you got the lonely
copyright john common music
when I first met you
and got to know you
I saw the storry in your eyes
you let me see you
to really see you
and babe it came as no surprise
you got the lonely
you've got it good
you tried to outrun it
you thought that you could
but it's in your nature
deep down in the wood
you got the lonely
you've got it good
we make it hard
we like to stumble
'cause falling gives us scars
every scar a letter
one more letter
and all those letters make up the words
CH
you walk away
and you don't know why
bridges burning…
solo
I heard the phone ring
and some how I knew
you were calling from far, far away
you found the bottom
you got your answer
and you needed to hear me say
we got the lonely
we've got it good
we try to outrun it
we think that you could
but it's in our nature
deep down in the wood
we got the lonely
we've got it good
you got the lonely
I've got it too
we got the lonely
we've got it good
we got the lonely
we've got it good
Here's a rough demo:
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Forget Brilliant... Go For Useful.
Let's be honest. Most records are painfully self-aware pieces of trash. They're uninspired, navel-gazing, banal, cliche-ridden, ego-stroking buckets of awful offal. Yes, occasionally you run across a record that is utterly brilliant. But most sound mediocre-to-good-enough for a few days until our eye catches a shiny object across the room and -- whoosh -- there goes another disc into the wasteland of our cherished CD collections.
As for the topics covered on most records, you could throw darts at a board cut into three areas: 1) Love, 2) Allegedly Political, 3) Obtuse Journal Entry / Who The Fuck Knows, and you'd get a great guess of the average distribution of pithy subjects. (By the way, I am including myself in this unfair generalization. I have most definitely contributed my fair share to the shit heap.)
Look, I'm not just being mean-spirited here. I've been on a practicality kick lately. Think of this as an unsolicited call to action. I think we, as musicians and songwriters, can do a better job. Or, if not better job, at least a more useful one.
Does the world really need another record covering the utter sameness of your (or my) interior psychological landscape? At what point does "Universality" get trumped by "Give me something I can actually use"? I wish someone, anyone, would write and record a CD like this:
CD Title: Useful Songs For Life's Tough Times
Track 1) Whoops! You're Pregnant!
Track 2) You're Fired -- Merry Christmas
Track 3) Bad News: It's [Insert Awful Disease]
Track 4) She Doesn't Love You. She Loves Your Sister.
Track 5) I Just Puked In Your Bed -- Sorry 'Bout That.
Track 6) About That Rash...
Track 7) The Depression Test
Track 8) McCain Won. We're Moving To Europe.
Track 9) Honestly, Yes. You Are Ugly.
Track 10) First Time In Prison: A Beginner's Guide
It's time to be of direct service. Grab a hammer... Go build us a useful record.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
The Best Bike Ride Of My Life
Intended time: 2 hours 15 minutes
Intended distance: 30ish miles
Actual time: 3 hours 15 minutes
Actual distance: 48 miles
I got lost.
I got some bad directions.
I got loster.
The sky turned dark as a bruise.
I got blown around by crazy wind.
I got rained on.
I wiped out out on some train tracks.
I got hailed on and utterly drenched.
I nearly got hit by several cars.
People looked at me from their porches like I was a crazy man, pedaling up their street through gales of hail and rain.
It was totally life affirming.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Naming the band.
I'm putting together a new band... that's hard, dirty work, by the way. But anyhoo, I'm thinking that it might be useful to give that collective of special, special people a name. A really good name.
Here are some for you to consider, comment upon, ridicule, edit, and otherwise heap praise upon. The band, of course, will make the final decision, pending your approval:
(p.s. some of these are JOKES designed to keep you on your TOES)
John Common and...
Blinding Flashes of Light (BFL)
The Distinguishing Characteristics
The Fakirs
The Best Ones
The Jokes Which Are Not Funny
Take Her Home
We're Gonna Break Up
We Hate Him
Leading Man
The Tater Tits
Motograss
Secret Digit
The Cavists
Hyperwhite
Magically Delicious
Team Narcissist
The Dump
Furry Feelings
A Kick In The Pants
Hipster Fister
Moustachio
The Silent K
The Derelict Savants
The Long Shots
Here are some for you to consider, comment upon, ridicule, edit, and otherwise heap praise upon. The band, of course, will make the final decision, pending your approval:
(p.s. some of these are JOKES designed to keep you on your TOES)
John Common and...
Blinding Flashes of Light (BFL)
The Distinguishing Characteristics
The Fakirs
The Best Ones
The Jokes Which Are Not Funny
Take Her Home
We're Gonna Break Up
We Hate Him
Leading Man
The Tater Tits
Motograss
Secret Digit
The Cavists
Hyperwhite
Magically Delicious
Team Narcissist
The Dump
Furry Feelings
A Kick In The Pants
Hipster Fister
Moustachio
The Silent K
The Derelict Savants
The Long Shots
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Why Dance Music Is Smart
I got into an arguement with my friend Robby about something I said in my last blog thingy about why I don't dance. (I think I said dance music sucked.) She went on and on, basically defending dance music. I tuned most of it out, actually.
But as she was talking, it occurred to me that what dance music has going for it -- even the worst dance music -- is its ever-present beat (turned way, way, way up in the mix). EVERY dance song does that one thing, consistently. It's reliable. You can count on it. It never forgets its central mission: ass shaking.
Even if a dance song utterly fails in every other aspect of music -- originality, lyric, melody, instrumentation, arrangement -- it never forgets why it came here. If you saw it on break in the employee lounge, here's what it would say: "I might suck, but you can still dance to me. I know my job, pal. Hey, you gonna eat that?"
It didn't even get clever with its name. It's called "dance music", just in case you forget what you're supposed to do when you hear it. (I know the bike messenger class likes to call it "electronica" or "electro", but that's just a transparent attempt at trying to dress up a pig with elitist rhetoric, now isn't it? Like calling Miller "The Champagne of Beers". Not buyin' it.)
So while Robby kept trying to get me to take dance music seriously, I started thinking about other genres... Maybe they should take a hint from dance music and figure out their critical purpose, their raison d'etre, and then focus like a Republican attack ad until they build a subculture around it that people can count on. And hate.
Here are some suggestions, for discussion purposes only:
COUNTRY MUSIC
Country music could be renamed "Welding music". It could even include instructions for how to weld, mixed REALLY LOUD up front next to Kenny Chesney's, um, vocal... TIG, MIG, Fluxed-Core, Gas Tungsten, Arc Welding. There's a lot to learn. Then, when we heard Welding Music, we could say, "It sure does suck, but at least I'm learning to weld!"
FOLK MUSIC
Folk music could be renamed "Bicycle repair music"... You'd hear people in coffee shops saying, "Jesus, that folk singer is one whiny bitch, but at least I learned how to lube my chain."
INDIE ROCK
Indie Rock (huh?) would probably need to be renamed "Self-esteem booster music"... Folks would put down their PBR and say, "I totally have a fucking head-ache, but I'm pretty sure that I'm cooler than you!" (Wait a minute... they already do that, right?)
JAZZ
Jazz could be renamed... actually, I think it should still be named Jazz.
But you get my point, no? There are so many mission-less genres. They're waiting for a little leadership... a little direction. Can you give it to them? Will you give it to them?
We're waiting.
But as she was talking, it occurred to me that what dance music has going for it -- even the worst dance music -- is its ever-present beat (turned way, way, way up in the mix). EVERY dance song does that one thing, consistently. It's reliable. You can count on it. It never forgets its central mission: ass shaking.
Even if a dance song utterly fails in every other aspect of music -- originality, lyric, melody, instrumentation, arrangement -- it never forgets why it came here. If you saw it on break in the employee lounge, here's what it would say: "I might suck, but you can still dance to me. I know my job, pal. Hey, you gonna eat that?"
It didn't even get clever with its name. It's called "dance music", just in case you forget what you're supposed to do when you hear it. (I know the bike messenger class likes to call it "electronica" or "electro", but that's just a transparent attempt at trying to dress up a pig with elitist rhetoric, now isn't it? Like calling Miller "The Champagne of Beers". Not buyin' it.)
So while Robby kept trying to get me to take dance music seriously, I started thinking about other genres... Maybe they should take a hint from dance music and figure out their critical purpose, their raison d'etre, and then focus like a Republican attack ad until they build a subculture around it that people can count on. And hate.
Here are some suggestions, for discussion purposes only:
COUNTRY MUSIC
Country music could be renamed "Welding music". It could even include instructions for how to weld, mixed REALLY LOUD up front next to Kenny Chesney's, um, vocal... TIG, MIG, Fluxed-Core, Gas Tungsten, Arc Welding. There's a lot to learn. Then, when we heard Welding Music, we could say, "It sure does suck, but at least I'm learning to weld!"
FOLK MUSIC
Folk music could be renamed "Bicycle repair music"... You'd hear people in coffee shops saying, "Jesus, that folk singer is one whiny bitch, but at least I learned how to lube my chain."
INDIE ROCK
Indie Rock (huh?) would probably need to be renamed "Self-esteem booster music"... Folks would put down their PBR and say, "I totally have a fucking head-ache, but I'm pretty sure that I'm cooler than you!" (Wait a minute... they already do that, right?)
JAZZ
Jazz could be renamed... actually, I think it should still be named Jazz.
But you get my point, no? There are so many mission-less genres. They're waiting for a little leadership... a little direction. Can you give it to them? Will you give it to them?
We're waiting.
Monday, July 28, 2008
New (old) song
the fall
jack was a good boy
he did what he was told
and the boy grew up
and he moved right in to that typical suburban mold
he was climbing that crazy mountain
like they tell you to in the book
and he ignored the rattle
that kept getting louder with every step he took
they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy
or you'll bleed
now he's so scared of falling
he doesn't know it's the fall he needs
jack's mind is getting crowded
and his face is getting lined
and the voices he heard
that he thought were absurd are making more sense every time
one gray and rainy morning
while climbing the mountain side
jacky boy snapped
he skipped the trap, he let go and fell for the first time
they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy
or you'll bleed
now he's smiling and falling
it's the fall he knew he needed
instrumental
the gray hairs are comin'
and a hole filled with lye
but no box could hold
jack's pearly white soul when he falls for the very last time…
they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy or you'll bleed
now he's finally falling
it's the fall he knew he needed
jack was a good boy
he did what he was told
and the boy grew up
and he moved right in to that typical suburban mold
he was climbing that crazy mountain
like they tell you to in the book
and he ignored the rattle
that kept getting louder with every step he took
they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy
or you'll bleed
now he's so scared of falling
he doesn't know it's the fall he needs
jack's mind is getting crowded
and his face is getting lined
and the voices he heard
that he thought were absurd are making more sense every time
one gray and rainy morning
while climbing the mountain side
jacky boy snapped
he skipped the trap, he let go and fell for the first time
they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy
or you'll bleed
now he's smiling and falling
it's the fall he knew he needed
instrumental
the gray hairs are comin'
and a hole filled with lye
but no box could hold
jack's pearly white soul when he falls for the very last time…
they told him to stand tall
and then they told him to crawl
just don't buck the system boy or you'll bleed
now he's finally falling
it's the fall he knew he needed
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Triathlon Update: T Minus 25 Days
First of all, I don't think anyone reads this blog other than perhaps my father and two brothers. But I have these persistent delusions of writing grandeur, so I'm gonna pretend like my readership is both numerous and interested.
...
It's 25 days until my first Olympic distance triathlon. I've been training consistently (for the most part) for months. And I've been training, what feels like to me at least, pretty darn hard for the past several weeks... about 2 hours a day. You know... swimming, biking, running, core workouts, even some weights when I can sneak them in. (This commitment, by the way, is nothing but a warm up to real triathletes.) You may recall from my previous triathlon update, I have been experiencing some amount of angst about my upcoming race. I think the term I used was "suffer fest".
However, all of this effort from yours truly has led to a significant reduction in my terror threat level. If I may borrow from our government's simplistic terror advisory system:
I am proud to announce that my triathlon terror level has been reduced from SEVERE (red: a severe risk of an embarrassing flame out) to HIGH (orange: a high risk of an embarrassing flame out).
Further, I am ready to cautiously predict that by race day, August 16th, my terror level will be reduced to ELEVATED (yellow: an elevated risk of an embarrassing flame out). This will only hold true if I keep my sweaty nose to the workout grindstone.
However, please keep in mind that at any point situations may change on the ground and/or in the air that may call for a rapid increase in the threat level. We'll just have to stay vigilant, keep our eyes open, and put our faith in our higher power.
In the meantime, I'd like to make a time prediction. This is usually a bad idea... predicting one's race time -- throwing down the gauntlet with such precision. But here goes:
1500 meter swim: 42 minutes
transition one: 4 minutes
24.8 mile bike: 1 hour, 32 minutes
transition two: 4 minutes (predicting a port-o-let stop to pee right about here)
6.2 mile run: 1 hour, 23 minutes
Total time: an underwhelming 3 hours, 45 minutes
There you have it. Place your bets. I'm tired... I'm gonna hit the rack now.
...
It's 25 days until my first Olympic distance triathlon. I've been training consistently (for the most part) for months. And I've been training, what feels like to me at least, pretty darn hard for the past several weeks... about 2 hours a day. You know... swimming, biking, running, core workouts, even some weights when I can sneak them in. (This commitment, by the way, is nothing but a warm up to real triathletes.) You may recall from my previous triathlon update, I have been experiencing some amount of angst about my upcoming race. I think the term I used was "suffer fest".
However, all of this effort from yours truly has led to a significant reduction in my terror threat level. If I may borrow from our government's simplistic terror advisory system:
I am proud to announce that my triathlon terror level has been reduced from SEVERE (red: a severe risk of an embarrassing flame out) to HIGH (orange: a high risk of an embarrassing flame out).
Further, I am ready to cautiously predict that by race day, August 16th, my terror level will be reduced to ELEVATED (yellow: an elevated risk of an embarrassing flame out). This will only hold true if I keep my sweaty nose to the workout grindstone.
However, please keep in mind that at any point situations may change on the ground and/or in the air that may call for a rapid increase in the threat level. We'll just have to stay vigilant, keep our eyes open, and put our faith in our higher power.
In the meantime, I'd like to make a time prediction. This is usually a bad idea... predicting one's race time -- throwing down the gauntlet with such precision. But here goes:
1500 meter swim: 42 minutes
transition one: 4 minutes
24.8 mile bike: 1 hour, 32 minutes
transition two: 4 minutes (predicting a port-o-let stop to pee right about here)
6.2 mile run: 1 hour, 23 minutes
Total time: an underwhelming 3 hours, 45 minutes
There you have it. Place your bets. I'm tired... I'm gonna hit the rack now.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
7 Reasons Why I Don't Dance (But You Should)
This is my Personal Anti-Dancing Manifesto (PADM). It is a point-by-point, painfully honest examination of my dancing disability. My hope is to lay bare the ugly truth of this disability and in doing so, motivate you, the Reader, to dance in my place.
Some people dance. They dance freely. The Dance flows loosely from them like the languid unrolling of a sheet. They look beautiful in their ease. They inhabit their own rhythm, smiling, and meaning it. They look like an uncaged bird, free at last. They actually enjoy being looked at. Look at them now: see how they revel in their comfortable power? I don’t begrudge them their dancing… Hell, I’d do the same thing -- if I could.
I’d dance your damn face off...
If I could dance.
One problem: I can not dance. Let me restate this with the proper emphasis: I CAN NOT and SHALL NOT dance. I WILT NOT dance. I DANCE NOT. Are you catching my Old Testament drift, Pilgrim?
God skipped my bedroom the night he was giving away dancing powers. Do I hold a grudge against my higher power for this malfeasance? You bet your ass. Does my utter lack of dancing powers make me feel morose, “lesser than”, down in the mouth and otherwise pissed? The answer is YES.
And now, the requisite Chuck Bukowski quote:
“I never cry, baby… … Of course I do.” – Charles Bukowski
But enough of my weeping. At some point, the dance-challenged boy grows into a dance-embittered man. And that man writes his personal anti-dancing manifesto:
Reason #1 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
I can play guitar. I can sing. That would seem to indicate that I have rhythm. WRONG-O, sugar. Evidently, all sense of rhythm runs screaming from my body like a scalded dog the moment I get near a dance floor. Can words describe my freakish movements? I doubt it. But I’ll try:
Ever go to the grocery store and get that cart with the one bad wheel? That’s how I dance. No… that isn’t quite right.
Imagine someone accidentally falling out of a 31st story window, stabbing themselves repeatedly on the way down. No… that isn’t quite right.
Rapid onset cerebral palsy meets a drunk trombone player on roller skates. No… that doesn’t really capture the horror of my dancing either. Some things can’t be explained in words, people. But trust me, it aint pretty.
Reason #2 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
A girl once told me, “I can tell how a man would be in bed by how he dances.”
[Pause for devastating effect.]
Sweet Jesus... You mean to tell me that when someone dances, they’re being evaluated not only on their dancing, but for their fitness as a sexual companion too? This was like hearing I had a terminal, flesh-eating disease.
If this is true, then I make love like a cornered chimpanzee with a permanent fight-or-flight grimace on his face. This means that I screw like a bike wreck. That girl’s innocent comment about how dancing was a surrogate for sexual ability permanently welded my dancing doors shut.
Reason #3 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
Look, I don’t want to play the race card. But White Man’s Overbite (WMO) is alive and real. Scientists are researching the roots of this devastating condition. The Nurture Camp says we learn WMO from behavioral models and situations early in our childhood. The Nature Camp says the dark source of WMO is locked deep inside our genetic code. I choose Aristotle’s golden mean and say it’s both.
Regardless of WMO’s origin, the dance floors of the world are a cold place indeed for WMO sufferers such as myself. For all the progress we’ve made in the area of civil rights, it is an indisputable fact that people with WMO are constantly told to sit in the back of the dancing bus. And I just don’t have what it takes to be a Rosa Parks of the shuttered dancing class. I’m just not that strong.
Reason #4 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
Let’s be honest. Dance music sucks. I mean… I’m not an aficionado of dance music (obviously), but every single time I’ve ever been dragged into a club I’ve been assaulted with that old familiar whump-whump pumping away at some ass shaking BPM. Oh I know… there are endless subtle, nuanced variations of this thing we call “electronic music”. To wit:
Ambient house
Ambient industrial
Ambient techno
Black ambient
Dark ambient
Drone music
Illbient
Lowercase
Psybient
Baltimore Club
Big beat
Broken beat
Chemical breaks
Florida breaks
Nu skool breaks
Progressive breaks
Cosmic disco
Dance-punk
Eurodance
Euro disco
Hi-NRG
Italo dance
Italo disco
Spacesynth
Synthpop
Acid jazz
Balearic Beat
Chill out
Minimal Electronica
Glitch
Nu jazz
Trip hop (aka The Bristol Sound)
Berlin School
Electroacoustic
Dirty electronic
Electro backbeat (aka anthem breaks)
Electroclash
Electropop
Freestyle music
Bitpop
Chiptune
Downtempo
Folktronica
Futurepop
Glitch
IDM
Nu Jazz
Synthpop
Synthpunk
Trip hop
Speed garage
2-step
4x4
Breakstep (aka Breakbeat garage)
Dubstep
Grime (aka Sublow/8-bar/Eskibeat)
Bassline (aka 'Niche')
Funky
4-beat
Bouncy techno
Breakbeat Hardcore
Breakcore
Darkcore
Digital hardcore
Doomcore
Freeform hardcore
Gabber
Happy hardcore
Hardstyle
Jumpstyle
Makina
Noisecore
Speedcore
UK Hardcore
Acid house
Bubblegum dance
Chicago house
Dark house
Deep house
Disco house
Electro house
French house
Freestyle house
(US) Garage
Ghetto house
Grind house
Hi-NRG
UK Hard house
Hip house
Italo house
Jumpstyle (Chicago hard house)
Kwaito
Latin house
Merenhouse
Minimal house/Microhouse
Pumpin' house
Progressive house
Skacid
Tribal house
Tech house
Martial music
Neofolk
Post-Industrial
Electronic body music
Coldwave
Dark electro
Futurepop
Noise music
Power noise
Technoid
Clownstep
Darkstep
Drumfunk
Futurestep
Hardstep
Intelligent drum and bass
Jump-Up
Liquid funk
Neurofunk
Ragga jungle
Raggacore
Sambass
Techstep
Trancestep (aka Electrostep)
Acid techno
BrainDance
Detroit techno
Freetekno
Ghettotech
IDM
Jtek
Minimal techno
New beat
Nortec
Rave music
Schranz
Wonky techno
Acid trance
Ambient trance
Classic trance
Dream trance
Euro-trance
Hard trance
Hardstyle
Nu-NRG
Progressive trance
Psychedelic trance/Goa trance
Full on
Goa trance
Dark psytrance
Nitzhonot
Progressive psytrance
Psybient
Psybreaks
South African psytrance
Suomisaundi
Tech trance
Uplifting trance/Epic trance
Vocal trance
Space music
New Age music
Ethnic electronica
New Wave music
New Romantic
Dark Wave
Ethereal Wave
To me, this dizzying list just proves that there are 166 ways to say “I suck”. My point: dance music doesn’t inspire me to do anything other than leave the area.
[By the way, If I ever were to dance, it would be to Tom Waits’ song, “Cold Water”. I would stomp, drunkenly, as if I had a peg leg, in the center of the dance floor and not give a god damn who was watchin’.]
Reason #5 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
I think of dancing as a series of seamlessly interconnected “moves”. Kind of like chords in a song. Well… if my dancing was a song, it would be 4 minutes of someone playing a G chord on an out of tune guitar. Or put another way, I dance like a bad open mic night.
Reason #6 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
I have tried dancing once in my life. It was a long time ago. Wanna know what I learned? I learned that I think entirely too damn much to dance. My internal monologue rivaled a champion chess player evaluating his next move. I nearly overheated my cranium wondering “WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO NEXT?” I ran out of moves after 9 seconds, after which I grinned and randomly gyrated like a retard in front of that poor, poor girl.
Reason #7 Why I Don’t Dance (But You Should)
Okay. Here’s an admission: I secretly believe that I am the world’s best dancer. But only if the song is 9 seconds in length. If songs lasted 9 seconds, I would be a frickin’ solid gold dancer. I can bust a mutha-humpin’ MOVE for 9 seconds. (Ahem... is dancing really like sex? Dammit!) I look guh-ood for that first 9 seconds. But then, my mind kicks into gear. I begin thinking… and I run out of moves. Yes. I just said “moves”. That’s another problem… See Reason # 5.
Why You Should Dance In My Place
The denouement of this unpleasant dance confession, of course, is that you, Dear Reader, have to dance in my place. There are John-shaped spaces on dance floors across America tonight. Lonely, sad, empty spaces on the dance floor, waiting to be filled with your gorgeous self. I need you to dance for me. It’s your civic duty. And when you are out there, letting yourself go, shake it, just once, for me.
Besides, we all wanna see what you’d be like in bed. I bet you’re a natural.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Why do I do this to myself? (1st Olympic Dist TRI)
Last summer, I did my first triathlon... a mostly sprint distance up at the Boulder Reservoir (click here to read all about it). I forget the name... it was for a charity thing. Anyway, I promised myself that I'd do an Olympic distance triathlon THIS summer. (1500 meter swim, 40K bike, 10K run)
It seemed like a worthy goal... something to shoot for... double the distance.
Well, it's "this summer".
I tried to find the latest one in the season that was still being held in Colorado... because even though I've been training pretty consistently since this winter, my running distances have been WAY less than a 10K. Mostly because of 1) an ankle injury and 2) a 3 or 4 week period where I just stopped giving a shit. I almost totally fell off the training wagon.
Imagine my terror and deep disappointment this week, when I realized that the last Olympic distance TRI of the summer is August 16th -- the Rattlesnake Triathlon. That's like 4 weeks from today.
So... I have 36 days to try and prepare myself for what will most certainly be a suffer-fest for Johnny Boy.
I suppose I could just curl up into a fetal position, in a closet, and star in my own weepy, pathetic meltdown movie scene... But instead, I'm gonna use THIS BLOG ENTRY to get my anxiety under control. And I'm dragging you with me, Dear Reader.
Let's break this thing down, sport by sport:
THE SWIM
Distance: 1500 meters
Mitigating Conditions:
A big ass reservoir -- i.e. deep open water. Oh, and I'll be surrounded by a hungry pack of amped up, semi-professional, amphibious, highly competitive, cardio-honed, hardened triathletes -- the real kind. Imagine that aerial photo: me, semi-drowning but trying to act cool about it, in a churning, foaming, triathlete blender.
My Strategy:
That's a cat's whisker less than a mile. (actually, about 100 meters less, but I wanted to say "cat's whisker"). Yes, I can swim 1500 meters. Not fast... or anything even remotely resembling fast. But I can do it... It's at the top of my swimming ability though... and I'll be doing a lot of breast stroke (as opposed to the more exhausting freestyle)... I use it as basically a rest stroke in the middle of long swims. Faith. I'll have faith in all the swimming I've been doing this summer. And I'll probably let the gun go off and get in the water last... let the fish-men and fish-women fight it out. I just have to stay relaxed and calm. Freaking out and hyperventilating in 50 feet of water is something I'd like to avoid.
THE BIKE
Distance: 40K or 24.8 miles
Mitigating Conditions:
Other than a strong head wind, a flat tire, a gnarly wreck or mega-hilly terrain, I don't think I'll run into any awfulness on the bike.
My Strategy:
This should be okay -- another bike workout I've been doing long rides once a week for weeks and weeks now. Again, I won't be fast, compared to everyone else (are you sensing a personal trend here? I'm SLOW), but this will be the easiest part of the race for me. I just need to get in the zone, knock it out and mentally prepare myself for the run that will be waiting for me, 24.8 miles down the road...
THE RUN
Distance: 10K or 6.2 miles
Mitigating Conditions:
As the third part of the race, it'll be late morning (for me) by the time I get to the run. I'm anticipating the following: 1) it's gonna be FUCKING HOT; 2) my legs will be feeling pretty darn tired; 3) I'll be feeling a little like a loser after spending the last 2+ hours being passed by everyone else in the race -- i.e. low motivation.
My Strategy:
Hmmm... The truth is, the moment I climb out of the water, having successfully avoided a drowning incident in the reservoir, I'll know the rest of the race will be about getting to the run and just gutting it out. I think it will mostly be about me controlling my mind... or... countering my suffering thoughts with strength thoughts. I normally take an hour to do a 10K (told ya I was slow) -- that's when I'm fresh. So I'm preparing myself to be running (walking?) for as long as an hour and a half after being all tuckered out from the swim and the bike. So here are the thoughts I'm pretty certain that I'm going to have during the run:
SUFFER BRAIN: "It's hot"
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: It's really not that bad, and besides this is temporary. Stay strong. You'll feel proud and really good when you cross the finish line, strong. Gut it out.
SUFFER BRAIN: "My legs have no energy. My form is shit. I feel clunky and slow."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: It's really not that bad, and besides this is temporary. Stay strong. You'll feel proud and really good when you cross the finish line, strong. Focus on a smooth form and breathe through it... get into a rhythm.
SUFFER BRAIN: "I want to walk."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: No you don't. Quitting feels WAY WORSE than suffering. Think of one of the 5 new songs you just wrote. How would they sound on the new record? Arrangement? Instruments? How should we record each song?
SUFFER BRAIN: "Wow. That 85 year old woman just passed me. I'm a loser. Why did I do this race? I shouldn't be here."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: Bullshit. BEING HERE is what it's about. You're doing great. It's about HOW you do the race, not where you finish. Besides, if you REALLY want to, you can find that old woman after the race and punch her in the spleen. KIDDING!
Hmmm...
I think that helped.
Okay. I gotta go work out now...
It seemed like a worthy goal... something to shoot for... double the distance.
Well, it's "this summer".
I tried to find the latest one in the season that was still being held in Colorado... because even though I've been training pretty consistently since this winter, my running distances have been WAY less than a 10K. Mostly because of 1) an ankle injury and 2) a 3 or 4 week period where I just stopped giving a shit. I almost totally fell off the training wagon.
Imagine my terror and deep disappointment this week, when I realized that the last Olympic distance TRI of the summer is August 16th -- the Rattlesnake Triathlon. That's like 4 weeks from today.
So... I have 36 days to try and prepare myself for what will most certainly be a suffer-fest for Johnny Boy.
I suppose I could just curl up into a fetal position, in a closet, and star in my own weepy, pathetic meltdown movie scene... But instead, I'm gonna use THIS BLOG ENTRY to get my anxiety under control. And I'm dragging you with me, Dear Reader.
Let's break this thing down, sport by sport:
THE SWIM
Distance: 1500 meters
Mitigating Conditions:
A big ass reservoir -- i.e. deep open water. Oh, and I'll be surrounded by a hungry pack of amped up, semi-professional, amphibious, highly competitive, cardio-honed, hardened triathletes -- the real kind. Imagine that aerial photo: me, semi-drowning but trying to act cool about it, in a churning, foaming, triathlete blender.
My Strategy:
That's a cat's whisker less than a mile. (actually, about 100 meters less, but I wanted to say "cat's whisker"). Yes, I can swim 1500 meters. Not fast... or anything even remotely resembling fast. But I can do it... It's at the top of my swimming ability though... and I'll be doing a lot of breast stroke (as opposed to the more exhausting freestyle)... I use it as basically a rest stroke in the middle of long swims. Faith. I'll have faith in all the swimming I've been doing this summer. And I'll probably let the gun go off and get in the water last... let the fish-men and fish-women fight it out. I just have to stay relaxed and calm. Freaking out and hyperventilating in 50 feet of water is something I'd like to avoid.
THE BIKE
Distance: 40K or 24.8 miles
Mitigating Conditions:
Other than a strong head wind, a flat tire, a gnarly wreck or mega-hilly terrain, I don't think I'll run into any awfulness on the bike.
My Strategy:
This should be okay -- another bike workout I've been doing long rides once a week for weeks and weeks now. Again, I won't be fast, compared to everyone else (are you sensing a personal trend here? I'm SLOW), but this will be the easiest part of the race for me. I just need to get in the zone, knock it out and mentally prepare myself for the run that will be waiting for me, 24.8 miles down the road...
THE RUN
Distance: 10K or 6.2 miles
Mitigating Conditions:
As the third part of the race, it'll be late morning (for me) by the time I get to the run. I'm anticipating the following: 1) it's gonna be FUCKING HOT; 2) my legs will be feeling pretty darn tired; 3) I'll be feeling a little like a loser after spending the last 2+ hours being passed by everyone else in the race -- i.e. low motivation.
My Strategy:
Hmmm... The truth is, the moment I climb out of the water, having successfully avoided a drowning incident in the reservoir, I'll know the rest of the race will be about getting to the run and just gutting it out. I think it will mostly be about me controlling my mind... or... countering my suffering thoughts with strength thoughts. I normally take an hour to do a 10K (told ya I was slow) -- that's when I'm fresh. So I'm preparing myself to be running (walking?) for as long as an hour and a half after being all tuckered out from the swim and the bike. So here are the thoughts I'm pretty certain that I'm going to have during the run:
SUFFER BRAIN: "It's hot"
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: It's really not that bad, and besides this is temporary. Stay strong. You'll feel proud and really good when you cross the finish line, strong. Gut it out.
SUFFER BRAIN: "My legs have no energy. My form is shit. I feel clunky and slow."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: It's really not that bad, and besides this is temporary. Stay strong. You'll feel proud and really good when you cross the finish line, strong. Focus on a smooth form and breathe through it... get into a rhythm.
SUFFER BRAIN: "I want to walk."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: No you don't. Quitting feels WAY WORSE than suffering. Think of one of the 5 new songs you just wrote. How would they sound on the new record? Arrangement? Instruments? How should we record each song?
SUFFER BRAIN: "Wow. That 85 year old woman just passed me. I'm a loser. Why did I do this race? I shouldn't be here."
STRONG BRAIN RESPONSE: Bullshit. BEING HERE is what it's about. You're doing great. It's about HOW you do the race, not where you finish. Besides, if you REALLY want to, you can find that old woman after the race and punch her in the spleen. KIDDING!
Hmmm...
I think that helped.
Okay. I gotta go work out now...
Monday, July 07, 2008
My Brothers Were In The KISS ARMY
When I was a little kid, my two older brothers were both privates in the KISS ARMY. (Did that mean they kissed privates?)
I watched their indoctrination from across the hallway in a dazed-but-fascinated stupor. I didn't quite know what to make of this kind of hero worship. I just knew that my brothers were pretty cool... so I kind of assumed that their KISS fetish was cool too?
Hey, that was my "normal". Don't judge.
At one point in the late 1970s, I think it was reported that KISS actually had the world's 5th largest army after the US, USSR, South Korea and Iraq.
Impressive.
Thank God my brothers never actually had to go to battle though... Even though they had cool uniforms (3/4 sleeve concert t-shirts, tight jeans and pooka shell necklaces) they would have been woefully unprepared for a real fight. Their meager weaponry would have only included:
1) A cardboard Gene Simmons Battle Axe Bass.
2) A fanatical ability to scream "I... ... WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT... ... AND PARTY EV-UH-REE DAY!!!" like crazed bozos.
3) And a pervasive-but-vague, homoerotic love for big-haired men in greasepaint, medieval battle gear, high heeled boots and tight trousers. If you can call that a weapon.
At the time, I really wished that I was older... so that I could have answered the call. I wanted to do my part. I wanted to join my brothers in whatever fight the KISS ARMY was preparing for. But I was just a kid... to0 young for the army.
My destiny didn't include joining the army. Any army.
Looking back, I now see the debt my brothers paid for me. Their commitment to something much, much larger than themselves. I honor their service. Are they heroes or were they just doing their job? I suppose we each have to answer that question for ourselves, in the quiet of our own hearts.
I know what I think.
I'm just glad they got out alive.
I watched their indoctrination from across the hallway in a dazed-but-fascinated stupor. I didn't quite know what to make of this kind of hero worship. I just knew that my brothers were pretty cool... so I kind of assumed that their KISS fetish was cool too?
Hey, that was my "normal". Don't judge.
At one point in the late 1970s, I think it was reported that KISS actually had the world's 5th largest army after the US, USSR, South Korea and Iraq.
Impressive.
Thank God my brothers never actually had to go to battle though... Even though they had cool uniforms (3/4 sleeve concert t-shirts, tight jeans and pooka shell necklaces) they would have been woefully unprepared for a real fight. Their meager weaponry would have only included:
1) A cardboard Gene Simmons Battle Axe Bass.
2) A fanatical ability to scream "I... ... WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT... ... AND PARTY EV-UH-REE DAY!!!" like crazed bozos.
3) And a pervasive-but-vague, homoerotic love for big-haired men in greasepaint, medieval battle gear, high heeled boots and tight trousers. If you can call that a weapon.
At the time, I really wished that I was older... so that I could have answered the call. I wanted to do my part. I wanted to join my brothers in whatever fight the KISS ARMY was preparing for. But I was just a kid... to0 young for the army.
My destiny didn't include joining the army. Any army.
Looking back, I now see the debt my brothers paid for me. Their commitment to something much, much larger than themselves. I honor their service. Are they heroes or were they just doing their job? I suppose we each have to answer that question for ourselves, in the quiet of our own hearts.
I know what I think.
I'm just glad they got out alive.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Messed Up
Wrote this one a month ago. Starting to demo it for the new record maybe... (below)
Messed Up
copyright 2008 john common music
I thought i knew
Everything there was to know
About myself
I didn't need to grow anymore
I had it all figured out
But then you walked in
Aww girl…
You messed me up again
You have this way
Of making things so clear
And it can hurt
But when it hurts, you're here
Hanging tough, you don't run
When i take one on the chin
Aww girl…
You messed me up again
Messed up
Broke down
But open
Ready
And waiting
For something
Maybe good…
Would it be such a sin?
Girl, you messed me up again
We never choose
The time or place we let go
It just shows up
And then the next thing you know
You're crying out, scared to death
Wondering how it's gonna end
Aww girl…
You messed me up again
Messed up
Broke down
But open
Ready
And waiting
For something
Maybe good…
Would it be such a sin?
Girl, you messed me up again
Here's a very rough demo:
Messed Up
copyright 2008 john common music
I thought i knew
Everything there was to know
About myself
I didn't need to grow anymore
I had it all figured out
But then you walked in
Aww girl…
You messed me up again
You have this way
Of making things so clear
And it can hurt
But when it hurts, you're here
Hanging tough, you don't run
When i take one on the chin
Aww girl…
You messed me up again
Messed up
Broke down
But open
Ready
And waiting
For something
Maybe good…
Would it be such a sin?
Girl, you messed me up again
We never choose
The time or place we let go
It just shows up
And then the next thing you know
You're crying out, scared to death
Wondering how it's gonna end
Aww girl…
You messed me up again
Messed up
Broke down
But open
Ready
And waiting
For something
Maybe good…
Would it be such a sin?
Girl, you messed me up again
Here's a very rough demo:
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Love's A Shark
My good friend just got her heart utterly broken... She came over this morning and told me the whole story of how it all went down. She was a wreck. I tried my best to make her feel better... to let her know that she and everything else was going to be okay. As she was leaving, she said she felt better. But she was just being nice, I think.
I decided not to go out tonight... I was just sitting around, bored. And then I wrote this song. Evidently, I was thinking about her and her story and how love generally wrecks us. Usually in the best of ways...
Hope you like it. It's kinda weird. I wrote it and immediately recorded it with my shitty laptop microphone:
love's a shark
july 5, 2008
love is stalking you
it's parked at the end of your block
when you walk away from love
it loves the way you walk
love is following you
it can swim faster than your car
you're getting drunk next to love, babe
it followed you in this bar
love is creepy
love is dark
love is scary
'cause love's a shark
it's gonna eat you, take you to the bottom
of a deep dark hole
but it's the thing you need
you know you want to bleed
baby, love's a shark
baby, love's a shark
love can swim through bedroom walls
it knows when you cry
you can curse and you can kick it
but you still can't make love die
love didn’t crown you lonely
you did that on your own
but it'll be there waiting
when you come down off your throne
love is creepy
love is dark
love is scary
'cause love's a shark
it's gonna eat you, take you to the bottom
of a deep dark hole
but it's the thing you need
you know you want to bleed
baby, love's a shark
baby, baby
baby, baby
baby, love's a shark
I decided not to go out tonight... I was just sitting around, bored. And then I wrote this song. Evidently, I was thinking about her and her story and how love generally wrecks us. Usually in the best of ways...
Hope you like it. It's kinda weird. I wrote it and immediately recorded it with my shitty laptop microphone:
love's a shark
july 5, 2008
love is stalking you
it's parked at the end of your block
when you walk away from love
it loves the way you walk
love is following you
it can swim faster than your car
you're getting drunk next to love, babe
it followed you in this bar
love is creepy
love is dark
love is scary
'cause love's a shark
it's gonna eat you, take you to the bottom
of a deep dark hole
but it's the thing you need
you know you want to bleed
baby, love's a shark
baby, love's a shark
love can swim through bedroom walls
it knows when you cry
you can curse and you can kick it
but you still can't make love die
love didn’t crown you lonely
you did that on your own
but it'll be there waiting
when you come down off your throne
love is creepy
love is dark
love is scary
'cause love's a shark
it's gonna eat you, take you to the bottom
of a deep dark hole
but it's the thing you need
you know you want to bleed
baby, love's a shark
baby, baby
baby, baby
baby, love's a shark
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Messed Up
messed up
I thought I knew
everything there was to know
about myself
I didn't need to grow anymore
I had it all figured out
but then you walked in
aww girl…
you messed me up again
you have this way
of making things so clear
and it can hurt
but when it hurts, you're here
hanging tough, you don't run
when I take one on the chin
aww girl…
you messed me up again
messed up
broke down
but open
ready
and waiting
for something
maybe good…
would it be such a sin?
girl, you messed me up again
we never choose
the time or place we let go
it just shows up
and then the next thing you know
you're crying out, scared to death
wondering how it's gonna end
aww girl…
you messed me up again
messed up
broke down
but open
ready
and waiting
for something
maybe good…
would it be such a sin?
girl, you messed me up again
I thought I knew
everything there was to know
about myself
I didn't need to grow anymore
I had it all figured out
but then you walked in
aww girl…
you messed me up again
you have this way
of making things so clear
and it can hurt
but when it hurts, you're here
hanging tough, you don't run
when I take one on the chin
aww girl…
you messed me up again
messed up
broke down
but open
ready
and waiting
for something
maybe good…
would it be such a sin?
girl, you messed me up again
we never choose
the time or place we let go
it just shows up
and then the next thing you know
you're crying out, scared to death
wondering how it's gonna end
aww girl…
you messed me up again
messed up
broke down
but open
ready
and waiting
for something
maybe good…
would it be such a sin?
girl, you messed me up again
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Greeting Cards
I was thinking... maybe I should quit music and become a greeting card writer. The pay's probably about the same... but there'd be less hauling of gear.
Here are some card messages I wrote this morning:
ROMANCE:
If I could shrink you and put you in a locket and put that locket around the neck of an owl and set that owl free in an ancient forest filled with owl-worshiping pygmies, I'd do that.
Sometimes, you make me want to stab you in the neck with a fork. But then you do something cute like try to secretly pick your nose and it makes me love you again. We're good for each other.
Sorry for looking at that hot girl at the coffee shop. I didn't think you saw me. Love ya when you're mad?
Couples always make up cute names for each other like 'Kitten' or 'Sweetie' or 'Big Daddy'. Let's not do that.
In the morning, I try and wake up before you because I like to watch you sleep. Mostly, because you drool. And I laugh at you. Right there, drooling in your sleep.
"I love you" doesn't really cut it some days. Some days you have to say, "Thanks for putting up with my meth habit".
I'd shave my head and learn Chinese for you.
(Honestly, I'm hoping you won't call my bluff on that, as I'm pretty bad with languages and a little vain.)
FRIENDSHIP:
If we were stranded in a sinking boat in the middle of the Caspian Sea and a huge stork swooped down to save us and that stork said "I can only take one of you..." Well, let's hope that doesn't happen. But I really do like you.
I believe, in a former life, you and I worked in the same sweater factory somewhere in Malaysia. We shared smoke breaks and talked about the communists together. Good times.
I believe that in a former life, you and I shared a stable. We were horses on a farm together... You, a proud Andalusian... Me, a common quarter horse with a bum leg. You were kind to me back then too. Thanks for the hay.
Friendship means so many things to different people… trust, loyalty, understanding. Or, in our case, a clean pair of pants and a place to sleep it off.
You've been forgetting a lot of things lately. One example: my birthday.
I love how your glass is always half full... of shit.
Wanna know how I know we're best friends? 'Cause you forgave me for sleeping with your wife. Wait. Didn't she tell you?
Here are some card messages I wrote this morning:
ROMANCE:
If I could shrink you and put you in a locket and put that locket around the neck of an owl and set that owl free in an ancient forest filled with owl-worshiping pygmies, I'd do that.
Sometimes, you make me want to stab you in the neck with a fork. But then you do something cute like try to secretly pick your nose and it makes me love you again. We're good for each other.
Sorry for looking at that hot girl at the coffee shop. I didn't think you saw me. Love ya when you're mad?
Couples always make up cute names for each other like 'Kitten' or 'Sweetie' or 'Big Daddy'. Let's not do that.
In the morning, I try and wake up before you because I like to watch you sleep. Mostly, because you drool. And I laugh at you. Right there, drooling in your sleep.
"I love you" doesn't really cut it some days. Some days you have to say, "Thanks for putting up with my meth habit".
I'd shave my head and learn Chinese for you.
(Honestly, I'm hoping you won't call my bluff on that, as I'm pretty bad with languages and a little vain.)
FRIENDSHIP:
If we were stranded in a sinking boat in the middle of the Caspian Sea and a huge stork swooped down to save us and that stork said "I can only take one of you..." Well, let's hope that doesn't happen. But I really do like you.
I believe, in a former life, you and I worked in the same sweater factory somewhere in Malaysia. We shared smoke breaks and talked about the communists together. Good times.
I believe that in a former life, you and I shared a stable. We were horses on a farm together... You, a proud Andalusian... Me, a common quarter horse with a bum leg. You were kind to me back then too. Thanks for the hay.
Friendship means so many things to different people… trust, loyalty, understanding. Or, in our case, a clean pair of pants and a place to sleep it off.
You've been forgetting a lot of things lately. One example: my birthday.
I love how your glass is always half full... of shit.
Wanna know how I know we're best friends? 'Cause you forgave me for sleeping with your wife. Wait. Didn't she tell you?
Monday, June 16, 2008
Westword Music Showcase Review
I’d seen John Common perform Tom Waits’ brilliant album Rain Dogs in its entirety twice. Any guy who’s that big of Waits fan is all right in my book. When Common played his new “love song” called “Go to Hell With Me,” I heard a bit of Waits in there. After he played “The Dreamers,” Common asked the crowd if they wanted to hear something intense or pretty and beautiful. The crowd seemed to be split, but Common decided on something pretty, and played “Good Heart,” with some sublime vocal help from the lovely Jess De Nicola Mefford.
-- Jon Solomon, Westword
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Wonder... from David James Duncan
I've been reading a lot of David James Duncan -- one of my favorite writers. (Get a copy of "River Teeth" from Amazon when you can. They're cheap! A fantastic collection of short stories.)
Anyhow... I read this passage earlier today and it jumped out at me:
Wonder is my second favorite condition to be in, after love, and I sometimes wonder whether there's a difference; maybe love is just wonder aimed at a beloved.
Wonder is like grace, in that's it's not a condition we grasp; it grasps us.
Wonder is not an obligatory element in the search for truth. We can seek truth without wonder's assistance. But seek is all we'll do; there will be no finding. Unless wonder descends, unlocks us, turns us as slack-jawed as plastic shepherds, truth is unable to enter. Wonder may be the aura of truth, the halo of it. Or something even closer. Wonder maybe the caress of truth... touching our very skin.
Philosophically speaking, wonder is crucial to the discovery of knowledge, yet has everything to do with ignorance. By this I mean that only an admission of our ignorance can open us to fresh knowings. Wonder is the experience of that admission: wonder is unknowing, experienced as pleasure.
Punctuationally speaking, wonder is a period at the end of a statement we've long taken for granted, suddenly looking up an seeing the sinuous curve or a tall black hat on its head, and realizing it was a question mark all along.
As a facial expression, wonder is the letter O our eyes and mouths make when the state itself descends. O: God's middle initial. O: because wonder Opens us.
Wonder is anything taken for granted -- the old neighborhood, old job, old life, old spouse -- suddenly filling with mystery. Wonder is anything closed, suddenly opening: anything at all opening -- which, alas, includes Pandora's Box, and brings me to the dark side of the thing. Grateful as I am for this condition, wonder has -- like everything on Earth -- a dark side. Heartbreak, grief, and suffering rend openings in us through which the dark kind of wonder pours. I have so far found it impossible to feel spontaneously grateful for these violent openings. But when, after struggle, I've been able to turn a corner and at least accept the opening, the dark form of wonder has invariably helped me endure the heartbreak, the suffering, the grief.
Wonder is not curiosity. Wonder is to curiosity what ecstasy is to mere pleasure. Wonder is not astonishment, either. Astonishment is too brief. The only limit to the duration of wonder is the limit of our ability to remain open.
I believe some people live in a state of constant wonder. I believe they're the best people on Earth. I believe it is wonder, even more than fidelity, that keeps marriages alive. I believe it's wonder, even more than courage, that conquers fear of death. I believe it is wonder, not D.A.R.E. bumper stickers, the keeps kids off drugs. I believe, speaking of bumper stickers, that it's wonder, even more than me, who I want to "HUG MY KIDS YET TODAY," because wonder can keep on hugging them, long after I'm gone.
-- David James Duncan, from 6 Henry Stories
Anyhow... I read this passage earlier today and it jumped out at me:
Wonder is my second favorite condition to be in, after love, and I sometimes wonder whether there's a difference; maybe love is just wonder aimed at a beloved.
Wonder is like grace, in that's it's not a condition we grasp; it grasps us.
Wonder is not an obligatory element in the search for truth. We can seek truth without wonder's assistance. But seek is all we'll do; there will be no finding. Unless wonder descends, unlocks us, turns us as slack-jawed as plastic shepherds, truth is unable to enter. Wonder may be the aura of truth, the halo of it. Or something even closer. Wonder maybe the caress of truth... touching our very skin.
Philosophically speaking, wonder is crucial to the discovery of knowledge, yet has everything to do with ignorance. By this I mean that only an admission of our ignorance can open us to fresh knowings. Wonder is the experience of that admission: wonder is unknowing, experienced as pleasure.
Punctuationally speaking, wonder is a period at the end of a statement we've long taken for granted, suddenly looking up an seeing the sinuous curve or a tall black hat on its head, and realizing it was a question mark all along.
As a facial expression, wonder is the letter O our eyes and mouths make when the state itself descends. O: God's middle initial. O: because wonder Opens us.
Wonder is anything taken for granted -- the old neighborhood, old job, old life, old spouse -- suddenly filling with mystery. Wonder is anything closed, suddenly opening: anything at all opening -- which, alas, includes Pandora's Box, and brings me to the dark side of the thing. Grateful as I am for this condition, wonder has -- like everything on Earth -- a dark side. Heartbreak, grief, and suffering rend openings in us through which the dark kind of wonder pours. I have so far found it impossible to feel spontaneously grateful for these violent openings. But when, after struggle, I've been able to turn a corner and at least accept the opening, the dark form of wonder has invariably helped me endure the heartbreak, the suffering, the grief.
Wonder is not curiosity. Wonder is to curiosity what ecstasy is to mere pleasure. Wonder is not astonishment, either. Astonishment is too brief. The only limit to the duration of wonder is the limit of our ability to remain open.
I believe some people live in a state of constant wonder. I believe they're the best people on Earth. I believe it is wonder, even more than fidelity, that keeps marriages alive. I believe it's wonder, even more than courage, that conquers fear of death. I believe it is wonder, not D.A.R.E. bumper stickers, the keeps kids off drugs. I believe, speaking of bumper stickers, that it's wonder, even more than me, who I want to "HUG MY KIDS YET TODAY," because wonder can keep on hugging them, long after I'm gone.
-- David James Duncan, from 6 Henry Stories
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Telluride Troubadour Contest!
May 31, 2008
Hi,
The folks who run the Telluride Bluegrass Festival's Troubadour Contest let me know that I was chosen as a finalist for their songwriter competition. This means I'll be playing the festival on Thursday this year! Who knows, if I do really well, I might play again on Friday. And if I win the whole damn thing (unlikely), I'll play the main stage on Saturday night!
The festival lineup this year includes Ani DiFranco, Ryan Adams, Arlo Guthrie, Bruce Hornsby, Paolo Nutini, Bela Fleck, Peter Rowan, The Frames, The Swell Season, Brett Dennen, Yonder Mountain String Band, Tift Merrit and a bunch of other artists... Cool!
~John
Hi,
The folks who run the Telluride Bluegrass Festival's Troubadour Contest let me know that I was chosen as a finalist for their songwriter competition. This means I'll be playing the festival on Thursday this year! Who knows, if I do really well, I might play again on Friday. And if I win the whole damn thing (unlikely), I'll play the main stage on Saturday night!
Wish me luck! It's an honor just to be a finalist.
The festival lineup this year includes Ani DiFranco, Ryan Adams, Arlo Guthrie, Bruce Hornsby, Paolo Nutini, Bela Fleck, Peter Rowan, The Frames, The Swell Season, Brett Dennen, Yonder Mountain String Band, Tift Merrit and a bunch of other artists... Cool!
~John
New Growth
new growth
june 1, 2008
it's spring. change and all that…
walking from the house to the car
the trees droop in front of us
burdened with green-ness
their branches heavy with new growth
it's exhausting sometimes.
we duck under, give them their space.
june 1, 2008
it's spring. change and all that…
walking from the house to the car
the trees droop in front of us
burdened with green-ness
their branches heavy with new growth
it's exhausting sometimes.
we duck under, give them their space.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
The PKO Idea Is Catching On... We're holding a seat for you!
Westword covered the People's Kazoo Orchestra idea!
Oh my...
Click the picture to read the Westword article!
Oh my...
Click the picture to read the Westword article!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
HJTWYASP Update: Let's Give It A Name
HJTWYASP (Hire-John-To-Write-You-A-Song-Program) Update:
A fan/friend, Julie, asked me to write a song about her life-long friend Tom. Here is some of what she wrote me:
...
John, Certainly Not Common, Common- Lucky me to have received your email today. I’ve been tirelessly searching for a one-of-a-kind gift for my swell friend, Tom. I out did my self last year in celebrating his birthday with a Mark Ryden General Sherman print.(Check out surreal pop at its best: http://buckheadcustomframes.typepad.com/bhcf/2007/05/mark_rydens_gen.html) I’ve searched high and low for something comparable. I even lied to him yesterday, saying I had a gift, but have yet to mail it. I am habitually tardy, but I seldom lie. Really, I promise you on both the tardy part and the lying part. Anyway the point being is, I finally stumbled upon his gift or you stumbled upon me. However, you would like to look at it, you are hired. I trust you, your emails make me smile. So a bit on Tom, Thomas, and a very small bit on me: We have been friends since, well, since a while ago. I think we met when we were 15. You can do the math or just make it up. Make him, us, feel young. He, I must say is one of my dearest friends (that is the wee bit on me) and I dare say coolest. Yes, by far the coolest. Anyway he is down with music, in fact he had a radio show on WMPG while he was living in Portland Maine. It should give you a good idea on his style. Farm fresh, I would say. He is studying for his Master’s in Creative Writing at Minnesota State University in Mankato. He is clever, wry and witty- a personality trifecta. He also loves baseball. In truth, and you know I am big on the truth, he is writing a book about his great, great uncle who pitched for the St. Paul Saints from 1921-23, and still holds the league record for most wins in a season (31 in 1923). He is married to a lovely gal, Cathy and the have a dog named Mabel. Oh and this might be something of interest, while living in Denver he worked as a bartender at Splinter’s from the Pine and the Cherry Cricket for quite sometime. I believe he was known as the Mayor of Denver far before there was a Hickenlooper. Well, I could continue on, but seeing as I am at work, I should probably put the brakes on for now.
Is that enough to get started? Let me know what you else you might need. I would like the song to be reflective of art, music, creativity, baseball spontaneity, youth and, of course, friendship. That being said you will probably need more information. Feel free to email or call me. I never answer my phones, so email is probably best. Or, hell if it would help I would be more than happy to buy you a beer or ten to discuss Tom’s Song. Annie had hers, I suppose it is Tom’s turn in 2008. Oh, I almost forgot it needs to be funny. Again, I trust you, I laugh every time I read your emails. I am very excited to see what happens. I love the idea. Simply perfect.
...
So I decided to key in on the friendship part... 'Cause, there's only so much you can pack into one song... Or, there's only so much I can pack into a song. And besides... it's a mysterious process... what makes a lyric or a chord "feel right" etc.
Anyway, I sent Julie an email to get some more info about her friendship with Tom. Here's what I wrote her:
julie,
could you tell me about the time when you knew he was your very good friend... and not just another acquaintance... or not just another love interest. but a real friend.
and tell me the top three things that you two really connect on.
and tell me the top three things that really piss you off about him.
and tell me the top three things that really piss him off about you.
i dunno... this info might be useful.
~john
...
Here's what she wrote back:
Hey John~
I think I first realized that we were goods and our friendship was that of longevity was in high school. I remember a particular occasion that seems defining. Tom and I, along with a group of friends, went on a hayride I believe for our friend’s birthday. Afterwards we all sat around the campfire. Tom and I talked non stop about how much we loved the TV show Batman (POW!). It was funny and I loved that we could embrace our inner dork-ness. I believe he even had a Batman action figure. Don’t know if we tossed him in the fire, but I imagine we did. SNAP! CRACKLE! POP! Also one night not sure if it was the summer before college or the first summer after our freshman year, anyway we were hanging out with the group and I drove him home and he asked me to come in so he could read me something from his favorite short story. I wish I could remember what the story was, but I thought it was incredibly cool that he didn’t want to show me his fish tank. I also liked his handwriting, I am a sucker for well crafted penmanship. And of course the real reason I knew we would be friends, he could buy beer, slo gin and peppermint schnapps. I think the guy at the liquor store called him and his friend the bow-tie brothers. They showed up wearing bow ties in order to appear older. I am not entirely sure that is a true story, but that is how I am remembering it. He also got me high for the first time and I threw up in El Chapultepec. Under age and high, makes for a great and lasting friendship.
Three things we really connect on:
Music
Art/Design/Writing/Film
Drinking
Three things that piss me off about him:
1. He smokes. At least he did. I saw him last summer for a quick moment and I don’t remember if he was smoking. Either way it bugs/bugged the shit out of me.
2. He lives in Minnesota.
3. He is smarter, more creative and funnier than I am.
Things about me that piss him off:
My teeth are whiter
I look good in pink.
I can burp part of the lyrics to Steely Dan’s Deacon Blue, specifically: They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose. They call Alabama the crimson tide. Call me deacon blues. Urp!
4. The last one might just be jealousy, so here is a fourth: I don’t vote.
Hope that helps... This is fun, thanks in advance!
~Julie
...
So I wrote this song. You can hear it below... Just hit the play button.
Let's Give It A Name
You used to dress up in a bow tie
Buying beer and getting high
Runnin' 'round like we would never die
Without a care
I made a scene. I was totally wrecked
That night in El Chapultepec.
You put your arm around my neck
And got me out of there.
We met a long time ago
And time's moving fast…
When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If my house was on fire you'd run right in
And pull me out of the flames
Oh, let's give it a name…
You're back in school 'cause you want to write
They say Mankato is a pretty sight
But I know Blue Earth is mostly white
In the winter
I'm still in Denver doing my own thing
Looking for work, waiting for spring
You got married but I'm better with flings
I'm a renter
We met a long time ago
But time moves fast, don't ya know?
When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If my house was on fire you'd run right in
Sure I could make it through this world without you
But I'm pretty glad that I don't have to
We met a long time ago
And time's moving fast…
When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If your house was on fire I'd run right in
When we're old
When we're old
When I screw up you step in
And you love me just the same
Oh, let's give it a name…
A fan/friend, Julie, asked me to write a song about her life-long friend Tom. Here is some of what she wrote me:
...
John, Certainly Not Common, Common- Lucky me to have received your email today. I’ve been tirelessly searching for a one-of-a-kind gift for my swell friend, Tom. I out did my self last year in celebrating his birthday with a Mark Ryden General Sherman print.(Check out surreal pop at its best: http://buckheadcustomframes.typepad.com/bhcf/2007/05/mark_rydens_gen.html) I’ve searched high and low for something comparable. I even lied to him yesterday, saying I had a gift, but have yet to mail it. I am habitually tardy, but I seldom lie. Really, I promise you on both the tardy part and the lying part. Anyway the point being is, I finally stumbled upon his gift or you stumbled upon me. However, you would like to look at it, you are hired. I trust you, your emails make me smile. So a bit on Tom, Thomas, and a very small bit on me: We have been friends since, well, since a while ago. I think we met when we were 15. You can do the math or just make it up. Make him, us, feel young. He, I must say is one of my dearest friends (that is the wee bit on me) and I dare say coolest. Yes, by far the coolest. Anyway he is down with music, in fact he had a radio show on WMPG while he was living in Portland Maine. It should give you a good idea on his style. Farm fresh, I would say. He is studying for his Master’s in Creative Writing at Minnesota State University in Mankato. He is clever, wry and witty- a personality trifecta. He also loves baseball. In truth, and you know I am big on the truth, he is writing a book about his great, great uncle who pitched for the St. Paul Saints from 1921-23, and still holds the league record for most wins in a season (31 in 1923). He is married to a lovely gal, Cathy and the have a dog named Mabel. Oh and this might be something of interest, while living in Denver he worked as a bartender at Splinter’s from the Pine and the Cherry Cricket for quite sometime. I believe he was known as the Mayor of Denver far before there was a Hickenlooper. Well, I could continue on, but seeing as I am at work, I should probably put the brakes on for now.
Is that enough to get started? Let me know what you else you might need. I would like the song to be reflective of art, music, creativity, baseball spontaneity, youth and, of course, friendship. That being said you will probably need more information. Feel free to email or call me. I never answer my phones, so email is probably best. Or, hell if it would help I would be more than happy to buy you a beer or ten to discuss Tom’s Song. Annie had hers, I suppose it is Tom’s turn in 2008. Oh, I almost forgot it needs to be funny. Again, I trust you, I laugh every time I read your emails. I am very excited to see what happens. I love the idea. Simply perfect.
...
So I decided to key in on the friendship part... 'Cause, there's only so much you can pack into one song... Or, there's only so much I can pack into a song. And besides... it's a mysterious process... what makes a lyric or a chord "feel right" etc.
Anyway, I sent Julie an email to get some more info about her friendship with Tom. Here's what I wrote her:
julie,
could you tell me about the time when you knew he was your very good friend... and not just another acquaintance... or not just another love interest. but a real friend.
and tell me the top three things that you two really connect on.
and tell me the top three things that really piss you off about him.
and tell me the top three things that really piss him off about you.
i dunno... this info might be useful.
~john
...
Here's what she wrote back:
Hey John~
I think I first realized that we were goods and our friendship was that of longevity was in high school. I remember a particular occasion that seems defining. Tom and I, along with a group of friends, went on a hayride I believe for our friend’s birthday. Afterwards we all sat around the campfire. Tom and I talked non stop about how much we loved the TV show Batman (POW!). It was funny and I loved that we could embrace our inner dork-ness. I believe he even had a Batman action figure. Don’t know if we tossed him in the fire, but I imagine we did. SNAP! CRACKLE! POP! Also one night not sure if it was the summer before college or the first summer after our freshman year, anyway we were hanging out with the group and I drove him home and he asked me to come in so he could read me something from his favorite short story. I wish I could remember what the story was, but I thought it was incredibly cool that he didn’t want to show me his fish tank. I also liked his handwriting, I am a sucker for well crafted penmanship. And of course the real reason I knew we would be friends, he could buy beer, slo gin and peppermint schnapps. I think the guy at the liquor store called him and his friend the bow-tie brothers. They showed up wearing bow ties in order to appear older. I am not entirely sure that is a true story, but that is how I am remembering it. He also got me high for the first time and I threw up in El Chapultepec. Under age and high, makes for a great and lasting friendship.
Three things we really connect on:
Music
Art/Design/Writing/Film
Drinking
Three things that piss me off about him:
1. He smokes. At least he did. I saw him last summer for a quick moment and I don’t remember if he was smoking. Either way it bugs/bugged the shit out of me.
2. He lives in Minnesota.
3. He is smarter, more creative and funnier than I am.
Things about me that piss him off:
My teeth are whiter
I look good in pink.
I can burp part of the lyrics to Steely Dan’s Deacon Blue, specifically: They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose. They call Alabama the crimson tide. Call me deacon blues. Urp!
4. The last one might just be jealousy, so here is a fourth: I don’t vote.
Hope that helps... This is fun, thanks in advance!
~Julie
...
So I wrote this song. You can hear it below... Just hit the play button.
Let's Give It A Name
You used to dress up in a bow tie
Buying beer and getting high
Runnin' 'round like we would never die
Without a care
I made a scene. I was totally wrecked
That night in El Chapultepec.
You put your arm around my neck
And got me out of there.
We met a long time ago
And time's moving fast…
When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If my house was on fire you'd run right in
And pull me out of the flames
Oh, let's give it a name…
You're back in school 'cause you want to write
They say Mankato is a pretty sight
But I know Blue Earth is mostly white
In the winter
I'm still in Denver doing my own thing
Looking for work, waiting for spring
You got married but I'm better with flings
I'm a renter
We met a long time ago
But time moves fast, don't ya know?
When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If my house was on fire you'd run right in
Sure I could make it through this world without you
But I'm pretty glad that I don't have to
We met a long time ago
And time's moving fast…
When we're old we'll still be friends.
That's the kind of thing this is
If your house was on fire I'd run right in
When we're old
When we're old
When I screw up you step in
And you love me just the same
Oh, let's give it a name…
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The After School Special Chord
I was working on a song last night, trying to match the music to some lyrics, when I bumped into the fabled AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL CHORD.
You know it when you hear it. We've all been trained by television to have a Pavlovian response to this sound.
It's the After School Special Chord...
The chord that they play immediately after bad news befalls one of our beloved main characters... It emphatically makes the point that ill winds are blowing, trouble is afoot and something wicked this way comes.
It is also an "acting law" that when the After School Special Chord sounds, our hero gets a faraway look and stares at the craft services table, behind camera three.
Here is my performance of the After School Special Chord, for you:
You know it when you hear it. We've all been trained by television to have a Pavlovian response to this sound.
It's the After School Special Chord...
The chord that they play immediately after bad news befalls one of our beloved main characters... It emphatically makes the point that ill winds are blowing, trouble is afoot and something wicked this way comes.
It is also an "acting law" that when the After School Special Chord sounds, our hero gets a faraway look and stares at the craft services table, behind camera three.
Here is my performance of the After School Special Chord, for you:
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
New song: Go to Hell (with me)
Another feel good summer dance hit from yours truly.
...
go to hell (with me)
oh the moon is a runaway girl
who sleeps on the streets
I've been whispering secrets
into the soles of her feet
your lamp's been asking questions
but I'm never gonna tell
girl, you love a criminal who wants to go to hell
go to hell… go to hell with me
they're reserving a table… I guarantee
I know people love to suffer
it makes them want to stay
your heart is made of silver
melt it down and hide it away
I'd even steal your shadow
when there's nothing left to sell
girl, you love a criminal who wants to go to hell
most people are born as beautiful blank slates
but on the day I was torn from my mom, it was already too late
you never should have loved me
what was going through your head?
now we're twisted like a cable
and holding on by a thread
if god is a magician
we could use another spell
girl, you love a criminal who wants to go to hell
go to hell… go to hell with me
they're reserving a table… I guarantee
go to hell… go to hell with me
go to hell… it's lovely
...
go to hell (with me)
oh the moon is a runaway girl
who sleeps on the streets
I've been whispering secrets
into the soles of her feet
your lamp's been asking questions
but I'm never gonna tell
girl, you love a criminal who wants to go to hell
go to hell… go to hell with me
they're reserving a table… I guarantee
I know people love to suffer
it makes them want to stay
your heart is made of silver
melt it down and hide it away
I'd even steal your shadow
when there's nothing left to sell
girl, you love a criminal who wants to go to hell
most people are born as beautiful blank slates
but on the day I was torn from my mom, it was already too late
you never should have loved me
what was going through your head?
now we're twisted like a cable
and holding on by a thread
if god is a magician
we could use another spell
girl, you love a criminal who wants to go to hell
go to hell… go to hell with me
they're reserving a table… I guarantee
go to hell… go to hell with me
go to hell… it's lovely
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Jay Farrar is a jerk. (In my dream.)
I've been having strange, gig/performance-related dreams lately.
Two mornings ago I dreamt that I was playing a show, opening for Jay Farrar (Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt). He was being an incredibly arrogant jerk... interrupting my opening set -- literally walking on stage in the middle of a song -- and saying, "Hey I wanna play a song right now. On your guitar." So I stopped and handed him my guitar... And as I did he said something like, "What's it like to see that I have more draw than you do in your own town?" Totally floored me. I thought for a second, grabbed my guitar back from him and said something like, "Give me my fucking guitar back you dumb prick."
Yikes. Not a lovely moment for either of us, really.
Mister Farrar, wherever you are... please accept my apology. You can interrupt my set any time and play a song on my guitar. I'd be honored.
Two mornings ago I dreamt that I was playing a show, opening for Jay Farrar (Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt). He was being an incredibly arrogant jerk... interrupting my opening set -- literally walking on stage in the middle of a song -- and saying, "Hey I wanna play a song right now. On your guitar." So I stopped and handed him my guitar... And as I did he said something like, "What's it like to see that I have more draw than you do in your own town?" Totally floored me. I thought for a second, grabbed my guitar back from him and said something like, "Give me my fucking guitar back you dumb prick."
Yikes. Not a lovely moment for either of us, really.
Mister Farrar, wherever you are... please accept my apology. You can interrupt my set any time and play a song on my guitar. I'd be honored.
Where the HELL is the stage? (In my dream.)
May 16, 2008
I took Tylenol PM last night because I hurt my leg doing something stupid. (Bounding up the stairs, my foot got caught on a stair and I came crashing down. Graceful, no?)
Anyway, Tylenol PM destroys me for some reason…
I dreamt that I was doing a standup comedy routine in a large theater – like the Fillmore, only about double or triple that size – that was packed with people. People were having a good time and laughing at what I was saying, but I was just sort of reacting to my ridiculous situation. Nothing was working for me about the performance, but I just kept rolling with it, sharing my thoughts as they came to me.
I’ve had these kinds of “performing for a crowd dreams” before. They almost always share these themes:
1) The crowd is relaxed and having a great time. The venue is totally packed. Kind of the perfect crowd/gig.
2) During the course of the dream, I get more and more stressed at the situation I’m in – there are always barriers being put between me and the audience. In this dream, the stage was filled with so many boxes that I couldn’t see over them to the audience and they couldn’t see me. Then I would move to try and find a better location and a curtain would be in the way... or light rigging... or a door would be locked. No matter where I looked or what I tried, I couldn’t get a clean and clear line of site to the audience.
3) There are always bored, semi-rude stagehand types (think stereotypical east coast union guys - sorry for the stereotype) directing / misdirecting me around the back of the theater. “Yeh, go down that hall, turn left, then go through your 3rd door, then turn right, then up the stairs, around the corner and through that gray door to the stage.”
4) The net effect of the above means that I end up performing for the audience with only my voice, since they can’t see me.
5) During this frustrating process of me moving around the theater/performing space, trying to maneuver into a spot to actually do my thing, I start getting more and more stressed because I can feel that I’m losing the crowd.
I woke from this morning’s dream as I was (finally) standing on a small stretch of stage, but the microphone stand was ridiculously complicated, hard-wired and set up in such a way that the microphone was literally 14 feet off the ground above my head. So there I was trying to do my show while I was pulling down the mic stand, disassembling this claptrap microphone contraption, literally taking it a part. I just ended up using my frustration as part of my routine.
Then I woke up.
...
Yes... I think I know what this dream is about. (Frustration with the life of being an independent artist... Awww, poor baby. I know.)
No need to comment on its obviousness. Unless you feel an overwhelming urge. It's just a recurring dream.
I took Tylenol PM last night because I hurt my leg doing something stupid. (Bounding up the stairs, my foot got caught on a stair and I came crashing down. Graceful, no?)
Anyway, Tylenol PM destroys me for some reason…
I dreamt that I was doing a standup comedy routine in a large theater – like the Fillmore, only about double or triple that size – that was packed with people. People were having a good time and laughing at what I was saying, but I was just sort of reacting to my ridiculous situation. Nothing was working for me about the performance, but I just kept rolling with it, sharing my thoughts as they came to me.
I’ve had these kinds of “performing for a crowd dreams” before. They almost always share these themes:
1) The crowd is relaxed and having a great time. The venue is totally packed. Kind of the perfect crowd/gig.
2) During the course of the dream, I get more and more stressed at the situation I’m in – there are always barriers being put between me and the audience. In this dream, the stage was filled with so many boxes that I couldn’t see over them to the audience and they couldn’t see me. Then I would move to try and find a better location and a curtain would be in the way... or light rigging... or a door would be locked. No matter where I looked or what I tried, I couldn’t get a clean and clear line of site to the audience.
3) There are always bored, semi-rude stagehand types (think stereotypical east coast union guys - sorry for the stereotype) directing / misdirecting me around the back of the theater. “Yeh, go down that hall, turn left, then go through your 3rd door, then turn right, then up the stairs, around the corner and through that gray door to the stage.”
4) The net effect of the above means that I end up performing for the audience with only my voice, since they can’t see me.
5) During this frustrating process of me moving around the theater/performing space, trying to maneuver into a spot to actually do my thing, I start getting more and more stressed because I can feel that I’m losing the crowd.
I woke from this morning’s dream as I was (finally) standing on a small stretch of stage, but the microphone stand was ridiculously complicated, hard-wired and set up in such a way that the microphone was literally 14 feet off the ground above my head. So there I was trying to do my show while I was pulling down the mic stand, disassembling this claptrap microphone contraption, literally taking it a part. I just ended up using my frustration as part of my routine.
Then I woke up.
...
Yes... I think I know what this dream is about. (Frustration with the life of being an independent artist... Awww, poor baby. I know.)
No need to comment on its obviousness. Unless you feel an overwhelming urge. It's just a recurring dream.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Why Birds Fly - Lyrics and album notes
JOHN COMMON
WHY BIRDS FLY
Copyright 2007. All rights reserved.
All songs by John Common (BMI)
Produced by John Common
Engineered by Scott Davies, Jeremy Lawton, John Common
Recorded at Emmasaurus Sound
Mixed and mastered by Jeremy Lawton
Art direction and design by John Common
Call
John Common – guitar, rhodes
Already There
John Common – guitar, vocals
Jeremy Lawton – conjunculator
way back, before I can remember
everything was shut down on me
I was living like a goldfish
swimming in my circle
waiting for a hand to pick me out
save me for later
when I'm less sedated
good god help me good
I'm already there
I was so lonely, living like a shut in
watching all my windows shut down
I got the silent treatment
then I started screaming
oh god come dig me out
save me for later
when I'm less sedated
oh good god help me good
I'm already there
the window is cold on my cheek
I'm getting old, don't you think
god help me good
I'm already there
mary interceding on my behalf
I need you now
it's early morning
the birds in the trees
are singing
Do You Hate
John Comon – guitars, wurlitzer, piano, samples, vocals
Scott Davies – drums, samples
Steve Millin – bass
Jeremy Lawton – backing vocals
do you hate your name
do you hate your face
do you hide your hands
do they give you away
does it make you sick
do you want to die
when you hear that voice
do you go inside
do you see your dad
and the things he did
when you lie awake
in an empty bed
do you close the door
and then cry all night
do you get pissed off
when you hear the truth
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies we fight
just gave up and went home
have you had enough
are you checking out
is it time to burn
this old wooden house
is it easier
is it better for you
when you disappear
step out of view
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies you fight
just gave up and went home
Moonlight
John Common – guitars, wurlitzer, piano, samples, vocals
Scott Davies – drums
Steve Millin – bass
Jeremy Lawton – conjunculator
Chris Eagleton - samples
Adam Lancaster - guitar
you hear it on the radio
late at night when you sleep
dreaming of your one true love
floating toward you on a troubled sea
waiting for you every night
the lover who would never leave
heaven falling from the sky
and it's a lie you want to believe
impossible but it's true
the lover from your dreams
landed on your window sill
and made it possible to believe
closer, closer still but don't ever tell a soul
studying her cotton dress
and how it slips down to the floor
everybody knows
the pain of a lonely man
everybody knows
you can't hold moonlight in your hands
chosen and you don't know why
waking from your secret sleep
back into this ugly life
where secrets are hidden deep
all the people who love to hate
all the people who love to kill
all the people who just want love
all the people who never will
everybody knows
the pain of a lonely man
everybody knows
the pain…
everybody knows
Before You Met Me
John Common – wurlitzer, rhodes, samples, vocals
Matt Gilliam – trumpet, fluegal horn
it's an ugly morning
bruised and weeping
every cliché is coming true
you knew I was broken
and you tried to fix me
impossible to do
I was gone before you met me
when things got rocky
we bailed the water
and we both drowned
without a clue
I let you float away
what was I thinking
letting go of you
you turned the corner
that makes me happy
'cause moving on
is what we do
Flesh Wound
John Comon – guitars, wurlitzer, samples, vocals
Scott Davies – drums, samples
Kevin Meyer – bass
Jed Marrs – backing vocals
flesh would, I'm bleeding a little
a reddish stain on this gray affair
it's triage at two in the morning
go find someone who cares
random, the way that I met you
spilling drinks all over the bar
in drunken delusions of grandeur
you helped me find my car
go on go. I'll stay home
go on go to your parties…
sorry to leave you suspended
twirling fingers in your hair
ask me all of your questions
I'm tired of truth or dare
I always seem to come undone
that tends to ruin all your fun
I'm such a drag to you, such a drag
I hope you find something better
I hope you find something better
I'll help you find someone better
simple is so complicated
everything good, everything bad
like walking away from a fire
where you lost all you had
Unseen Things
John Common – samples
Scott Davies – samples
You Stay
John Common – guitars, wurlitzer, piano, vocals
Scott Davies – drums, samples
Steve Millin – bass
I'm getting up and I aint coming back
she says this at the heart attack
third table from the back
I love you but when you lose your buzz
you see totally clear it aint like it was
even if it ever was
you don't want to see me I know
you don't want to see me so I'll go
you stay, you stay
I know I'll see you at the same old bars
drivin' around in your car
you're never too far
'cause no one ever has the balls to leave
they just make believe
like they're adam and eve
you don't want to see me I know
you don't want to see me so I'll go
you stay
Wrong Number
John Common – guitar, wurlitzer, vocals
Scott Davies – drums
Kevin Meyer – bass, backing vocals
Jed Marrs – backing vocals
I didn't know, that I was falling
it wasn't me, that you were calling
I close my eyes and hear you whisper words into my ear
words I thought that only I could hear but I was wrong
I stood alone, outside your building
you weren't home, I felt silly
maybe it's just better if we never even meet
I'd probably fall down at your feet and kiss the ground
but I can always dream
would I find the right words to say
could I make you turn the other way
maybe you could call me back today
I'll get along, just fine without you
I'll sing this song, instead of doubt you
it's easier than waiting by a phone that never rings
I'd rather sing alone than never sing, this is goodbye
but I can always dream
would I find the right words to say
could I make you turn the other way
maybe you could call me back today
Not So Bad
John Common – guitar, wurlitzer, samples, vocals
Jeremy Lawton - weisenborn
a deer in the snow scratching around
waiting to find something out
uncertainty, this solitude
all so bare, stripped away
crazy chance, foolish girl
I didn't know the mess I was
I want to know when I get home
you'll be there waiting for
me every day, work is a drag
go do the thing, money in
money out, money in
money out, money
it's a daily fight, we're suffering on
it's a daily walk, we're walking on
it's not so bad
I'm getting old, I'm feeling good
seeing the strings, connection
the snow on the ground, your shoes in the hall
mess everywhere, connection
you cut yourself, blood on your shirt
I'll stitch it up, make it whole
deep as you want, everything
everything, everything
everything, everything
everything, every
it's a daily walk, we're walking on
it's a daily fight, we're fighting on
it's not so bad
it's not so bad at all
it's not so bad at all
LGM
John Comon – guitar, banjo, samples, vocals
Jeremy Lawton - weisenborn
this world's a crazy fucked up mess
the animals can have it back
let's get married
burn the houses, bomb the streets
I want to go back to the tree
let's get married
somebody told me long ago
when you're ready you will know
I think I'm ready
ready for you and me
we've been alone since we were born
we'll be alone when this is gone
let's get married
somewhere out there
two roads converging
the intersection is where
we're headed babe
these chains we made are in our minds
it took a while to realize
let's get married
Do You Hate (karaoke)
John Comon – samples, vocals
Jed Marrs – casio
Scott Davies – clave
do you hate your name
do you hate your face
do you hide your hands
do they give you away
does it make you sick
do you want to die
when you hear that voice
do you go inside
do you see your dad
and the things he did
when you lie awake
in an empty bed
do you close the door
and then cry all night
do you get pissed off
when you hear the truth
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies we fight
just gave up and went home
have you had enough
are you checking out
is it time to burn
this old wooden house
is it easier
is it better for you
when you disappear
step out of view
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies you fight
just gave up and went home
Response
John Common – guitar, rhodes
WHY BIRDS FLY
Copyright 2007. All rights reserved.
All songs by John Common (BMI)
Produced by John Common
Engineered by Scott Davies, Jeremy Lawton, John Common
Recorded at Emmasaurus Sound
Mixed and mastered by Jeremy Lawton
Art direction and design by John Common
Call
John Common – guitar, rhodes
Already There
John Common – guitar, vocals
Jeremy Lawton – conjunculator
way back, before I can remember
everything was shut down on me
I was living like a goldfish
swimming in my circle
waiting for a hand to pick me out
save me for later
when I'm less sedated
good god help me good
I'm already there
I was so lonely, living like a shut in
watching all my windows shut down
I got the silent treatment
then I started screaming
oh god come dig me out
save me for later
when I'm less sedated
oh good god help me good
I'm already there
the window is cold on my cheek
I'm getting old, don't you think
god help me good
I'm already there
mary interceding on my behalf
I need you now
it's early morning
the birds in the trees
are singing
Do You Hate
John Comon – guitars, wurlitzer, piano, samples, vocals
Scott Davies – drums, samples
Steve Millin – bass
Jeremy Lawton – backing vocals
do you hate your name
do you hate your face
do you hide your hands
do they give you away
does it make you sick
do you want to die
when you hear that voice
do you go inside
do you see your dad
and the things he did
when you lie awake
in an empty bed
do you close the door
and then cry all night
do you get pissed off
when you hear the truth
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies we fight
just gave up and went home
have you had enough
are you checking out
is it time to burn
this old wooden house
is it easier
is it better for you
when you disappear
step out of view
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies you fight
just gave up and went home
Moonlight
John Common – guitars, wurlitzer, piano, samples, vocals
Scott Davies – drums
Steve Millin – bass
Jeremy Lawton – conjunculator
Chris Eagleton - samples
Adam Lancaster - guitar
you hear it on the radio
late at night when you sleep
dreaming of your one true love
floating toward you on a troubled sea
waiting for you every night
the lover who would never leave
heaven falling from the sky
and it's a lie you want to believe
impossible but it's true
the lover from your dreams
landed on your window sill
and made it possible to believe
closer, closer still but don't ever tell a soul
studying her cotton dress
and how it slips down to the floor
everybody knows
the pain of a lonely man
everybody knows
you can't hold moonlight in your hands
chosen and you don't know why
waking from your secret sleep
back into this ugly life
where secrets are hidden deep
all the people who love to hate
all the people who love to kill
all the people who just want love
all the people who never will
everybody knows
the pain of a lonely man
everybody knows
the pain…
everybody knows
Before You Met Me
John Common – wurlitzer, rhodes, samples, vocals
Matt Gilliam – trumpet, fluegal horn
it's an ugly morning
bruised and weeping
every cliché is coming true
you knew I was broken
and you tried to fix me
impossible to do
I was gone before you met me
when things got rocky
we bailed the water
and we both drowned
without a clue
I let you float away
what was I thinking
letting go of you
you turned the corner
that makes me happy
'cause moving on
is what we do
Flesh Wound
John Comon – guitars, wurlitzer, samples, vocals
Scott Davies – drums, samples
Kevin Meyer – bass
Jed Marrs – backing vocals
flesh would, I'm bleeding a little
a reddish stain on this gray affair
it's triage at two in the morning
go find someone who cares
random, the way that I met you
spilling drinks all over the bar
in drunken delusions of grandeur
you helped me find my car
go on go. I'll stay home
go on go to your parties…
sorry to leave you suspended
twirling fingers in your hair
ask me all of your questions
I'm tired of truth or dare
I always seem to come undone
that tends to ruin all your fun
I'm such a drag to you, such a drag
I hope you find something better
I hope you find something better
I'll help you find someone better
simple is so complicated
everything good, everything bad
like walking away from a fire
where you lost all you had
Unseen Things
John Common – samples
Scott Davies – samples
You Stay
John Common – guitars, wurlitzer, piano, vocals
Scott Davies – drums, samples
Steve Millin – bass
I'm getting up and I aint coming back
she says this at the heart attack
third table from the back
I love you but when you lose your buzz
you see totally clear it aint like it was
even if it ever was
you don't want to see me I know
you don't want to see me so I'll go
you stay, you stay
I know I'll see you at the same old bars
drivin' around in your car
you're never too far
'cause no one ever has the balls to leave
they just make believe
like they're adam and eve
you don't want to see me I know
you don't want to see me so I'll go
you stay
Wrong Number
John Common – guitar, wurlitzer, vocals
Scott Davies – drums
Kevin Meyer – bass, backing vocals
Jed Marrs – backing vocals
I didn't know, that I was falling
it wasn't me, that you were calling
I close my eyes and hear you whisper words into my ear
words I thought that only I could hear but I was wrong
I stood alone, outside your building
you weren't home, I felt silly
maybe it's just better if we never even meet
I'd probably fall down at your feet and kiss the ground
but I can always dream
would I find the right words to say
could I make you turn the other way
maybe you could call me back today
I'll get along, just fine without you
I'll sing this song, instead of doubt you
it's easier than waiting by a phone that never rings
I'd rather sing alone than never sing, this is goodbye
but I can always dream
would I find the right words to say
could I make you turn the other way
maybe you could call me back today
Not So Bad
John Common – guitar, wurlitzer, samples, vocals
Jeremy Lawton - weisenborn
a deer in the snow scratching around
waiting to find something out
uncertainty, this solitude
all so bare, stripped away
crazy chance, foolish girl
I didn't know the mess I was
I want to know when I get home
you'll be there waiting for
me every day, work is a drag
go do the thing, money in
money out, money in
money out, money
it's a daily fight, we're suffering on
it's a daily walk, we're walking on
it's not so bad
I'm getting old, I'm feeling good
seeing the strings, connection
the snow on the ground, your shoes in the hall
mess everywhere, connection
you cut yourself, blood on your shirt
I'll stitch it up, make it whole
deep as you want, everything
everything, everything
everything, everything
everything, every
it's a daily walk, we're walking on
it's a daily fight, we're fighting on
it's not so bad
it's not so bad at all
it's not so bad at all
LGM
John Comon – guitar, banjo, samples, vocals
Jeremy Lawton - weisenborn
this world's a crazy fucked up mess
the animals can have it back
let's get married
burn the houses, bomb the streets
I want to go back to the tree
let's get married
somebody told me long ago
when you're ready you will know
I think I'm ready
ready for you and me
we've been alone since we were born
we'll be alone when this is gone
let's get married
somewhere out there
two roads converging
the intersection is where
we're headed babe
these chains we made are in our minds
it took a while to realize
let's get married
Do You Hate (karaoke)
John Comon – samples, vocals
Jed Marrs – casio
Scott Davies – clave
do you hate your name
do you hate your face
do you hide your hands
do they give you away
does it make you sick
do you want to die
when you hear that voice
do you go inside
do you see your dad
and the things he did
when you lie awake
in an empty bed
do you close the door
and then cry all night
do you get pissed off
when you hear the truth
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies we fight
just gave up and went home
have you had enough
are you checking out
is it time to burn
this old wooden house
is it easier
is it better for you
when you disappear
step out of view
what if we all died tonight
do you think that would be alright
what if all the lies you fight
just gave up and went home
Response
John Common – guitar, rhodes
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
The Arabian Bar
the arabian bar
there is an old bar in my neighborhood
it stays mostly empty and the jukebox is good
dale pours 'em strong and he lights my cigarettes
he knows when to talk and when to forget
I've been comin' here since Gulf War 1
I figured out late that nobody won
I lost my leg but I got this bronze star
these days I pretty much live at this bar
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me?
go to the arabian bar
one tuesday night about a quarter 'til one
in walks two brown eyes looking for fun
her smile was a confesion and her body was a crime
and if she'd be my jail I'd gladly do the time
she was the kind of girl you see down at the gas station
hanging out, smoking, making invitations
she leaned to one side and that got me to thinking
she said "my name's maria -- what you boys drinking?"
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me?
go to the arabian bar
I used to drink whiskey, I used to drink gin
I used to do anything I could get my hands in
that's when I was young, but I aint young anymore
they call me a hero but I don't know what for
now that young girl made me think once or twice
if I was a little bit younger you know it'd be nice
I said, "girl, take my beer, I gotta go"
"But I don't wanna see you around here no more"
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me?
go to the arabian bar
there is an old bar in my neighborhood
it stays mostly empty and the jukebox is good
dale pours 'em strong and he lights my cigarettes
he knows when to talk and when to forget
I've been comin' here since Gulf War 1
I figured out late that nobody won
I lost my leg but I got this bronze star
these days I pretty much live at this bar
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me?
go to the arabian bar
one tuesday night about a quarter 'til one
in walks two brown eyes looking for fun
her smile was a confesion and her body was a crime
and if she'd be my jail I'd gladly do the time
she was the kind of girl you see down at the gas station
hanging out, smoking, making invitations
she leaned to one side and that got me to thinking
she said "my name's maria -- what you boys drinking?"
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me?
go to the arabian bar
I used to drink whiskey, I used to drink gin
I used to do anything I could get my hands in
that's when I was young, but I aint young anymore
they call me a hero but I don't know what for
now that young girl made me think once or twice
if I was a little bit younger you know it'd be nice
I said, "girl, take my beer, I gotta go"
"But I don't wanna see you around here no more"
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me? No
you wanna find me?
go to the arabian bar
This House Is A Prison (I'm Gonna Break Out) -- Dog Record Update #2
This song started as a kind of break up song between a dog and her/his owner. It's written from the dog's perspective of course. I was thinking about how a fairly large percentage of dogs seem to ALWAYS be trying to break out and run away. Have you ever stopped to ask why this is so? Maybe they're just really unhappy.
I never thought a song about a dog could feel so... human.
...
oh this house is a prison
I'm gonna break out
I've been making my plan
I'm gonna break out
it's a big, big world
and I can't stay here
I hope I don't sound
too severe
but this house is a prison
I'm gonna break out…
when I first came here
everything was great
but in a couple of years
I started going insane
we could have seen the big big world
together
you said, "never say never"
and I believed you
oh this house is a prison
I'm gonna break out
I've been making my plan
I'm gonna break out
it's a big, big world
and I can't stay here
I hope I don't sound
too severe
this house is a prison
I'm gonna break out…
oh I waited for years
for you to come around
maybe take me out
but you never did
I want you to know
you've been good to me
but when it's time to go
that's all you can see
it tears my heart right out
to leave you
I never wanted to deceive you
but you won't let me go
oh this house is a prison
I'm gonna break out
I've been making my plan
I'm gonna break out
it's a big, big world
and I can't stay here
I hope I don't sound
too severe
this house is a prison
this house is a prison
this house is a prison
I'm gonna break out…
Monday, May 12, 2008
Showing Good Faith (Your Crotch, My Nose)
Upon hearing about my idea for a Dog Record, my good friend and consigliere, Marty, called and offered to help me bring this baby into the world... a curator-meets-midwife kind of role. Sometimes, all you need is a little faith and encouragement from a friend to get the creative ball rolling on a new record...
Here is the email I wrote him about an hour after our lively discussion about the record:
...
Marty,
To show good faith, when we got off the phone, I started work on a couple of songs for my forthcoming Dog Opus... One song, still in progress, is tentatively titled "Stray". That song tries to capture the serendipitous-and-deliciously-complex moment when a lonely wandering man and a lonely wandering dog finally find each other. Think Brokeback Mountain meets Lassie.
I just finished the second song (below). It is most definitely titled, "Your Crotch, My Nose". It's a jangly folk number with a rural heart and big city dreams. The song descends into an introspective outro... that will leave you pondering the imponderable, questioning the unanswerable, fathoming the... well you get the point.
Yours,
John
...
Your Crotch, My Nose
may 12, 2008
intro
I don't know why I do it
it's buried deep inside my genes
but when your friends and family visit
I always make a scene
it's not about affection
or these feelings that we've felt
it's merely an inspection
of that mystery below your belt
your crotch, my nose
your crotch, my nose
I don't know why…
I don't know why…
but they go together
intro
I don't know why you're squirming
breaking out into a sweat
you act like I'm a stranger
like we've never even met
you're blushing and you're cussing
trying to push me away
but you know I'm not a quitter
you didn't raise me that way
your crotch, my nose
your crotch, my nose
I don't know why…
I don't know why…
instrumental bridge
your crotch, my nose
your crotch, my nose
I don't know why…
I don't know why…
but they go together
they go together
they go together
they go together
Here is the email I wrote him about an hour after our lively discussion about the record:
...
Marty,
To show good faith, when we got off the phone, I started work on a couple of songs for my forthcoming Dog Opus... One song, still in progress, is tentatively titled "Stray". That song tries to capture the serendipitous-and-deliciously-complex moment when a lonely wandering man and a lonely wandering dog finally find each other. Think Brokeback Mountain meets Lassie.
I just finished the second song (below). It is most definitely titled, "Your Crotch, My Nose". It's a jangly folk number with a rural heart and big city dreams. The song descends into an introspective outro... that will leave you pondering the imponderable, questioning the unanswerable, fathoming the... well you get the point.
Yours,
John
...
Your Crotch, My Nose
may 12, 2008
intro
I don't know why I do it
it's buried deep inside my genes
but when your friends and family visit
I always make a scene
it's not about affection
or these feelings that we've felt
it's merely an inspection
of that mystery below your belt
your crotch, my nose
your crotch, my nose
I don't know why…
I don't know why…
but they go together
intro
I don't know why you're squirming
breaking out into a sweat
you act like I'm a stranger
like we've never even met
you're blushing and you're cussing
trying to push me away
but you know I'm not a quitter
you didn't raise me that way
your crotch, my nose
your crotch, my nose
I don't know why…
I don't know why…
instrumental bridge
your crotch, my nose
your crotch, my nose
I don't know why…
I don't know why…
but they go together
they go together
they go together
they go together
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I'll Write For You
Hi,
It's that time again... Time to bring back the Hire-John-To-Write-You-A-Song program. Otherwise known as HJTWYASP... It's catchy, no?
Here's how it works:
1) You pick something - anything - that you'd like me to write a song about. Literally, any topic or feeling or thought or situation... no matter how vague or specific.
2) Send me an email (letters@johncommon.com) with your idea(s) to me. Along with a check... How much? I dunno. It's not about the money, but I did this for $50 a song last time and realized I might have sold myself a little short. I end up spending about 10 to 20 hours on these things. So pay me what you think is fair. I'm flexible.
3) I take in what you send me... as inspiration. And see what happens... This is the mysterious part of the process. The part where we both have to have a little faith in each other.
4) Hopefully, I write a song. Hopefully it's good. Maybe even great. Then I record it for you - usually an acoustic, intimate kind of recording. But who knows... maybe I'll record it with an orchestra. Then I send it to you as an MP3 along with the lyrics.
5) You do with it whatever you want. And I might too. I did this with my friend Katie and ended writing a song named "Don't Follow Virginia". It's likely going to be on my next record. You can hear a live demo of it on my myspace page right now if you'd like. Here's the story behind that song.
This whole process is really fun. And frankly, I enjoy having inspiration from something other than my own set of experiences. And... it gives folks a VERY DIRECT way to support me and my music.
Email me if you're interested! I'll just sit here and wait for you.
~John
It's that time again... Time to bring back the Hire-John-To-Write-You-A-Song program. Otherwise known as HJTWYASP... It's catchy, no?
Here's how it works:
1) You pick something - anything - that you'd like me to write a song about. Literally, any topic or feeling or thought or situation... no matter how vague or specific.
2) Send me an email (letters@johncommon.com) with your idea(s) to me. Along with a check... How much? I dunno. It's not about the money, but I did this for $50 a song last time and realized I might have sold myself a little short. I end up spending about 10 to 20 hours on these things. So pay me what you think is fair. I'm flexible.
3) I take in what you send me... as inspiration. And see what happens... This is the mysterious part of the process. The part where we both have to have a little faith in each other.
4) Hopefully, I write a song. Hopefully it's good. Maybe even great. Then I record it for you - usually an acoustic, intimate kind of recording. But who knows... maybe I'll record it with an orchestra. Then I send it to you as an MP3 along with the lyrics.
5) You do with it whatever you want. And I might too. I did this with my friend Katie and ended writing a song named "Don't Follow Virginia". It's likely going to be on my next record. You can hear a live demo of it on my myspace page right now if you'd like. Here's the story behind that song.
This whole process is really fun. And frankly, I enjoy having inspiration from something other than my own set of experiences. And... it gives folks a VERY DIRECT way to support me and my music.
Email me if you're interested! I'll just sit here and wait for you.
~John
Monday, April 21, 2008
Good Heart
Just finished a rough demo of a new song I've been working on for several months... You can hear it on my myspace page if you'd like: myspace.com/johncommon.
good heart
good heart
I'm nothing without…
good heart
but I've got my doubts
good heart inside
broken before
told many lies
pushed out the door
good heart
I've always known
you had
a mind of your own
find one who can love
simple and true
but clever and carved
enough to hold you
oh what is it? Why are you down?
baby I see you all over town
staring at people in love
and they can see…
your jealousy
oh… good heart
good heart
you're searching for one
good heart
that won't ever run
good heart inside
bashful and still
telling no lies
having the will
to stay
and find a way…
oh what is it? Why are you down?
baby I see you all over town
staring at people in love
and they can see…
your jealousy
oh…
oh…
good heart
good heart
good heart
I'm nothing without…
good heart
but I've got my doubts
good heart inside
broken before
told many lies
pushed out the door
good heart
I've always known
you had
a mind of your own
find one who can love
simple and true
but clever and carved
enough to hold you
oh what is it? Why are you down?
baby I see you all over town
staring at people in love
and they can see…
your jealousy
oh… good heart
good heart
you're searching for one
good heart
that won't ever run
good heart inside
bashful and still
telling no lies
having the will
to stay
and find a way…
oh what is it? Why are you down?
baby I see you all over town
staring at people in love
and they can see…
your jealousy
oh…
oh…
good heart
Thursday, April 17, 2008
New song
Thinking 'Bout God
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
I wonder what he's thinking of me?
Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go when we die?
I'm looking for comfort
Under the covers
Listen to the radio
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
I wonder if he's really around?
I hear that he died
Hear that he died
Hear that he died
We killed him with the Internet.
Technology's leading
Jesus is bleeding
I saw it on TV
When I was a kid
I went to church, read the word, did the thing
I took it on faith
God was around but he just wasn't talking
Back in the day
Back in the day
Back in the day
He was always walking around.
But he disappeared
He disappeared
He disappeared
Why did he go underground?
Everyone claims him
Nobody blames him
I think we could use him
If we didn't abuse him
Listen to the radio
I'm… I'm hearing voices
I'm… I'm hearing voices
I'm… I'm hearing voices
If everything's one
Everything's one
Everything's one
Then why do I feel so alone?
All of the books
All of the books
All of the books
Maybe they all got it wrong.
If God is inside me
Why is he hiding?
I'm a technical marval
But I feel kinda larval
When I was a kid
I went to church, read the word, did the thing
I took it on faith
God was around but he just wasn't talking
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
I wonder what he's thinking of me?
Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go
Where do we go when we die?
I'm looking for comfort
Under the covers
Listen to the radio
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
Thinking 'bout God
I wonder if he's really around?
I hear that he died
Hear that he died
Hear that he died
We killed him with the Internet.
Technology's leading
Jesus is bleeding
I saw it on TV
When I was a kid
I went to church, read the word, did the thing
I took it on faith
God was around but he just wasn't talking
Back in the day
Back in the day
Back in the day
He was always walking around.
But he disappeared
He disappeared
He disappeared
Why did he go underground?
Everyone claims him
Nobody blames him
I think we could use him
If we didn't abuse him
Listen to the radio
I'm… I'm hearing voices
I'm… I'm hearing voices
I'm… I'm hearing voices
If everything's one
Everything's one
Everything's one
Then why do I feel so alone?
All of the books
All of the books
All of the books
Maybe they all got it wrong.
If God is inside me
Why is he hiding?
I'm a technical marval
But I feel kinda larval
When I was a kid
I went to church, read the word, did the thing
I took it on faith
God was around but he just wasn't talking
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
When I was a kid
(thinking 'bout god)
Telly Savalas, you make me weep, ya big ole bald lug.
Nobody could do this Bread song better than Telly Savalas. Not even Shatner. Not even Nemoy.
It's like he connected a CAT-5 ethernet cable to all of our hearts and did a total download of it's sloppy, loving contents.
It's like he connected a CAT-5 ethernet cable to all of our hearts and did a total download of it's sloppy, loving contents.
Monday, April 14, 2008
New song.
Shiny New Shell
Shiny new shell
What memory
Brought you to me
Suddenly still
Shiny new shell
The hurting and fear
All disappear
When you say you will
Lift me up
Hold me up
Again, again
I'll do the same
Call my name
Like a friend
Shiny new shell
What shall we do?
Lonely and blue
Is space we can fill
Shiny new shell
Finally here
Your voice in my ear
Saying you will
Lift me up
Hold me up
Again, again
I'll do the same
Call my name
Like a friend
Shiny new shell
Shiny new shell
What memory
Brought you to me
Suddenly still
Shiny new shell
The hurting and fear
All disappear
When you say you will
Lift me up
Hold me up
Again, again
I'll do the same
Call my name
Like a friend
Shiny new shell
What shall we do?
Lonely and blue
Is space we can fill
Shiny new shell
Finally here
Your voice in my ear
Saying you will
Lift me up
Hold me up
Again, again
I'll do the same
Call my name
Like a friend
Shiny new shell
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
We understand one another.
I have a television -- the very same Pensacola television that my parents bequeathed to me upon my departure from the family unit oh so many years ago. It is the only television I have ever owned. I'm 37 years old now. This television was old when I received it as a young man, eager to face the new world.
It is still bravely running. It is plastic brown. It delivers its messages in color. Its pitifully small speaker is a little blown. It performs barely adequately by receiving PBS, a little NBC, and sporadic episodes from The WB. It abandoned me during the last Super Bowl. It refused to get that channel… That was a difficult time in our relationship. But we moved through it.
Yes, I've grown to love it dearly. We are like an old couple who stuck it out in their arranged marriage and are finally entering the twilight years. We have learned to live together. She has helped me to remain relatively television-free. Like a loving but mostly sexless wife, she pushes me toward National Public Radio to get my news (delivered in my kitchen, via an even older AM radio about the size of a toaster oven with an upholstered speaker grill). And I admit to a daily foray into the dark forest of Internet news.
We maintain reasonable, mutual expectations. We understand one another.
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