both eyes open

next time I'm falling in love
I'm going in
with both eyes open
so I can see
what's going on with me
when my heart gives me a shove
I'm moving in
both eyes open
so I can see
the danger
right in front of me

Didn't do a fuckin' thing

Day after Thanksgiving, man. Didn't do a fuckin' thing today.

I know that's not true, farmboy. You got up. Did you play guitar?

Yeah. I always play first thing in the morning. You know that.

Did you play "Popword" on the Internet?

Yeah. But I always do that.

I mean, I didn't do one constructive thing today.

Not even buy groceries?

Oh, yeah, you're right there, man. I did go out, spent $26 on food things. I bought two packages of tofu, I'll have you know. I bought celery, I bought cereal.

Chips?

No chips. Thank God. Gotta stay away from chips.

So what are you doing tonight, farmboy?

Nothin', man. But I'm not eating chips. And that's something.

The usual suspects

Thanksgiving, man. It's, like, the perfect holiday. No gifts, great food, family, friends, what have you. I mean, it's not really much of a consumerist holiday, you know?

It's one of my favorite holidays, farmboy. What are you thankful for?

The usual suspects: food, shelter, health, family, friends…music. Always music. I'm thankful for getting through things. There are many good things in my life, man. Now that I'm past the latest financial hump a little bit, life feels good. I'm not fuckin' taking it for granted, man.

I know you're not, farmboy. I think you're thankful a good deal of the time. 

I hope I am.

You are.

Well, then…good. I'm glad. I really am grateful. In many ways, I have had a blessed life. I need to have that perspective more, I think. Anyway, it wouldn't hurt.

I'm glad we have a holiday to pause and be thankful for what we have. I mean, I know that's corny and shit but I…that's how I feel. 

I do, too.

One more reason we're friends, man.

on Belmont Street

on Belmont Street
east side of town
parking lot
rain pouring down
away from the street light
where no one can see
the stranger was armed
and waiting for me

and me,
I was walking
home after work
my spirit was tired
my lungs cried for thirst
I was ready for supper
I was ready for bed
but I was not ready
for what happened instead

son to a father

my name's Willie Rodriguez
and I was a little bitty kid
when I lost my father
on a ash-gray winter morning
I was the family's little man
I don't remember what I did
like I never was
a son to a father

the outside me

I know who I am
on the inside
I know the outside me
is a liar
making no sense
in self-defense
adding fuel to the fire
I don't know where I'm going
but I know where I've been
and one thing's for sure
I'm taking the cure
and I will not see
and I will not be
the outside me
ever again

with my evil twin

I'm having a fight 
with my evil twin
and though I use all my might
I don't know if I'll win
'cause it's not all black
and it's not all white
and that's not something
either one of us likes

I'm always at war
with my evil twin
I tell you, friend,
where to begin
'cause I don't know 
I don't have a clue
what caused my mind
to split in two

          I've had therapy
          drugs were there for me
          I don't care, you see
          what I must do
          all I know as fact
          this sad balancing act
          always alert for attack
          it can't be true

I'm exhausted from this fight
with my evil twin
but it seems as addictive
as love or heroin
but here we keep moving
and here we stand still
each with our pride
and our own free will

Hand me the razor blade, I'm done here

It's so fuckin' hard to be a human individual, man. Life would be so much easier is the answers and the questions were all "one size fits all," you know?

Ah, but it wouldn't be so interesting, would it, farmboy?

I suppose not. Maybe. Music would suffer if the world was perfect. Can you imagine nothing but happy songs? Man, hand me the razor blade, I'm done here.

Come on, farmboy. You know that there are plenty of good songs that just happen to be happy.

Yeah? Name one.

"Take Me Home, Country Roads" by John Denver.

Oh puh-leez. You can do better that that.

"Dancing Queen" by Abba.

Well, look, the conflict in both those songs is that they're fantasies of the singer. This guy singing "Country Roads" probably works a dead-end job in some hell-hole like Phoenix, you know? He wants to go home.

With the singers in Abba -- the two women, anyway -- well, they're living for that moment when they're dancing in the club. That's where they're fuckin' dancing queens. That's not their character's everyday life. Pretty mundane, just like my life, in a way.

Okay. "Tequila" by the Champs.

Well, okay, there you go. Score one for Mr. Interviewer Sir.

You mean I'm right?

I hate to admit it. 

as for forgiveness:

as for forgiveness:
maybe someday I will
but I think
it's going to take a long long time
I'm positive
I will think about you still
but right now 
you are not welcome
in this heart of mine

maybe I'll forgive you
maybe I won't
it doesn't matter very much to me
I hope that I forgive you
but excuse me if I don't
all we can do is
wait and see

for my sake
hopefully it will happen

Real bad

Bad day. 

Bad?

Real bad.

What's going on, farmboy?

Oh, man, another fuckin' rejection by fuckin' music people. It's still too raw, man. I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to self-medicate and let my subconscious do the stuff it will do. Then I'll just be there on the other side.

You know where I am, farmboy. Call me if you need to talk.

Thanks.

Now it's off to weed- and food-land.

rewriting my history

I edit and I polish
but I just can't make it work
I cut and paste
my verbal waste
until I go berserk
there's a world out there
but it will have to wait for me
I'm busy
rewriting my history

I tell myself stories
of a happy childhood
memories of
that special love
that's not misunderstood
I know I stretch the truth a bit
but that's just creativity
I'm merely
rewriting my history

          I've photoshopped the polaroids
          until nothing looks the same
          autobiographical fiction
          is my addiction to be claimed

so please excuse the typos
each fingerprint and smudge
and if you find
I've lost my mind
don't be one to judge
it's only me escaping
the hand that life dealt me
can't you see
I'm rewriting my history
look at me...

in this town

in this town
the stoplights almost never turn green
in this town
people drive like they're on thorazine 

$52.07

Man, let me tell you, I made some money this weekend playing music. So I went out today and spent a bunch of it.

How much do you consider a "bunch," farmboy?

$52.07.

That's it? What did you buy?

I put twenty dollars in my truck's gas tank and spent $32.07 on groceries, It was fuckin' great, man! I bought toilet paper and two chickens -- 79 cents a pound -- and garbage bags and a bagel and some cream cheese and a few bananas and…

I get  the idea, farmboy. Congratulations.

Yeah, I'm happy. I mean, I realize that most of it is, like, non-food stuff, but it's stuff I needed to buy.

Yes, toilet paper is pretty important.

Damn right, man. I bought a fuckin' 12-pack, man.

old friend Sam

my old friend Sam
lives up the road
he's a good, good man
my neighbor Sam
grows the best weed
in this land
hot damn
my old friend Sam

finger-pick haiku

I need no reason
to finger-pick my guitar
it is destiny

I love that guitar

The weekend's here, I've got weed, I've paid off a couple debts that have been worrying the fuckin' crap out of me, there's takeout Chinese food and Diet Pepsi…life is good.

Glad to hear it, farmboy. Congratulations on paying off the debts.

Oh, man, I thought I was gonna have to sell my resonator guitar. I am so fuckin' thankful that I don't have to. I love that guitar. You know, I don't play slide all that well, but I love playing it.

Yeah, I've heard you play that country blues stuff. Hank Williams, Jimmie Rodgers, those people.

Fuck, man, I love that kind of music. I'm not good enough to perform on the slide guitar, though. Hopefully someday.

Probably with your own songs, farmboy.

Yeah. That's something to work towards.

static from headphones

static from headphones 
ambient buzz in my ears
turn up the volume

I hear too much
know too much
but I still keep listening 

knowing the perfect song
is out there 
somewhere

Good company

Listen, not to complain, but…

You're going to complain. Go ahead, farmboy.

Fuckin' asshole. Whaddya mean "You're going to complain?"

That's the kind of thing people say before they're about to do something. You know, "Not  to criticize, but," or "I'm not racist, but." Or the famous "No offense, but."

Oh, I see. Yeah, people do that shit. And now I'm one of those people.

We're all those people, farmboy.

Even you, man?

Even me.

Well…I guess I'm in good company…

What do you want to complain about?

Never fuckin' mind, man.

empty heart

I'm just a stranger
looking into an empty heart
and realizing
that it belongs to me

you can have it
if you want

And then…and then…

My beautiful four-day-weekend is over. I am very sad. But I'm glad it happened.

Good. Just remember, farmboy, that this is a four day week and then another week and then…

Thanksgiving?

You got it.

That's so fuckin' great! Only a couple of weeks! We're talking five-day weekend here!

Then it's not too long till winter break. Christmas! New Years! And then…and then…

Then it's back to work for four months. Then spring break.

Oh, man. It's so depressing to think about January. You know?

on veteran's day

the man had white hair
the woman's was blue
like the oceans he crossed
in world war two
they drove to this diner
in their old chevrolet
on veteran's day

This going-to-the-movies thing

I saw my first 3D movie today, Gravity with... um, what's his name? George Clooney. Him and Sandra Bullock. It was a good movie. But that 3D stuff, man, that was fuckin' amazing.

I'm glad to see that you're going out on this long weekend, farmboy. So you thought it was a good movie?

Yeah, it was. I like this going-to-the-movies thing. I like sitting in the darkness and watching the trailers for the upcoming movies. It's kinda like running away for a little while, you know? I mean, I ain't gonna take my cell phone with me.

This 3D thing, man, I have no idea how they do that. I actually liked that more than the story and acting and screenwriting. I mean, I liked all that, too.

I'd like to see it. I may go this week.

On, man, you should. 

You know, I just haven't gone to the movies for a while -- like a year or so -- because of money problems. But I think I'm gonna start going, if I can swing it.

sneakers hanging, take five

the sun has broken
and the roads are clear
I am driving
away from here
take a turn
at Tenth and Main
don't matter which 
they're both the same

sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
dead pick-up truck
with a flat rear tire
deadhead stoners
at the matinee
I'm from here 
and I'm running away

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          
at first I didn't
know for sure
that this was something
less than pure
more than I'd ever 
had in store
more than I
had bargained for

I like the rhythm
of your hips
the grasping of
your fingertips
your silhouetted
curve and sway
almost enough
to choose to stay

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          
you loved me dirty
and you loved me clean
you loved me naughty
and you loved me mean
you loved me until
I learned to bleed
from loving you
like a man in need

small towns have
long memories
and it's a long, long trail
in front of me
but I will not
be taken by
the rhapsody
of your velvet lies

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          
sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
this farm boy's left
the Sunday choir
I'll think of you
wherever I roam
the resting place
I know as home

decision

I played my guitar
just because I wanted to:
a good decision

Four-day-weekend

Man, let me tell you, I got a four-day-weekend coming up. I'm gonna be so fuckin' happy after work is over tomorrow.

Four days,eh? pretty good, farmboy. What's the reason?

Well, Veteran's Day is Monday and I'm taking off Friday 'cause there's no work to do.

But you're still getting paid, right?

Yep. 

Also, I have weed for the weekend and not a whole lot I have to do. I just gotta make it through one more day.

You can do it, farmboy.

And I'm going to do it. Then it's a four-day-weekend and life will be happy. For four days, at least.

sneakers hanging, new verse

you loved me dirty
and you loved me clean
you loved me naughty
and you loved me mean
you loved me until
I learned to bleed
from loving you
like a man in need

old sneakers hanging, take four

the sun has broken
and the roads are clear
and I am driving
away from here
take a turn
at Tenth and Main
don't matter which 
they're both the same

old sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
dead flat bed truck
with a low rear tire
my hometown resides
in sheets of gray
it's from here
I'm running away

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          know I will never return

when I met you
I was sure
that this was something
less than pure
more than I 
had in store
exactly what
I was hoping for

I like the rhythm
of your hips
the grasping of
your fingertips
your silhouetted
curve and sway
almost enough
to choose to stay

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          know I will never return

small towns have
long memories
and it's a long, long trail
in front of me
but I will not
be taken by
the rhapsody
of your velvet lies

old sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
this boy has left
the Sunday choir
I'll think of you
wherever I roam
the resting place
I know as home

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          know I will never return

I like powerful

So, did I tell you about Friday night at the coffeehouse?

You said that you were going to perform. How did it go, farmboy?

Why, it was fuckin' great, thanks for asking. 

Good to hear. Details, please.

I played well. I had no problem with my hands or with forgetting my own lyrics. I was comfortable, I had a good rapport with the audience going.

I fuckin' love performances like that, man. When the stars align and God looks down and says "You! Show me what you can do!" And then you do it, and God says "That's my boy!"

It's funny. It's like I feel powerful. And I almost never feel powerful. I like it. I like powerful.

When do you perform again?

In two weeks.

Good. Keep this momentum going, farmboy.

Wow. I don't think I've ever been accused of having momentum before.

old sneakers hanging, take three

the sun has broken
and the roads are clear
and I am driving
away from here
take a turn
at the end of Main
don't matter which way
they're both the same

old sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
old flat bed truck
with a low rear tire
my hometown resides
in sheets of gray
it's from here
I'm running away

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          know I will never return

small towns have
long memories
and it's a long, long trail
in front of me
but I will not
be taken by
the rhapsody
of your velvet lies

I like the rhythm
of your hips
the grasping of
your fingertips
your silhouetted
curve and sway
almost enough
to choose to stay

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          know I will never return

old sneakers hanging
from a telephone wire
this drunk has left
the midnight choir
the cemetery's 
cold gray stone
the resting place
I know as home

          don't try to tell me
          I won't listen
          don't try to teach me
          I won't learn
          look for me
          in the rear view mirror
          and know i will never return
          know I will never return

What then? Huh?

I'm performing tonight, down at the coffeehouse. It's so fuckin' weird, man. Here I am, I love music, right? And yet it's like I lose so much confidence and I worry so much when it comes time to perform. Like: Will my hands work right? Will I remember all the lyrics? What if I fall on stage? What if my guitar won't stay in tune? What if the songs aren't good enough? I'm so ugly, people won't want to pay attention to me. I'm a lousy singer, or at least that's what everybody told me growing up. I have nothing worth saying. I'm scared. What if everything anybody has ever said to me about me not being good enough is correct? What then? Huh?

I don't know, farmboy. What then?

I still perform because that's what I do.

Good luck, farmboy. Remember to have fun.

I will. Thanks for the reminder.