare
A risk averting nature
Living life without a care
You move like you like the feel
Of sand between your toes
Waves reflecting moonlight
And a never-ending road
If I played the guitar
Then music I would play
Seamless integration
As the crowd begins to sway
But all I got right here
Is a billion grains of sand
An imaginary audience
For my imaginary band
Lounging in the sunlight
Falling from the sky
Wind and waves and seagulls
Lounging right on by
Happy to be here to take it all in
Next last sunset calls
We look up to answer
To watch the round sun fall
If I played the mandolin
Then music I would play
Seamless integration
While the crowd begins to sway
But all I got right here
Is a billion grains of sand
An imaginary audience
For my imaginary band
The sky darkens around us
Time is in your eyes
Lost reflection melting
In impossible surprise
I can sit all day and night
With palm trees over head
The next last sunset playing
music in my head
And when I played my guitar
Then music I did play
Seamless integration
As the crowd begin to sway
All that stretches beyond me,
A billion grains of sand
An imaginary audience
Watching us hold hands
Make of it what you will, I'm pretty sure there are actually 2 songs in there, one is the chorus and one is the verse. I'll fuck around it with more later, but until then, here's another one.
"Legerdemain"
I was standing by an audience
Watching angels dance,
Standing here immobile,
Totally entranced
Then the sky darkened
And the girls looked up in vain
To the sounds of thunder
Almighty legerdemain
Walking along a city street
Hucksters screaming loud
Looking just to land the fish
Swimming in the crowd
Most people know these types,
These gangsters in the rain
Another case of unholy
Affixed legerdemain
Sitting still in the movie house
Trying to comprehend
The way the hero action star
Manages to survive yet again
He offers up the money lines
Square-faced acting feign
The audience is transfixed
By the actors legerdemain
-------------
All for now, more fun fun fun till Daddy takes the T-Bird away....
cf
in a book in a box high upon a shelf....
Ahh, the joys of sound knowledge and confirmation. What's the difference really? I mean asking certain people questions based on dualism really teaches us nothing, and I am starting to pick up on some of those strange vibes on this situation. There is merit to coming in second place here, the first being that it frees me from the worry. The most confusing statement was something about Valentine's Day, which I have a sound psychological understanding as a reversed inwardly directed statement. It's cool, everybody does it, just listen closely to the phrasing and the context of a statement. Half of them are simply outward projections of inward thoughts. Shit, and we wonder why communication is so difficult.
I hope this whole situation fades a little bit here, as there is a lot more going on right now, and second, regardless of the depth of how I felt, I feel very strongly that honesty should be honored, and so I will. Soon, I'll know what's what for next year anyway, and that is the worry du jour until something else comes a long. Someday, this all better be the prequel to something....I need to move to Florida and finish this book and get going all ready. I can't believe the amount of raw time this English degree is taking up, and the sad fact is I'm not learning ANYTHING that is making me a better writer at the moment. As Jimmy Buffett says, "These are surely times that try our souls." Shit. I don't even believe in souls. I really like the metaphor though. Ain’t that always the way? (I’m smiling, and I hope you are too….)
So, until the next update from the ground, and the next exposition, I've got good music and a few good friends, a lot to do on the road that never ends...
cf
ps - oh yeah. more lyrics in the works, in case you're still reading this L, so feel free, put them to tunes if you can, though if anything comes of it we will surely be talking contract...hahahaha, that'll be the day....
"I met Wanda when she was employed
behind the counter of the route 60 bob's big boy,
Fried chicken on the front seat, she's sitting in my lap
wiping our fingers on a texaco road map
i remember Wanda up on scrap metal hill
with those big brown eyes that make your heart stand still..."
("open all night" by bruce springsteen)
till later comes my friends and neighbors, and until the sun sets,
cf
Sunday, February 06, 2005
developing resistance to reality...
Figured I'd put a few words down, it's been quite a while and plus, it's an important day. SB XXXIX!! I am confident, but not cocky about our chances. It will be a good game, but I think we are the better team no matter how you slice it. Oh, I also predict that TO does NOT walk off the field. Same with Freddy Mitchell. (We could have killed Mike VanDerJerkoff from the Colts, but he's a kicker, and it would look bad.) At any rate, Rivermill again (why change? It's been a mighty lucky place at times for me....though I suppose I have had one or two conversations I wish I hadn't had in the fine drinking establishment. Er, cough cough.)
Now, the more important stuff. I'm kind of at a loss about what to do about a lot of stuff right now, and while confidence tends to be, at best, a dicey notion at times, I think it is safe to say that untangling this little knot is kind of trying my patience. Delving ever deeper into this situation, all I can think is that "I've been here before" but in that kind of hazy way, where you know you faced a similiar situation before, and that you fucked it up, not terminally, but definitely chronically, and all you wanna know is what you did just to make sure you don't do it again. So, after making my head spin with thoughts like that for the better part of 3 days, I am going to pretend that this is someone else's problem, and not mine. Mostly, I don't really like getting my hands dirty, and this situation (certainly of my own creation, but why let that bother me if it is someone else's problem?) That was hard to justify, but worthwhile.
Besides, I know hope is never lost, so, despite the fact that it is one possible outcome amongst many, I will continue to hope. At any rate, much like Bubba, it would seem I am sitting at the port of Indecision, waiting for the waiting to end. THe good news is that as always, with enough waiting, anyhting will end, so it is really only a matter of time now before I get some clearer fucking idea of what I am waiting for. (Hey, I sound nuts, just like the Christians and Jews!)
Well, on a lighter note, the 3 new Jim MOrris albums are fucking sweet. Nobody really knows who this guy is, but he is the best of the island singer-songwriters I have ever heard, and thankfully, I bumped into his tunes in 1998. Check his site out here. Buy a T-shirt, or better yet, I'll make you a CD if you are really nice. (Shit, I am talking to nobody. Get him!)
Favorite new lyrics:
He said the sign on the left said "Jesus is God"
"Make Him Your Savoir Today"
The sign on the right said "We Dare to Bare All"
"Stop in at Café Risqué"
He was totally conflicted as he drove down the interstate
So he stopped for lunch
And when the waitress came by
He said, "Ma'am your tits look great"
(from Drinking Song #46)
And I'm proud to be a sentry
By the Caribbean Sea
If they come by water
They gotta come by me
Old Jose has my back
In case they come by land
I'm a soldier of good fortune
And I'm guarding the Yucatan
(from Guarding The Yucatan)
(There is so much more, but I don't wanna end up getting sued by dude, so check the stuffo ut yourself, if you like Buffett, you'll like Jim Morris even better.
Speakng of Buffett....there is a chance of seeing him in NC late Feb. This is the part where I think of a plan and then decide fuck it, lets go TOGETHER......hahahahaha, do they call that a snowball's chance in hell???? Anyways, I think I can have a little fun with this one, and that's all I want, to have a little fun. And profit. Mostly fun.....
cf
"From the mountains of Jamaica
To the jungles of Brazil
He gazed at stars and battled scars
And hopes that lingered still
Time soon worked its magic
And the distance eased his mind
Memories bleared then disappeared
And that suited him just fine"
jim morris
i am in such an island mood this morning! GO PATS!!!!!!! MAKE PHILLY CRY!!!
cf
Now, the more important stuff. I'm kind of at a loss about what to do about a lot of stuff right now, and while confidence tends to be, at best, a dicey notion at times, I think it is safe to say that untangling this little knot is kind of trying my patience. Delving ever deeper into this situation, all I can think is that "I've been here before" but in that kind of hazy way, where you know you faced a similiar situation before, and that you fucked it up, not terminally, but definitely chronically, and all you wanna know is what you did just to make sure you don't do it again. So, after making my head spin with thoughts like that for the better part of 3 days, I am going to pretend that this is someone else's problem, and not mine. Mostly, I don't really like getting my hands dirty, and this situation (certainly of my own creation, but why let that bother me if it is someone else's problem?) That was hard to justify, but worthwhile.
Besides, I know hope is never lost, so, despite the fact that it is one possible outcome amongst many, I will continue to hope. At any rate, much like Bubba, it would seem I am sitting at the port of Indecision, waiting for the waiting to end. THe good news is that as always, with enough waiting, anyhting will end, so it is really only a matter of time now before I get some clearer fucking idea of what I am waiting for. (Hey, I sound nuts, just like the Christians and Jews!)
Well, on a lighter note, the 3 new Jim MOrris albums are fucking sweet. Nobody really knows who this guy is, but he is the best of the island singer-songwriters I have ever heard, and thankfully, I bumped into his tunes in 1998. Check his site out here. Buy a T-shirt, or better yet, I'll make you a CD if you are really nice. (Shit, I am talking to nobody. Get him!)
Favorite new lyrics:
He said the sign on the left said "Jesus is God"
"Make Him Your Savoir Today"
The sign on the right said "We Dare to Bare All"
"Stop in at Café Risqué"
He was totally conflicted as he drove down the interstate
So he stopped for lunch
And when the waitress came by
He said, "Ma'am your tits look great"
(from Drinking Song #46)
And I'm proud to be a sentry
By the Caribbean Sea
If they come by water
They gotta come by me
Old Jose has my back
In case they come by land
I'm a soldier of good fortune
And I'm guarding the Yucatan
(from Guarding The Yucatan)
(There is so much more, but I don't wanna end up getting sued by dude, so check the stuffo ut yourself, if you like Buffett, you'll like Jim Morris even better.
Speakng of Buffett....there is a chance of seeing him in NC late Feb. This is the part where I think of a plan and then decide fuck it, lets go TOGETHER......hahahahaha, do they call that a snowball's chance in hell???? Anyways, I think I can have a little fun with this one, and that's all I want, to have a little fun. And profit. Mostly fun.....
cf
"From the mountains of Jamaica
To the jungles of Brazil
He gazed at stars and battled scars
And hopes that lingered still
Time soon worked its magic
And the distance eased his mind
Memories bleared then disappeared
And that suited him just fine"
jim morris
i am in such an island mood this morning! GO PATS!!!!!!! MAKE PHILLY CRY!!!
cf
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
two sets of lyrics....
more lyrics cause someone asked me for them....knock yourself out, if you can put music to it, go for it, I just wanna hear it at some point.
The Highway Song
Most of a pack of smokes in my pocket
Most of the night left to drive,
Most of the night to wonder and worry
And to pray that tomorrow I’m alive
Moving backwards in time down the road tonight
Memories playing strange tricks on me
Looking through the windshield as night drops down
I wonder what it is I can’t see
This highway is driving me crazy,
While I’m driving myself insane
Terrified somebody will keep me around
Just to accept all the blame
When I think back to what was supposed to be me
And everything I should have been
Its amazing things change and life’s rearranged
Even though you still look back and grin
I wonder how long this highway can go
I need to stop or slow down
But it’s miles to the exit so I guess I’ll drive on
No sense in turning around
When I get to the end I hope it all ends
By a beach somewhere warm and sun-cleaned
Maybe a Palm Tree and soft island wind
Will meet me somewhere in my dreams
The highway is driving me crazy,
While I’m driving myself insane
Terrified somebody will keep me around
Just to accept all the blame
When I think back to what was supposed to me
And everything I should have been
Its amazing things change and life’s rearranged
Even though you still look back and grin
-----
miracle kilter
was it not enough blanket,
or just too much feet
staring blankly into darkness
on a cold metal seat?
here I can sit and stare into my face,
the miracle kilter at a really slow pace
sleep off indecision,
walk away pain,
clear skies or dark clouds
always bleed similar rain
there’s nobody here with which to switch place,
a miracle kilter at a really slow pace
sunlight falls down
now I can see
colored rose sunsets
coming for me
there’s nowhere to run to, this isn’t a race
just a miracle kilter at a really slow pace
light brings on shadows
reminding us all,
every time you stand up
there’s a chance you’ll fall
here in the clear with no past to erase,
but a miracle kilter at a really slow pace
------
OK, there ya go, hope someone in cyberspace enjoys them. Back to the old sawmill for a little while. Oh and you'll never guess who I have written a poem for.....plus, desire is a bitch, but it's a pleasant diversion and you just never know, it's at least worth trying...(much like homer simpson, i am here to give hope to the least of us!!!)
cf
ps - Jim Morris. Find him. Listen to his music. It is good.
cf
The Highway Song
Most of a pack of smokes in my pocket
Most of the night left to drive,
Most of the night to wonder and worry
And to pray that tomorrow I’m alive
Moving backwards in time down the road tonight
Memories playing strange tricks on me
Looking through the windshield as night drops down
I wonder what it is I can’t see
This highway is driving me crazy,
While I’m driving myself insane
Terrified somebody will keep me around
Just to accept all the blame
When I think back to what was supposed to be me
And everything I should have been
Its amazing things change and life’s rearranged
Even though you still look back and grin
I wonder how long this highway can go
I need to stop or slow down
But it’s miles to the exit so I guess I’ll drive on
No sense in turning around
When I get to the end I hope it all ends
By a beach somewhere warm and sun-cleaned
Maybe a Palm Tree and soft island wind
Will meet me somewhere in my dreams
The highway is driving me crazy,
While I’m driving myself insane
Terrified somebody will keep me around
Just to accept all the blame
When I think back to what was supposed to me
And everything I should have been
Its amazing things change and life’s rearranged
Even though you still look back and grin
-----
miracle kilter
was it not enough blanket,
or just too much feet
staring blankly into darkness
on a cold metal seat?
here I can sit and stare into my face,
the miracle kilter at a really slow pace
sleep off indecision,
walk away pain,
clear skies or dark clouds
always bleed similar rain
there’s nobody here with which to switch place,
a miracle kilter at a really slow pace
sunlight falls down
now I can see
colored rose sunsets
coming for me
there’s nowhere to run to, this isn’t a race
just a miracle kilter at a really slow pace
light brings on shadows
reminding us all,
every time you stand up
there’s a chance you’ll fall
here in the clear with no past to erase,
but a miracle kilter at a really slow pace
------
OK, there ya go, hope someone in cyberspace enjoys them. Back to the old sawmill for a little while. Oh and you'll never guess who I have written a poem for.....plus, desire is a bitch, but it's a pleasant diversion and you just never know, it's at least worth trying...(much like homer simpson, i am here to give hope to the least of us!!!)
cf
ps - Jim Morris. Find him. Listen to his music. It is good.
cf
