January 4th, 2012

"Indian Summer"

Indian Summer: It’s been two years since I left a 15 year relationship. I allowed myself 15 months of recovery. A month for every year. During that time I could make any mistake, experience anything I wanted to and it didn’t count. Meaning, that I’d not allow myself to regret anything. In theory it made sense. We need time to normalize after a relationship, especially long ones. A month per year is no steadfast rule but it’s what I went with.

During that time I experienced two short relationships and one longer one, the first person I’ve ever called a girlfriend. I learned a lot about relationships during that time. I’m no less confused about them though. We have this idea of soul-mates and that love is forever and so many of us are looking for a relationship as such. What is forever in our life? We’re not forever. Nothing around us that we can realize with our senses is forever. So why would a relationship be?

Can we enter a relationship knowing that there will be a middle and an end? Is that acceptable? Since it’s statically probable (super fucking sorry for the “Dr.” Phil link) that what ever relationship you’re in right now is going to end then wouldn’t you be better off going into the relationship knowing this? Wouldn’t it make the moments all the more precious? Of course it would but we don’t. We couldn’t. We continue to subscribe to the forever myth and then find excuses when it doesn’t last like “It wasn’t the one”. Well maybe it was and there will be another one.

Photo by Warren P. Sonoda

It’s an indian summer
some spell that I am under
and the kiss to my temple
as a friend no longer lover

And I must confess
that I over dressed
even though I had nowhere to be
no, I don’t want you back
but I wonder if that
you would leave him for me

Need a cold blast of winter
to snap me out of this sombre
and a break for my liver
just a day that I stay sober

And I hate to bear
that I was more than aware
of what you wanted from me
and in spite of the fact
that i don’t want you back
would you leave him to be

Back in my arms
and lying in my bed
those sunday mornings
with the paper read
warm under covers
on winter days
drinking wine
Motown records play

Oh I tried to love you but it just didn’t come
the more you pushed I just came undone
but it’s nothing you did or who you are
It’s just the old wounds that still bear the scar
It’s just the old wounds that still bear the scar

It was a warm October
though I know that it’s over
i’m still feeling the flashback
with the chill of November

And I still believe
that you’re still dear to me
even though it’s not meant to be
I know you don’t want me back
but in spite of that fact
would you leave him for me

August 11th, 2011

"Morning is Broken"

Morning is Broken: The first line of each verse is taken from Morning Has Broken. That’s about all it has in common with that song.

Morning has broken
And lies on the floor
Millions of pieces of the night before
Blackbird has spoken
And shattered her wings
Into millions of voices That no longer sing
Mine is the sunlight
Dies with the day
Millions of embers stay warm until late
Born of the one light
Soft is the sound
Millions of footsteps never hit the ground

You’re seeing the upside / upside down you’re seeing the upside / upside down
Try as you may to turn it around
You’re seeing the upside / upside down

Praise for the sweetness
No bitter of taste
Millions of words
None are to waste
Spring into completeness
And find within
To start from somewhere
You must begin

June 1st, 2011

"Lightning Rod"

Lightning Rod. Sometimes when I write a song I have no idea what the lyrics mean. I know that must sound idiotic but I imagine many artists experience the same phenomena. You can set out to create something or you can just create and see what comes out. In this case I had a muse. Different from the muse in “The Bakery”. I didn’t choose the muse in the bakery song, I just started going into the bakery and then found myself writing about her. This muse I specifically set out to write a song about. I even discussed it with her before I wrote the song. I had no idea what would be created.

So this is what I think “Lightning Rod” is about; I think it’s a love song sung for a pending apocalypse of some sort. The type of song that might have been appropriate for Harold Camping to have serenaded to his wife, Shirley, on May 20th. He would have looked like no less the idiot on the 21st but maybe he would have gotten laid and stopped with all this end of the universe nonsense (which he now says is going to happen on October 21st).

I don’t know if the end-of-days will happen in my life time… or ever. But if it does, I can only hope that with it comes Zombies.

A brewing storm coming on the pressure drops thunder nearby
On the roof the silhouette of a lighting Rod luminates the sky
I’m alright. I’m alright, I’ll be fine
As long as I stay close, have hope and take the time

Don’t say a thing, let’s just leave, take my hand and come with me

The morning sun wakes us up the sparrows sing the flowers bloom
And all seems right even though we know it’ll all end soon
We’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, we’ll be alright.
As long as we stay close have hope and stay in sight

Don’t say a thing, let’s just leave, take my hand and come with me

May 24th, 2011

"The Bakery"

The Bakery. So, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. Almost a year. I wanted to follow up the last song with something light but I just kept writing sad songs. I’m not sad so why am I writing sad songs? Who cares but, this is not a sad song. Here’s the story;

I go to a bakery on the weekend every once in a while. I get these maple butter tarts that I swear are better than Jesus’s own cookies, that is, if Jesus makes cookies [Edit – oh man, of course there are Jesus cookies they look pretty shitty though]. Anyway, there’s a girl that works there who’s very nice. She always has a big smile and asks me what I have planned for today. I sometimes think about making up something exciting, like “I’m going to base jump the CN Tower right after I sing to a bunch of dying kids at Sick Kids”  but my answers always seem to fall flat, like “Um…nothing”. It’s sweet that she asks though.

So one day after gorging myself on, not only a 9000 calorie butter tart but also an apple caramel tart, I picked up my guitar, sugar high in full effect, and wrote the chorus of this song. The idea was this; A boy likes a girl who works in a bakery. He keeps going in to see her but can’t get the nerve to talk to her so he keeps ordering baked goods. He finds himself not only love-sick but also overweight from ordering too many pastries.

I’m happy to report this is not based on a true story rather just inspired by a girl who works in a bakery and a love for a maple butter tart.

Here is the only picture I could find that would work with the story…. the guy’s not fat but the girl looks sweet so it’ll do.

She works down the street from me
Sweetest thing in the bakery
And I go in everyday
But I don’t know what to say
The words escape me
So I order a pastry

Oh, sweet little thing in the bakery
Your name’s still a mystery
Melt my heart with a butter tart
Or some delicious treat
Hope you like them chubby guys
Cause visiting you increased my size
But it’s worth it just to see your eyes
Oh you’re the one most sweet

I used to be so very trim
I used to have only one chin
But I’m so desperately lost
But it’s well worth the cost
To see those pretty eyes
Behind all those pies

Oh, sweet little thing in the bakery
Your name’s still a mystery
Melt my heart with a butter tart
Or some delicious treat
Hope you like them fatty one
Cause I keep ordering cinnamon buns
One look from you I come undone
Oh you’re the one most sweet

I made a promise to myself
To stop going in to spare my heath
But I was so incomplete
and I realize what was the best treat
So I’d go back in one more time
And, I’d speak my mind

And I’d say…

Sweet little thing in the bakery
I’d like to know your name please
Will you go on a date with me
A picnic in the park
Hope you like affectionate men
Cause I’m not gonna let go of your hand
I can meet you after I get home from the gym
Oh you have got my heart

Oh, sweet little thing in the bakery
Your name’s still a mystery
Melt my heart with a butter tart
Or some delicious treat
Hope you like them chubby guys
Cause visiting you increased my size
But it’s worth it just to see your eyes
Oh you’re the one most sweet

July 5th, 2010

"Fiction I’ll Believe"

Fiction I’ll Believe. I think I’m addicted to first times. I’m not talking about something remarkable like the first time running a 25k marathon or first time walking in space. I’m talking about the first time trying something that people do all the time or first did a long time ago. For example over the past five years I’ve experienced my first time drinking coffee. First time taking drugs. First time smoking pot. First time passing out drunk. First time waking up not knowing where I am. First time breaking up. First time asking someone out. First time dating. First time saying sorry. First time being unhappy. First time… well you get the idea. I wonder, though, will I run of out these first times?  What then?

This is the first time I’ve ever written a song quite like this.

I’m staring at this empty coffee cup
as you’re breaking what took years to build up
you’re speaking future present past
each word stings more than the last

I’m holding on so hard that it’s going to crack
telling me things I wish you’d take back
Sorting through the years takes only hours
What is mine, what is yours now there’s no ours

there’s no trace of hope left in your face
if the heart is home then just what is this place
please don’t leave oh stay and lie to me
cause when truth hurts it’s fiction I’ll believe

sleeping on your side of the bed
a stranger where you should be instead
and it’s killing me as my heart begins to rot
but it’s filling the empty space where you’re not

I can’t sleep because then I will dream
of when I woke you will be beside me
why did you leave oh come back and lie to me
cause when truth hurts it’s fiction I’ll believe

June 14th, 2010

"Forest Fires"

Forest Fires. You know, we create our own shit. Even the bad stuff that happens to us, it’s how we deal with it that determines how bad it really is.

Sometimes things are not bad at all but we make them bad. Some of us are determined to sabotage the good things. Why? Is it childhood guilt instilled from our Mothers? That no one will ever be good enough for us? Or, from our Fathers that nothing we do will be good enough? Or is it just our own desire to create a situation of self-loating and suffering so we can be pitied?

Life is sometimes like a poker hand. It’s not all about what cards you’re dealt, it’s how you play them. Take for example how Tom Dwan, with a 7 2 off-suit (about as bad of a poker hand you can get) took a $650,000 pot from Sammy George, who had a pair of Aces and and a pair of 6s (that’s a good hand). During the play Tom even told Sammy what cards he had. Life might deal you a 7 2 off-suit, just play it well and there’s a chance you’ll do alright.

It could be always worse you know. You could be a baby without a brain or part of a human centipede (warning, both links contain stuff you can’t un-see, so click with caution.)

I’m jumping through hoops walking on high wires
but I’m still putting out forest fires
Biting my tongue speaking to the choir
but I’m still putting out forest fires.

I’m sinking like a stone
half way gone and half way home
and the journey ends at alone

I’m jumping through hoops walking on high wires
but I’m still putting out forest fires
Biting my tongue speaking to the choir
but I’m still putting out forest fires.

I’m mintz’ng all my words
but what is said is not what’s heard
it’s all just quite absurd

I’m jumping through hoops walking on high wires
but I’m still putting out forest fires
Biting my tongue speaking to the choir
but I’m still putting out forest fires.

April 2nd, 2010

"It’s Cooling Down To The Boiling Point"

It’s Cooling Down To The Boiling Point It’s been a pretty stressful past two months. Actually it’s been a stressful handful of years. Frankly I’ve been stressed most of my life.  Business, family, rent, mortgage, car, friends, sex, love, the future, the past, my house plants (all dying a slow painful death), how long that brisket has been in the fridge and even nuclear fucking war stress me out. Every day I look in the mirror and see more grey hairs on my head. I dropped by a friend’s house the other day and I swear he’s gone 30% more grey than the last time I saw him only a month ago. He’s had a stressful few months.

There are many ways one can deal with stress. Yoga (tried and I generally suck at it), Eating (chocolate definitely lowers my stress level but it ups my guilt level), sex (well, when it’s not causing stress, which is pretty much all the time so to be safe let’s say masturbation instead of sex), Beating the fuck outta some asshole (I’m a lover wimp, not a fighter) and for good measure I’ll throw in smoking the herb (I usually have a supply on hand but tend to forget to light up).

Frankly, I have no right to complain about my life. In fact, I’d hazard to say I live off stress. Stress is what gets me up in the morning, it’s what gets me to work, it’s what drives me to succeed. Stress is the proverbial boot kick to my ass. Stress makes my blood move a little quicker than it would. Stress is a grey cloud that’s chasing me.

One day maybe I won’t have anymore stress. I’ll be living on a beach somewhere (can I be your neighbour Amanda?) and my only concern will be when the next breaking wave is gonna happen. But since I don’t yet know how to surf, I’ll keep going greyer, I’ll keep worrying, I’ll keep out-running the grey cloud  and I’ll keep cooling down to the boiling point.

It’s cooling down to the boiling point

Pass that joint I’ve been stressed
been twisted up to a knotted mess
when I try to untangle it
it’s too far frayed to get it fixed.

It’s cooling down to the boiling point

Call it quits shut the door
don’t want to hear about it anymore
I’ve had enough of what’s wrong with life
and what it takes just to get it right.

It’s cooling down to the boiling point

March 26th, 2010

"You Go Out The Front I Come In The Back"

You Go Out The Front I Come In The Back features the voice of the lovely Elyse Connery. The song is pretty self explanatory. Relationships are like telephone connections circa 1925.  Sometimes you’d get the person you’d want to talk to, sometimes you’d get someone else, but it always would be a confusing, static sounding mess.

Waking on the wrong side of the bed
last night’s 15 ales are in my head
try to figure out what comes with that
you go out the front I come in the back.
You go out the front I come in the back
I go out the front you come in the back
to say that we are lost is a matter of fact
you/I go out the front you/I go in the back
Monkey see and monkey always do
I’ve got you figured out but you’ve got no clue
never ending battle with yourself
need to get some professional help

March 24th, 2010

"First Day Of My Demise"

First Day Of My Demise is about love. Actually it’s about giving up. That’s a sad way to approach love.

This song has been somewhat my mantra since I first wrote it many years ago. It’s more of a prophecy than a philosophy.  When was that first day of my demise? Have I even had it yet? I think so. I believe, at this point in my life, that it was the first day I decided that love was a tangible thing. If you ever read any of the lyrics of my old mid-90s grunge band hHead you’d know that many of them were about a disdain for love. Total bullshit. I’m old enough to know now that there was no disdain, just fear. I used to think it was just a chemical reaction in the body. I don’t think that’s so anymore. I believe love is an emotion and emotions are more then chemical. We are more than chemical and I don’t mean that in a new-agey fucked-up hippie way. I believe in the ‘soul’ in the sense that it’s something intangible but none the less real.

Love is the most vulnerable of all the emotions. Is it learned like awkwardness? I don’t think so. It’s more innate like shame. Though just like shame, you can learn to not feel it. Those of us who walk around ‘soulless’ are probably just loveless or lovelost. I believe (at this moment, who know’s if tomorrow I’ll want to delete this) that love is: feeling (the soul’s body), thought (the soul’s head) and empathy (the soul’s limbs).

I once had a dream
but it fell apart on me
locust brain devours
the mystery of the hours
but I can take care of my own
shepherd to my flock
the solace gone the pain is all I’ve got
the sun is strong and it burns into my eyes
as I welcome the first day of my demise.
hold on tight I say
so you don’t blow away
instead you get too weighted down
and left bolted to the ground
was it the idea that left us behind
how could I have learned just what was on your mind
though we felt the same I saw a distance in your eyes
that’s why I welcome the first day of my demise.
stasis in the path
the life I cannot grasp
instead I let go
don’t understand though I know
that I can’t wait for this I feel I’m getting old
I must find bliss but the water’s getting cold
the coffee pot has whistled far too many times
I must not avoid the first day of my demise.

March 18th, 2010

"Dust On The Dashboard"

Dust On The Dashboard is a country song. It’s about jumping in a old car, driving away and leaving it all behind forever. Of course, in classic old school country fashion, it’s just a metaphor for ‘things are so fucked up here that I’ve got to leave so I can go fuck it up there too’. The chorus says it all “From the back seat I see, that I grip the wheel firmly. It’s me driving me”. Again, classic self loathing bullshit. Frankly, I’m not going anywhere and neither are you cause we’re too drunk and too lazy to actually figure out where to go, how to get there and what we’re going to do when we get there. Besides, this is totally schizo cause the ‘we’ is just me. I’m confused.

For no reason here’s a pic of me drunk out of my mind dressed up like a fly.

See the dust on the dashboard
and the paint’s given away to rust
but I give him $200
and drive it off the lot.
I don’t know where I’m going
but I know I’m not alone
behind me is familar
ahead is unknown.
From the backseat I see
that I grip the wheel firmly
cause it’s me driving me.
I tell myself I’m leaving
but really I’m going away
this road’s got me believing
that it would be a waste to stay.
Am I driving around in circles
through a long distance trail
does it lead me back to the alter
or does it lead me to the jail.
From the backseat I see
that I grip the wheel firmly
cause it’s me driving me.