This making-an-album thing

This is all so fuckin' weird, man, this making-an-album thing. I've kinda let go of the creative control and letting it go where it needs to go. I mean, I should be scared shitless. And in a way I am. But not really. I feel like I should be doubting myself. But I'm trying to reach past that stuff. I know what needs to be done and I just need to do it. I'm glad that the CD release show is soon, July 19. I go back into the studio on Thursday.

I've been taking all of this on faith, I mean all the financial stuff. I still don't know how I'm gonna pay for the manufacturing. But II've got this idea of what this album can be and I'm happy with that. As a fuckin' artist, I mean. I'm sorta thrilled.

You sound hopeful, farmboy. That's great.

Yeah, it is. I'm trying it on. It's kinda new for me.

Spanish

sometimes I miss the sounds of Spanish
(though English is my native tongue)
maybe it reminds me
of the world when I was young
my mom and my aunts and my nina
would chirp like mama birds
talking 60 miles a minute
with a whirlwind of words

I bet plunge ain't really a word

Hey, man, did I tell you what I did?

No, farmboy. what did you do?

I fixed the shower drain all by myself.

Do tell…

Hey, you don't have to be some kind of smart-ass about it.

I'm just joking with you, farmboy. How did you fix the shower drain? What's that stuff called? The chemical stuff?

Drano?

Drano! That's it!

So back to my adventure…

Yes, back to your adventure…

Well, man, I didn't use no fuckin' Drano, I tell you what. I use the more environment-friendly old-fashioned remedy of pouring some baking soda down the drain, followed by a half-cup or so of vinegar. I let it sit for a while -- it gets all foamy, man, it's so fuckin' cool -- then I get the plunger and I…

Plunge?

Yeah, that's what I do, plunge. Gimme a fuckin' break, man. I bet plunge ain't really a word.

Anyway, then all this gross goop comes out and you just get rid of it and…voila! A plunged shower drain! A work of beauty, if I say so myself.

(quietly)  And you do say so…

Hey! I heard that! 

Seriously, farmboy. Congratulations on your new-found independence and self-reliance.

You're putting me on, man…

No, I'm serious. Every little step you make is amazing. Remember that, farmboy.

Jeez, man, you sound like a fuckin' greeting card.

Answer this, farmboy: Did unclogging the drain make you feel good?

Uh, yeah, man. I had this feeling of accomplishment, and that's cool.

So, man,what's the fuckin' point of this whole conversation?

There's no point, farmboy. I just thought all of this might be something to think about.

Yeah, yeah. All I know is that I can shower without having my feet trudging in dirty bathwater.

Trudge! 

Yeah. Now, there's an interesting word for you.

choking on gatorade

I have no reason to hope
but I hope anyway
I'm not sure if it's
a blessing or a curse
I been smoking too much dope
and choking on gatorade
but I always know
it could be worse

at mcdonalds

I am at mcdonalds
I am eating a mcchicken
I am biting into something
and I don't know what it is

keep on worrying

four in the morning
and the streets are draped in night
the wind blows
a dog barks
a radio plays
a car passes by
and me, I shake in silence
in the neon alarm clock light
I tell myself
over and over
it's gonna be all right
but I keep on worrying
I keep on worrying

memorial day 2014

memorial day:
we can celebrate summer
with no second thought

and head straight over
to the potato salad
cheeseburgers and chips

but maybe we'll pause
and think of sacrifices
honor in silence

for just one minute
before we return to beer
and watermelon

pope paul

if I spoke Italian
if I wore a funny hat
if I was chauffeured in a fancy car
if I prayed in public
I'd tell sweet Jesus where it's at
I sure wouldn't be stuck
in some room playing guitar
I mean, I've got the talent
I've got the brains
and finally, most of all
no one would complain
'cause I've got the right name
I'd make a great pope paul

oh, God and me
we'd split apart the red sea
it would be
such a fine reunion
I'd say "what the heck"
and we'd both genuflect
and say 
"hey
next week let's meet for coffee and communion"

you know I wouldn't fool ya
I'd be great at hallelujah
I'll see you at Notre Dame
in Montreal
need I tell you more?
I'd be the one you adore
I'd make a great pope paul
(oh course, in my version,
I sure wouldn't have to be no virgin)
I'd make a great pope paul

man in the moon, very rough draft

I been hurting
not sure what to do
it's so disconcerting
about me and you
'cause I know for certain
you've been flirting
with the man in the moon

I've been trying 
to ease my worried mind
but there's no denying
that you're leaving me behind
feel like I'm dying
'cause you've been two-timing
with the man in the moon

           if you leave me
          don't deceive me
          I know where you been
          and I got proof
          pick up the telephone
          baby, I know you're home
          the least that I deserve 
          is the truth

I've been weeping
each and every night
my heart keeps seeking
any way to make it right
but those thoughts keep repeating
that you've been out sleeping
with the man in the moon

Sidetracked by talking about sex

Dig this, man. It's a three-day weekend and there's nothing that I have to do other than wash my clothes and the usual stuff that I do.

Such as what, farmboy? I know you write every day.

Yeah, I'll be writing, and doing work on the CD. And I exercise, believe it or not, six fuckin' days a week. I take Sundays off. And playing guitar, I do that every day. 

I'll have plenty to do, really, starting with eating a couple brownies when my friend calls me.

Brownies are pretty great…

Especially when there's weed in 'em. My friend makes good brownies. 

Other than that, I need to find a book to read. It can be hard sometimes to find books that will hold my interest. Other times, of course, I find too many books that I want to read and I'm lucky if I finish one of them.

But anyway, man, this is a three-day weekend of sleep and music and marijuana, Throw in sex and food and you've got pretty much anything that you could need.

So you're planning on having sex this weekend. Anyone I know?

It's just me, basically, unless I get really, really fuckin' lucky. Believe me, I would love to have sex this weekend. Sex is fuckin' amazing. I wish I could find the perfect girl, you know. It would be great to have a girlfriend. I wish I was better at that kind of stuff.

Of course, I also wish I was good-looking and rich, but that's not happening any time soon.

I've gotten off-target, man, we were talking about this weekend. I got sidetracked by talking about sex.

Don't we all, farmboy.

Yeah, sex is…this amazing, mysterious thing that can lead to all kinds of trouble.

So, yeah, I'm sure jerking off will be part of this weekend. But let's not talk about that. I'm kind of a prude, you know.

Really, farmboy? I believe I've never seen that side of you.

Well, I'm basically really fuckin' shy and I'm more comfortable with keeping things to myself, you know?

Anyway, man, this is going to be a really great weekend. And it's gonna start once my friend with the brownies calls me. I can't fuckin' wait, man.

my perfect day

my perfect day begins
with an open window
and a breeze gliding through it
tickling my skin
it's the fourth of july
I am driving to the country
for a party with my family
and my very best of friends

and you are invited
and I hope that you stay
you know, sparks can be ignited
in my perfect day

I believe I may be lost

take me from this wilderness
I have no map and compass
I don't know how to read the stars
I believe I may be lost
I will pay all that I can, sir
to reunite with family
you wish is my command, sir
no matter what the cost
I'm looking for the answer
I believe I may be lost

I function pretty good, don't I?

I tell you, man, I'm tired. I hate being tired. It reminds me that some day I'm gonna die, and chances are that will be after some terrible thing happens, like an illness or a fuckin' accident or a political bombing or something, I don't know what…

Are you always this cheery and hopeful, farmboy?

You know what I mean. I'm tired, but I'm okay. I'm maybe a little depressed, but I'm always fuckin' depressed.

I know. That's why you're on medication.

Damn straight. Gimme those drugs, man.

I function pretty good, don't I? I'm even making an album. I go to my fuckin' job five days a week, I pay my bills. I write every day, I play guitar every day, I exercise every day. Pretty good for a person with clinical depression, eh? I've even been diagnosed with that obsessive/compulsive disorder that's so popular now. Hey, I had OCD before the rest of you!

You are very functional, farmboy. I just wish you were happier.

I don't know what to tell you, man. I wish I was happier, too. It's strange; I almost can't even imagine happiness. But I must still believe it's there. I mean, I keep going, you know?

I know. You do keep going. But, again, I just wish that you were happier.

(sighs)  I'm working on it, man. Every single fuckin' day of my miserable life.

Quick, time's a wastin'!

Okay, let's get this CD going! Decisions need to be made! Time to book the recording studio! Time to contact the other musicians! What about the album cover? What about the new website? You gotta remember to rewrite that bridge! Liner notes! I need liner notes! What about money? Do I have enough money? I FUCKIN' NEED MONEY! Recordings of the songs are needed for the backing musicians! Is the research done on manufacturing? Or do you want to go the self-assembling route? Quick, time's a wastin'! Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, this CD is happening, man!

love exists (new bridge)

deep inside 
my darkest corner of the heart
this is where I hide my love
protecting myself
wishing on a falling star
and not having
what I'm most in need of

wishes

I wish I was smarter
I wish I had cash
I wish I had an assistant
to take out my trash
I wish I had power
over this life I live
I wish I could see you
and try to forgive

I wish I was younger
with the wisdom of age
I wish I knew calmness
instead of bottled-up rage
I wish I would place first
in this race that I run 
I wish I could see you
and forgive what you've done

        I need to leave you behind
        for my own peace of mind
        I need to set you free
        to preserve what's left of me
        I need to appreciate
        that you are not my fate
        I need you gone
        so I can move on

I wish now that you
had nothing to do with me
I wish for amnesia
when you enter my memory
I wish that your love
was not russian roulette
I wish I could forgive you
so I could forget

I wish I could forgive
every word that you said
I wish I could forgive
your secrets in bed
I wish I could forgive you
for my own mental health
I wish I could forgive you
I wish I could forgive
myself

school is out, second verse

kick off the sneakers
wiggle your toes
take them to the beach
and set them free
grab your sweetheart
and hold her close
no longer just 
a fantasy
to tell yourself
in the lonely night
everything 
will be all right
school is out

school is out

pull out of the driveway
crank up the tunes
turn off the AC
and roll down the window
howl with the music
like a hound to the moon
toss your head back
and feel the wind blow
your hair
soft in the summer breeze
free to do whatever you please
school is out

grace of the land

somewhere
a long long time ago
in a very far-off land
your great-great-great
grandfather existed
and lived by the grace of the land

Nobody says moola anymore

Man, I did so much writing at work today. 

That's good to hear, farmboy. Any writing you do is good for you.

I know. That's why I write every fuckin' day, man. Gotta keep working those muscles, you know. More and more it's what gives my life meaning. Which doesn't mean that I like it any more, it just…I don't know…

Go ahead, farmboy. Tell me what you get from writing.

I think, in a way, it's like anything else that's a discipline. You build up these little muscles one day at a time and then after a while you see how much stronger you got. You respect yourself because you know the hard work and determination you had to use. And then you keep on doing it.

For me, when I don't write, words feel very costly, like you become afraid to spend them. It's like money. Moola. I like the word moola. Nobody says moola anymore.

Anyway, what I want is to write so often that words become fuckin' cheap. So you can afford to spend them in order to find out how you say what you want to say. Or it's like fish in a barrel, or any one of a number of cliches.

Why would it be like fish in a barrel?

Oh, I don't know, man. It's just sounded good at the time. 

how are you

how are you
is a complicated question
but I really have to mention
it's a good question anyway
because how are you
makes you look inside yourself
it can hurt your mental health
if you answer right away

so I say
I'm fine
that's right
I'm fine
what's mine
is mine
I'm perfectly fine

bad foreign movie

today is moving 
like a bad foreign movie
I can't understand 
a word you say
I need subtitles
and you won't provide them
but you're gonna
talk, talk, talk, talk
anyway

dogs I have known

when I need a peaceful place
to feel safe at home
I close my eyes and remember
the dogs I have known

I stroke and stroke and stroke and stroke
and stroke and stroke their fur
you know, if dogs were cats
I'm pretty sure they would purr

I've known dogs who are smiling
with their wet tongues hanging out
I've known dogs who are geniuses
in the usage of their snouts

I've known dogs who like to snuggle
when the temperature is low
I've known dogs who jump on the bed
and sleep there by your toes

I've known dogs who have no idea
of their cuteness or their charm
I've known dogs who will protect you
from the hungry hands of harm

I had a dog named gordie
who was my trustworthy friend
I would give most anything
to see his face again

my good friends matt and nancy
have their sweet annie montana
you should see how great she looks
when she's wearing a bandanna

my fiddler friend chris kokesh
has a loving dog named chloe
I hope she likes Wisconsin
in the winters when it's snowy

I've known a dog named waffles
and two other dogs named sam
a handsome dog named romeo
who loved to lick the pan

I've known a dog named molly
I knew her daughter, too
and I'll never forget patches
who loved me when I felt blue

I had a dog named ginger
when I was just a kid
I'd like to say I'm sorry
for all that kid stuff that I did

oh, I have known some dachshunds
and some chihuahuas as well
but my favorite small dog of them all
is my sister's dog named belle

I'd like to apologize
to those whose names I have forgotten
if they were here, I'd serve them all
some bacon and steak au gratin

to all the dogs I have befriended
I dedicate to you this poem
to say thanks for your affection
to all the dogs I have known

morning bugle

I don't want to give up
I don't want to lay down
I don't want to fly
so close to the ground
I want to soar high
give my life to the sky
I want to hear that morning bugle
not a lullaby
let me try
let go of my hand
here I am

More desert island discs

Hey, you know that list I made the other day?

The albums you would take if you were stuck on an island?

Not just any island, man; a desert island. There's a big difference.

But, yeah, so, I think I want to make another list. I keep thinking of albums I didn't put on it. I'm pleased with the list I made, but…shit, man, I just want to fuckin' make another list.

Then please, make another list, farmboy. By all means.

Thanks. Here goes:

Marshall Crenshaw by Marshall Crenshaw
Walker County by Eddy Lawrence
Sail Away by Randy Newman
London Calling by the Clash
The Band by The Band
Let's Go Scare Al by the Gear Daddies
Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys
Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris
The Roches by the Roches
Beleza Tropical by various artists (Luaka Bop compilation of Brazilian music)
High Violet by the National
Modern Vampires in the City by Vampire Weekend
Paul Simon by Paul Simon

Nice. Who's Eddy Lawrence?

Eddy Lawrence is an amazing songwriter from the south who lives in northern New York State. 

So, anyway, I'm sure I'll think up more. I'll know 'cause I'll start feeling guilty about what I left out.

hound dog wine

let me tell you 'bout this friend of mine
all day he drinks his hound dog wine
tastes like vinegar and turpentine
but he says it hits the spot
gets up on that stage all drunk
plays guitar post-rock post-pop post-punk
people scream "hey -- turn off that junk!"
but he still gives it all he's got

Desert island discs!

So I was thinking, man, that I should list the ten albums I would take to a desert island. I mean, all those rock critics do that, so I should. For history's sake, you know?

You could just do it for the fun of it, farmboy,

Yeah, I suppose so. But what fuckin' good is that? 

Well, farmboy, it would be fun.

Okay. I'm not gonna do them in order, okay? 

Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons
Nebraska by Bruce Springsteen
Graceland by Paul Simon
The Harder They Come by Jimmy Cliff and others (soundtrack)
Person Pitch by Panda Bear
Blue by Joni Mitchell
Time (The Revelator) by Gillian Welch
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot by Wilco
Famous Blue Raincoat by Jennifer Warnes (songs of Leonard Cohen)
Paradise and Lunch by Ry Cooder
Shoot Out the Lights by Richard and Linda Thompson

farmboy?

Yes?

You've got eleven albums on this top ten…

Yeah? So fuckin' sue me, asshole.

Anyway, that was much easier than I thought. I can think of even more. Maybe I should make a second list.

Which you can do if you want.

Maybe I will. That was fun, you were right.

the world, as we know it

the world,
as we know it,
is beautiful
as you can see
and the best thing
about the world
is that it revolves 
around me
all of you
are actors
on the stage I call
my life
hey!
it's time 
for the show
to begin…

talk about things

we talk about things we buy
a few white lies
an alibi
we talk about things we buy
for who we want to be
we talk about things we own
designer home
the latest phone
we talk about things we own
just like it's you and me
we talk about things

we talk about the cash we spend
we both pretend
there is no end
we talk about the cash we spend
like it proves our human worth
we talk about the cash we crave
to keep us safe
till we reach our graves
we talk about cold hard cash
like it's good ol' mother earth
we talk about

          what we drive and
          who we know
          and round and round and round
          we go
          where we'll stop
          nobody knows
          but at least we'll be in style

we talk about things we want
the latest haunt
a restaurant
we talk about what we want
and it's only common sense
we talk about things we need
no, it's not greed
(hey, pass the weed!)
we talk about things we need
and we need them
right now
in the present tense
we talk about things
we talk about things
we talk about things 

cooking for one

everyone present
no absences here
new semester has started
first day of the year
I know you're not ready
but class has begun
welcome, new student,
to cooking for one

when I do it

it might take me a minute
a couple hours
a few days
to figure out 
what I'm doing
but
when I do it
I will be ready
and I will do 
the best job possible

man in the moon, bridge

if you leave me
don't deceive me
I know where you been
and I got proof
hang up the telephone
baby, I know you're not home
the least that I deserve 
is the truth