Sunday, October 25, 2009
writing, fighting
i cant prove anything.
life is a window.
you can either stand and look, or go smashy-smashy.
sometimes the outside world is clearer through a broken pane.
new west is absorbed with screams and fears right now.
i just got back from the zoo, its open and ready for business.
people are being restrained, and its only a matter of time before they come for me.
reiteration concludes that my favorite thing about being home is going to concerts.
monsters of folk delivered a 'best of ever' performance.
john prine smiled louder than an ambulance.
and propagandhi on tuesday will most likely confuse me into the cross-dresserism.
i soak in live music, like a hot bath on a cold october morning.
total lie, baths are wack, but from the highest erickson to the lowliest shannon, everyone enjoys a good soak.
on most good hoodies, one string is always longer than the other.
like me right now, off balance and weird looking, yet warm and dry.
meet me tonight, in atlanic city.
paradise lies on good times mountain.
wet tastes great from good times fountain.
clearly i have left my poet license at the cleaners.
yet i feel a whole new acoustic album crash-landing itself in the coming weeks.
called "sunday morning love songs."
it blocks out the bad thoughts about our drummer quitting, unexpectedly.
we had it all, except proof, power, money, and credibility.
ya, the good shit.
but i aint shook, and the right hook is stronger than a textbook.
the beer keeps brewing, the tunes keep spewing, and the sky keeps bluing.
hot dog walks make new west nights feel alright.
ya, i go a little crazy, once in a while, but when i think of you i smile.
Monday, October 12, 2009
good feeling stuff
i turned 27 yesterday.
it was a hellava party.
still got a few best friends down here.
slept til 5pm today, only got up cause i had a ticket to go watch the canucks gloriously beat dallas in a shootout. wore my new sunnyvale jersey, cool gift #1. we went to the cambie after, great move captain cam, you are gift #2.
and after a million games of clean hand, the very last skytrain delivered me here.
andy bought me the record, cool gift #3.
the JP concert is this coming friday, and the anticipation bleeds a fancy red stain on my hardwood-looking laminate floor.
but before that, monsters of folk on tuesday.
tickets, tickets, tickets.
fuck, i love tickets.
the wilhelm scream show murdered me on friday night, and the dan mangan show the friday before at inlet theatre, left me like a mad scientist on the brink of a great discovery, only to poison my findings afterwords with a gallon of strong yet affordable whiskey.
i suddenly want to do lots of good feeling stuff, but alas, i must rest, going golfing with dad tomorrow, cool gift #4.
im an artist, at riding things down.
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