Think About You

When you're in homeroom
He's looking at you
When you're on Facebook
He's looking for you
When you're in Starbucks
He's coming right towards you

Because you're super cute
And he wants to know the things you do
And if you want a latte too

When he asked you out
You were floating on thin air
Finally a boy who noticed
Those things you do with your hair
This is the way you learn
That love just isn't fair

Now when you're in homeroom
He's thinking about her
When you ask about Friday
He says he isn't sure
When you see them together
Your tears turn it into a blur

Because he is just fourteen
I know I did the same thing
Growing up makes some people mean

I think about you
I think about you
I think about you

Kandahar

I want to ride in a big old Lincoln
With Florida Citrus plates
Drive 45 in the left hand lane
Blinker going all the way
I want to go pee ten times a day
And leave for dinner at three
Oh Lord, I don't want to die out here
Send someone to rescue me

My babies will never know their daddy
No grandchildren on my knee
Never be able to toast my wife
At our silver anniversary
There are so many things I have yet to do
So many things I still need to see
Oh Lord, I don't want to die out here
Send someone to rescue me

I know we haven't always been right
There are things that I shouldn't have done
And maybe I'm out here fighting a war
That didn't ever need to be won
And maybe I shouldn't have acted so quick
Unaware of things I should have known
But Lord, please send someone to rescue me
I can't die out here alone

Night is falling, it's getting cold
And I'm so very far from home
My leg is hurting awful bad
I can see right down to the bone
I scan the horizon and listen for signs
A glint of something or a buzz in the air
Hoping that it's a chopper for me
And not you coming here on your own

Oh Lord, send someone to rescue me
I can't die out here alone

Let's Write A Song 2

Mama had a tramp stamp
And she passed it down to me
I used it to authenticate
My medical degree
Just a hint of the Harvard crest
Above the top of my bikini
Nonchalant I stuff the rest
And drive my Lamborghini
Well festooned with bumper stickers
And truck nuts swaying in the breeze
Cruising round in la la land
And parallel realities

ive got ink
got ink
got an inkling you'll remember me
ive got ink
and you think
i'm a member of the faculty?
ive got ink, yeah I've got ink
And I got that ink to challenge what you think.

Cause my mama was born down in the holler
But she wasn't the sort that was born to follow
And she pulled herself up from where she was from
Without forgetting who she was
Or being ashamed of what she'd done
So even though I never had to work harvesting the ramp
And went to all the finest schools
I got my own copy of the family tramp stamp
To help me remember you.

Life at 45

So I was in the middle of my pitch
To a group of investors
When I got your text
Saying
That you had struck out
With the bases loaded
To end
The game
And would I
Be working
Late
Again.

But I was in the middle of my pitch
And it was for ten million dollars
So I ignored the text
And finished my pitch
And then took the investors out
For a drunken
Steak dinner.

In the morning
When I read the text
I felt bad
So I called in sick
And picked you up from school
And took you bowling.

We found an eight pound ball
In a manly royal blue
And you bowled a 54
And we laughed at the funny videos
That play
Whenever you get a split
Or a strike
Or a spare.

I bought you a hamburger
And I ate a hot dog
And we shared a plate of fries
With ketchup
And I hoped that this
Was the time
You would eventually
Remember.

But the hamburger was spoiled
And you spent the evening
Throwing up and retching
Miserably.

So after I got done
Mopping the floor
And washing the sheets
And getting you
Finally
To sleep
I looked at my phone
And read the text
Saying
That despite the great pitch
And the wonderful opportunity
The investors
Had decided
To pass.

Some days
You just
Can't win
For losing
And sometimes
That's the way
Life is at 45.

Brasilia

Brasilia


From time to time
Spread across the city
You will see a house
Sited askew.

Below the lines
Of the grid and the spokes
The house is aligned
With the ghost of a cowpath
Or the long gone bed
Of a forgotten stream.

Similarly, in language
Beneath syntactic structures
You encounter irregular
Constructions and idioms
Reflecting a reality
Long since passed away.

I will move to Brasilia
And speak Esperanto
Live as a New Woman
Freed from the past.

--

I have become old fashioned
In the sense that my habits remain fixed
While society changes around me.

When it is cool
I wear a grey woolen suit
And when it is warm
I wear poplin.

In the morning
I walk to a sidewalk cafe
To buy an espresso and an ink smudged paper
To thoughtfully read the news of the day.

But today my routine
Lies around me in ruins
Rereading your note:

I will move to Brasilia
And speak Esperanto
Live as a New Woman
Freed from the past.

--

I've got a four track mind now baby
Care to put the headphones on
Kick off your shoes and stay a while baby
It couldn't be that wrong

I'll solve quadratic equations baby
On the back of your hand
Step on up to the boom box baby
I'll introduce you to the band

Don't you wanna?

Step on up to the microphone baby
Do a couple of lines
Just lean back and go with it baby
It's gonna be just fine

I speak fluent Italian baby
A little Portuguese
Come on down to Rio baby
Get topless on the beach

Don't you wanna?

--

Thith ith not the Brathilia I wath led to ethpect.
And what ith thith gibberish that you speak?
I will leave this land
And return to my home
Return home to my love,
Beloved Roderigo

--

Have made a great mistake
Stop
Returning home
Stop
I sail on the steamer SaraLee
Stop
Please throw out the tapes
And dispose of the guidebooks
Landing home
Two fortnights hence
Stop
Love
Stop

--

Rereading the telegram
In my favorite cafe
My world is restored
To its rightful condition
I put on my hat
Pick up my cane
And walk down the promenade
Whistling softly.

Driving Up and Down the East Coast

We are those poor players
Who strut and fret
Treading worn boards
That groan and squeak
Entertaining you
Five nights a week

---

Afternoon in the bleachers at Camden Yards
Evening spent crawling through Inner Harbor bars
Blue Points in Fells Point
With the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe
His raven quoths "Nevermore"
I do love you, Baltimore

---

New England town
A decaying mill carcass down at the river's edge
A whitewashed steeple up on the top of the hill
And a covered wooden bridge connecting the two

---

Eva
Be free
Of your broken
Body
And leave
Your broken mind
Behind
Live with me
In memory
In the golden sunlight
Of a 1970's
Morning

Nadine

Socks and Shoes Chords

I printed out the chords to Socks and Shoes.

Pedagogy

Lima, Ohio

So there is a place called Lima, Ohio
And all anyone eats there is Lima beans.
Mysteriously, no children live in Lima
They have all run away to nearby towns
Like Fishstick, Indiana.


The Eye Of The Bird

Drona and the Pandavas were walking in the woods
Learning the noble pursuit of archery.
Drona stopped and asked Yudishtra, the wisest,
"Look over there, and tell me what you see?"
"I see the sun, the sky
The clouds, the trees,
And on the fourth branch of the tree,
Partly obscured by leaves,
I see a bird".
Drona turned and asked Arjuna, the greatest,
"Look over there, and tell me what you see?"
"I see the eye of the bird."
"What else do you see?"
"I see only the round black eye of the bird."
"You have passed the test my son, now bend your bow and shoot."
And with a pluck and a swoosh, the bird fell dead.


Algebra

"But Bill, she's barely half your age".
So given the equation
x/2 = y
Is there any value of x
For which the function intersects
Acceptable behavior?

Let's Write A Song

Is it the randomness that makes words into art
Or the eye that allows them to swirl off the page?
If I write down your words is that foolish of heart
Or a wine we will share, having blossomed with age?
Are we twinned pairs of quarks, entangled by spin?
I feel your pulse beat from miles away
My words are your meaning, your thoughts are my breath.
But if sense and sound are sundered apart
I have lost you, my love, and must return to the start.

So is it the randomness that makes words into art
Or the artist, who channels from life and time
To map raw thought to a measured line
"You are a fool" she says, "my dear foolish heart
I am unique, irreducible, only myself
My words are my own, and I pour them like silver
You will never find anything that rhymes with me."
So true, my dear, so true indeed.
This lyric is finished, the song is set free
I put down my pen, and give it to thee.

Millicent Demo

Finally recorded a demo of Millicent. Straightforward doo-wop progression, with a tiny turn-around in the bridge. Using Sony Vegas: it does a much better job with the external mics, but it doesn't seem to be able to render 720p/HD.

Rhythm Changes

I spent a week working out the rhythm guitar part, I spent a couple of hours making the rhythm guitar fit with the bass part, and then I decided that a cold first take of vocals and lead guitar would be fine. Is this counterproductive behavior?

Anyway, the Gershwin chestnut.

Out Of Sight

Just back from a week on the beach, trying to squeeze a couple more of these into this month.

A Round Tuit

The greatest gift is time
To do with as you will
And fill it as you would
If you could be
Completely free.

And you ever
Found the time
To get
Around to it.

Phone Voice

Don't you talk to me with your phone voice, honey
Save it for your customer calls
It makes you come off like such a phoney, honey
Like the world is hanging from your balls
And if you really want to get your hands in my pants
You'd be better off speaking Chinese

Be my Wisconsin tenor, baby
Your voice doesn't need to be that deep
I hate those deep dark English sounds
But your Chinese really speaks to me

I'm the Tiger mother to your daughters, baby
The dutiful wife who cooks you Chinese food
Just talk to me in your real voice baby
Because I fell in love with a Wisconsin tenor
And that's the voice that puts me in the mood

Be Prepared

Courtney was a painter
And a sometime figure model
Who liked to read Cervantes
And used a pair of chopsticks
To roll her hair into a bun

She lived out with her single mom
On the darker side of town
Her mom worked nights as a bartender
And sold a little weed on the side

Bobby was an Eagle Scout
Who liked to follow rules
His social clique were awkward boys
His mom and dad were awful proud

Courtney had decided
She was going to go to Bonnaroo
Get a week long pass
And camp out on the grass

She could have taken anyone
But she said Bobby Smith's the one
Cause he's a Boy Scout and they're always prepared

So Bobby packed his lean-to
And a pair of sleeping bags
His scout knife and some water
And a camp stove just in case

They hitchhiked down to Bonnaroo
Set up their tent and caught the shows
Danced in the mud and partied with strangers
Went back to the tent under the full moon

She climbed into his sleeping bag
Caught him by surprise
He said "I've never done this before"
She said "I'm not surprised"

She took a packet
From her pocket
And rolled it down his shaft
"If you don't come prepared, you won't come at all
And a Boy Scout should always be prepared"

They dated all through college
Got married in grad school
Bobby loosened up
Even if he never became cool
They still go out to festivals
And camp under the stars
Climb in the double sleeping bag
And do what couples do

And she says
"Back at school you were a dork
But when you put those drops of honey
On my plastic camping spork
I knew you were the one for me"

Fragments

A song about one of my co-workers

Don't you talk to me with your phone voice, honey
Save it for your customer calls
It makes you come off like such a phoney, honey
???
And if you really want to get your hands in my pants
You'd be better off speaking Chinese


A song about marital discontent

Can I tell you
That when you

It really made me feel sad
etc.


A song about a high school girl who takes a Boy Scout to Bonnaroo because he will be better prepared to handle the requirements of camping

Back at school you're a dork
But you put those drops of honey
On my plastic camping spork

Bernadette

The Holland/Dozier/Holland song. The bass part is not harmonically complex, but hitting all the grace notes and articulating the arpeggios was very challenging. The guitar part turned into a 4/4 funk groove instead of the original 2/4 backbeat groove. I couldn't decide which drum track I liked better, so I kept them both.

Midtown Manhattan on a Saturday Night

A martial snare plays rat a tat tat
On the marital rhythm of tit for tat
But now the tux and the gown are all packed in a bag
And they're off to Manhattan for a Saturday night.

An expensive dinner and a cab downtown
To a basement in Alphabet City
Jazz, funk and rhythm and blues
With a modern sensibility
The dance floor is packed with the lust and sweat
Of familiar possibility

Slinking through the darkened lobby
Empty bottles of water from the minibar
The mirror reflects on the king size bed
She stands on her head
With legs spread wide
Like an apple tree weighted with fruit

The kick drum plays thump a thump thump
On the quick deep strokes of an oft postponed fuck
In Midtown Manhattan on a Saturday night

Terry cloth robes and a room service breakfast
The sun through the curtains above Hackensack
While he reads the paper she looks in the mirror
And it seems like her wrinkles are written in black
But she turns into the room and looks hard at the roses
And says "there's time for a quick one before we have to pack
And get back
From Midtown Manhattan and our Saturday night".

Bodhisattva

Not a Denny Dias fan. Blues with a bridge, huge swaths of harmonized guitars and needless chromatic slurs.