photo blues

anti-law blues

There was a brief period of time where everything sort of fell into place
Even if I had to sever the edges a little
Prospects
Like dead leaves
Were fatal
And it was autumn
But I was oblivious
Oblivious to how the stars become disenchanted by the city
Disenchanted by veterans wounded not by bullets but time
And who were given a salty and solemn salute

I had a forest of plenty
But there was very little I could offer you
I searched every inch of the woodland
Each acre was filled envy
Every canopy corrupted by wretchedness
The trees were spider webs in the attics of my youth
I searched
Nothing was hidden or sacred
It was my own
I made a path for myself and walked
Barefoot on the gravel
Just a stones throw from the grave

I met a vagabond and he told me all the ways that I was wrong and I believed him because he was old and I was young
But he wasn’t wise
I was just unaware
Reality would inevitably reach me
But for that I would have to wait until winter
And I was impatient
I was a child
And I would only last a while
So I would make the most of it
And remain oblivious
Oblivious to all the signals and flares and smoke and mirrors and gestures
And walls I have to climb, climb, climb, higher with every immature moment of refusal we share
I should turn away but I do not
I will not
Instead I will climb, climb, climb, and overcome for purposes I don’t recognise fuelled by feelings I don’t recognise
Feelings you’ve sought to avoid
Feelings you’ve learnt to despise
Well when I reached you somewhere high above this here wall and ask you to take my hand I implore you to grab hold
For if you do not
I will fall
Naked on the gravel
Just a stones throw from the grave

usual blues

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

I wish He wrote more words like this..

kerouac blues

from on the road, after a brief description of Sal's entourage;

"They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they had, which later became so much sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centrelight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"

I laughed at the end of this passage, but it could be my mantra.

listening to buena vista social club (havana singers, wow..)

cola blues

I'm in a Beatles Cover Band

we play shit versions of classic songs to impartial audiences

it's fucking great.

sky blue sky blues

I'd like to be able to take photos like this.

listening to wilco.

productivity blues

hey salty

I am my own worst enemy

seriously

just when I thought I had paper moon cd sorted, I go and write more material

that is like

way more credible than the other bullshit

now I don't know what to do

whether to just scrap it all and start anew

or just least it the way it is

I genuinely think the 5 or 6 songs ive written the last three days are 100x better than everything else I've written collectively over the last three years

but that'll probably change tomorrow

It's hard to explain

I just wasnt as inspired before as I am now

like

I never used to really believe what I was writing

it was all venting from like a sub-conscious level

everything I've written in the past week is so much more raw and intimidating

and I like it, I think

I'm playing at the heritage hotel for the first time in like ever next friday

so I'm going to road test everything

I'll let you know how it is goes

love salty

subterranean fatigue blues

I archive the bullshit @ http://www.songmeanings.net/artist/view/songs/137438989040/

winter blues

hey salty

so here's how the demo is shaping up:

The Age Of Unreason
Steer Clear
A Call To Arms
Paper Moon
Gauntlets
They’ve Got Your Number
Indecision
Spilt Drinks & Compliments
Ghost Valley
Apocalypse Now

for most of you that list will mean nothing

but I think this PM debut will be an LP

I mean we have laid down 10 tracks

they're not all finished yet

but I don't see any reason why we should try to be prolific

I have more songs than I know what to do with

I could make this a double LP if I had the time/resources

but I do not

so I can not

and what does it matter - no one is going to hear the music anyway

my perspective is narrow

think I've leapt into the deep end

only the find the waters shallow

recuperative blues

sup salty

so for the longest time I thought I was the only one who viewed this here blog

which I was not opposed to

as I am a massive contradiction of a human being in many ways

but in this way

I made a page viewable by the entire world, only to tell no one about it

out of fear or neurosis or whatever

what do you make of that freud?*

*freud is a dooshbag.