Hello All,
I’m sending out probably one of the deepest Cat Power songs in my opinion. I think it’s just about the citizens of our country and how we are so disconnected with the rest of the world. Or maybe it’s about how we’ve abandoned everything that truly matters in life in hopes of material pursuits.
This whole “bigger picture” idea really just disturbs me as a person and my outlook on mankind (or modern mankind, at least). Like, we all question ourselves at one point or another and say, “Fuck..is all this really worth it? What is this doing, really, for mankind?” And we see older folks and when they look back at their lives they remember only their friends and their passions. When they look towards their death, they would rather be in the company of those things.
You know what? I don’t care if I’m not speaking all prose-worthy right now; I’m working on all these crazy production calendars and it’s making me go crazy. Raleigh stopped by to see if I wanted to paddle out during lunch and he saw 5 calendars on my desk. He saw my NASCAR calendar on my wall and he saw my calendar on my computer screen. Now he must think I’m a calendar fiend. Like it’s a cracklendar more than anything else. Like I’ll go upstairs and rob Bon Appetit so I can by some mo’ calendars. Fuck it, Raleigh, you caught me, I can’t get enough. Kinda reminds me of this girl I know that has a sweet ass Rolex. I told her, “Why the hell do you have a Rolex when you’re always late? Motherfucker, if you rebuilt Stonehenge on your front lawn you’d still be late.” Maybe I can jack her for her watch and buy some calendars.
Well, crap (I’m retracing my steps). Yeah, well, what I’m saying is we all know that when we die, none of this matters. Can you really be passionate about a Prada bag? Like, I’m sure you can lust for it. But can you be passionate about it? Ok, another train of thought. Ok, uhh...lust is like fine but it’s so primal, so animalistic, “I like it. I want it.” But passion, passion is the intellectualization of lust. Human thought and all these emotionally, internalizing factors are what perpetuates lust to passion...like music. What I’m saying is that we are all trying to keep up with the Jones’s, but who are the Jones’s trying to keep up with? I can look at my life right now and tell you I want all this stuff (a cotton candy machine, a frog named Bertha, Tito’s Tacos) but even right now I can fast forward into my life and know that none of my wants and desires from childhood through adulthood will matter when I’m old. When the baby becomes the person, and in the later stages in life when the person becomes the baby again (and all the wisdom obtained in between); I won’t want anything different from what I wanted as a baby: people to love me, feed me, and change my diaper. Oh yeah, a succulent breast would be nice, too. It’s just this...damn...human intelligence..thing. It’s making us. So. Fucking. Stupid.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/9r5dt4zhc5
FOOL
Apartment in New York, London and Paris
Where will we rest, we're all living on top of it
It's all that we have the USA is our daily bread
And no one is willing to share it
Why can't we see our fortunancy
Living as legends have lived.
Bane and dismannered
We coax all the time
Knowing that nothing is left when we die
Come along Fool
A direct hit of the senses you are disconnected
It's not that it's bad. it's not that it's death
It's just on the tip of your tongue, and you're so silent
Wanting to live and laugh all the time
Sitting alone with your tea and your crime
Children with kids, and people with parents
Any which way there’s no past and no presence
When the day comes and all of them bums
Will reveal enchanting persons
Come along...
When it's a rut and baby's no luck
Half of it's misunderstanding love
The war we have won we're winning again
Within ourselves and within our friends
Come along...
Friday, September 28, 2007
"Introduction" - Voxtrot
This was kinda weird, I listen to a lot of hip hop...like a lot of hip hop. Like if I was a killer whale from Brooklyn I’d eat like 200 CDs a day as if they were sardines. I’d jump through a ring of fire for a Wu Tang CD. Did you know that “dork” means whale penis? So next time you call someone a big ol’ dork, you might be exaggerating at least a little bit. Whale penises are already quite beefy, so calling someone a big dork makes it even more grandiose. I would imagine that it’d be so big that even a laser pointer wouldn’t be able to reach the end of it. Ok, I might be exaggerating (at least a little bit).
I would think that it would be like those 200 pipe organs in those dusty cathedrals of Eastern Europe. Only that the pipes would be all put together; the way children put plastic straws together when they drink their sodas at McDonald's. You know, cup on the table, feet on the seat, tippy toe if you must. Only difference being that the yellow and red stripes would have to line up and that children probably don’t think about how their straws resemble disassembled pipes that would accurately measure the length of whale penises.
I wish I had influence on the scientific community. I would urge them to change the plural form of penis to peni (like stimuli) and stimulus to stimuluses (like penises). Stimuluses kind of sounds like the name of an circus elephant, doesn’t it? Now now, I’m not going to go into talking about elephant penusulufaguses. But, I may talk about peanuts. PEANUTS! Ok, Richard Simmons style now.
Well, as I was saying with hip hop CDs is that like 85% (ok Russell Simmons style) of hip hop CDs have an intro track. So when I heard this I was about to just delete it. And then I heard this guy’s voice come on and I started to witness the build up. Terry, tell me the guitar in the beginning doesn’t remind you of “Like Eating Glass” by Bloc Party. Well, ok...so it doesn’t. But you’ll be damned if you don’t think it’s reminiscent.
There’s this lady here at work, a facility lady, that sorta reminds me of my mom. Which is super funny because she doesn’t look anything like her but does kind of look like her. So you know, I always treat her nice and smile at her every morning...she must think I’m into her. Ok, she doesn’t really look like my mom. But dude, if there was a lightning storm and the power went out, first person I’d run to hug would be her. That’s all I’m saying.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/y3x0fif56b
INTRODUCTION
Open your eyes and stretch your hands
This house is clean but it is not my home
Did I make this bed
The two hands touch on two
Sometimes I think of some place colder
The sound of traffic and the way it's worn
When you feel yourself grow up inside of here
And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me just like I am
Remember we ran through lovely streets
We made our rules and then we broke them first
It felt like we were running all the time
When I wouldn't give one ugly moment
I'd wrap it up, I'd keep it in my sock
I can keep it, yeah, I know what's yours is mine
And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me when
I stand to the sea, lets me love some other day
We get bored of weakness all the time
Now I won't know how much I lost until I've gone away
Your sun sets when my sun starts to shine
I would think that it would be like those 200 pipe organs in those dusty cathedrals of Eastern Europe. Only that the pipes would be all put together; the way children put plastic straws together when they drink their sodas at McDonald's. You know, cup on the table, feet on the seat, tippy toe if you must. Only difference being that the yellow and red stripes would have to line up and that children probably don’t think about how their straws resemble disassembled pipes that would accurately measure the length of whale penises.
I wish I had influence on the scientific community. I would urge them to change the plural form of penis to peni (like stimuli) and stimulus to stimuluses (like penises). Stimuluses kind of sounds like the name of an circus elephant, doesn’t it? Now now, I’m not going to go into talking about elephant penusulufaguses. But, I may talk about peanuts. PEANUTS! Ok, Richard Simmons style now.
Well, as I was saying with hip hop CDs is that like 85% (ok Russell Simmons style) of hip hop CDs have an intro track. So when I heard this I was about to just delete it. And then I heard this guy’s voice come on and I started to witness the build up. Terry, tell me the guitar in the beginning doesn’t remind you of “Like Eating Glass” by Bloc Party. Well, ok...so it doesn’t. But you’ll be damned if you don’t think it’s reminiscent.
There’s this lady here at work, a facility lady, that sorta reminds me of my mom. Which is super funny because she doesn’t look anything like her but does kind of look like her. So you know, I always treat her nice and smile at her every morning...she must think I’m into her. Ok, she doesn’t really look like my mom. But dude, if there was a lightning storm and the power went out, first person I’d run to hug would be her. That’s all I’m saying.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/y3x0fif56b
INTRODUCTION
Open your eyes and stretch your hands
This house is clean but it is not my home
Did I make this bed
The two hands touch on two
Sometimes I think of some place colder
The sound of traffic and the way it's worn
When you feel yourself grow up inside of here
And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me just like I am
Remember we ran through lovely streets
We made our rules and then we broke them first
It felt like we were running all the time
When I wouldn't give one ugly moment
I'd wrap it up, I'd keep it in my sock
I can keep it, yeah, I know what's yours is mine
And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me when
I stand to the sea, lets me love some other day
We get bored of weakness all the time
Now I won't know how much I lost until I've gone away
Your sun sets when my sun starts to shine
"This Is the End" - Straylight Run
Hello All,
I’ve been all MAL’d out lately...still at work right now. For all you non advertising folks, MAL is Media Arts Lab and they handle all the Apple stuff and they work harder than the Jamaican family in In Living Color. (that’s right Spellcheck, you fucking bitch always calling me out for messing up and misspelling and typoing). I hate it, I just said “in” twice and didn’t get shit.
Crap, I’m starting to lose you guys. Ok, well, first of all, I’m real thankful for having Roy as a friend, he hooked me up with a free ticket to see Straylight Run perform at Hotel Café last Thursday. I had to pay for parking and that wasn’t worth my hourly rate..so the show was still whatever. I’m still whatever with the band. But I did manage to smile when I heard today’s song.
I’ll tell you about Straylight Run. The guy....has to go. The girl, she’s insanely pretty so she gets to stay here and rock my world (yes, I’ve been referring to Rock of Love a lot lately, I just really want to wear leather pants (in public) and drink some Bret Brew (sometimes, in public)). Something about girls baring their shoulders just..just makes me want to bear their shoulders. I’m emery boarding my claws right now. For real, no joke.
Well, I’ll tell you what’s missing with them. They looked BORED on stage. Ok, so here’s the deal, just because it’s acoustic and gut wrenching, it really just is frosting on the cake. I mean, you can get a pile of dog poop and make it look like a wedding cake, but I’ll tell you....something’s stinky about it. Wow, two puns in two paragraphs. I think I want to change my name to Ostrich. And if you think they’re that dope because they’re that emotional and what not, but compare them to Iron and Wine. Cake anyone?
Oh yeah, here’s a pic of the Cat Power concert. Angela called me out, saying that I didn’t enjoy the show as much and that I was let down. I was, she’s my favorite artist, after all. I was just hoping to hear some classics. If anyone’s interested in a Cat Power compilation, let me know and I’ll post it onto my blog (I can resend the link if no one has it) and you guys can download it and fall in love with her madness and be an emotional wreck like me.
I was telling Zac earlier this evening, that my list is very self exploitive. I can’t help it. I feel these feelings when I hear music. I think these thoughts when I hear something powerful and often times it leaves me feeling empty and I get scared that all these thoughts will just go to waste if I don’t convey them. So therefore, I put myself out there all the time, my soul walks on that emotional limb and my heart exploits itself. It wears pasties on its valves and 6 inch heels on its ventricles and shakes its booty for you all to marvel at.
But I’m telling you. It’s got big plans, this heart of mine. It’s just trying to pay tuition, that’s all.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/dojy135n26
THIS IS THE END
I'm gonna hide out all night,
Close my curtain, and dim my light.
I'm gonna lay here alone,
Close my eyes, and wish for home.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end.
Your face is surrounding me,
It's the only face I wanna see.
For now, we're safe on the ground,
We've got these words, these songs, these sounds.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end.
Ooh, ooh...
Last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of.
Last time that I saw you (I'm gonna hide out all night)
This is the end of, this is the end of (Close my curtains, dim my lights.)
Last time that I saw you, (I'm gonna lay here alone)
This is the end of, this is the end (Close my eyes, and wish for home)
Ooh, ooh...
I’ve been all MAL’d out lately...still at work right now. For all you non advertising folks, MAL is Media Arts Lab and they handle all the Apple stuff and they work harder than the Jamaican family in In Living Color. (that’s right Spellcheck, you fucking bitch always calling me out for messing up and misspelling and typoing). I hate it, I just said “in” twice and didn’t get shit.
Crap, I’m starting to lose you guys. Ok, well, first of all, I’m real thankful for having Roy as a friend, he hooked me up with a free ticket to see Straylight Run perform at Hotel Café last Thursday. I had to pay for parking and that wasn’t worth my hourly rate..so the show was still whatever. I’m still whatever with the band. But I did manage to smile when I heard today’s song.
I’ll tell you about Straylight Run. The guy....has to go. The girl, she’s insanely pretty so she gets to stay here and rock my world (yes, I’ve been referring to Rock of Love a lot lately, I just really want to wear leather pants (in public) and drink some Bret Brew (sometimes, in public)). Something about girls baring their shoulders just..just makes me want to bear their shoulders. I’m emery boarding my claws right now. For real, no joke.
Well, I’ll tell you what’s missing with them. They looked BORED on stage. Ok, so here’s the deal, just because it’s acoustic and gut wrenching, it really just is frosting on the cake. I mean, you can get a pile of dog poop and make it look like a wedding cake, but I’ll tell you....something’s stinky about it. Wow, two puns in two paragraphs. I think I want to change my name to Ostrich. And if you think they’re that dope because they’re that emotional and what not, but compare them to Iron and Wine. Cake anyone?
Oh yeah, here’s a pic of the Cat Power concert. Angela called me out, saying that I didn’t enjoy the show as much and that I was let down. I was, she’s my favorite artist, after all. I was just hoping to hear some classics. If anyone’s interested in a Cat Power compilation, let me know and I’ll post it onto my blog (I can resend the link if no one has it) and you guys can download it and fall in love with her madness and be an emotional wreck like me.
I was telling Zac earlier this evening, that my list is very self exploitive. I can’t help it. I feel these feelings when I hear music. I think these thoughts when I hear something powerful and often times it leaves me feeling empty and I get scared that all these thoughts will just go to waste if I don’t convey them. So therefore, I put myself out there all the time, my soul walks on that emotional limb and my heart exploits itself. It wears pasties on its valves and 6 inch heels on its ventricles and shakes its booty for you all to marvel at.
But I’m telling you. It’s got big plans, this heart of mine. It’s just trying to pay tuition, that’s all.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/dojy135n26
THIS IS THE END
I'm gonna hide out all night,
Close my curtain, and dim my light.
I'm gonna lay here alone,
Close my eyes, and wish for home.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end.
Your face is surrounding me,
It's the only face I wanna see.
For now, we're safe on the ground,
We've got these words, these songs, these sounds.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of.
The last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end.
Ooh, ooh...
Last time that I saw you,
This is the end of, this is the end of.
Last time that I saw you (I'm gonna hide out all night)
This is the end of, this is the end of (Close my curtains, dim my lights.)
Last time that I saw you, (I'm gonna lay here alone)
This is the end of, this is the end (Close my eyes, and wish for home)
Ooh, ooh...
Monday, September 24, 2007
"Jam On It" - Whodini
Hello All,
Hope you all had a good weekend. Please join me in welcoming Zac to our group (is that how you spell it). You guys have no idea how my eyes light up when I find out someone’s into hip hop.
Well, I haven’t really heard anything worth sending in a while. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of good shit coming out, but really, it’s just me wanting to think it’s funkdonkalous when it’s really just funkdoobiest.
It seems, to me, that all this underground shit is mad oversaturated. When I dig deep, I want to uncover an amazing vernal pool of sorts. That’s underground. But I’m digging and all I find is really just raging waters, high in volume but also high in dookie. It seems like underground either tries too hard to dial up: (anti)war, consciousness, or just that live band sound.
I really don’t think there’s a formula to it but people think that if they were to mimic other people, they’ll falter. Or they’ll do fine and then eventually people will call their bluff and they’ll lose credibility. For real, we know the war in Iraq sucks. We know it’s Bush’s fault. But if you can’t fucking flip it to the point where it’s something fresh and new then I’m really not trying to hear you. It’s like someone coming up with the law of gravity and then Newton’s homie saying, “For real, dough.” Same applies to those acts that try to emulate the Roots too much.
You know what I say? I say come up with your own, organically grown sound and let the rest decide. Don’t just be like, “Yo. That Wu Tang shit is dope, I’m going to buy a fucking encyclopedia set and like learn about phylums and classes and chemistry and just rhyme them like a 7 layer burrito rhyme.” Just do your thing and let yourself get influenced; but do your own thing.
Last night, I was thinking of listening to some classical/baroque music (just thinking, not doing, because I want to hear that shit on vinyl..soft crackling sound and all) and I thought to myself what I am now starting to think about hip hop music. Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin and all them cats are the best and will always be heralded as the greatest. There WILL be another Michael Jordan, but there will never be another Beethoven. But that’s is NOT to say that good classical music hasn’t been done since then. It has.
And fuck me, I really thought that good hip hop music transcended culture and eras and phases. Like, shit’s crazy insane now, the tools and resources are infinite. White folks from Minnesota and Rhode Island are tearing it up, DJs have Serrato, producers have all these technological advancements, but the music is WELL DONE. I am starting to think that HIP HOP isn’t timeless. I really want to organize my thoughts and commit them by writing them out, but I’m still trying to deny the death of a culture that is still very much alive to me. It’s like being with a girlfriend that you love, but then she just lets herself go, doesn’t do her make up and then takes shits with the door open. I just want to talk to Kweli, Mos Def, Common, the entire WEST COAST, Outkast, them Saukrates/Choclair/K-OS cats from up north and be like,
“For real, I know you’re just going to the grocery store, but change out of your fucking pajamas. Make yourself presentable.” (For added effect, you can end that last sentence with “stank ass bitch.”)
I want that shit RAW, seared at most. This is an example of what HIP HOP should be. You hear it and you get a visceral, emotional response, you know what I’m saying? I heard this song when I was like 7-8 years old so all I can remember is trying to breakdance with the cholos in my neighborhood when I was a kid.
How about you guys? This is a monumental song. Let us know if anything comes to mind.
Peace,
Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/mx2yt84lrs
Hope you all had a good weekend. Please join me in welcoming Zac to our group (is that how you spell it). You guys have no idea how my eyes light up when I find out someone’s into hip hop.
Well, I haven’t really heard anything worth sending in a while. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of good shit coming out, but really, it’s just me wanting to think it’s funkdonkalous when it’s really just funkdoobiest.
It seems, to me, that all this underground shit is mad oversaturated. When I dig deep, I want to uncover an amazing vernal pool of sorts. That’s underground. But I’m digging and all I find is really just raging waters, high in volume but also high in dookie. It seems like underground either tries too hard to dial up: (anti)war, consciousness, or just that live band sound.
I really don’t think there’s a formula to it but people think that if they were to mimic other people, they’ll falter. Or they’ll do fine and then eventually people will call their bluff and they’ll lose credibility. For real, we know the war in Iraq sucks. We know it’s Bush’s fault. But if you can’t fucking flip it to the point where it’s something fresh and new then I’m really not trying to hear you. It’s like someone coming up with the law of gravity and then Newton’s homie saying, “For real, dough.” Same applies to those acts that try to emulate the Roots too much.
You know what I say? I say come up with your own, organically grown sound and let the rest decide. Don’t just be like, “Yo. That Wu Tang shit is dope, I’m going to buy a fucking encyclopedia set and like learn about phylums and classes and chemistry and just rhyme them like a 7 layer burrito rhyme.” Just do your thing and let yourself get influenced; but do your own thing.
Last night, I was thinking of listening to some classical/baroque music (just thinking, not doing, because I want to hear that shit on vinyl..soft crackling sound and all) and I thought to myself what I am now starting to think about hip hop music. Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin and all them cats are the best and will always be heralded as the greatest. There WILL be another Michael Jordan, but there will never be another Beethoven. But that’s is NOT to say that good classical music hasn’t been done since then. It has.
And fuck me, I really thought that good hip hop music transcended culture and eras and phases. Like, shit’s crazy insane now, the tools and resources are infinite. White folks from Minnesota and Rhode Island are tearing it up, DJs have Serrato, producers have all these technological advancements, but the music is WELL DONE. I am starting to think that HIP HOP isn’t timeless. I really want to organize my thoughts and commit them by writing them out, but I’m still trying to deny the death of a culture that is still very much alive to me. It’s like being with a girlfriend that you love, but then she just lets herself go, doesn’t do her make up and then takes shits with the door open. I just want to talk to Kweli, Mos Def, Common, the entire WEST COAST, Outkast, them Saukrates/Choclair/K-OS cats from up north and be like,
“For real, I know you’re just going to the grocery store, but change out of your fucking pajamas. Make yourself presentable.” (For added effect, you can end that last sentence with “stank ass bitch.”)
I want that shit RAW, seared at most. This is an example of what HIP HOP should be. You hear it and you get a visceral, emotional response, you know what I’m saying? I heard this song when I was like 7-8 years old so all I can remember is trying to breakdance with the cholos in my neighborhood when I was a kid.
How about you guys? This is a monumental song. Let us know if anything comes to mind.
Peace,
Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/mx2yt84lrs
Friday, September 21, 2007
"For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti" - Sufjan Stevens
Hello All,
I swear, I’m not religious. I’m religious in the way most Californians are; we’re not religious, we’re spiritual. Ok, I’m not going to offend anyone but I’ll just go on record to say that I’m struggling between being agnostic and being atheist. It’s just, God, I hate a lot of the things religion does to people. I’m not quite sure if my use of God was a figure of speech or if it was me addressing him. But I do know one thing, I love a lot of the songs that are inspired by religion. Not P.O.D. bullshit but stuff like Sufjan, Iron and Wine, Cat Power, etc.
With this song I just feel it might have been a little too overt; it seems like he’s talking as if he was God. But I’m going to make this leap and apply the whole, 5% notion of Islamic thought that you are the ruler and controller of your own destiny and interpret it that way. So when I do hear this song, it kind of makes me feel like the soul is talking to the cavity because they are not in sync with each other. Maybe it’s an empty chair at your birthday party, maybe it’s being passed up on for a job. It can be one of those beach-magnetism moments I always talk about. The tumultuous instability that comes after the end of a relationship, perhaps? I don’t know.
I see this song scoring those moments in life. Moments where you’ve done what you were supposed to do — get the job, succeed, get the girl, multiply, get the house,mow the lawn, etc. but the feeling of defeat overshadows the accomplishments. Those times, where, where the last viable option to validate yourself is to leave behind a legacy.
You know what I’m saying, just when you’re just at odds with yourself, and you’ve followed the recipe to a fucking T and you’re left eating nothing but “what the fucks.”
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/8kq6u92p36
FOR THE WIDOWS IN PARADISE, FOR THE FATHERLESS IN YPSILANTI
I've have called you children
I have called you son
What is there to answer
If I'm the only one
Morning comes in Paradise
Morning comes in light
Still I must obey
Still I must invite
If there's anything say
If there's anything to do
If there's any other way
I'd do anything for you
I was dressed in embarrassment
I was dressed in white
If you had a part of me
Will you take your time
Even if I come back
Even if I die
Is there some idea
To replace my life
Like a father to impress
Like a mother's morning dress
If we ever make a mess
I'll do anything for you
I have called you preacher
I have called you son
If you have a father
Or if you haven't one
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I swear, I’m not religious. I’m religious in the way most Californians are; we’re not religious, we’re spiritual. Ok, I’m not going to offend anyone but I’ll just go on record to say that I’m struggling between being agnostic and being atheist. It’s just, God, I hate a lot of the things religion does to people. I’m not quite sure if my use of God was a figure of speech or if it was me addressing him. But I do know one thing, I love a lot of the songs that are inspired by religion. Not P.O.D. bullshit but stuff like Sufjan, Iron and Wine, Cat Power, etc.
With this song I just feel it might have been a little too overt; it seems like he’s talking as if he was God. But I’m going to make this leap and apply the whole, 5% notion of Islamic thought that you are the ruler and controller of your own destiny and interpret it that way. So when I do hear this song, it kind of makes me feel like the soul is talking to the cavity because they are not in sync with each other. Maybe it’s an empty chair at your birthday party, maybe it’s being passed up on for a job. It can be one of those beach-magnetism moments I always talk about. The tumultuous instability that comes after the end of a relationship, perhaps? I don’t know.
I see this song scoring those moments in life. Moments where you’ve done what you were supposed to do — get the job, succeed, get the girl, multiply, get the house,mow the lawn, etc. but the feeling of defeat overshadows the accomplishments. Those times, where, where the last viable option to validate yourself is to leave behind a legacy.
You know what I’m saying, just when you’re just at odds with yourself, and you’ve followed the recipe to a fucking T and you’re left eating nothing but “what the fucks.”
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/8kq6u92p36
FOR THE WIDOWS IN PARADISE, FOR THE FATHERLESS IN YPSILANTI
I've have called you children
I have called you son
What is there to answer
If I'm the only one
Morning comes in Paradise
Morning comes in light
Still I must obey
Still I must invite
If there's anything say
If there's anything to do
If there's any other way
I'd do anything for you
I was dressed in embarrassment
I was dressed in white
If you had a part of me
Will you take your time
Even if I come back
Even if I die
Is there some idea
To replace my life
Like a father to impress
Like a mother's morning dress
If we ever make a mess
I'll do anything for you
I have called you preacher
I have called you son
If you have a father
Or if you haven't one
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
Friday, September 14, 2007
"Harbor Lights" - The Platters
Hello All,
So although I have a young heart, I’ve always felt like I’ve had an old soul. I guess I can be the same person that can talk about spraying lemon juice in the eye of a baby grasshopper while wearing a red handkerchief. But I can just flip it all of a sudden and really get down to the meat and potatoes of philosophy, ethics and life. I really can! Ask Go or Andrew; we have the craziest conversations in the water. We talk about all kinds of shit! It can be about anything. Usually though, I notice a few reoccurring questions I pose to Go and company when I’m out in the water:
What beats this, Go? Seriously, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Central Park? Central Park???? I’m talking about Pacific Muthafucking Ocean.
Does it get better than this?
The water feels great, huh?
Did you see that dolphin/seal/giant butt of that girl in the wetsuit lying down on her stomach?
Are you going to go for this?
Which way are you going?
Did you see that ride?
Are you hungry?
So, how’s work?
I’m fine with my lingerie supermodel that only has one name, how are you doing with the ladies?
Would you ever go back to New York/Florida/Brazil/Virginia?
For real, what gets better than this?
Answering just one of those questions usually leads to a few hours of conversation of real deep, philosophical talk; only to be interrupted by breaking waves.
Only to be silenced by the paddling out of a girl surfer.
http://www.box.net/shared/ll15u0geyo
So although I have a young heart, I’ve always felt like I’ve had an old soul. I guess I can be the same person that can talk about spraying lemon juice in the eye of a baby grasshopper while wearing a red handkerchief. But I can just flip it all of a sudden and really get down to the meat and potatoes of philosophy, ethics and life. I really can! Ask Go or Andrew; we have the craziest conversations in the water. We talk about all kinds of shit! It can be about anything. Usually though, I notice a few reoccurring questions I pose to Go and company when I’m out in the water:
What beats this, Go? Seriously, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Central Park? Central Park???? I’m talking about Pacific Muthafucking Ocean.
Does it get better than this?
The water feels great, huh?
Did you see that dolphin/seal/giant butt of that girl in the wetsuit lying down on her stomach?
Are you going to go for this?
Which way are you going?
Did you see that ride?
Are you hungry?
So, how’s work?
I’m fine with my lingerie supermodel that only has one name, how are you doing with the ladies?
Would you ever go back to New York/Florida/Brazil/Virginia?
For real, what gets better than this?
Answering just one of those questions usually leads to a few hours of conversation of real deep, philosophical talk; only to be interrupted by breaking waves.
Only to be silenced by the paddling out of a girl surfer.
http://www.box.net/shared/ll15u0geyo
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
"Tripoli" - Pinback
Dude, don’t scold me. It’s just an innocent conversation. It really took place, between friends and between moments of brilliance and flashes of frustrations...
--------
Someone: You know what I want in a girl?
Me: What?
Someone: I’ll tell you what I want.
Me: What is it that you want (all these unnecessary confirmations are there because we’re drunk and conversations get sluggish)?
Someone: This is how I measure a girl. If I could spend Sunday morning with her. You know, white sheets all fluffy and all. Well, I’d be doing my work on my computer in bed or whatever and she’s doing the crossword puzzle or reading a book or something.
Me: ...........
Someone: And in between, we’d just pause what we’re doing and make out.
Me: ...........
Someone: That’s how I measure girls. I think of whether or not I’d be able to be in bed with them, that Sunday morning.
Me: ............
--------
And you thought it was all about ass and tits.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/i2lbag4o2y
--------
Someone: You know what I want in a girl?
Me: What?
Someone: I’ll tell you what I want.
Me: What is it that you want (all these unnecessary confirmations are there because we’re drunk and conversations get sluggish)?
Someone: This is how I measure a girl. If I could spend Sunday morning with her. You know, white sheets all fluffy and all. Well, I’d be doing my work on my computer in bed or whatever and she’s doing the crossword puzzle or reading a book or something.
Me: ...........
Someone: And in between, we’d just pause what we’re doing and make out.
Me: ...........
Someone: That’s how I measure girls. I think of whether or not I’d be able to be in bed with them, that Sunday morning.
Me: ............
--------
And you thought it was all about ass and tits.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/i2lbag4o2y
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