help mother, chance is holding me hostage

i look around and i see dust on them, not good so i picked it up and started playing it  banged out a new riff, a rhyme, a little more, a skeleton, those who have lived in my brain know i call it a SIDFI take. not very sexy as far as akronimz go, but it means So I Dont Forget It, and it comes beause you know, i’ll pick up the guitarra and start playing with a chord or two and suddenly my feelings on a particular issue in the world, or the world of me, will bubble up and spike its own heart out on a G#m chord and i’ll be like OH YEZ this is gooood and i reach for my “handheld,” which again, if you’ve lived in my head, know that this means the hand held tape recorder i’ve kept near for the last 20 years (actually there’s been about six of them before tape ran its course in history) and now is no longer a $30 tape recorder, but instead a $400 Edirol digital voice recorder (gift from a humble mechanic type with very good taste and perhaps a smattering of precognition) and i’ll pick it up and pop it open and just lay down the verses i’m thinking of, or make some placeholders up. the important part is to get it down just enough to remember later. i used to think “oh i’ll remember it,” and then i’d go back to it the next day and it was totally gone. so, i have tapes of this sort around. anyway, i just came up with something. hope to  finish it soon.

i’m building something. it aint a mystery. and it aint a city on top of rock n roll. its just a bunch of rhyme and drunken lines and inarguably historically righteous design. conga. reminda. fire. aztec sacrificial neon wire.

sylvia found the quote. wasn’t schopenhaeur, it was camus. spending most of your time (energy?) trying to be normal. whatever. camus said it.  i’ve lived it. forgetting it. filming it with a big purple stuffed doll and making a work-out tape we can sell and then forget about, live off the proceeds. enough for a whole house full of maple syrup sandwiches. fuck schopenhaeur anyway. what did he ever do around this place. him and those obscene yellow 3D glasses. you’d think he’d bring enough for the whole car, but no.

to hell with sculpting bronze and living forever. let me get a hold of your heart already. a half hour will do. i spend far too much time talking to ghosts as of late…