Well, in case the hurricane claims me (or shuts down power for a while), here's one more song.
Inspired by a late night on the F train, where it felt like a bullet train.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Song - cover of the Fleetwoods "Mr. Blue"
Hey.
I turn 33 this August 31st. Nothing really special about that year or my birthday nowadays.
But when I was younger, I was a die-hard romantic (I still am, I just hide it better). From the age of six, I harbored this seven year crush on Lori Walker. Short, dark brown curls and two distinctive dimples framed her cheeks. Brown, luscious eyes which rendered me helpless.
And every birthday, there was a part of me that wanted that one ineffable gift: to be loved. To find that girl who saw past all my flaws who would share their company with me.
And when I was nine, I remember hearing this song on a collection of 50's music tapes my parents stuck in the car when we traveled on vacations to Idaho or Oregon. From the moment I heard it, I don't know why, but I really, really became enamored with it. It's such a clean, gentle, sad, wistful song. Self-pitying and pathetic and yet, the chords make it ear candy.
For years, my mom would play the song on tape for me on my birthday. And I'd just feel oddly hopeful. Maybe this birthday would bring me love. And if not, may it give me the attention and spirit and talent to write what I feel so it's half as good as this song.
Here's a cover of me singing it. I'm playing a homeless busker for a show, and none of the stuff on these pages is period enough. Enjoy!
I turn 33 this August 31st. Nothing really special about that year or my birthday nowadays.
But when I was younger, I was a die-hard romantic (I still am, I just hide it better). From the age of six, I harbored this seven year crush on Lori Walker. Short, dark brown curls and two distinctive dimples framed her cheeks. Brown, luscious eyes which rendered me helpless.
And every birthday, there was a part of me that wanted that one ineffable gift: to be loved. To find that girl who saw past all my flaws who would share their company with me.
And when I was nine, I remember hearing this song on a collection of 50's music tapes my parents stuck in the car when we traveled on vacations to Idaho or Oregon. From the moment I heard it, I don't know why, but I really, really became enamored with it. It's such a clean, gentle, sad, wistful song. Self-pitying and pathetic and yet, the chords make it ear candy.
For years, my mom would play the song on tape for me on my birthday. And I'd just feel oddly hopeful. Maybe this birthday would bring me love. And if not, may it give me the attention and spirit and talent to write what I feel so it's half as good as this song.
Here's a cover of me singing it. I'm playing a homeless busker for a show, and none of the stuff on these pages is period enough. Enjoy!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
It's the end of the world. So live...
I think I've discovered the root of my unhappiness.
I've been convinced for almost twenty years that the world was going to end. Not on some biblical sense. I just figured that the old political systems would fall apart, man would be cruel unto man. The bombs would drop. All the current trappings of the world- a house, a spouse, children, a desired career - would be meaningless.
And I'd been living as if the world was already dead. Why hustle for any of those symbols when the whole system's hollow and broken. But, since I've been hard wired to want success, love, praise, acceptance, not having them affected me on some fundamental level.
Is the world as we know it, as we've fetishized it, over? Without a doubt. But not even trying to offer oneself the love and care one needs will just make you miserable. Love, dammit. Make music and play.
I've been convinced for almost twenty years that the world was going to end. Not on some biblical sense. I just figured that the old political systems would fall apart, man would be cruel unto man. The bombs would drop. All the current trappings of the world- a house, a spouse, children, a desired career - would be meaningless.
And I'd been living as if the world was already dead. Why hustle for any of those symbols when the whole system's hollow and broken. But, since I've been hard wired to want success, love, praise, acceptance, not having them affected me on some fundamental level.
Is the world as we know it, as we've fetishized it, over? Without a doubt. But not even trying to offer oneself the love and care one needs will just make you miserable. Love, dammit. Make music and play.
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