Work mornings

What's going on, farmboy?

Ain't nothin' much. man. Work mornings, you know, they're all the same. You wake up, brush teeth, shave, shower, dress, make coffee, take meds, out the door and into the truck. That's what every morning is made of. Which is good, because I don't have the energy to reinvent the wheel every fuckin' morning, you know?

True enough.

Any more questions, oh-great-interviewer-sir?

What good things are going on?

I've been writing. You've been seeing evidence of that.

That's a good thing.

That's the only thing. But you know that.

What are you listening to these days?

Aeriel Pink.

Who's that?

Some guy, I think, I don't know much about him. I'm not sure yet what I think of his album, but I love the hit song "Round and Round."

So, what are you listening to?

I'm going through a Billie Holiday period.

Oh man, she's the best. I fuckin' love her.

So, man, thanks for the conversationing. Uh...is that a word?

I don't think so. But you're welcome.

Oxygen and water

you were eight years old

you were playing in the woods

by crawdad creek

when he saw you

and he grabbed you

and he ordered you

to neither move or speak

and he did things to you

that a small boy

can't begin to understand

and you're still keeping your secret

a child in the body of a man

skinned knees

torn jeans

blood on your sneakers

and your shirt

you looked just like a kid

who didn't know what he did

but got more than just his feelings hurt

he held you down on the ground

and he turned around

and keep the upper hand

and you're still keeping your secret

a child in the body of a man

now you are a grown-up

you're around the same age

that man was

way back then

but every night you have no choice

you feel his touch

and hear his voice

over and over

again and again

bedsheets soaked with sweat

but you never can forget

how he shook you

and he took you

under his command

and you're still keeping your secret

a child in the body of a man

Now, it's going to sound like I'm making excuses, but you've got to understand that this is a possible first draft. I mean, it's not really even a first draft yet. What I do many times is this kind of writing where I just get everything out and then I edit it later and put it to a melody if I don't already have one in my head. And I write a lot of free writing/first draft stuff that never gets past that first stage.

And this one, farmboy? I think it shows potential.

Thanks. But I don't know yet. I have to look at it and see if it still interests me, you know? I can see one possible issue: I offer no solution whatsoever and all I'm doing is reporting what happened. But that might really be all I can do. I'm not a therapist, I ain't no fuckin' social worker here.

But, basically, I don't want to analyze too much when I'm writing the first draft. I want to get all I can out there until I reach the point where I'm just forcing it. Forcing it -- the writing -- almost never works. It seems that it has to be as natural as it can.

So you have some thinking to do, then?

It's more than this weird subconscious thing where it kind of...marinades, for the lack of a better word. It percolates for a while. I have to see if I'm interested in it, and there's all these kind of bookmarks, you know...Do I like the words? Is it preachy?

You really don't like preachy, do you?

I hate preachy with a red hot passion.

I do too. I feel insulted when a song is preachy.

Yeah, it's so condescending.

So we'll see. If it keeps my interest, I'll keep you posted on how this song is going.

That would be great, farmboy.

I really want to write great songs, man. You have no idea how important it is to me. It's like oxygen and water.

And nobody has to be involved with this. That's one of the things I like about songwriting. No one can stop you from it. It's yours. It's a personal thing. No one can take it away from you.

It belongs to you.

And I belong to it, I guess. (laughs) It's a win-win situation!

Putting in my time

even if you can't speak

you can sing

even if you can't walk

you can dance

you'll never find what you can do

until you take a chance

even if you can't walk

you can dance

even if you can't speak

you can sing

That's all I got, man. It was a good try and it's not over, you know? I like the first four lines...

So do I.

I'm not sure about addressing it to "you," you know? It's kinda like unasked-for advice. And preachy. And I really don't have a fuckin' clue what I want to say.

But, hey, it 's writing. And I encourage any writing.

Good, farmboy. I'm glad to hear it. It sounds to me like you know what you don't want. And that can be pretty important.

Oh, definitely, man. It's super important.

I'm glad you're writing, farmboy.

Fuck, man, me too. Gotta continue putting in my time.

You've already put in a lot of time, farmboy.

Yeah? Well, that's something that'll never end until I die.

Never good enough

Hey, man, I'm so sorry I haven't been around as much. I'm back to work and so I've been tired and my sister from California's in town and I had to meet today with a friend about an upcoming show and...let me see...Fuck, man, I guess I ain't got no excuses. I'm sorry.

Why are you apologizing, farmboy? People get busy. This week you're one of those people. Give yourself a break.

I give myself a break too often. I need to fuckin' get my shit together, man. Nothing I do is ever good enough...

farmboy! Stop that!

I try. Really. But I can't. It seems like all day long everything is a reminder of my failings, you know, and I never get done all the stuff I want to get done and it's never good enough...

Try this. Breathe...

That's what you always say.

So try it. Breathe deeply, from your stomach.

Like, from my diaphragm like I'm gonna sing?

Exactly like you're going to sing. Do that a few times.

(farmboy breathes deeply, holds it, and exhales a few times)

That's a little better. I don't feel as tense as before.

Good. Now finish up and then go to bed so you can sleep and recharge yourself for the weekend.

Really?

Really. You don't need stress, you need rest. You've worked all week and you deserve to rest and do things you enjoy.

Yeah? Can I smoke weed and play guitar?

It's your Friday night.

Yeah, it is. So that's what I'm gonna do. Hey, thanks, man.

No problem, farmboy.

Hey, see you tomorrow, man,

big-ass dreams

i got some big-ass dreams

i'm gonna walk the world

i'm gonna settle down

with my hometown girl

drink corn liquor

till the winter snows

come knocking on your

home's front door

mm-hmmm

uh-huh

i don't pay nothin' no mind

'cause my friend

in the end

everything's gonna work out fine

i got some big-ass dreams

i'm gonna go far

playing piano

on a martin guitar

some dogs start howling

when the sun comes up

hell, i been howlin'

since i was just a pup

mm-hmmm

uh-huh

i don't pay nothin' no mind

'cause my friend

in the end

everything's gonna work out fine

give me some lovin'

some pork and beans

a dollar in the pocket

of my workin' jeans

give me some whiskey

let me drink what i can

and i will die

a happy man

mm-hmmm

uh-huh

i don't pay nothin' no mind

'cause my friend

in the end

everything's gonna work out fine

i got some big-ass dreams...

So, what do you think? This is what I do. I make up stuff. I just wrote this, right fuckin' now. I'm hoping to maybe find something in here that i can use, whatever it is. Right now it's just writing down things. I encourage all writing down things in my life. Whatever. I'm sorry. I should have brought something more polished

There's nothing to apologize for, farmboy.

I guess I'm just saying that this could all change.

It's all good

Hey, man.

What's going on, farmboy?

First day back at the fuckin' job. I say that with all affection.

So it was good and I'm tired and so I'm gonna eat this soup I made and then go to bed. But I wanted to, you know, check in and stuff. Let you know I'm still here.

I'm glad you did. Everything going okay, farmboy?

Oh, yeah. It's all good. I'm just tired, you know.

Get some rest, farmboy.

I will. Thanks.

How I lucked out

Hey, farmboy. Happy new year!

Hey yourself, man, And, like, happy new year to you.

Cold enough for you?

It's so fuckin' cold...

In the 20s right now.

And fuckin' clear skies, man. I want snow, I want snow days. Snow, to me, looks completely magical to me, probably because I'm so not used to it.

It is beautiful.

Yeah. I feel a little cheated when it's cold like this and there's no snow. But what can you do?

Not a damn thing, farmboy.

I'm just thankful that I'm indoors with heat and food and a guitar, you know?

That's so true.

I think about all those who don't even have these things and I'm grateful, man. I don't know how I lucked out.

(silence)

Anyway, man, happy 2011 to you, (lifts glass of diet Pepsi) Cheers!