the outside

the night seeps through the very bricks themselves,

the inside just as cold as the outside.

the record player makes circles around us.

the sounds were made a long time ago; but

the music still greets.

the modest of lights begins

the journey from a place of weary,

the place of endings begins and we go forth to

the outside. the outside.

the heavy metal objects of this heavy metal world and

the empty spaces filled with plastic -- they mark

the time and progress of apes...

the... but we are merely hungry. still.

the light comes to us finally, and there

the fruit, and bread and

the holy fire transfigures the animals.

the return home we are satisfied from

the outside.

Wax

The wax crackles with sax and dust;

You can feel the spittle on the mic,

The echoes up and down your spine;

You can read the sounds with your finger.

The wax sticks, skips, repeats, remixes,

You can watch it spin around and around.

Click. Flip.

born again (welcome to my diegesis)

some cycles are so long they can only be seen from space,
but let's not forget it -- everything is a circle
if you walk long enough;

if you walk long enough you'll wear down the earth,
and that's the thing about circles -- you can be reborn
into a redundant footprint;

into a redundant footprint i am born again,
or i birth myself again -- am i my own mother
and is this really a circle?

or just a really small dot?

Ode to Old Amsterdam

City of canals and coffeeshops and cobblestone
Smartshops and smut
Museum amusement
Fried food vended
The Leidseplein that never sleeps
Towering Dutchmen on two wheels
British weekenders and
Obnoxious Americans

City of practicality and patience
Colonial triumphs and contemporary trials
Tiny little houses with tiny little windows
Cats and dogs, whores and patrons
Pigeons trained to swarm at the drop of a frite
Covered in mayo

City of dreams and nightmares
The lost, the found, the still waiting
Water, water, water
Untroubled under trams and bridges
People, people, people
Undulating like the brushstrokes of a van Gogh
Or the faces of a Munch
Rembrandt nobles still live in castles

City of memories and songs and celebration
And life and death and dams
And damns and curses and blessings

Old Amsterdam was once new
But now a mother, a grandmother
Watching all her children and laughing

the edge of the world

when columbus was a boy
they told him never to go beyond
the edge of the world
where monsters lay, and dragons
today we say, "the world is not flat!"
but we are still boys
and the edge of the world eludes us
always

stream surfing

this hallway i run through
runs by me
flashing dark light
dark light dark light dark light
like a film strip and

i am an inverted projector
inside my own movie
that i am exhibiting
the wheels are spinning

i am the wheel
and the film
and the light

so it begins.
so it goes.

Love

Love, love, love
All you need is love
She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah
Love is all you nee--
Love is all you nee--
Love is all you nee--
Love is all you need
Back on top in June
I said THAT'S LIFE!
I want to hold your hand
With a love like that
You know it can't be bad
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, yeah, I tell you something
It's easy!

Residue

The wind leaves residues of autumn in my hair,
Like her smile left residues of loneliness.
When I walk and the leaves crunch beneath me,
They say, "Don't forget me! I was beautiful once!"
How does one forget if the weather never fails
To turn my knees and face cold this time of year?
The trees must be so lonely without their hair,
Indeed, how do they carry on, naked and empty?
They await the eternal spring which never comes.
I wait with them -- "I've been through this before."
Where did you go? Where have you gone? Alone?
The earth and the sun have conspired in absence,
My heart grows weary; or, weary grows on it.
For her smile showed me the summer once,
Which I will not forget when the snows come.

life and death

on the blackboard the Professor wrote
"life and death"
death + life
and we talked about vampyres
but i didn't see the point
as long as i am here and he is there
and you are where (?)

so i went looking for {you}
i put on your clothes
time time time = there's never enough
and time time time = it never runs out
you are there as i am here
as he is she and she is he
as you are we and woe is me

but where are we now, john?
where are we?

what is art

what is art
is what art
art is what
what art is
is art what
art what is
what what what
is is is
art art art

?

there is a place

there is a place in every story and every song
they go there and we go there so that time will stand still
like the fury of an angry child -- stalled
out of steam, out of breath -- stalled
waterfalled stalled since the beginning and the end
the place is behind the frozen wall of ice
the place is the river, the whole river
which is moving, but isn't going anywhere
we have all dreamed it and they have all seen it
every story and every song rebounds off the walls
echoing into each other like the river, the whole river
which is completely silent, completely empty -- stalled

i'm rambling.

if you should ever lose yourself
in a quandary of existential proportions
if you ever fill yourself
with self-loathing and self-doubt
if you ever wreck yourself
over the loneliness, pain, and isolation
of extant meaningless existence

find yourself.
going there.
but never get there.
only reach the shore.

when you ain't got nothin'

when you ain't got nothin'
you got nothin' to lose
said dusty old recordplayer
but what does recordplayer know?
recordplayer's got an easy time of it
sit tight, get plugged in, spin
needle the grooves, feed the groove
i'm not listening to you, recordplayer
when you ain't never known nothin'
you ain't got nothin' to say
but all the words of others
that you won't ever understand

everything in my head at once

good god, y'all
war -- huh!
what is it good for?
asked the cleaning lady
sunburned like hell
hashbrowns, powerade
twice a day, rinse off
the music's loud
in your room
turn it down
for us to figure out
on the bad luck train
sleeping sleeping sleeping
she likes traveling
when i'm with her
don't be that guy
or she will kick your ass
not addicted to cloves yet
one more, one more, one more
paper tiger -- no, airplane
that wasn't a song!
need a new pillow
pillowcased backpack
deep bad conversation dish
always breaking rules
peace, calm, happiness
laughter, laughter, laughter
sake, sake, sake
it's the pitchfork that builds
builds the hay into a haystack
that's chicago! that's what we do!
we keep it local and
invite the rest of the world!
the airtrain has no wheels
because it's air... train.
twenty-one years old
a twenty-one-year-old
man man ha ha man, man!
fuze has heroin in it
drunk and stoned
fuck yo la tengo
fuck bush, bleeding heads
they don't look like pharmacists
there's a lot of hair on stage
walking from union park to the red line
on the lake, over the lake
capone's blue light
chopping peppers, garlic, stirring
mozzarella was my idea
gothic american hopper edward
i was a falling nighthawk once, but
these milk jugs are heavy
i'll never make it home
well-hung stable boy!
i was meant for the stage
thank you so much for everything
falling asleep and growing up
under the sun, white sheet summer
stolen kisses on the run
i can still feel your head on my shoulder
everything hits at once
you forgot your tropical coconut body wash

spanish guitar

spanish guitar lively lively
pluckity pluckity pluck
uno uno dos dos
bicycle wheels on grass
as the sun sets
light falling falling
a chord, e chord
pablos picasso and neruda
bump bump fall fall
in the color red

clips

i finally realized something today
i'm the reason my dad's depressed
he tried to tell me all about it once
you can't love a girl and hold her hand
you can't do two things at the same time
i didn't listen to him and i didn't hold his hand
now he's alone without a song on

i finally realized something today
they were all right and i was all wrong
i'm in an empty baby's crib i made myself
either writhing or crying, i don't know
if i could feel anything, i'd tell you
but no words can come of a gaping hole
in my mouth or in my blackened brain

i finally realized something today
my mom really fucked me up
i fell out of the nest overheated, dried out
crushed, flattened, small
perfect-ly uninteresting
no anna kareninas for this tolstoy
not even a broken fence to mend

try try try

try try try
as you might
do do do
as you can
a little termite
fighting the man
a little knight
in the caravan

so long ago

were it the day
for your life
to be on the block
under the blade
with the crowd
in fear and agony
anticipation
running through
the veins
in your neck
(bulging
pumping
afraid)
what would escape
through your throat
out your lips at last?
a breath?
a gasp?
a curse?
a prayer?
or a laugh
at the look
in their eyes
?

ides

beware the ides of march
said the prophet to the flea
and tell them off to tomorrow
before the shadows reach here

werks

work and what's worse
while we work
we're not ourselves
we become workers
we become work
work with a nametag
we're works
werks

The New Pornographers/Belle & Sebastian

at the show at electric factory last night
the new pornographers totally awesome
except no jackie hey hey hey hey
a lot of other mass romantic, though
keyboardist with short hair
carl/a.c. newman
belle & sebastian with scottish accents
best black eye on the whole tour
electronic renaissance
sukie in the graveyard
i don't love anyone (and more tigermilk)
girl from audience singing judy and the dream of horses
encore
harmonica and guy in suit
guy in suit dancing
stuart murdoch
best show ever
jealous?