Flag Half Mast 1: The Day the Brownshirts Came To Town

The day the Brownshirts came to town, all us boys ran to watch them as soon as school let out. Some of the kids even snuck out early. We were all crazy about their uniforms and we loved the way they marched. They weren’t smiling but we could tell they were on our side, that they were the good guys. And they had guns, real guns, right out on display. Some of the kids knew what kind they were, like, “That’s a Luger,” or whatever. We all wanted to have guns like that. And the girls, they all giggled and waved at the Brownshirts who never waved back of course and we boys hated it, the girls just being dumb girls.

I stayed for some of the rally. It wasn’t that interesting and the music was stupid and there were lots of speeches, but we were happy to be there and see those guys with their uniforms and guns, When I got home little late for dinner and told them where I’d been. Grandma said, “Good for them! They’ll keep us safe.” Dad folded the paper he’d been reading and said, “It’s just trouble. Who needs all this trouble.”  Uncle Louie wasn’t at his place and I asked Mom where he was. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, well he had to go away for a little bit. He’ll be back in a while.” Uncle Louie was always doing weird things like that.

When I finished I asked to be excused. I wanted to run out and play with the guys. I said to Mom, “This is all for TV, right?  I mean, it’s not real is it?” Mom gave me a big hug, maybe a little bigger than I like, and she said, “Run out and play, just be back before it’s dark, OK?” and I went out to play Brownshirts with the guys.

Song: I Saw It On TV

Everyone cheered

Everyone hip-hoorayed

The pomp and pageantry

Yes, everyone cheered

The soldiers on parade

I saw it on TV

We watched them come

They brought us 

Comic books and chewing gum

We saw it on TV

They told us they’d build

A new glorious arch

And burn down the library

They told us each week

We’d have a glorious march

We’d see it on TV

We watched them come

They brought us 

Comic books and chewing gum

We saw it on TV

This must be

Reality

We saw it on TV

Flag Half Mast 2: "The Partisans"

I saw a movie on TV last night, or I guess just saw part of one since I fell asleep, about a village under occupation.  First there’s the hero, although when you first see him you don’t know he’s the hero but you do, because he’s handsome and his hair looks nice. He’s down in the village. Up in the hills, the partisans are preparing for some kind of guerilla insurgency. They’re all sort of dark and grim-looking but super-noble, except the one funny guy, the joker who drinks too much who’s dark but not grim.  Back down in the village, there’s the bad girl who wears va-va-va-voom eyeliner and hats with feathers. She is sleeping with the head of the occupying forces. Then there’s the mayor who is utterly corrupt and the simple sweet farm girl with suspiciously beautiful teeth for a peasant.

In the hills, bodies were found with their throats cut. The mayor crumples up a piece of paper he’s holding and says, “These partisans must be stopped!  They are animals!” Poison pen letters have been appearing throughout the village and rumors are spreading and mistrust is building. The beautiful farm girl is accused of aiding the partisans and her head is shaved and it’s implied that she’s raped.

I must have fallen asleep for a while, because the next thing I remember is that the soldiers are all at this farmhouse, although inside it looks my grandma’s house, and they are about to take away the hero who has of course hooked up with the beautiful farm girl, still beautiful even though she’s had her head shaved. The bad girl with the great hats dives in front of a bullet, allowing the hero to escape and redeeming herself in death. The hero is going to do the only thing he can do now, go up into the hills with the partisans and fight the good fight.  The beautiful farm girl weeps and wants to go too and he valiantly makes her stay. She has beautiful, tragic, glycerin tears in her eyes.  Everyone is gone except a couple of dark, older, noble-looking villagers, and one of them says, he says it right to me, “We don’t want to be remembered, we only want to disappear into the shadows once we are victorious.” That was my favorite part, it almost seemed like it came from a different movie. “The wind will blow us all away,” he says, “and we’ll be forgotten. That’s all we ask.” There should have been music there, but there wasn’t any. I fell asleep again after that.

Song: The Anthem of the Partisans

They may spray us with tear gas

They may put us in jail

The strength of our arms may sometimes fail

But the struggle itself will go, on my friends

The struggle itself will prevail

The light may be fading

And we can’t see the flame

Sometimes we lose sight of our ultimate aim

But the struggle itself will go on, my friends

The struggle goes on all the same

We may compromise

Or join the enemy

We may prefer comfort to a life that’s free

 But the struggle itself will go on, my friends

 This struggle is bigger than you and me.

Flag Half Mast 3: Angry White Male

Once upon a time, and it wasn’t that long ago, I was king of this town and everybody knew it.  I could do whatever I wanted, I could shit on this place if I wanted to, because I was king.  Listen, I could get on any city bus and snap my fingers and someone would give me a seat, because they knew they had to.  Me and the guys, we’d do a couple of lines of itching power and Kaopectate and go out to the dance clubs and just beat our heads to the stupidest music you imagine, I mean it was really dumb, but no one could say a thing. And people couldn’t see us, they couldn’t hear our music, but also they had to see us, they had to hear the music, because we were so angry and the music was so dumb. So dumb and so loud.

Now everybody tells me, just stand in line, go suck your thumb, wait your turn. I should be able to grab whatever I want to, and they say just listen to Mother, we’ll get everything straightened out. I’ve been waiting my whole life.  How many people have better things than me, they’re not better than me, and they didn’t even wait their turn and the best anyone can come up with is be patient, listen to the grown-ups, things’ll get better if we all follow the rules. If we all follow their rules, that’s all they mean.  It’s just like everything these days: society tells you what to care about, what to think.

I remember those beautiful boys in their uniforms, and those coked-up swastika girls, they had bad perms and wore braces, but they were the most beautiful girls anyone had ever seen. They dressed up like Nazis but they weren’t really Nazis, they weren’t going to kill anyone, but they could, that’s the thing. They were beautiful and powerful and they could do whatever they wanted. If someone told us it was bad, if your mom and dad hated it, then we wanted it, we would do it and no one could stop us. But nowadays the girls—I don’t know what happened, but all the girls I used to know are fat now, and they talk too much and the girls who do matter, the ones who should be listening to me now, they don’t care.  It’s not like it used to be, things have changed, but I’m still the same. I’m still pissed off.  You can’t see me, you still can’t hear me, but I’m still pissed off.

 

Song: Democracy Has Failed!

Democracy, my friends, is a joke
It’s a bag of greasy donuts and a 40-ounce Coke
It’s Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian
Underwear worn as fash-i-on

We had a mighty ship of state
But now that ship has sailed
Take a look around you, friends
Democracy has failed

The people, friends, are a beast
For facts they care not in the least
Life’s a matter of team sports
The color of your cap and the color of your shorts

We can no longer fool ourselves
The truth has been unveiled
Take a look around you, friends
Democracy has failed

Letting the people decide is always a mistake
They’ll gorge themselves on grocery-store cake
The kind with cheap Crisco icing
Available for you at cut-rate pricing

We’re holding our breath, awaiting the worst
It’s time we just exhaled
Take a look around, you fools
Democracy has failed

Flag Half Mast 4: Twilight's Last Dreaming

I like to watch TV. I like sitting on the couch in the dark and watching. I like older TV shows especially. Like Ralph Kramden: he yells a lot and he threatens to hit his wife, but you know he won’t. He can’t. I mean, that’s the joke.  Or Archie Bunker: he’s a bigot and racist, but you like him. You feel bad for him. But now TV is different, or maybe it’s real life that’s different. Like, reality TV, it’s not real except then it becomes real.  What would it be like to be young now, and instead of seeing stuff on TV that you’d seen in real life, seeing stuff in real life that you’d seen on TV? The world is just a projection of your imagination, fantasy is reality, how great is that?  Except that what most people fantasize about is stupid and selfish, just about power and sex and always coming in first. Why be Fay Wray when you can be King Kong. Why be either when you can be both.

I don’t know what will happen now to people who like to lie on the couch in the dark and watch.  Will we just be taken advantage of, ignored, left in the darkness? I guess the story everyone wants is that we stand up and go into the hills to join the good guys. Whoever they are. Sign up for a team, wear the team colors and wave the team flag.  I hate all that stuff, I hate team sports, I don’t want to be on anybody’s team.

That reminds me of a dream I had the other night. In the dream I was asleep, or anyway I woke up and there was a huge fire, it wasn’t just my house, everything was on fire and I was trying to find my way out but it was so smoky, and then it was all flames, I couldn’t run anywhere I was just trapped.    Then somehow the fire stopped, I guess it was later, I was still in the same place but everything had burned down and there was nothing standing any more except the beams of the house and the fireplace. I wasn’t inside or outside anymore, everything was burned down and smoldering and covered with ash.  Flying from the beams of the house were all these flags, just at shoulder height and covered with ash.  It was almost dark but there was just a little blue light coming from somewhere. I stood there, I didn’t know what to do, and I realized that there was something in the house still, this is the weird part, I mean there wasn’t even a house left but there was something, it was like a spirit or a ghost, there was something still there, we’d forgotten or didn’t even know it was there before but now it was the only thing left, and I thought…I felt like crying, but I thought, if ever there was a moment for singing…I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream. 

Song:  Partisans (reprise)

The light may be fading
And we can’t see the flame
Sometimes we lose sight of our ultimate aim
But the struggle itself will go on, my friends
The struggle goes on all the same

Today’s Verse: 17 February 2019

I like how you make

Words superfluous

Talk anyway

Cause you’re mellifluous

So am I

I like how you rend

Me unnecessary 

Love anyway

You’re not in a hurry

Neither am I

I want to be

Your happy bed

Be your sleep

Be your rest

I want to be

Your happy bed

Be your dream

Be your death

I wish I was

A happy bed

I’d never rise

I’d never set

I’d never let

The world depress me

Fuck me up

Or upset me

I wish I was

A happy bed

Today’s Verse: 15 February 2019

It is great

To be alive

Stolen moment

Secret smile

Today’s Verse: 9 February 2019

I find it hard to sympathise
With conditions of suffering
I will never know
Unknown diseases with
Sad complications
Names like Latin,
Not really though
Or endless wealth
Eternal life
Sex appeal
And it’s endowments
Memory
That’s photographic
Brilliant wit
That cuts like a knife

Movies try
But don’t succeed
(I don’t think
They really want to)
Make me feel
He’s really sad
To live forever drinking
Blood like sex
Or she’s real unhappy
With her drugs
He can’t find love
Cause his cock
Is too big
And his smile
Is too nice
She remembers the name
Of everybody she’s met
While he cracks a joke
That cracks everyone up

So when they get it
In the end
Betrayed by everyone
Left in the dark
To moan
Stabbed, crushed, and dropped
Ignored, condemned, forgotten
Oh well I say
And wander home

Today’s Verse: 6 February 2019

Who gives a shit’s

Sad rejoinder

You’d submit

I’d employ her

Dick goes here

There’s the hole

Light ignited

You have scored

Who gives a shit

How many times

You express

Your suicide

Any night

Any venue

It doesn’t matter

But if you can you

Find somebody

To absolve me

Exonerate and 

Corroborate me

Who gives a shit

That I love you

I can’t be me

Not thinking of you

Who gives a shit

And who can say

Why go on talking

Another day

 

Today’s Verse: 25 January 2019

I’m not who you think I am
I’m not a quiet, little man
Little in the p and l
The p and l that goes to hell
I’m not who you think I am

You’re not who you think you are
You’re not a brilliant superstar
A star that shines so proud and bright
So proud and bright provokes the night
You’re not who you think you are

We’re not who you think we are
Think we’re going way too far
Way too far to get ahead
Get ahead to go to bed
We’re not who you think we are

This Song’s All About Me

Everyone you see on the street

Everyone you know or meet

People who are going places

People going nowhere

Every person that you see

Every person came to be

By two people fucking

Everyday you see new people

Some are strong, some are feeble

People who are having fun

People who are having none

Every person came to be

By two people fucking

CHORUS

Two people fucking

Two people fucking

Who would we be?

If not you and me?

Two people fucking

Everywhere you’ll meet somebody

Some you’ll like or maybe not

Somebody who will take you places

Someone who will take you down

Someone who just came to be

By two people fucking

BRIDGE

I like to spare a little thought 

For everyone who’s passed away

They’re getting bigger all the time

Because they never go away

Anyhow you think you’re special

You’re special just like everyone

Everyone who’s going places

Everyone going nowhere

Everyone who came to be

By two people fucking

CHORUS

Repeat 1st verse

CHORUS

High and Wonderful

Hi Johny, not sure if this works for your current Jones project, but I think this rough song structure is very promising. Hope it helps.

I owe you a call

It’s been a long time since we spoke

And a lot has happened in between

Ha ha

Yeah a lot has happened to me

And to you?

I’d like to know how you are doing

Want to know that you’re alright

I want to tell you everything

Can’t figure where to start

Remember how we made an orgy

Surprised ourselves that people came

We looked each other in the face

Observed the border had been breached

(And we had breached it)

The wall twixt pure desire

and actuality

Well, my friend, that’s where I am now

Everything I want somehow comes to pass

Leaves me high and wonderful

Wondering how I got here and

What could possibly come next

Time being what it is

It’s dark in the rear view
Windshield’s blinding bright
White knuckles do the steering
I hope that you’re alright

A mole tells me the future
Scars tell me the past
Every step of every set up
Each one of my disasters

When they said I was, I wasn’t
Now they don’t, I am
When they said I did, I didn’t
Now they don’t, I do

REPEAT 3 verses

To what go they back
When they go back
Go back to themselves
Go way way back

REPEAT endless

Time being what it is, it's possible that your birthday has already ended where you are Jymn. Shine on!

Through the Perilous Night

I put some old solo tuba recordings up for posterity. Here they are, posterity.

Once again

It’s your birthday in a few hours (Singapore time). I like being the first to wish you. Sorry you missed Election Day this year. I hope all your dreams come (came) true.

Thanks for the lovely poster

It will soon be framed and adorning a special corner of 26b Swiss Club Road

Adam & Eve on a Raft

I'm posting the script to Adam & Eve on a Raft for "myself and strangers."

Adam & Eve on a Raft 1: Opening/Expulsion

The man speaks:

Hey, she said.

He didn’t say anything.

Hey, she said, come on. Get up. We have to go.

He tried to pretend he was asleep.

Come on, she said.

I know, he said finally. He knew, but he didn’t think he could move. He couldn’t stand up.

It was so stupid. They’d been living there for free and everything and now they had to leave. Like, right now.  He knew that. He didn’t want to.  It was so stupid.

Look, she said, I— and her voice cracked just a little and he knew he couldn’t say anything.

But, yeah, he said, after a moment. They’ll be here soon. I know.

It was so…look, they hadn’t known, I mean they knew the stupid rules but they hadn’t, they didn’t know anything. They’d always done whatever they wanted to and it had always seemed OK. They didn’t know. And then they did, they did know, and it was too late.

Yeah, he said, and he wished he could just stay curled up where he was. Where they were. Where they both were. It was so nice.  It had seemed like it could have gone on just like it was forever but it couldn’t.  He knew that.

Someone might say that it was her, that it was her fault, but he knew. It wasn’t what she had done or he had done or what they’d done together, but that he should have stood up for her and didn’t. That he should have stood up when she fell, that he hadn’t been able to do that. He’d folded. He fell.

Don’t forget your coat, she said. That nice leather jacket. She already had hers on. He put it on and they walked out the door.  It closed and never opened again and so they were set adrift, Adam and Eve on a raft.
 

Song: Adam and Eve on a Raft (Theme)

Since we have lost our home
We are always blown
By each passing draft
Now we are floating free
With no certainty
On our little raft

We’re caught up in this maelstrom
Spinning and turning all around
Slowly we disappear
Vanish, or drown

Ah it has been so long
Since we’ve smiled or laughed
On our little raft

We’re caught up in this maelstrom
Spinning and turning all around
Slowly we disappear
Vanish, or drown

Ah it’s been so long
Since we’ve smiled or laughed
On our little raft

Adam & Eve on a Raft 2: The Book of the Book

The woman speaks:

When we left we took with us the Book. The Big Book, The Book of Books, they call it.  Of course when we were living in the garden it didn’t mean anything to us. It was only after, on the way out, that we realized it might be important. That it was put there for us, that it was a gift not to help us in the old place but now, when we’re in exile.

When we opened it, it was blank. Unfortunately. We couldn’t see anything in the pages at all. Still, we would open it and study it as often as we could. Eventually we could see little pictures on the pages. It’s possible that we drew them though. Or maybe they were already there and we just drew what was already there. Eventually, the pictures were like those puzzles that they have on bubble gum cards. Little riddles for us to figure out, but once we figured them out they didn’t make any sense. It was like an endless game of Treasure Hunt: every riddle was a clue and every clue led us to another clue. Every time we gave up, every time we felt like throwing the book against the wall, whenever we turned our back on it, that’s when we were most ready to begin again.

Sometimes we liked it best when we didn’t read it at all but just left it sitting on the shelf. Sometimes that was all we needed it for.

Song: Advent Calendar

Each day has a secret

If you know how to find it

Each secret opens up a door

With a gift behind it

Each gift’s like a mouth

Each mouth has its own word

And every word a saint 

And every saint a bird

Every day is like a new book

Open it up slowly!

Each book is a story in stained glass

All lit up and holy

Each day has a secret room

Where all things belong

Cathedral, atlas, Noah’s ark

Museum, city, song.

Adam & Eve on Raft 3: The Four Sages

The woman speaks:

Once, there were four sages, four holy men, who were the wisest and holiest men of their generation, maybe some of the wisest and holiest men who ever lived and they decided that they would go to Paradise together. Before they left, one of them, Rabbi Akiva, warned the others that when they came to the place of pure marble stones, they should not say, “Water” and he quoted the Psalm that goes, “He who speaks untruths shall not stand before My eyes.”

The visit ended badly though. The first sage died. The second one lost his mind. He went mad, we’re told, “like someone who eats so much honey he makes himself sick.” The third sage became a heretic, and after that no one called him by his name any more. Only the fourth sage, Rabbi Akiva, entered and left paradise in peace.

From which we learn that the ecstasies of the garden can be as destructive as the fires of Gehenna. Sometimes you get swept away. Sometimes your mind is blown. Sometimes you think you can explain it and you’re so absurdly wrong no one wants to listen to you. They take away your name.

The man speaks:  On the first day of creation, light was made,  and on the second day the waters were separated from the sky. Not water from land, water from sky.  “The firmament,” it’s called in the book.  It sounds like dry land, but it’s not. It’s the sky. So maybe—I don’t know—maybe that’s why Rabbi Akiva warned the other sages not to say, “Water” when they saw the pure marble stones.  They were in danger of being overwhelmed and he was trying to separate the water from the sky for them.

Maybe paradise is not where we belong. Maybe water is as dangerous as fire.

Song: Dream the Hardest Dream

Lie, let the darkness come

Let yourself float down the river

Down its sweet, dark stream

Rest, let go of the day

Don't be afraid of night

Dream the hardest dream

You can’t take flowers with you

Just one small smooth stone

Ravens and owls will watch you

You’re not alone

See, the sun starts to dissolve

Goes out like a spark

But stars can only shine 

When the sky grows dark

Lie, hear the river’s song

Words that cannot be spoken

Words that melt in light

Drift into the night

Dream the hardest dream

Adam & Eve on a Raft 4: Spinning on the Dance Floor

The woman speaks:
And eventually they had to stop and just go somewhere and get a drink.  They were tired and it didn’t feel like they were getting anywhere. It wasn’t a very nice place but it wasn’t too loud and it didn’t smell like last night’s party. It was happy hour, so they could get a brandy & soda for $3.

The early evening chatter in the bar was slowly changing from work to banter and flirting, although no one was laughing way too loudly yet or just repeating themselves over and over. It was just an OK place to sit and rest and not talk much and not think about things too much. To get used to no more paradise, just thorn and thistle and the sweat of your brow.

David Bowie was on the jukebox or whatever singing, “You, you can be mean and I, I’ll drink all the time,” and without saying anything she nodded at the little open space and they put their drinks down at the same time, more or less, and stood up and he smiled just a very little bit. It was time to dance.

Song: Spinning on the Dance Floor

You and I are on the dance floor, spinning

We don’t see the cheap décor, spinning

And the tourists and the hicks

They’re only here to pick up chicks

No they don’t know there’s something more, spinning

As I look into your face, spinning

We’re all alone in this place, spinning

Those silly girls are so mistaken

Waiting to get their pictures taken

They don’t know there’s something more, spinning

While we’re dancing, while we’re spinning

In your eyes I think I see

Worlds exploding, worlds beginning

A small map of infinity

In a pond, amoebas make no sound, spinning

Eddies flowing underground, spinning

I only pity those poor clucks

Who grope and feel each other up

And can’t see the galaxies go round, spinning

Adam & Eve on a Raft 5: After the Fall

The man speaks:
After the fall, not only do we need to work to earn a living by the sweat of our brow, and the ground only produces thorns and thistles, and that’s how it goes until you [finger across the throat gesture], but also, somehow, it seems that I’m the only one who can see your beauty now. Sometimes I can hardly see anything else, and yet somehow it’s been hidden from the rest of the world. Maybe this was intended as a blessing, since otherwise the world would spin completely off its tracks, or perhaps just stop dead, entranced. My own heart sometimes feels ready to explode, to leave its shards scattered throughout the world for future generations to collect and reconstruct and learn from.

When I was created, when we were created, I had your face. I mean, we had the same face once.  We shared it.  That was alright. Sometimes after we’ve been talking all night I see my face in the mirror and it seems wrong to see that face I see when I’m shaving, instead of the beautiful woman-face I’ve just spent so much time looking at.  The face I lost, I guess. No, that’s not it. The recollection of the face that was mine before the one I have now.

But what puzzles me is that you yourself don’t seem to be able to see your own beauty.  Maybe you don’t have anywhere to look. Maybe that’s what’s made it hard for you to see it.

Look in my eyes, you can see it there.  I’ll try not to blink. I don’t want the world to accidentally come to an end.

Song: Still Life (with scone)

I’m rushing to get to the place we had named 

Then stop on the sidewalk: you’re perfectly framed 

By the front window of the café 

A still from some cinema verité  

Just this: 

Still life  

You’re sitting at the table alone 

Frowning at some stupid thing on your phone 

Without really looking, you’re trying to pick up 

The scone sitting next to your coffee cup 

Just this:

Still life  

Perfectly frozen, this moment a picture 

The window a frame, you within it 

Not quite real, not quite a fiction 

A memory, a dream, something infinite  

You see me and wave, the spell is then broken 

I’m not quite in a dream, not yet awoken 

Between two worlds, I can’t quite decide 

Then I smile, wave back and go inside 

Is this 

Still life? 

Adam & Eve on a Raft 6: The Language of the Birds

The  woman speaks:
What bothered him, what drove him sort of nuts, was that once, he had understood the language of the birds. The language of all the animals, actually. They were as much fun to listen to as you’d think they’d be. The birds especially. But it’s not like they were actually saying anything. They would say things like, “Yoo hoo” or “Here I am” or “Coming.” The baby birds would say, “Feed me feed me food food food.”

The man speaks: But that’s what was so nice. It wasn’t words, like you hear all the time now. I mean words are fun, I love words, but there’s this very beautiful thing that’s not words, but it’s still, I don’t know, still speech, or still language.  Expression, I guess. Expression without words, and that’s what he’d lost, that’s what bothered him, he’d swapped one kind of knowledge for another.

The woman speaks: Sometimes it would come back, like if he were sitting at the beach listening to the waves, then he’d hear a sound and know that he was hearing the language of the birds again. But if he listened to it too closely then right away he’d lose it and it was words again, words all lined up in a row, not the beautiful language of the birds.

The man speaks: That’s what naming the animals had been like, honestly. You just listened to what they said and it wasn’t really a trick to name them. It was just what they said.  He’d heard that the angels had tried to name the animals and hadn’t been able to, but of course they couldn’t. They couldn’t hear them. I mean, no disrespect but they already knew about good and evil, so of course they couldn’t name them.  You know? They didn’t understand what the animals were saying.

The woman speaks: And this is why the idea of a talking bird is so appealing and yet so absurd. What we want to hear them say has nothing to do with what they’re saying. We’re like the angels now, we know too much.

Song: Small Brown Bird

A small brown bird got trapped in the bar

Where I sat drinking my beer all alone

The barman chased her with a bar towel

And shouted, “Go home! Go home!”

Pursued, she flapped one wing

Hopped up and then started to sing

her song 

And I was the only one who heard

That small blue song from that small brown bird

Adam & Eve on a Raft 7: To Begin Again

The woman speaks:
And so they began one more time, adrift once again on their little raft. She, always the more prudent, protected her exile with silence, or at least quiet. Plain sentences, a nice easy place to hide. He preferred to protect himself with words. Silly, foolish monkey words, a fortress of chatter, a sort of short, goofy-looking Tower of Babel to hide behind. And the beautiful thing is that people stopped listening. From her, they waited for some word that would reveal everything, but from him they knew it would just be something stupid, funny but no more than that. He thought he was awfully clever. She knew why he did it, but she wouldn’t mind if he’d shut up.

The man:  For a bit.

To begin is always to begin again.
At first it was just to get away. Anger and frustration and maybe shame, too. But then to begin again was to try to do better. To hope, at least. This time they had a car. That made it easier. This time there was a cat with them, in a carrier in the car. Maybe it didn’t make it easier to have the cat in the carrier in the car, but it did made it easier to have the cat.

Even on the lam, though, you can make choices.  Even when your world is getting smaller, even when it’s very small, you can still make choices. And the world is still so big. Still so awful, still poisoned, but still not without possibility.

Sometimes, to begin again without even hoping that it’ll be better this time because otherwise, what. To at least pretend you have a reason for wherever it is you’re going this time. Something to tell people, even if it’s no escape at all.


Song: This Prison is a Paradise

Once this world was a prison

Where my bond had no price

I’m still trapped but thanks to you

Now this prison is a paradise

I couldn’t bear this tiny world

Marked only by sacrifice

But now you’ve transformed this cage

Now this prison is a paradise

Dreams, ah I have dreams

I see the world breaking at the seams

And yet somehow I’ve found peace

I’ve found release, yes I am released

In the void, in the dark

The slightest light will suffice

Now I bless you and I thank you

Now this prison is a paradise

Adm & Eve on a Raft 8: Florham Park

The woman speaks:
They pulled over and stayed at a hotel for the night. She woke up sometime in the middle of the night and realized it was snowing. Even without looking out the window, she could tell the snow would be piled up several inches high.  Pain in the ass to dig out the car tomorrow. But while it was in the air coming down, it was perfect.  And that light, she thought. Is it from the reflection of the snow on the ground, or does the snow in the air do something with the light?  She wasn’t sure if her eyes were open or closed any more. Even without looking, she could tell that the snow covered everything, everyone, awake and asleep, living and dead. Even without looking, she knew that everything outside had been made more beautiful by being hidden. She sighed and turned over and tried to feel herself disappearing into the snowy night.

Song: Florham Park

Outside snow starts piling deep

Inside you sigh, smile and turn in your sleep

Soft and silent, a white sheet

Like this blanket covering us, warm and sweet

The snow muffles every sound

Casts an eerie pale light on the ground

You lie sleeping next to me

And it’s all that I’ve known of ecstasy

When it ices, hard and gray

That’s tomorrow, I can wait, that’s OK

You lie sleeping next to me

And it’s all that I need to know of ecstasy

Adam & Eve on a Raft 9: Truth Cast Down

The man speaks: They were sitting in a bus station early in the morning, waiting for the first bus out. She was reading and he had his eyes closed. A family was waiting opposite them. A little boy was playing some kind of game on a phone, and his little brother was swinging his feet, kicking his chair.  No one in the bus station was talking much.

The woman speaks: He opened his eyes and said quietly to her, “When God was planning out the creation of the world, he called in the Angels as consultants. A divine project management meeting. And what turned out to be most controversial was the creation of humans.

“The Angel of Love said, ‘Man will be capable of love in ways that no other creature can be.’ The Angel of Peace said, ‘And yet Man will always be fighting.’ The Angel of Justice said, ‘If you want to bring your Law into the world you’ll need Man, as only he can execute it.’ The Angel of Truth said, ‘And yet Man will always lie, to himself most of all.’

“God considered all this, and then suddenly cast the Angel of Truth from Heaven to Earth, and humans were created after all. The other angels didn’t say anything when they saw their colleague cast down, but God told them, ‘Truth will yet spring back from the earth and rise up to heaven.’

“So now Love and Peace and Justice are up in heaven. But Truth is down here with us, trying to make its way back. It’s another puzzle for us to figure out.”  He nodded. “Right?”

The man speaks: “I don’t think the bus will be here for another ten minutes,” she said. “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee.”

Song: At the End of the World

We’re out of gas and out of luck

We’re down to our final buck

Don’t know how we ended up

Here at the end of the world

We’re free, with nowhere to go

All alone under the mistletoe

Stone broke under the rainbow

Here at the end of the world

A bus comes through every week or two

We never really know which day

And every time it just blows right through 

While we watch it drive away

It’s the end of the line, my dear

We’re killing time just waiting here

No one seems to know that we’re

Here at the end of the world

Last time: 

They say that Truth has been cast down

To rise up one day from the ground

Till then, like us it’s hanging ‘round

Here at the end of the world

Adam & Eve on a Raft 10: Postcard to Eva

The woman speaks:
Dear Eva:
I’m sitting in what must be the most boring hotel bar ever, trying not to hear the most boring music ever, faced with the most boring choice of draft beers ever. Miller or Bud Light. I’m trying not to overhear the two idiot dudes bragging about the fifty seven beers and thirty six shots with a chaser of rat poison they drank last night.  The only reason I’m writing instead of calling you is that you asked me not to call too late and I don’t want to, except I can feel myself falling apart. This morning I was still up when the sun rose. I’d heard the mermaids singing, that same old song, come in with us come in with us come in with us come on come on come on, it always sounds so good, but I didn’t listen to them this time. I know that the waters of Paradise can drown you as easily as the fires of Gehenna can burn you.  I waited and watched the last of the old moon setting, just a tiny crescent, the stars doing a perfectly executed fade-out, me in last night’s clothes, the day already a mess before it had begun. And I wondered, can you call light crepuscular in the morning, or only in the evening? I’m sorry you’re not here. I’m really trying not to bother you. I miss you. I love you. See you soon I hope.

Song: I Don't Feel Like Dancing (After Simko)

I have my directions

Written in some uncertain kind of code

I know the groves and orchards

But not the people I see on the road

I have changed my money

For the paper they use here to pay

At stores where they speak another language

Where street lamp shadows slip on the doorways

Oh I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold my hand tonight

No, I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold me tight

‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more

It is snow.  It’s snowing.

Footprints running like a line of news

Black marks on the white lined paper:

Only history, just an insult, just a bruise.

The fields here don’t quite fit

Like a map I don’t know how to fold

It’s one story.  It still matters

For as long as that story’s told.

Oh I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold my hand tonight

No, I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold me tight

‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more

Even with my eyes closed

I know this place that might have been my home

The woods where trees are still scarred

With my name carved in like a poem.

I barely fill my coat up

The sleeves are empty as the twilight sky

Heading to the empty house where 

I last saw my father cry

Oh I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold my hand tonight

No, I don’t feel like dancing

I wish you could hold me tight

‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more

[adapted from The Arrival, by Daniel Simko]

Adam & Eve on A Raft 11: The Two Boys

The woman speaks:
They had two boys and they lost two boys. The younger one was always empty and the older was always full. Empty, like you couldn’t tell what was in him, and full like he was always filling up but never had enough. One of them killed and one of them died and that’s how they lost both of them. The older one was always on the run, always looking for something more. Like his parents in that way. His mother was so happy when he was born. She said that now she was the one who was full.  He was so bright. I mean not just smart and clever, though he was, but there was a brightness, always as a child this beautiful brightness you had to love.

They never understood the younger one. They didn’t understand what was there. Here and then gone. But he loved his parents, that’s for sure. He was quiet, it’s hard to remember him saying anything, but so affectionate. It was hard for them to believe he was dead. It broke their hearts.

The man speaks: Afterwards the older one went off to the Land of Nod. He completely disappeared from their lives.

This is what the Book says: “And Cain spoke with Abel his brother: and it came to pass when they were in the field that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and slew him.”  They never saw either of them again.

Song: The Two Boys

Once there were two boys

Both their parents’ pride

One brother killed

The other brother died

Once there were two boys

Generations turn

Families reverse

The blessing can

Become a parent’s curse

Generations turn

And so the lender 

Becomes the debtor

And the begotten 

Begets the begetter

Sin waits at your door

Yet you still may rule

Was that bleak 

Judgment kind or cruel?

Once there were two boys

Adam & Eve on a Raft 12: Finale/Chatter & the Noise

The woman speaks:  
Once, there were four sages, four holy men, the wisest and holiest men of their generation and they decided that they’d go to Paradise together. One died, one went mad, one became a heretic and only Rabbi Akiva entered and left paradise in peace.

[Vocal reprise of “Adam & Eve on A Raft Theme.”]

The man speaks: 
Right, those four sages who decided they’d go to Paradise together. Their win/loss record is pretty unimpressive. Only one of four. There’s two of us, and it’s not like we’re the wisest and holiest of our generation or anything, so the odds don’t exactly seem to be in our favor. But look, we were born in paradise, we may not be that wise or holy, but that’s our home.

Woman: Was our home. We got asked to leave.

Man: Was our home. Right. Thanks for reminding me, I might have forgotten. Look, I don’t want to return and live there forever, I just want to enter and leave Paradise in peace.  I just want to visit. It was so nice there. All the animals and the trees and flowers and oh man, the food.

Woman: The food was so good. But now we know. We know it wouldn’t be the same.

Man: We should do it. We should just do it. I don’t care if I go mad or become a heretic. I don’t even care that much if I die, although it won’t work if you die. If you die and I, I don’t know, I become the heretic, then no. No, I think I would go mad then.

But what is that ocean that envelops you there? What is it that’s so beautiful that it’s unbearable? Is it love? Is it some kind of overwhelming love that’s not meant for humans?  No, it has to be. It must be for us, that’s where we come from. How could that enormous, tidal, overflowing…I mean, I don’t even know the words for it. How could that kind of love not be for us?

Woman: But what about the other kind of love? You know, the me-and-you kind? I mean, that’s what we have every day. I like it.

Man: I know. I like it too. It’s awfully nice. I guess we belong here now. I guess. It’s just so awful most of the time. No wonder we’re always beginning over again. What if this is really it?

Song: Chatter & the Noise

There is a place without music 

A place of quiet and rest 

There’s a place with no words 

A place for the bless’d.  

And yet dear Lord I love this world 

Its troubles and its joys 

O sinner that I am I love  

The chatter and the noise  

Once you cross the river 

There can be no violence 

No word or sound can ever break 

The beauty of the silence  

And yet dear Lord I love this world 

Its troubles and its joys 

O sinner that I am I love  

The chatter and the noise  

There’s a beautiful garden  

Where the wind never blows 

And the flame that burns there 

Can’t consume the rose  

And yet dear Lord &c.  

Sons of Clovis

nice talking to you last night. Couldn’t reach Jim. This is the painting I was trying to remember: https://g.co/kgs/vibvY4

Nice postcard

Sorry I can’t make it. Have to be in London. Good luck!

SF dates

Hey Johny, I read a post from you on Facebook a while ago promoting your upcoming festival dates. I didn’t quite catch them. Might be possible for me to attend. Please confirm dates.
Wouldn’t it be nice.

When Paul McCartney Died

The greatest shock I ever saw

In black and white and Polaroid

Was Paul McCartney jacking off

Naked and inspired

A genius for banalizing

CHORUS

Nobody likes a nice guy

Nobody wants him to win

Your own worst enemy

You stink, and yet you swim

Cheeky cheeky’s not a standard

To which to measure up

Sneaky sneaky’s cuter and

No one gives a fuck

A doe-eyed smile, compassion flowers

You freely harmonise

Your throbbing underlip fellates

I’m complicit, you beguile

When Paul McCartney died

You felt bad not feeling bad

For feeling bad

You felt bad

For not feeling bad

For feeling sad

You felt bad

How is it, like some fish

Age changes gender

Female to male

And male to old maid

The nice guy doesn’t die

But’s strung along

Till quaint, irrelevant

Nothing worse

But the drummer

CHORUS

When Paul McCartney died

You felt bad not feeling bad

For feeling bad

You felt sad

For not feeling bad

For feeling sad

You felt bad

Just wanna say

I am not a robot

Reunited

Today’s Verse: 17 February 2018

Today the script is finalised
Now it’s time to edit
Today the cast is hired
Soon they may regret it

Between the script
And final cut
Lifetime improvisation

That’s the way it’s always done
That’s the way we do it
If you know a better way
Get down and let’s get to it

It’s Not Easy Reading Poetry

Each syllable a little brick
Her breathing is the mortar
The crowd is waiting for a trick
The next act to abort her

A concept’s limping into view
Unfulfilled and tired
The crowd extends its sympathy
But circumstance belies her

The shambles done, a cupola
Of feeling placed atop it
We recognise she’s vulnerable
Applaud and glad she’s stopped it

Happy new year!

Burning the effigies of 2017 in the snow and sand

Happy Birthday to me!

By the way, do you like Joseph Roth? I have been reading his stuff for almost twenty years (started with "Radetzky March"). He wrote a lot, and I like his voice. Just read "Tarabas, a Guest on Earth". Wonderful. Think you might like it.

Jimmy, I'm a little late in wishing you many happy returns of the day. Let it show with you!

Happy birthday Johny!

You’ve earned it!

There was cuckoo in the spring
I said, Sing, O cuckoo, sing
And a tit-willow in a tree
Sing Dear Bird, O Sing for me

Hey nonny nonny
Hey tit tit
Hey cuckoo cuck
Hey la

Yes, they said, enjoy our song
For spring is here, but won’t last long
And after summer, fall is here
And we birds will disappear

Hey nonny tit
Hey cuckoo cuck
O cuckoo tit
Hey la

So fuck your mistress while you may
Do your fucking while it’s day
For you too shall lose your vigor
And your youth will sadly wither

O tit o cock
O titty cock
Tit titty cock
Hey la

And sings the bird: O tit! O cock!
And ticks the clock:  O tick! O tock!
Waste not too much time in wooing
For when you’re dead there’s no more screwing

O tit o cock
O titty cock
Tit titty cock
Hey la


Possibly more fun, definitely not political

Today’s verse: 20 October 2017

No more champagne buffet brunches please
There’s a limit to what a guy can swallow
There’s only so much a man can take
Till his mind is numb and desire hollow

I remember the day when you went to sea
You knew I lied when I told you I’d follow
I knew you lied, you told me your heart ached
We both believed in a better tomorrow
Someday

Chorus:
Thank goodness for alcohol
Thank god for drugs
Only my brain hurts
My body just shrugs
Thank goodness for alcohol
Thank god for drugs


Work in progress. Please extrapolate and extend.

Everything We Know

Epistemology in the age of Trump.


All that you say, every lie you tell me’s
Just put on for show
Nothing is true, now I have lost my faith in
Everything we know

Almanacs and dictionaries
Had to be let go
They’re just as false as
Everything we know

In the libraries
There are no more books
Upon the shelf
Just “The Song of Myself.”

Stories we hear on television
And the radio
We know they’re all just as untrue as
Everything we know

Someday perhaps
Our faith will regrow
And we can believe in
Everything we know

We’ll retrieve
what we believe in
Everything we know

The good old songs

Stephen asked me if I could send him MP3s of the old Fast Fun recordings, so I created a Dropbox folder and added the most current address I have for each Spartan/Ragazzo. I put in the versions of 7 Songs and the Chicken Tape that Tracy digitized many years ago and the Brothers Twain album. If you'd like me to send a Dropbox invitation to a different address let me know.

The school year's beginning
It's the end of of the summer
Which means that it's the birthday of
Our favorite lady-drummer

Happy birthday, Tracette!

Oh Papa dear Papa, come back to the Bar
The church in the steeple strikes one...

Happy birthday! I love ya, Big Dummy.

La Belle au Bois Dormante

What I remember is that I was awakened by a man I’d never met kissing me.  He was a very handsome man, but I didn’t know him and that’s not how it’s supposed to work for nice girls from my background, believe me.  My breath must have been awful, since I’d been asleep for a hundred years. Yes, literally one hundred years.  It’s such a weird story. What they told me was that at my christening, someone, an old friend of the family, put a curse on me and said, “When the child first sees her own blood, she will die.” But she didn’t think it was a curse, she insisted it was a gift, and everyone was shocked and said, “Oh no, no, no, no no,” so she changed it, she said, “Then when first she sees her own blood she’ll fall into a deep deep sleep.  She’ll grow up as graceful and beautiful as a flower and then she’ll fall into a deep deep sleep. She won’t die, she’ll fall into a deep sleep when first she sees her own blood.”  But no one in my family ever told me about this, until afterwards I mean.  It’s crazy. I was a baby obviously but as I got older they all knew I had this curse on me and they never told me about it. They didn’t want to or they didn’t think they should or something. I know. I know. That’s what my family’s like.

So I wasn’t ready for it, but sure enough it happened just she like said, one hundred years. I had nice dreams though, I remember that, and then I woke up and it was a hundred years later, and this man I didn’t know was kissing me, and I wasn’t ready, there was a layer of dust lying everywhere, over everything, and I remember I thought to myself, oh if only I could just sleep a little longer.

Well I ended up marrying this handsome man who kissed me even though I didn’t know him, and we’ve had a lovely life together, full of balls and banquets and horse-drawn processions, and everybody loves the story of how we met.  He’s a wonderful provider, a good husband, a good father, and his head looks fantastic on the coins and stamps.  The older I get, though, the more I realize I really was given a gift, maybe it was a curse but I see why she would have thought of it as a gift appropriate for a newborn.  Sometimes now my husband will wake me up by kissing me, very gently, and it’s so sweet and beautiful but still, all the same, I think, sometimes I think if only I could have slept a little longer.  Just a little bit more.

Monologue

When I woke up they said to me, it was you, you were the one who did it, it was you who did all those things and the things they said, they said it was me but it wasn’t, it wasn’t me or it wasn’t, how shall I say, it was not me that’s talking right now, it’s not me who says I am I right now, does that make sense? It was another one.  I don’t think it does.  I see that, I see that it doesn’t make sense but what I mean is that the one who is myself, the one that I am right now, the one who I say I am, that one was asleep.  That one is me, it is I and I was asleep and so then you see, right? That I couldn’t have, I couldn’t have been there and I couldn’t have done it because I was here, I was asleep.  It was a dream and I was asleep and now I’m still asleep, I am still in this dream or, I don’t know any more, maybe it’s another one, maybe it’s a different dream but I think I’m asleep and having a dream, that’s all, it’s not me, it’s—I don’t know who but not me, not I, I am still asleep. It’s a dream, that’s all, but I don’t like this dream and they keep telling me what I did, but I didn’t, it didn’t happen, or it didn’t happen like that, like they say it did, or it did but it was someone else, anyway, no, I do not like this dream.  I keep trying to wake up and see what happened, or see what it is that’s happening, or that keeps happening and they keep telling me it was you, you did those things and then they tell me all the things they say I did, and I’m talking to them, I’m explaining it and they keep saying it was you, it was you, and no, no I do not like this dream.  It can’t be like that, like everyone says, like everyone keeps telling me, that can’t be it.  That can’t be right.  That’s what I keep saying.  That I was asleep, that it was a dream.  A bad dream though.  A very bad dream.  I remember…I don’t remember, I don’t think I can remember, but it was a very bad dream.  I can’t tell if it’s over, it seems like it’s over now and I’ve woken up, and then I hear how bad it is, how bad everything is and I think no, that’s not it.  That’s something different.  I remember and it’s bad, it’s a very bad dream, but it’s different from what they say, but then that’s not the dream, it’s not that dream, it’s not what they say, it’s not me, it’s not me that did it.  Not me, but…I don’t know. I don’t know who.  Another.  Someone else. You know?  I think there’s someone, there’s a guy wearing my clothes, everything, my shoes, my watch, my voice, but he says, what he says, first of all, it’s much more, how shall I say.  More confident-sounding, I guess, he’s much more confident-sounding than I am, like, he’s pretending to be me but he’s actually better at it than I am.  You know?  He’s better at being me than I am at being me, but that’s not right. I’m asleep, it’s night time and I’m asleep, but he’s out there and everyone seems to think he’s right, when they hear what he says it seems right, but that’s not what I would, that’s now how I’d, I don’t know. He was talking, he was talking and he was saying all sorts of things like I do and the weird thing is that I could hear him, I could hear what he was saying even though I wasn’t there, I don’t know how, maybe that was the dream and I could hear him, it was like me, it was, it was like things I would say but it wasn’t.  It wasn’t, it was much more, I don’t know, more clever maybe, clever and interesting and people seemed to be listening and they liked it but it wasn’t me. And do you know what he said.  It’s not, I know it’s not true, all those stories he told, they’re not true but I wouldn’t call them lies.  And even what I’m saying right now.  I mean who’s saying it.  Who’s speaking right now.  It’s me, it’s me of course because—you can tell right?  You can tell that this is me and it shouldn’t be, no it should be, it’s right but now I don’t know any more.  I can’t tell.  And no one would listen.  They all said, they all kept saying I did it, you shot at that boy they said, you covered those people’s faces and made them stand on that stool, all those things, you did that, and you know what it was, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me I was asleep and then he, you know the other one, he said, that one said, well then someone did it for you.  You wanted to, I didn’t want to but he said I wanted to, he said I wanted to and someone did it for me, he used my name and he did it for me and now you’re happy, you can admit it, you know this is what you wanted and I’m not…I don’t…I didn’t do it and I didn’t want it and now I can’t get rid of it. I can’t get away from it and everyone says it was me and I can’t wake up.  And he keeps saying, he keeps telling me that even if you didn’t hold that guy down, even if you weren’t the one who grabbed that woman and started choking her, which even if you did it was OK, you did what you thought was right, but even if that wasn’t you, still you know what you’ve done.  You know what you’ve done and it’s just as bad.  You’ll never straighten it out, you’ll never be OK but think it over, really it’s OK.  He says, you can never come back from this.  After what you’ve done, no you can never go back.  What you’ve lost is lost forever. But you know you would have lost it anyway so in that way, yes it’s OK. That’s not true, or I don’t know maybe that part is true. That I’ll lose, you know, lose everything I guess, I don’t want that to be true.  It doesn’t have to be.  Do you know what he told me? This really was a lie I think, I mean I know it’s not true, he said—I know, I know I shouldn’t fall for it, but he said don’t worry, things can be like they were before, everything will be like it used to be and that’s just what I wanted to hear, I knew it wasn’t true but that’s what I wanted to hear, he said things could be like they were before. But that it could be over and I could just forget, no I don’t believe that. I think if everyone would stop saying it, if someone would just say yes of course you were asleep and it was a dream but not if I say it. Not if it’s just something I’m saying to myself.  You know? But I think, I don’t know it seems like it can’t be just a dream. If it’s a dream, if it’s only a dream, then this is, I mean me saying it is a dream.  Then it’s not even a dream it’s a…no.  Then there’s no end.  Then it couldn’t stop because, do you see, because it would keep going on.  I mean if this is.  If me right now.  If me what I’m saying.  If this is a dream and I’m still dreaming then I don’t need to wake up, I need to go back to sleep.  If this is a dream I’ll go back to sleep.  No. 

Today's Verse: 22 April 2017

One week later
OK he's dead, what now?
I've been thinking about
My religion
I've got a lot of good tenets
Only the best
And a Church of one
First : No love songs
Second: Whatever works
Or maybe the reverse
Third: Let's take it from there
Did you ever touch bottom?
Feel it?
Gravity embraces you
Warm, indisputable
Nothing transcendental
Nothing impermanent
Special
Just there
Over the hill

Fragment before Easter 2017

Sitting on the curb side, staring at my thoughts
Waiting for a pickup, a ride back to the loft
The evening light is fading, the cars keep passing by
Mister's not around yet, I start to wonder why
What if he doesn't turn up, what if I'm on my own
I'd hate a cop to stop me, and give me a hard time

Don't quite know where this one leads, but thought you might want to play with it. I've been working hard and traveling a lot, so a little disappointed at not doing more on this blog. Have some ideas that are very slow in fruition.
I plan to "transit" through San Francisco on the way to Halifax (!) around 10 July. Would be nice to see you, if you're around. Let me know and I will plan accordingly.

The Day the Brownshirts Came To Town

The day the brownshirts marched by on parade
The townspeople all hip-hip-hoorayed
We all felt a special kind of pride
Whatever they’re fighting, we know they’re on our side
We cheered more and more as they marched round and round
The day the brownshirts cane to town

All us boys tried to sneak out of school
We wanted rifles that would make us that cool
The girls were all saying those brownshirts looked cute
But we knew it was more than the buttons and the suit
That brought them running out of the playground
The day the brownshirts came to town

Grandma said, “It’s just about time
Someone did something about the dirt and crime.”
And then just like always, this set off my dad:
He said, “Those guys are trouble, they’re just as bad!”
And momma smiled to calm him down
The day the brownshirts came to town

We were a little confused, no one seemed to know
Whether this was part of some reality show
Then Uncle Louie sort of disappeared
But we always knew he was a little bit weird
We figured sooner or later he’d be found
The day the brownshirts came to town

Martial Law in Chicago

The clusterjam has begun
There was a black man with a gun
Now there’s martial law in Chicago
We heard that there’d been looting
So our boys started shooting
Martial law is in Chicago

We can’t have this in our own back yard
So we called in the National Guard
We hit back and hit back hard
With martial law in Chicago

It was those illegal aliens
Syrians or Iranians
Martial law in Chicago
It must’ve been agents from ISIS
Who instigated this crisis
Now there’s martial law in Chicago

There was some protest from the mayor
But the opposition didn’t dare
Block a national security affair
Martial law in Chicago

We don’t need a warrant for searches
Don’t try hiding out in churches
Martial law in Chcago
Rules about search and seizure
Are only for appeasers
Now there’s martial law in Chicago

Now much as we respect the press
We had to cut off all access
Until we can declare success
Martial law in Chicago
Martial law in Chicago

Why We Fight (again)

An updated version of a song from a few years ago


Does anyone remember the protests that were for the 98%?
They seemed so self-indulgent—what did they represent?
Things got a little better, so I guess we all forgot
What things are like when soneone else is caling all the shots

And this is why we fight, brothers
This is why we fight
Though sometimes we must stop and rest
This is why we fight

The man who killed an unarmed kid was let off by a jury
Another man was killed by cops in Ferguson, Missouri
Another still was choked and killed for selling cigarettes
And yet somehow the struggle stopped. We managed to forget.

And this is why we fight, brothers
This is why we fight
Though it’s hard to carry on
This is why we fight

Some will fall in glory, and others fall in shame
Still others give up because both sides seem the same
Some fear humiliation, some direct attack
But sometimes when we’re broken, new roots grow through the crack

And this is why we fight, brothers
This is why we fight
Though sometimes we must stop and rest
This is why we fight

Our rulers are no longer to be the brightest but the brashest
A TV personality playing the American fascist
And millions of us hit the streets, perhaps this time we’ve learned
Will this be the call to fight? Has something really turned?

And this is why we fight, sisters
This is why we fight
Now’s not the time to stop and rest
This is why we fight

Work in progress - verse 22 January 2017

...
I'm glad you were there
To take me home
When I fell on my face drunk
...

Overheard; New York Palace, 11 January 2017

2017 is a heavy year
Last time I saw you
But you got through
All xxx front ends
Feels I don't want to say autopilot
He gets up there and goes
There were people on people's shoulders
He's lost his mind
An opportunity to
I bought for 5 dollars
I try to stay away from semis
There was a Bna product
For whatever reasons
But it was locked up for 7 years
Then he got divorced
Really nasty divorce
It's all about the Tshirt
It was hot too
Oh my god
Oh yeah right
But that would be
And I destroyed that nighty
That was brutal
Have you been to a big festival lately
All my friends are like I can't go on a
Saturday night
Take a picture
Ballet?
A ton of it then
It was unbelievable
Neil Young can get away with it
How much bands are making
I get that part
But the way they do it
There's no more weird in the Mid-West
I got him to switch
Yeah that poor bastard
He's a super nice guy
Under lots of strength

Today's Verse, 8 January 2017

Seeing daylight disappear

Inspires me with funny fears

I fear that you'll be coming home

I won't be there

You'll be alone 

Watching daylight fade away

Makes me wonder should I stay

Makes me wonder what I'd do

If you were me

And I were you

This is the best thing ever

sitting outside with a glass of red wine on a lovely evening in Singapore at the Swiss Club. Just got back here from Mumbai, after a couple of intense weeks with Indi, Mira (and her boyfriend Rob), and Jai. I went back to my journals of 10 years ago when I was in Mumbai last week and found some draftlyrics that I wrote for a tune Johny wrote. In an idle moment, after the plat principal, I thouGht of looking it up on Spartan Bar. Not there, but what a fucking treasure is there from 2007 and 2008. Ten years, and we seem to have lost Firestone and Tracette. But I am inspired to continue, starting now. Here are two song lyric ideas, not sure where to go with them: "I sucked Jesus' big cock, but he hasn't come, yet", and "what's the secret in men's eyes, what's the secret in women's eyes".
Happy new year!

Someone to tell

I'm sitting in the lounge at Dublin airport, next to Bob Geldof. I was happy to meet someone who knew what I was talking about when I told him I was excited to be seeing Robert Wyatt in concert tonight in Brighton and Nick Lowe in London on Sunday night. Celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary with Indi, Mira, and Jai. I'm a lucky guy!

Stay Young & Beautiful

Kind of a modest effort.  But it goes to a very nice tune!


Stay young and beautiful if
You’d be adored
Once you are old and ugly
You’ll be ignored

You’ll be a laughingstock
And piteous
If you try to be loved when
You’re hideous

Old people are called cute
But let us face the truth
You’re lost once you’ve lost
Your youth

Lovers of beauty are so
Easily bored
Stay young and beautiful if
You’d be adored

Happy Ending

Waking up in someone else's outfit
Waking from somebody else's dream
Feeling small, fruit and hope and useless
I realise, things are what they seem

I realise the limits of my powers
In someone else's undershirt and briefs
I realise I'm running on momentum
Far beyond the point of no relief

CHORUS
How long, how long
How long, how long
I wonder
Days and nights go by,
Extensions pending
Then a mighty clap
Of awesome thunder
Here it comes
Here comes my happy ending
Here comes my happy ending

Waking up in someone else's bedroom
Waking naked, standing by the door
Feeling small, fruit and hope and useless
It seems I'm not a child anymore

It seems that I've departed from the blueprint
In someone else's therapy and sheets
It seems I may be gaining some momentum
Far beyond the point of no belief

CHORUS

BRIDGE
Someone like me
Someone like me
What a pleasure to be
Someone like me

Waking up in someone else's problem
In the dark and running out of air
Feeling small, fruit and hope and useless
I realise, I'm not really there

I realise I'm prob'ly incidental
In someone else's dressing gown and socks
I realise I'm running on momentum
I fear I may be running out the clock

CHORUS

There comes a day I think I shan't be waking
Making love in your grandfather's coat
Feeling small, fruit and hope and useless
Feeling like a poem someone wrote

I realise conclusions can be painful
Conclusions may be difficult and slow
It seems that it can help to have momentum
It helps to have somewhere to go

CHORUS

Happy birthday, Jymn

Your love is like a rainbow, falling all around my shoulders.

BRB

I got your call, I saw the text
And we all know what’s coming next
I know there’s work to do right now
And rage at you-know-who right now
But I’m not ready for this parade
The button broke, the ribbon’s frayed
I’ll sit now with the empty glass
But thank you though, I’m glad you asked

I do not have the strength to sort
Through all the shades of black
I just need a couple moments
Sorry.  Be right back.


The silence when you turn from others
Sometimes heals and sometimes smothers
I guess the grief and the frustration
Will not be calmed by isolation
We all must stand and all stand tough
It’s just, my best’s not good enough
Ah no, it’s fine. I’ll be OK.
Just not right now.  Just not today.

I shouldn’t fear the darkness
Nor the bright light in the crack
I just need a couple moments
Sorry.  Be right back

Happy birthday baby

you did it again!