Raccoon City

He lay awake nights, afraid of the new neighborhood. Afraid of his new house and its hostile windows. There were far too many houses glowing on the hillside, with an unbearable inky darkness connecting the yards. Separating his hillside of stark raccoon eyed homes from the east hill was a frightening throughway arterial, where the fancy cars as well as beaters raced their way to more vital parts of the city. He missed the old neighborhood nestled between two dense commercial districts. Living in the woods is scary, and it always has been since childhood. There are bars here, and faces to get to know. They are a hike away. There are no familiar TV shows tonight. There are just branches outside the windows and raccoon eyes in the black. There are no comforting neon or internally lit signs from any sightline. He reminds himself about being a grown man. He shuts his eyes and puts the dread to bed.

Solstice light savings

somewhere or time between nights end
and the new day Im awake with thirst
from the prior dissipation
and remember the darkness we danced in
and gave host to a few hours ago
and in reaching for your shoulder
I remember there is light,
just as much or more
sunshine stored through the winter
The days only grow short a few more spins
and before this mad christmas even
the light will grow a little longer
each spin
I'll outgrow the envy for moldy poets
that fucked around
and fictional toughs
and reflect and revise my myth
and honor the one I chose to share it with

Crystal Ball

the future is an amateur treadmill
a palette for mistakes
repeated folly and lucky breaks
calories unburned, candles cracking aching.
The future is a tightrope for the slow learner
and indecisive lane turner
the past are pruned limbs, ignored lessons, and
pardoned treachery.
Glory is only so because it comes as one big surprise.

Scumbag Drawllim

 

Flawed Glacier

thanks for the talk
it didnt fix anything
a good peek at the shit I'm full of
It's best not to try and understand
how it feels, flawed and ugly
envious of other flaws
static and glacial

Let's forget

i'd have a lot fewer troubled thoughts
if i could let go.
just let it go
and forget it.
cant.
I'll be at the bar.

cognitive toxin flypaper

calling all charlatans
I'm seeking a wise one
that peddles the answers
and deflates my muse
I'm haunted by conquests
unwritten by angels
come sell me a new light
to relight my fuse.

Anvil and Kite

she thinks i'm a kite
I'm more like an anvil
wrong end of a magnet
more still than tranquil
turned off and shut out
kicked out of the posse
the lanterns and showcase
has ridden the landscape
the perfect proportion
of one hidden handshake
of tree bark and statues
can opener handguns
one reason too many
and serious standoff
no bridges left spanning
no comic book torture
toll roads drained empty
from premature rapture
rat trap collapture

Weight Of Line and Intersection Lyrics

New Album lyrics


I TOLD YOU TO GO

Were you willing to bet?

You could outrun those cells

You lost the race

I saw you wasted away

Saw you lying in bed

Learned that it doesn't get

Much prettier

You know it took out my knees

I told you to go,

I told you to go

And I have never felt strange about that.

No time to prepare

Or remain unaware

I have my strength

I can put it away

My crying is done

I can help everyone

Just form a line

We comfort this way

I don't miss you anymore than I did then

if I forget you it will trouble me, trouble me no end.


EVAPORATE

never thought id see

the jealous coach in me

you got your crowd on hold

they all do what they're told

how would it be?

she takes your picture for free

she and your webhost don't agree

hey, careful what you say

they'll evaporate, they'll evaporate

your charming currency

is wearing thin with me

so good at blowing smoke

your fire's needing stoked

she tires of you

you lament and rue

at least the songs you write come true

stickers on our car

tell us just how far

we think apart

that's not my fault

ill try to be

open to a degree

today it just doesn't feel like me



WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE

every thought a clue

every mood a door darling

let the newsmen go

toward the age of defeat

in a landscape of war

every hug is a lie

if my hands weren't tied

I would

will the rope come down

a familiar road to a new burning place

troubled by the disconnected

and the discontented spans

of a borrowed day

and I just have to say

Where do we go from here

why do we always fail this

what have we learned from this

what of it was worth saving?

autumn's walk takes a toll

cause my mind's on a roll- I'm reading

quotes from my noteworthy friends

colored calendar shells

every woman I've faced

It's a room built for one

in a lifetime of two people

thoughts get mixed on the floor

alphabetical drawers, every lover needs space


MYTH TO STRUGGLE WITH

you said go ahead

and get it over with

is it just a myth that I struggle with?

how on earth could I juggle all of this?

seems so petty now I'm ashamed

I'm like a little kid

crying over cake

you can't take me anywhere

my eyes are everywhere it's punitive

sometimes the talks don't work

I can't get rid of it

the moon looks the same in other time zones

A luxury I can't afford to miss

I don't often get myself mixed up in other worldliness

have you seen the deus ex machina?

is that what you want for your dénouement

words can't measure out the time we drifted

miles speak only to the tires tread

success has always been a hidden metric

slung on wired fallout that the hurtful said

headlamps light the interstate

Taillights fall away to outer space.


BURN OUT THE LAMPPOSTS

I don't burn out the lampposts like I used to do

I don't paint the town any other hue

I don't bring the seasons any kind of joy

Don't kung fu grip me like your other toys

took my chucks for a walk and kicked a can or two

need a friend right now to kick the time change blues

I'm like the Yukon not a province yet

you're my Alaska now the sun won't set

Last Sunday

I fired a flare toward you

it read:

Do you find me in any private thoughts?

instead

of the one who makes you happy?

the one good reason to keep this to myself

NOTHING DOING TODAY

Nothing doing today needs done

Unplugging the ocean, unplugging the sun

You're gonna die trying

It's still trying to wake

It's too icy a season to be comfortably safe

Barricaded by the past

It's a naked jib across your mast

You answer to no one

You're accomplice to none

You're the worst kept secret on everyone's tongue

days are brighter now than they ever had to be

Sometimes forgotten scenes are the best part of the scenery

Like snowflakes in the sand, they drift away

Tortured tourist in the cracking storm

Tattered cases weathered, worn

Guitars are tougher than guns, and nothing's tougher than drums

I can feel the new season on the tips of my thumbs


NOTE THE WINDSHIELD CAUGHT

It's time to write the songs,

when no one's biting on the west coast

the right shows come along

a pile of demos headed for the thrift store

Its time to fix the van

and ask ourselves the harder questions,

is it time to change the plan?

we're going broke paying for the sessions

there's daylight on the bench seat,

a strange indifferent parking lot

the waitress has found your keys,

a note that the windshield caught

the one thing we forgot

its time to check the map

find another road around the mountain,

a reoccurring theme

the smell of gasoline and soda fountain

time to change your strings,

It's the grime that builds and breaks the next one,

a temporary chime

that breaks the weight of line and intersection

no one's volunteered to jumpstart our career

we'll drive on have no fear. Have no fear

is this our new home?

steel plywood and foam?

the only seed we've sown, the only way that we've known

all that money owed, waiting to be towed

its time to write the songs

'Cause no one is biting


APOLOGY

Sorry we fought--how are your injuries?

I know that you got a face full of inquiries

I know that it's not a good apology

accepting day

I'd buy you a bike

so you could ride away

and get us some smokes

but that was Saturday

and Sundays need strokes

and Monday

just needs some encouraging

but if you see to it that I am paroled

I'll see you to your easy chair when we're old

now I'm out of work let me boss you around

there's pictures of us there on the window sill

I'm taller than you -your heart is bigger still

apartments outside pink in the morning sun

there's hardly a tree in Ballard

now I'm out of work let me boss you around

now you need some time and you're kicking me out

but if you see to it that I am paroled

I am paroled--- I am paroled


ROY ORBISON (Bob Reed, Overwhelming Colorfast)

Sixteen years of anger

Seven more of pain

Leave it all behind you

In the falling rain

And I know how it feels to be the lonely one

Its not just me, you could take it from Roy Orbison

Was it ever worth it?

Always wanting more

Saw myself in pictures

Falling on the floor.

And you can't see for the teardrops falling down

And you think there's something wrong

You know it probably is

Could you stop to believe

It will all work out?


END OF ALL THINGS

Never bought into the goodbyes but rather

lived in those moments

now the moment has left me and wiped out my interests

feels like the end of all things

Feels like the end, feels like the end of all things

she has the kind of smile that hides all things

the kind of smile that hides all things
from her toes to her barbed wire strings
from the fleshy part of the winter
to that skinny part of the spring
we were picked on and pulled to pieces
it felt like the end of all things

There is a critter on my face

more sleepless nights please
more guilt and shame
more restlessness and resentment
more worry and regret
and hopelessness at night, please
it gives me that edge at work.
I look scary now with my beard
it moves me closer
to father's path
of hirsute anxiety and middle age.

Whisker Face

Im feeling strangely ostracized and dead
A new yellow September melancholy
Im going to disappear into my beard,
Like Al Gore
Disappear into walks with the wife
And clipping the cat
Touring the gardens of Wallingford
Windbreakers and holey sneakers
The failure of broke
And missed relatives
Idaho is unaffordable
Tantalus awaits a paycheck
To release his record
Poor guy has poon fever.
And a spreadsheet vice tally.

Gravy laden minge
Makes everybody cringe

Something For The Wife

are you troubled baby
can i ease your worried mind?
can i reach into your shadows
and set the dark on fire
can I light up all your windows
carry the blazing sun
tear the curtains open
collect the yarn you've spun
prune your history's hedges
misplace your morning bets
clean your mystery's messes
collect your evening debts?
Abrade the shoreline rockeries
with my steady ocean's steam
return the shoegaze glossary
to the producer's losing team?
Is it good enough to love you
am i good enough to have you?

Get Out Of My Wheelhouse

pusillanimous ponce
swaddled infant boy
a traitor to your orchids
a burglar of my time
a spinning Leslie speaker
needy and attention starved
perhaps now jobless
the real starvation begins

If You Live Long Enough

You get a few answers here and there
Sometimes it takes twenty three years
to learn the name of some punk band you
had a mix tape of as a kid
and knew the words but had no liner notes
and no one you've asked since remembered
were too high
passed along
recorded from speaker to speaker
bad edits
way before the internet or cd-r's.
Out of left field
in some smoky basement speakeasy
you learn this from a kid spinning vinyl
who was in diapers
when you considered angry cool.

Richard Scarry Busy Town

today I will be a cheerful man
and drive my truck around the town
in my grubby clothes
like a Richard Scarry cat
and mix in with all the other Richard Scarry contractors
driving around their cartoon vans
a menagerie of cars and planes
bridges and ramps
tools and hats
cheerful today
is the goal.

Ruby Shooz

just glanced at a good friend's baby blog
She is a lifelong friend of mine
She mothered a child with my drummer
We've known each other since we were babies
Like her baby
her baby is one of those movie star adorable babies
everyone says that
but I usually say babies are ugly, which they are at first.
Ruby is quite striking.
She's a toddler, which is a tiny drunk.
She comes from people I admire
I admire them because they expertly mock and deride
other admirable people

The Sky-High-lark Show

Friday night's dizzy height
leaves the rest of the weekend
to feel torn and cast out.
I love this ride.
Cant wait to do it again,
just need a comfortable parachute-
and some close friends
to find me and cut me loose from the tree.

Flagged For Removal

libido
albatross
guilt
perhaps a better calendar year
perhaps no more years
overextended your joy credit
a mountain of misery interest
Its your fault your father's sin
you should be ashamed of your dick
Its hurt everyone you love
it should kill you

This Is Garbage.

come and take me
when the insurance is ready
I've overstayed my welcome
and there's no life's work left
the opus is shelved
the losses are cut
a final vacation
a swift kick to butt
tiresome and tedium
the joyless get worse
no enemies but circumstance
predilections perverse

What Osama said to Salim.

"Sorry Salim, I um, don't have any mastermind plotter positions available right now.....I do need a driver however. "

Round up the butlers, maids ,cooks, and caddy's
Stick it to the working class not those with rich daddies.

Sit!

A panting dog on the car seat
is always pacing back and forth
anxious from the scenery
the odor of plenty
He's not grateful in this moment
He's not mindful his needs are met
The hierarchy is upside down right now
and he's sick to his stomach with desire
whimpering, whining, drooling
Shadddup! Lay down!

Older dogs give up give in
sigh and stretch
find a patch of sun
and dream your little doggie dreams.
thats a good boy.

A Well Worn Groove

no compatibility, therapy
or heir to be
amber waves of shame
consistently
you empty bucket
hungry ghost
desire head fool
and aching one

The Gadget Mannequins

an Army of One
Army Strong
Army: Not Everyone Gets Killed
Army: What Are You, Some Kind Of Puss?
We Eat IEDs For Breakfast
In today's Army you get all kinds of free shit to wear
in the desert sun
paid for by the fearful taxpayer!
We've got plenty of pay-day loan outlets located conveniently near our
bases.
Homesick? We've got Subways! Third Country Nationals
are busy making sure you eat fresh.
The Army Are Me!
Ow, The Army!
Im missing my Leggy, now sit on offramp and Beggy.

The Sea Captains

no aesthetic moves me,
no style is in now for me
no dolby surround or pixar stunt
If it was up to me, all the girls would
be in sixties star trek uniforms,
but i would be crying in the bridge
there would be some goddamn problem in engineering
there would be some fucking leak somewhere.
some men get to thrive doing what they were born to do.
most men sit around and watch tv

All work no play

I have forgotten how to play.
The rewards are small, like long uncrushed cigarette butts.
Summer reminds me of being ignored
thankfully left alone breaking bottles in the backyard
The last time I got away
was two years ago, I drank forty beers
in the pine beetle chewed trees of Idaho
reunited with my late teen friends
and my kid brother.
The guy Ive known since we were six
made me hike. He's all outdoorsy and organic now.
He used to get shithouse drunk seventeen years ago.
We both did, and there wasn't much else going on then.
There may have been some hard feelings about the groceries.
I probably drank more than my share of the beer.
There wasn't a guitar in sight, and that was fine.
I came back to Seattle feeling pretty good for a few days.
I wonder how many trees are left now.
It doesnt get cold enough in the winters to kill the beetles, these days.
I wonder how and when my dad is gonna die.
He's a good little beetle, snug in that trailer
chewing on the furniture, the occasional pack of smokes.

Belated Mothers day card

I hate you, mom
I hate you for dying.
I wish I'd have died that day
six years before you
so you could have collapsed
at the emergency room
and been devastated.
you're dead to me, for real
fuck your memory.
Every song, painting, recipe
its all bullshit.
Fuck you for leaving me.

Hard Cheese

You can never get what you want
havent felt this way since 2004
dont ever leave me, dont ever go
i cant afford to see my family
i cant afford to put out this record
i cant afford to live out my revenge fantasy against everyone
i CAN afford to drink
i can't afford to write more songs or tour.
Until all the debt is gone.
Until 2011.
I have friends that must be millionaires,
because they are always flying around.
Summer comes and they are here and there.
Some have been to Europe. Brazil. Thailand.
Ive never been to Mexico.
Ive only spent 6 hours in Canada stuck with a friend
who was denied entry.
I went to Boise this spring to get my piano and it
broke my savings.
I don't believe in Buddhist thinking about
not focusing on what you lack
I'm having the only fun I can afford right now-
bitching and self-pity
It is so very gratifying, it loosens up the
seratonin, gets the dopamine flowin.
I've been punished for being foolish enough to live a dream.
My sentence is spent in yards of dogshit and
thorny plants.
Thorny people with thorny needs.
I really dont give a shit about plants. I know how to dig.
Im really fucking good at it.
Im better than you at sprinkler work, troubleshooting, design,
and that is really sad.

Another night of impressions and grabbed spotlight.
Foolish moves in youth's direction, a hollowed shell of transparent ego and desire
Penury's gift is to stop me from trying
My work is not my passion, and my passion is a lot of work.

Why Come I Like To Watch 'Cops'

Because War On Terror rhymes with 'moron error'
because poor and unattractive people should get a chance to be on TV.
because I read about this in Fahrenheit 451, and it came true.
because I believe ninety nine percent of the force are decent blue collar working class guys doing a shitty job.
because its better than CSPAN, you get to see policy in action.
because of that catchy reggae tune
because I get a nauseous rush out of shaky camera work
and finally because I got nothin better to do, and I'm not above shadenfreude and voyeurism.

How The Beatles Ruined Everything For Me

It must have been 1978, only fifteen years since the recording was made.
Only six and a half since I was. The spooky album cover with four half moon faces staring bleakly, almost like vampires to a little kid. A dusty paper smell, a 12" halo of worn away paper on both sides. Franklin gothic liner notes, my step-mother's teenage signature. It seems they all marked their records back then.
I had my dad or step-mom (she was still just Dad's girlfriend then) put the record on the turntable a little out of my reach. There were speakers in a different room in which I had to close the door and be alone with this aural pornography.
At first the rotating Doppler hiss and crackle of terrifying anticipation.
Then a jerky stutter of farty sounding electric wood. After the third time around it builds to a wicked sounding bent note.
Lennon sings the word 'understand' very seriously. This was a heavy intimidating word to me as a kid, because usually an adult was staring down at you during a scolding that always ended with, "Understand?" and a menacing look.
Just before he thinks you'll understand, McCartney's bass does this little roller coaster trick that kind of gives you this weightless back of the schoolbus bump sensation.
I realized then I was born in the wrong time. I would look forward to a lifetime of anachronism. I would opt out of school dances in my teens and be awkward and mal-socialized. I would closet my fetish of 60's pop and hope my peers would never hear it outside the walls of my house, and out me for the non-Van Halen/ Metallica pussy I was.
I would always live in the wrong place too- and too late to be close to anything vital and cool.
Punk rock was somewhere far away from Pocatello, Idaho. It was somewhere in Salt Lake City perhaps, or California. Not that I would have the balls to dress like someone who needed their ass kicked.
Now that I'm in my mid-thirties I live in a bigger town, and I'm friends with people of the same fetish. It seems to me they had a more rounded adolescence, had more fun.
Thanks Beatles. Thanks for ruining my life.