I will sleep, rewrite 2

I will sleep
under the desert stars
with the moon
playing possum in the night
I will sleep
there's no need for alarm
everything will be all right
I will sleep
a peaceful sleep
that lasts the whole night through
and I will dream of you
I will sleep

I will sleep, rewrite 1

I will sleep
under the desert stars
with the moon
playing possum in the night
I will keep
you free and clear from harm
everything will be all right
I will sleep
a peaceful sleep
that lasts the whole night through
and I will dream of you
I will sleep

house in the hills

see over there
that house in the hills
there's money in that neighborhood
you take the 101
to the 405
past the east side
of west hollywood
it's where you live 
and who you know
you know that actor
on that TV show
I forget his name
but he killed himself
jumped off the Santa Monica pier
well, he once lived
in that house in the hills
before the tabloids crucified his career

see all those lights
that's the house on the hill
sometimes it's a miniature vegas
only a few minutes
to whatever you need
from the kodak to the pantages
sometimes it's up
sometimes it's down
it's a hot hot morning
in this company town
you know that actress
the one with the boobs
and the legs 
that go on forever 
you know she cracked up
now her bank account's 
as dry as the 
los angeles river

          to end up like us
          ain't it demeaning
          to look at that house
          through that window you're cleaning
          I always pictured myself
          attending those screenings
          with julia roberts
          or angelina jolie
          hanging on my arm

we'd be riding that limo
to my house on the hill
in the life I should be living
instead of cleaning the glass
in this high-rise hotel
yes I know that I should forgive them
nobody tells losers like us
what to do
when the dreams that you live for
refuse to come true
you know that movie
that won all those awards
the one with the happiest ending?
just remember the stars
in the house on the hill
make their living
by pretending

la la la la...

Digress

I finished my first week back from the fuckin' job. 

Time to relax, eh, farmboy?

I want to. I'm all tense and full of anxiety.

Because of the job?

Because of life. I mean, it's all this fuckin' little shit, you know? Like the bathroom sink is clogged up and I ain't got no money for groceries and my job has started again which means back to unending anger and frustration. I mean, look, in many ways I have a great life. I have this passion for songwriting and music and sound and rhythm and lyrics. I had a job, so I have the means to pay my rent and bills most months. I give my fuckin' share of money so the corporations can make more profits and continue fucking over the working class.

But you digress…

You know, that's a funny word, digress. I mean, it sounds like a female dig, right?

Anyway, so there are a number of pluses in my life. There are any number of places in the world where people are fuckin' starving. Where people live in subhuman conditions. Where people are living under sadistic regimes. 

I am very fortunate. Unfortunately, I'm also very stressed about things that will mostly be forgotten about a week from now. I'll get through it. I'm just worried all the fuckin' time about something. It's always gotta be something. That's why I need to remember the night of the CD release concert.

That memory is always with you, farmboy.

What if I get Alzheimer's?

It'll still be somewhere. Knowing you, it'll be in something having to do with music.

I hope so.

Cajones

Well, man, I'm back at the fuckin' job, man. So now I have money problems and a lousy job.

So, farmboy, what's next on the musical agenda?

I perform a week from Friday at the coffeehouse, which I'm looking forward to. I want to write.. .and I have been writing. I want to work on some projects, like the "holidays" thing I was talking about. I feel creative. I hope I'm not jinxing everything by verbalizing it.

I'm sure that you're not, farmboy.

Anyway, I like this feeling and I need to ride it out, take it as far as it will go.

Glad to hear it.

Yeah, it's great. Creativity, man -- that's the test of who has the most cajones, that's for sure.

notice me

I've been hiding
around the corner
waiting for you
to turn around
I need you
to notice me
I once was lost
but now I'm found

peaceful

I'd like to be peaceful
just once, let me try it
I need something to quiet
down the voices I hear
I know it's all lies
but they all sound so real
I can't help or conceal
them from my inner ear

with this broken heart, verse 2

here's an adventure
the recycling center
said I should be ashamed of myself
the man at the trash heap
said "if you're outta cash, keep
moving, buddy, go somewhere else 
went to the repair shop
they saw me and said "stop!
we can't use it for scrap or for parts"
now, what do I do
with this broken heart
tell me
what do I do
with this broken heart

The less I say or think

It's the fuckin' countdown, man. I go back to work on Tuesday. Back to the fuckin' job. Man,I hate this.

So tell me how you really feel, farmboy.

I think the less I say or think about it, the better I'll be. Now kindly point me towards a cup of strong, hot coffee and weed and I'll be fine. 

The summer went fast, eh?

It just fuckin' flew by, man. It's scary. Pisses me off. But what else are you going to do about it? It's like so many things in life: You just accept it and move on. 

Good advice, farmboy.

Thanks. It only took me a fuckin' entire life on this earth to figure that one out.

the understudy

I have no name for you
I have no face for you
I'm the replacement who
sits back here
night after night
and all the matinees too
I'm good at what I do
waiting for my moment
to shine
I am 
nobody
I am
the understudy

even though you feel like

look at you
dressed like a human being
hair cut like a human being
you look like a human being
but you feel like
some little squirrel
with his paws in the air
begging for scraps
from a human being
which is what you are
even though you feel like

some sleazy sad-eyed rodent
in the middle of a maze
wishing he could go back
to the pirate ship
see those people out there?
you are one of them
even though you feel like

a scrawny tourist seagull
standing nervously on a pier
made of sea worn wooden planks
about a hundred years ago
you're looking for some food
it's there among the garbage
left by all those human beings
which, by the way,
is your species on this planet
you are one of its members
even though you feel like

something that does not
resemble you
in any fuckin' way

All the important stuff

So I've had this idea for a long time. This is so strange…I normally, as I'm sure you've noticed, don't think about this folk music business too much except in terms of bitterness and failure…anyway, I had this idea…

Spit it out, farmboy.

There's this idea I had about making a CD of songs for different holidays. And the reason for it would be to get airplay on folk music radio.

That sounds good to me, farmboy. If it's…

…done right. Yeah, that by far is the most important thing. I don't want to write cute songs about Valentine's Day, you know? I want to write the best songs I can. And I think that there's enough, um, humanity…I don't know if that's the right word. I guess that what it is would be a way to explore human beings and their relationships and conflicts and humor and accomplishments and all that fuckin' stuff.

They're songs first. They just happen to be set around holidays.

Exactly! And I figure it will be just guitar/vocal, so I need to write really great songs.

Which you love to do…

Man, it's the best. It's amazing the numbers of songs it takes to get the ones you get excited about. But when it works, there ain't nothing like it.

Kind of like love, kind of like sex.

Yeah. And spirituality and instinct. All the important stuff.

And all that stuff always comes through loud and clear around holidays. That's when families get together, that's when people who would normally avoid each other have to get together. Holidays are when people who truly love each other are reunited, too. 

Anyway, that's where I'm at today. All I can do is write and see where that takes me, you know?

wake up little monkey

wake up little monkey
time for a spanking
it's you I'll be yanking
it'll be so much fun
I'm a traveling man
I've been all around the world, 'n
I still ain't got a girlfriend
so tonight you're the one

wake up little monkey
time for performing
look, you ain't no mormon
with holy underwear
give me a break
what else can I do, man
I mean, I'm only human
especially down there

what do I do with this broken heart

I know what it means 
to give up on your dreams
of finding a love that's true
someone to remind me
of any love that's inside me
someone exactly like you
I've got the art of solitude mastered
except for one small part
what do I do with this broken heart

this is not a test (rewrite 3)

this is not a movie
you are not playing some part
with direction and projection
of scripted scenes you know by heart
watch your step
hit your marks
maybe you'll figure out the rest
welcome to real life
this is not a test

this is not an update
to post
on your social media
this is not an entry 
to edit
on wikipedia
this is not a sin
there is nothing
you need to confess
time to call in some favors
this is not a test

the world turns even faster
if you stop 
to catch your breath
moving at the speed of life
where you were 
no more than a guest
how about your last supper?
do you have a final request?
say your prayers and take a vicodin
this is not a test

this is not a movie
but you're still in 
the leading role
slouching towards bethlehem
with a sad 
and a troublemaking soul
you don't know 
where you're going 
but you'll get there nonetheless
it's like Louis Armstrong says
what a wonderful world
this is not a 
this is not a test
this is not a test

I used to hitchhike

I used to hitchhike 
when I was nineteen years old
back and forth to school

I was always safe
things were different back then
or so I believed

standing in sneakers
on either side of the road 
giving myself a chance

to be the young man
chasing after his daydreams
of being normal

ring around the moon

I don't want to be clever
I don't need to be cool
I don't care if I look like
a country born-and-raised fool
all this farmboy knows
is that I'm in love with you
and you're all that matters to me

          I would buy you a ring around the moon
          ring around the moon
          ring around the moon
          I would buy you a ring around the moon
          if you would marry me

my problem is

my problem is
as time moves on
I'm always left behind
my problem is
when there is trouble
it's trouble I'm gonna find
my problem is
I think too much
or I'm not thinking at all
my problem is
complicated
carbon-dated
not remotely appreciated
my problem is
my problem is
you

Cancer cells multiplying in your brain

Man, this fuckin' world. I swear, we human beings are just becoming more and more disgusting with each passing day. Watching the news these days, it's like cancer cells multiplying in your brain.

I'm afraid to ask, farmboy. What happened now?

Well, lately it's this whole thing in Ferguson, Missouri. You know, the unarmed 18-year-old who was killed by a police officer.

Michael Brown?

Yeah, Michael Brown. That's who it is.

I'm disgusted by all of this -- as are a lot of people. Fuck. What the fuck is going on in this country?

You tell me, farmboy. I don't have any answers. And believe me, I would love to have some answers.

I ain't got no answers, either. I just know…oh, what the fuck do I know?

You know plenty, farmboy. And so do a lot of people. There's a lot of decent people out there…

I know, I know. So why does it feel like we don't, huh?

Because this kind of shit happens far too often. Statistically, a black male is murdered by police every 48 hours. Or at least according to what I've read.

This is fuckin' bullshit, man. What the fuck has happened to us?

I will sleep

I will sleep
under the desert stars
with the moon
hiding somewhere in the night
I'll be here
I will not be far
I will always be within sight
I will sleep
a peaceful sleep
that lasts the whole night through
and I will dream of you
I will dream of you
when I sleep

for Robin Williams

it is so unfair
that someone who made us laugh
would be in such pain

that he took his belt
made a noose around his neck
and jumped off a chair

I hope he is graced
with the peace that eluded him
god knows he's earned it

for touching our hearts
for releasing our laughter
like nobody else

o captain my captain
we will always remember
to laugh like you taught us

you have taught us well

Sloth-like

Man, I tell you, what a day.

Hot out there, eh, farmboy?

Man, it's so fuckin' hot and so fuckin' humid I could almost swear that I'm back in central Texas. I don't feel like doing nothing but hanging out in air conditioning.

That's what we need to do on these hot days.

Except I have no air conditioning. All I can do is be hot and sweat and wait it out.

It's so fuckin' weird outside, man. It's all gray and miserable, which is no big deal for Oregon. But, fuck, it's so fuckin' hot. It was like, what, 97 degrees? I know it got up that high. I had heard that it was supposed to hit 99 degrees. I have heard, however, that tomorrow it's down to 85.

That's a good drop.

Yeah, it is. That's not too bad, 85 degrees. I'll take that.

What happens tonight, farmboy?

I've gotten into this show called The Killing. It's pretty good -- uneven, but good. So that's what I'll do. As far as food, it's leftover time.

It's pretty boring, but, hey, it's a hot day in August and that's what it's supposed to be. Boring.

Boring can be okay.

Yeah. Especially when it's so fuckin' hot that you can barely move. This is the kind of day the term "sloth-like" was invented for, you know?

At least it cools down at night here, though. You gotta look at the bright side, you know, count  your blessings, all that shit.

But it's still hot…

Fuckin' hot, man. Ain't you been listening?

on the way to puget sound

on the way to puget sound
I swear I saw the sun
breaking through the rainclouds 
to shine on everyone
I saw it in the distance
first it's here and then it's gone
it only lasted for an instant
and then it moved on

Smarter than that now

So there's this idea I have for a song, but it's so fuckin' convoluted, man. I just gotta make the connections.

So what's this idea, farmboy?

It's this memory this friend of mine told me about the day that Martin Luther King Jr. was buried. He said that the TV was on and the funeral was taking place. And his next-door neighbor, a grandmotherly lady, she came in through the front door and looked at the screen and said "Why are they making such a big deal about this?"and some other comments. And he said he was shocked; his family was one of those JFK/60s families and they revered Dr. King. He had never seen any racism before and I guess he got confused that someone he knew as a good and kind person could be capable of racism.

So, after a long while, he came to the conclusion that she was this person who was, well, old. She had grown up in the Kansas prairie -- it is prairie, right? -- and this way the way she was taught. So, anyway, he tells me this and says "I remember thinking 'We're smarter than that now' and, hey, there's a song title for you, farmboy. Free of charge."

And so that story just churns around in my head like stories do, you know, and it occurs to me: Are we really smarter than that now? I mean, I see and hear racist things all the fuckin' time. And I take the word racist seriously -- I don't just throw that word around. But, fuck, look at the comment sections and message boards online. Read the fuckin' news, for fuck's sake. I mean, I hear racist comments from the staff at the fuckin' high school I work at.

Sounds like a pretty interesting song to me, farmboy.

A pretty depressing one, too. Or, even worse, a preachy one.

I guess all I can do is write it and see how it turns out.

worried 'bout

worried 'bout money
worried 'bout the rent
worried 'bout my paycheck
and where the hell it went
worried 'bout the groceries
worried 'bout my truck
worried 'bout my lack of faith
worried 'bout all my bad luck
worried 'bout the future
worried 'bout my history
worried 'bout the chicken
cooking on a hot rotisserie
worried 'bout the cupboards
worried 'bout the floor
and if you're still listening
I'll tell you even more
I'm worried 'bout celebrities
worried 'bout TV
worried 'bout all those computer
screens in front of me
worried 'bout every person
in my life that I've befriended
worried 'bout what I'll watch
now that Breaking Bad has ended
worried 'bout the summer
worried 'bout the fall
worried 'bout everything
and knowing that's not all
I'm worrying my life away
I guess I always will
it's a good thing that I'm taking
these magic little pills
so I don't have to worry 'bout
the voices in my head
the only thing to worry 'bout
is going back to bed

"How are you going to be a writer if you're not writing?"

I'm so…not tired, that's not the word for it. I haven't done my writing today and I don't feel like writing. At all. I mean, I have to write. That's part of the deal.

What deal is that? This is news to me, farmboy.

Just kind of a deal I think I might have with myself, that maybe I can forgive myself and my loathsome ways if I write everyday. It's kinda like I'm my own parental figure here: "How are you going to be a writer if you're not writing?"

That's interesting. I'm not sure that it's a bad thing, but I also know that you don't need another source of shame.

Yeah, I know what you mean, man. I'm in total agreement there.

But, you know, the fact is that I want to be the best fuckin' songwriter I can. And I'll only achieve that by, well, writing.

So go write something. You know you're going to.

I know. I'm  just prolonging the misery. I'm just being lazy.

Wow, look at the time! I gotta get going, man.

Where are you going?

I don't know, but I'm sure it involves writing.

this is not a test (rewrite 2)

this is not a movie
you are not playing some part
with direction and projection
written words you know by heart
be careful
hit your marks
maybe you'll figure out the rest
welcome to real life
this is not a test

this is not an entry 
to edit
on wikipedia
this is not an update
to post
on your social media
this is not a sin
nothing you need to confess
time to call in some favors
this is not a test

the world turns even faster
if you stop 
to catch your breath
moving at the speed of life
where you were 
no more than a guest
how about your last supper?
do you have a final request?
(surely I jest)
say your prayers and take a vicodin
this is not a test

this is not a movie
but you're still in 
the leading role
slouching towards bethlehem
with a sad 
and a troublemaking soul
you don't know 
where you're going 
but you'll get there nonetheless
(it's like Louis Armstrong says)
what a wonderful world
this is not a 
this is not a test
this is not a test
this is not a test
this is not a test

this is not a test, rewrite 1

this is not a movie
you are not playing a part
with direction and projection
of written words you know by heart
be careful
watch your step
with luck you'll figure out the rest
welcome to real life
this is not a test

this is not an entry 
you can edit
on wikipedia
this is not an update
for posting
on your social media
this is not an order
but it's more than a request
time to call in some favors
this is not a test

the world turns even faster
when you stop 
to catch your breath
moving faster than
the speed of life
as you tumble towards your death
what you will do at any time
is anybody's guess
say your prayer and take a vicodin
this is not a test

this is not a movie
but you're still in 
the leading role
slouching towards bethlehem
with a sad and troubled soul
you won't know 
where you're going 
but you'll get there nonetheless
welcome to real life
this is not a test
this is not a test

this is not a test

this is not a movie
you are not playing a part
with direction and projection
of written lines you know by heart
just be careful
step by step
you'll figure out the rest
welcome to real life, boy
this is not a test

this is not an entry to look up
on wikipedia
this is not an update
that you post
on social media
this is not an order
it's more like a request
time to call in some favors, son
this is not a test

the world will not stop turning
while you stop to catch you breath
sometimes it really is
a matter of life and death
what you will do at any time
is anybody's guess
say a prayer and take some vicodin
this is not a test

Sad and I'm trying not to think

(singing faux-sweetly)  Honey, I'm home!

Hey, farmboy! What have you been up to today?

I was just playing guitar outside. It's been warm, upper 80s, lower 90s, so the nights outside have been really nice. I wish I could share it with people like, say, my brother and his family.They moved to Yakima as of yesterday.

How are you doing with that?

I'm very sad and I'm trying not to think about it. Which I'm learning to be better at, by the way. I've had lots of practice lately.

Can we move on to something else? Would you mind?

Not time yet?

Yeah, it's not time. So, how 'bout that Weird Al Yankovic?

bullet escaping

I am a bullet escaping
from the shelter of a gun
racing toward my intended victim

love me like I'm worthy

love me like 
you don't pity me
touch me like
I might be human too
like a friend
like a lover
like we'll never
be discovered
even though
we both know
it can't be true
love me like I'm worthy
love me like I'm worthy
of you