Random blaghness...
So...Matt Lynott came over today...laid down real drums...I threw some bass on...we clapped our hands a few times and the song has come a long way. I am sure I will remix this sucker a few times, but y'all can listen as it progresses.
It is time for some Irish Nachos now. We-zizz hungry!
Sssswwwwiiirrrlllllaaaaswwwwwheeeee.....
Late night 4am freakout makes song. A little time and maybe I will know what this song is about, but right now I haven't a clue. My sub-basement-conscious kept this one under wraps pretty good. Sometimes it is not about understanding, but just feeing. It feels like how I felt. Just have a little drum machine...no bass...not really finished.
Blame it on the Sazerac...
Nothing Of Any Consequence
Old Man River keeps on emptying his veins
Navigating a sea of shit, it's a motherfucker.
Thundering out with the perilous distinction
Of having no providence to fall upon.
I sauntered upon a most notable occasion
of the silver-tongued Lightning Man.
Vanished youth, putting wood to the fire
She uses no sandpaper on me.
Nothing of any consequence.
Sacrosanct suction. Stretching flicks and flutters
Rolling you in clover. Firebomb fucks in the alley,
Psuedonymphs and sista-womans swinging their
Pendulums of Love.
Nothing of any consequence.
I wrote a new song yesterday...partially inspired by my new instrument the Suzuki Omnichord OM-84 modified my Ben Houston at Folktek. I plan on writing more for this instrument!
Until The Day
A film of the ocean.
Television of clouds.
To think is to stop.
Look North but dream South.
There is no silence, just the illusion of being alone.
You can never turn it off when you find it together.
Until the day begins to darken.
I strike matches at the myth but it doesn't burn.
It illuminates.
Living in the world, but not of the world.
My stillness sleeps.
My stillness shakes
An opulent and gilded single-minded smile.
You can never turn it off when you find it together.
Until the day begins to darken.
I strike matches at the myth but it doesn't burn.
It illuminates.
Patron Saint of Lost Indie Causes
My indigo armor. My urban shield. I will not leave home without it. In fact all my super powers are wicked away without it...a mere mortal with a slight chill I would be. It will not stop bullets, but it will stop negative feng shui ninjas from slicing and dicing me. The too-cool-for-school coalition powers of geek perception cannot penetrate my cotton prophylactic with nonoxynol ten. Killing their judgment on contact. Oh yes I love my jean jacket. We are one. It will never leave me as long as I wash it enough that it can't walk on its own and run away.
