Same Scar

same scar

hold on, your innocence
is all you get to spend
it hurts me just to see you blush
the universe is waiting for your touch

you're lovely and more than that
it'd break me into half
if any harm came to you
but I know that it's coming, there's nothing we can do

get ready
don't wither
i know where you've been
i know where you are
get ready
don't wither
coincidence
I have the same scar

the taxis are running
the tv's are humming
the camera loves to see skin
hollywood is waiting to break you in

and it might be painful
and you might not know it
but you'll feel the cutting
when you're in the moment
the scarring helps you
'cause it toughens you up
but try and remember
everyone's got the same scar
same scar

lover go to bed
I'll see you in my head
I'll sculpt you out of air
put you in a bubble, floating over there

CHORUS X 2

coincidence
I have the same scar

coincidence
I have the same scar

coincidence
I have the same scar

...

This is a song that will hopefully make it to the new record. To me, it's about how living is trading innocence for some sort of life wisdom... And that process, that cutting, is inevitablepainfulbeautiful. And there's a weirdly powerful thing that can happen when we show our scars. In some ways, this song is related to Psalm 151.

A: You're gonna get cut.
B: But it'll be useful... Lessons.
C: And this thing that you're going through? It's normal. Everyone goes through this.
D: You'll be okay.
E: Oh, and we all pretty much have the same scar(s).

Lyrics to psalm 151

I wrote this song a little while ago... I wanted to write something that would actually be useful to someone.

It seems to me that sometimes, the thing we most need to hear is, "It's gonna be okay. You are gonna be okay. Just hold on a little longer."

There are only 150 psalms in the bible.

psalm 151

there's a calm inside you
there's a calm inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

there's a fire inside you
there's a fire inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

there's a storm inside you
there's a storm inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back

there's a word inside you
there's a word inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back
you're never going back

there's a voice inside you
a little voice inside you
you're gonna find it some day
some day soon

songs for a new record

I've been working A LOT lately on getting songs ready my next record.

I've been writing a lot -- even more than usual -- for the last year and a half. So I've been sifting through about a hundred ideas... and about 40 songs. Pulling the songs out, seeing if I really, truly like them... how they sound, what they say... and then, if they feel worth it, I put them under a microscope and make sure they're really done... and then I play them for close friends to see what they think. I might record them, as rough demos, and drive around listening to them... and let my brain just float around, thinking of how they might be arranged better, or what instruments would sound good, or listen for ideas about harmonies, or complementary parts... always staying open to new ideas that could change all or part of a song...

I'm also starting to think about what *kind* of record this could be. Looking at the songs and starting to thinkg about how they could fit together... like puzzle pieces. Imagining what that larger picture might look like. Very early stage.

They ("the recording people") call this step, preproduction.

I'm really excited about these songs! And this next record! More excited than I've ever been about any record, actually.

Here are the songs that I feel are strong, tonight... (these things can rapidly change):

carousel
don't follow virginia
psalm 151
paper plates
the turnaround
do you know my name
same scar
ghosts
good heart
let it rain
thinking 'bout god
somebody ought to break down
following cynicism

Here are the songs that are still in the running... for different reasons:

walter whitman
i do, i don't
right now
pass that bottle down
don't need you
messy mind
together
black ribbons
clara
to know you
lift this man up
the letter
farmer's only son
into the light
artificial day
in the dark

I love this part of the process...

Let's move to Japan.

If i understand it correctly, the premise of this japanese game show is to jump in either freezing or boiling hot water (I'm guessing freezing... as that makes more narrative sense) and sit on a button that jiggles a bikini-clad girl until her top falls off.

It makes perfect sense to me.

Personally, I think that's a lot of work to see a topless girl.  But I'm lazy like that.

Pop

"Shoot if you must this old gray head
But spare my country's flag," he said.
- John Greenleaf Whittier

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I know about these two poems and A WHOLE LOT OF OTHER STUFF because I am my father's son. He's an incredibly smart, big-hearted man with more integrity than anyone I've ever known. He's lived through some fairly horrible things, but you wouldn't know it. He's a talker, until you mention it. He's loved his wife (my mom) without ceasing from the moment he saw her, 47 years ago. He can be really intense and overly critical at times... and then he'll realize it and apologize. He reads constantly. He cries without shame. He's funnier than hell. He hates it when I call him Pop. He calls me "J" sometimes, in shorthand. I could go on...

Oh, and he's responsible for quite a lot of my strangeness... I owe him for that.

I don't know why... but I've been thinking about him constantly the last several days. Yes, I called him. And emailed him as well. We haven't connected yet. But we will.

I could write a long time about that man... and probably will.

Here's a photo we took together when he came to visit me last summer:

(This is him after 3 mojitos, on an empty stomach, at altitude.)

And another:

(This is him saying, "Enough with the photos, please! But I'll humor you, John...")

you handed me your pocket

you handed me your pocket


it was white and frayed, tattered and soft.
it was cotton.
it was the place your hands went
when they were bored
or nervous.

it was a simple gesture really.

drive north and west

drive north and west
watch the land open like a night blooming flower
open like a hand
palm upturned in green stillness
waiting
laid flat like a slowly rolling quilt
throw upward across the belly of america
to float softly down in pools

we are puzzles in this larger puzzle
see how it all connects?
windmills, dusty roads, fields of wheat
towns with their people
open hands pushing back the sun
a little shade for squinting eyes
look to the sky
one sky
filled with stars and clouds and sunlight
lacking nothing, nothing.

ballad of the china cup

i wrote this one a while ago. i might bring it back out for a drive.

ballad of the china cup

sweet girl who is lovely and so quick to smile
freshly fifteen and learning to drive
with hair just as deep and as dark as your eyes
amazed and awake with your eyes open wide
i won't tell you confusion is coming
your china tea cup has no cracks in its side

young boy in the clinic who is learning to wait
for his girlfriend upstairs who is bleeding and dazed
and the protesters hurling protests through the gate
and you know that you love her, but your love is too late
do you hear the sound of a crashing?
your china cup is beginning to break

woman of y ears who married too soon
your children are gone and your husband's left too
you are weeping and sleeping each day until noon
and you're covered in rain from a sky that is blue
don't look up to the sky for a reason
it's your china cup darling -- it's leaking on you

dear father who is watching his son waste away
your heart's made of stone and your feet made of clay
your rulebook for living is missing a page
the chapter on kindness has nothing to say
but the class is always in session
your china cup's crumbling in front of your face

old men in the subways who ride just to sleep
and the ladies in rest homes who live for t.v.
and mother and father and you and me
and the millions in graveyards laid out 'neath the trees
we're all trading our youth for some wisdom
and our china cup's crushing to dust at our feet
our china cup's crushing to dust at our feet

Hairacle

This one is tough to interpret...

I think it's saying "insomnia".