Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Music
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wedding bells sound the news your body's been foundscatter ricethrow the dicevegas resounds with tourist traps and vicewhile the tides rise along the left coastfishing boats are lost at seanow it's just you and meto navigate this soundscape without your discordant chords
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and for anyone who peeks at this screen, i got a little nugget o' to pass along … just keep showing up. sounds simple but it's one of the hardest things to do consistently throughout one's lifetime(s). good things are coming my way, though, thanks to the routine to which i tenaciously cling; being in…
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call outcall outcall out like you do check your privilege at the door saying you've got allergies will not suffice anymore i think the flu is here to stayits symptoms are the key toThe Gateway PSA:this song has helped more people than any number of hours spent having one's noggin prodded.
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Maybe this peace isn't completely soulless To pick up a pencil and scratch on a padis au courantI favor keys clacking and mispelled words makin' music without even tryin' I like your voice better in the Meditative Houreach breathA FlowerNo tensionNo tightropeNo walker Over turbulent water This journey has found its feet
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You are trapped beneath the tide. I'm up where the air is just right for a select school of fish. We are both searching for truth in tight spaces. There are stars beneath the waves that guide us. There are lights at the back of the house that never go out. Let me introduce you…
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Second Acts. Encores. Whatcha gonna do when you no longer have to punch a clock? I don't golf. The thought of a cruise ship holiday makes my butthole pucker. I've been making art since I was a child, so that's not going to change, but neither will it pay for my upkeep in old age.…
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You were a guy Patty and I chased around town; from The Fabulous Rainbow Tavern to Scoundrel's Lair to the Mural Amphitheatre. You always said hello to us by name (even though you probably thought we were a tad bit annoying.) You were really cute, though, and of course sang like no other motherfucker of…
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doors are madedoors are foundperception dwellsunderground voices once hearda four-letter word nine months' worthof onenasty hang is a memory best kepton hold (cue the music)
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it's ok if the songwriting suffersthe poetry stinkssnapshots of flowersboring/blurry/bathed in shitty lightit's all rightthe big red death moonand a pox on your lipsbrings big big changeand change is magicdisguised as one's biggest fear
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I prefer my music rough around the edges. When it comes to books, though? Ya shit better be tight. Mind your craft, mate. Clunky prose hurts my ear nubs, don't you know? And please, please adhere to the rules you've set up for your world. I can suspend my disbelief for days; no need to…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 