New Year

 New Year is same as the old one: fight the same battles; face the same challenges. The arbitrary demarcation of increments of time is so unnecessary; a random fancy of accidental sentience.

Good times are so fleeting. For this reason alone, I know I will never give in to despair. It would be such of a waste of potential. If resolutions mattered, that would be mine.




meet me on the mezzanine
with some peppermint gum and old magazines
i’ll bring the guns, you bring the green
and the money in unmarked bills

it’s now high noon, and I’m standing alone
i called you but nobody picked up the phone
so i assumed you were not coming home
or perhaps you were already killed

i’m sorry i wasn’t a better son
i didn’t care about anyone
i wanted to be revered for what i done
i wanted to be free

by the time you read this, i will be gone
i thought i could win, boy was i wrong
i thought i could atone
for the mistakes that i made
but i couldn’t turn away
no i couldn’t turn away

 i contemplated the mistakes I had made
from day one up to the present day
but they all seem to blur, they all seem to fade
into the shadows of the sun’s serenade
  
so i’ll quietly pretend this ain’t a vendetta
as i load up my U22 Beretta
but the truth to the letter
is i’ve been taught no better
i am the son that you made
 
i’m sorry i wasn’t a better son
i didn’t care about anyone
i wanted to be revered for what i done
i wanted to be free
 
by the time you read this, i will be gone
i thought i could win, boy was i wrong
i thought i could atone
for the mistakes that i made
but i couldn’t turn away
no i couldn’t turn away

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Mosquito Bites

 Mosquito bites last. the sting is brief. the itch is persistent but temporary. the scars last. sometimes longer than the memories. I have wonderful, blurry memories of a dark summer night, millions of stars, dancing in a kilt, not even realizing that I was being eaten alive.




out in the fields with no shoes on
flailing through the dark, we're perfectly gone

lights out, lights on, lights in the sky
watching you trade your vows made me cry

like crazy we danced all night long
in front of the barn to disco songs
the mosquitoes chewed my legs apart
the scars still pock me like abstract art

i wished i was the groom
i'd get my wish oh so soon

bites bites bites, i've got mosquito bites
sites sites sites, i've got you in my sites

out in the fields in a bright red kilt
dancing, spinning, going at full tilt

tricky moves, tricky grooves, i can almost fly
but i know when you leave it'll make me cry

like crazy we laughed 'til the break of dawn
wet in the grass on the farmhouse lawn
the mosquito bites driving me mad
but preoccupying me so i wasn't sad

i wished i was the bride
when i saw the love in her eyes

bites bites bites, i've got mosquito bites
sites sites sites, i've got you in my sites

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late breaking news

late, late, for a very important date. this news is late, but it's still great; it's the late breaking news. it's so fantastic that you won't want to miss it. you will be on your toes, you will be in pins and needles, and you will be gripping your armrests tight. we're going to up the ante tonight.

we have a very special presentation tonight. it's based on a *hush, hush* true story! we are not making this up. all the events recreated especially for the broadcast of this program actually happened, and we are bringing to you exclusively, tonight only folks.

you are about to be given a rare opportunity to glimpse into the mind of a mad man. what you will see and hear with shock you; it may even scare or horrify you. if you get upset easily, you may want to turn away now. the drama is about to unfold.

the scene fades in, slowly opening on a quiet, suburban street in the middle of summer. it is the evening time, families are finishing their dinners, children can be heard laughing and playing, and parents are tuning into the late breaking news...




this just in:
twenty more dead
from the suicide bomb
inside of your head
the sensational story
the moment you dread
when the truth is not muzzled
for the masses, spoon-fed

and Hollywood turns
the late-breaking news
into academy-winners
with four-star reviews
and we can just turn off
the pain if we choose
and nobody calls us
the killers

she tries to sleep
with shrapnel in her bed
and the barrel of a rifle
pointed at her kid
you and I are prisoners
of a much lesser pain
we just watch it on TV
a world away

and Hollywood turns
the late-breaking news
into academy-winners
with four-star reviews
and we can just turn off
the pain if we choose
and nobody calls us
the killers

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download live version.

Ken Kesey is dead

Ken Kesey is dead and we taught him a lesson. we taught him good. there is no love. there is no hope. there is no room for thinking outside the box. the time of pioneering has come and gone. we are a settled beast, best left unstirred.

stirred, we will bite the hand that feeds.

stirred, we will rise up and revolt.

stirred, we will destroy the only things that keep us sustained. this is the nature of the beast. visionaries may resist; but in the end, they too succumb just as readily as the pleasantly ignorant.

the lesson never really gets learned, and we anguish over it. we do ourselves a disservice by not realizing that perhaps some lessons are best left forgotten, so that the hardship can be truly experienced anew.



oh, no one flew over
we all stayed on the ground
looking for cover
and keeping our heads down

the apoplectic vision
is somewhere in the dirt
and pushing and fighting
is this how we flirt?

Aw, Ken Kesey is dead
and so is MKULTRA
but we all love conspiracies
we dread it's so tawdry

it's so paltry
so sultry
it's so country
it's so haute couture

we all rode the magic bus
in our dreams
i had dreams about your lust
they were obscene

oh, no one flew over
'cause we all lay on the ground
totally high
from the chest on down

the beat generation
we beat them dead
the peaceful nation
it was all in their head

some converted
and some of them fled
the rest resigned to hiding
from the love they dread

oh, no one flew over
we all stayed on the stone
protectively killing over
land to call our own

the prodigal visit
from the you you knew before
hasn't existed
since you shot him to the floor

Ken Kesey is dead
and we taught him a lesson
no one better dare hope
to escape the prison's depression

repression, the risen
have driven the dirge
we're all taking it back up stream
back to the first urge

you better move aside
if you don't want a ride
it's not that we hate you
but we'll leave you behind

no one's gonna stand
in the way of this journey
but give us a hand
we're not in a hurry

i haven't felt this good
since twenty
I’ve got privilege
and I’ve got plenty

Ken Kesey is dead
but the urge remains
to relax instead
and let go of the reigns

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John Darnielle on a desert island

John Darnielle on a desert island, in a tropical storm, crouching on the sand, clutching his broken glasses, waxing poetic about the demons that are coming for you soon; this is the wonderful world of my imagination.

i wish sometimes that i personally knew all my heroes. so i could tell them what i think of them, and why.

the intensity with which i love you is so complete, it sometimes occludes itself. i forget it is even there, because it is all that is there. it is the universe, too big to see. but i never take it for granted. i will love you so hard. i will keep doing this, for you.



down the alleyway
there's a secret door
that leads to another world
where none of us are poor

a precipice
a giant dragoon
within the blackest night,
Lovecraftian sails unfurled

i hold my hand
close to my chest
and think of my childhood
yeah, it was worst and it was the best

but i would leave this place
i would board that boat
if only you would
if you would hold me afloat

but i am lost without you
out at sea
with a blurry photograph of your back
and a hand-cranked am radio playing Lionel Ritchie

down the alleyway
there's a way out of here
sometimes the lineup is long
sometimes it's clear

but i can bribe the bouncer
baby i've got the cure for your cancer
i want to keep you strong
i want to keep you near

oh please hold my hand
and tell me yes,
you'll sail the seven seas with me
and come to my mountain nest

i would leave this place
i would board that boat
if only you would accompany me
oh baby you're the best

but i am lost without you
out at sea
with a blurry photograph of your back
and a hand-cranked am radio playing Lionel Ritchie

i am lost without you
an out-of-focus lens,
taking blurry photographs
so we can pretend...

yeah, let's go back
to the desert island
let's go back...

but i am lost without you
out at sea
with a blurry photograph of your back
and a hand-cranked am radio playing Lionel Ritchie

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i left something for you

i left something for you, back there, all those years ago. without even really thinking about. call it an unintentional, anachronistic gift. i didn't know you, but i knew it was for you.

i cut it out of myself. it did not hurt, and i do not miss it; i know that it belongs with you. if you find it where i left it all those years ago, i hope you recognize it for what it is; i hope you want it, even need it. i imagine you cherishing it. that makes me feel good.

i left something for you, and it is eternal. it will not wither and die. you cannot destroy it. it will never cease to exist, even when i cease to exist. that is the beauty of it; that is the beauty of you.



when we were still
still on the move
young kids in love
with nothing to lose

in the woods
you said you would
behind his back
behind your father's farm

sitting still
it still stings
below the canopy
waiting in the wings

that's when you spilled
your guts to me
no use crying
over precious things

let's go out west
off the edge of the earth
where the cowboys roam
always searching

let's go somewhere underground
below the [ ] where we will never be found
let's get lost off the beaten path
and enjoy our youth; listen to your laugh

i need to grieve
to know the truth
i want to leave
something behind for you

when we were still
still on the move
young kids in love
with nothing to lose

in the woods
you said you would
behind his back
behind your father's farm

sitting still
it still stings
below the canopy
waiting in the wings

that's when you spilled
your guts to me
no use crying
over precious things

i need to grieve
to know the truth
i want to leave
something behind for you

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horizontals

horizontals, lined up row upon row, end to end, endlessly. we are but buried bodies, graves, and tombstones waiting to happen. we lie down, together or apart. we close our eyes. we sleep, and then wake again. until one day we don't. one day we close our eyes and never open them, ever again.

sometimes it's not so bad, to lie down, unmoving, staring up, and feeling the whole world move around... knowing that one day all feeling will be gone; savouring that it is still here, now.

when i lie down, i think of you, and i can be at peace with it all.



you become horizontal
when you lie on the floor
or anytime you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score

i loved you a million letters,
A to Z
and love you a whole new language, now that you're dead

i loved you in fields
and on the way to the sea
each fleeting momentarily, out of my head

lie with me here
between the blades of grass
and the dirt, and water cascades like...

among the failing
fall of man
hold me now, i'm so afraid to pass

you become horizontal
when you cease to be
and they spread your ashes across the sea

and you biodegrade
and get eaten by fish
and you can't feel a thing and you no longer dream

believe me a million
times and more
i'll love you when you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score.

You become horizontal
when you lie in your bed
the bed that you made to lay your head

and that means sleep
or maybe death
but at least you won't be worrying once you're dead

the distance between
you and i
can be measured from this point to the sky

it's not really consistently
the same each time
'cause it's all relative to the beholder's eye

lie with me now
under the canopy
or take my hand and come dance with me

we're falling
from the grace of gods
and it's not something we even believe

you become horizontal
when you leave the earth
when you break the gravity of your birth

and you bring out your dead
you read their last rites
but you can't quench their last thirst

believe me a million
times and more
i'll love you when you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score.

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gods in the city

gods in the city; there are none. i can promise you that. there is no belief. i purged it. this city was an empty shell, and i filled it with logic and rational thought. relief. you may think that there is something you believe in, but your belief does not make it exist. existence is a tangible, physical thing. existence is sentience and knowledge... and also pain and fear. but also joy and lust; physical pleasure. none of these things are gods. they are just you and me, and all the other living creatures in the universe. gods are something your ancestors made up.



there are no gods in the city
there are no gods in the farms
it wasn’t destiny or synchronicity
when you wound up in my arms

there are no gods in the city
when the lights go out
i can still feel you sitting next to me
when you’re slipping out

a lot of time i spent in self pity
three decades in this quiet town
with the asphalt black and dirty
and the river where god was drowned

ten years ago under these streets
the steel girders wouldn’t support the weight of our lust
there are no gods in the rivers at our feet
and the city will eventually turn to dust

people will say it wasn’t always this way
there was a time when the towers weren’t so tall
people will complain that everything’s changing
people will complain about nothing at all

there are no gods in the city
there are no gods in the farms
it wasn’t destiny or synchronicity
when you wound up in my arms

there are no gods in the city
when the lights finally fade
i can still feel you sitting next to me
when you’re slipping
when you’re slipping away...

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flashback

flashback to a time when you were still young, and the world was your oyster. things were so much more fun when we were young. we did not worry about tomorrow; we lived for the moment, and the moment was grand!

now they are all just memories... blurs in my brain. it's almost as though it never really happened; it's too distant to believe that it was ever real. that's why it's important to be childish sometimes. otherwise we forget who we really are.

i want to keep being a kid forever.



the snow woulda been up to our kneecaps
when we were seven our eight
back then we woulda loved everything
even the things we hate

i'm ashamed, ashamed to know me
don't like the person i was
it took me meeting you to show me
that i can feel trust

arm yourself with fairytales
arm yourself with myth
bundle up in your warmest clothes
don your hats and mitts

flashback to speeding snow lanes
nestled in the hills
treacherous and wonderous
show your sledding skills

Creature comforts keep you trendy
wrap yourself in cool
creature comforts made us vain
life can be so cruel

arm yourself with fairytales
arm yourself with myth
armistice will always fail
peace is just a trick

flashback to an awesome childhood
flashback to a better time
nostalgia can see right through me
back to the river line

arm yourself with fairytales
arm yourself with myth
flashback to a bitter battle
don your hats and mitts

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endurance run

endurance run was always the activity i hated most as a child. designed to test the stamina, constitution, and sheer determination of even the most athletic eight year old, it was a gruelling sixteen hundred metres. four times around the field. one mile. the prize was a rating based on how quickly the mile was completed: excellence, gold, silver, bronze... i always knew i wouldn't be good enough, and always ran anyway.

this is reality, and it is a metaphor for every goal i have sought to achieve; even if i feel like my lungs are going to burst into fire and collapse, i still don't want to give up. maybe in the next second i will succeed.

so many times i have let myself down. only time will tell if it's all worth it.

i want to outrun all my mistakes. i can do it...



my legs break down at the side o’ the road
i got a hundred and fifty more clicks to go

running to reach you before nightfall
the thing is, i might not make it at all

everytime i tried to catch you before
you drifted away more and more

i’m a lightning rod in the storm
and you were gone that Sunday morn

i walked outside and started to run
just to feel your breath leaving my lungs

and i thought i saw you, and followed you here
now I’m not sure you were ever near

even the times i held you close
and you look so smart in your smart new clothes

you were begging another part
you were letting go of my heart

my legs collapse at the end of the path
i can’t even breathe enough to laugh

running to reach you once again
i’ve got a feeling i already know how this ends

you were begging another part
you were letting go of my heart


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dirty walls

dirty walls surround me. plastered with grime and dust, motes and cobwebs. i've hidden all the dirt with memories; pictures on the walls, pictures of our times together... the hallways are adorned with framed flashbacks.

the room is full of shelves and desks. i am surrounded by equipment, slowly collecting specks of my dried, discarded flesh. so many buttons and knobs; i don't know what to do with them all.

the early morning sun streams in the window, and the dust does a dance, swaying in time to the heartbeat of my grimey little speakers.

this is where it all begins. i take all the feelings i have about you, and cut them up into little pieces of tone and concept. i craft a story from our dreams. it's dirty, but it's real.




i wiped it all clean and started again
whole new outlook, whole new trend
choking back the bitter aches
of love’s labour lost and past mistakes

i spent the morning in solitude
and you’d be here if you only knew
i can’t stand these empty halls
and it’s not that; it’s these dirty walls

you say i always complain
you don’t want to feel my pain
but I gave it away a while back
i didn’t need it anyway

the loneliness is a front
just a heartbroken stunt
and i’m not gonna let you go
this time...

i spent the better part of my years
picking up my falling tears
cleaning these dirty walls
leaving nothing behind

i wanted to give you everything
somehow, i lost hold of the dream
we’re just paupers in this land
of kings and queens

the loneliness is a crutch
because i love you so much
and i’m not gonna let you go
this time...

i ran the gamut and i thought
i thought i had it, and I fought
The final goal, the never-ending
kind...

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choke

choke off the supply. my air supply is dwindling. i'm starting to fade away; i don't feel real anymore. i tried holding my breath until i died. but i couldn't do it. i passed out and started breathing again. the body just refuses to give up. it seems so funny... oxygen kills me a little more every day, rusting me from the inside out, yet my body won't let me stop taking it in. if ever there was a proof of god (which there isn't), this sick joke would be it.

i don't want to die. ever. i am so scared of that CEASING-TO-BE. i will simply blink out of existence. and it will come suddenly. i won't have the time for all the important moments; telling everyone i love or hate them. or both. i obsessively document it here, there, everywhere... because one day it will be all that is left of me. and eventually the bits and bytes will degrade to dust, and i will be nothing. i will not be.

i will waste no more time on regrets and unrequited emotions. this is me moving on.



oh how i choke
oh how i choke
i choke on my words

i get choked up, my heart it pounds
a sorry state about the art of sounds
but puffed on pride in your own hometown
you lost everything that you found

it’s not that the opposite wasn’t true
it’s not that i didn’t believe in you
it's what you made of yourself, but worse
it’s what you made of me and my trust, first

the place where we used to meet
the lakebed’s all dried up at my feet
and a god’s not gonna bring back the day
before you got up and walked away
now take it away

nah, nah,
you’re not even making sense,
you’re just spinning your wheels
the sounds aren’t even offensive;
they ain’t even real

you just keep spewing garbage,
hate and lies
the saddest part
is how little i’m surprised

as you paint yourself
the victim here
no one’s believing
your crocodile tears

go on, keep trying
get enthused
keep spewing your lies,
it’s keeping me amused...

it’s a shame when I was hurtin’ the most
that you were too busy flirtin’ with ghosts
you were haunting the past, and fading fast
and dreaming of heading out to the coast

and it’s a joke that the pieces don’t even fit
i eat the fruits of my labour, but choke on the pit
remember all the way back to the start?
when we used to share a heart...

now i’m left with a lump in my throat
it’s hard to breathe when i read what you wrote
i held you back, you said in your note
"you held me back"; yes you can quote me, that’s a fucking quote.

oh how i choke
oh how i choke
i choke on my words

it’s a contest 'tween you and i
c’mon look me in the eye
if this moment were to pass you by
you’d regret it before you die

i’m not the one who’s holding you back
but maybe that’s why you’re on the attack
don’t think i’ll take the blame
but i loved you all the same
goodbye...

i choke on my words
goodbye

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bad consequences

bad consequences. the product of our actions. it does not matter if our intentions were good... save that it's all the more disappointing when everything inevitably comes crashing down. yet still we remain hopelessly and foolishly optimistic, deluding ourselves into thinking that it couldn't possibly be our fault, simply because we acted out of goodwill.

i tried to change. it didn't change the outcome of anything. all it did was change how i felt about myself. and not in a good way. i used to spend all my time angry and resentful. it didn't make life miserable, but nor did it make it grand. when i decided to be more cheerful and make a conscious decision to judge less, accept more, and take responsibility for myself... well, nothing much changed. it didn't make life miserable, but nor did it make it grand. i suppose there's something i'm missing.

for what it's worth, i'm trying to document how i feel in the here and now. it will be a time capsule for my journey.

this is a disclaimer. my whole friggin' life is a disclaimer. there is no literal, correct translation for the story i am showing and telling. nor is it a particular metaphor or allegory or anecdote. it is not all autobiographical. it is not even particularly true. it's just an option: one of many.



i walked into the desert to find myself
i left you all behind for the good of my health
i went in search of a deeper meaning
i returned empty-handed and void of feelings

loneliness does something irrevocable
it burns you down in the fire and crucible
apparently i’m not the island i thought i was
but i forgot most of what you taught me ‘cause

i feel no guilt when there are no consequences
you can’t keep me chained up to these iron fences
but i’m a prisoner nonetheless, of my own devices
and i foresee no way to avert this crisis

our angry words, they came to blows
if things had been different, well, who knows?
maybe we wouldn’t be stuck in this rut
i’d have ended it long ago if i had the guts
but i haven’t got the guts...

life is nothing but bad consequences
you make the move, you take your chances
life is nothing but physical senses
you will be judged for all your actions

i walked into the desert to try to heal my pain
i had everything to lose and nothing to gain
i was on the ultimate quest for self-annihilation
and i almost succeeded on my permanent vacation

what are the consequences of ignoring the call?
loneliness will be the death of us all
one day the machines will all break down
and there’ll be nothing but memories of this shit town
what will you do then?

life is nothing but bad consequences
you make the move, you take your chances
life is nothing but physical senses
you will be judged for all your actions


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an anagram

an anagram. that is all i am. a hollow shell of a man; a thick coat of veneer painted overtop of cheap plyboard, chipping away slowly as the years grind by. i think i used to have a meaning and purpose. i grew up with that sense of value and worth. but it's not here anymore, and i'm not sure when i lost it or where it went. what's left over is a mixed-up version of what i used to be.

i don't feel connected to anybody, and it hurts. i hate myself for it, but i also hate all of you. why do you all look at me with such disdain, as though i have let you down? what do i owe you, anyway? i tried my best. i tried to fit in. my family, my friends, they were false. fakes. i had to leave them behind. start over, start a brand new life, re-invent myself. this is the new and improved me.

i may be alone, i may be an empty husk, but i am strong, i am powerful, and i pity you all, your mores and values. fuck you. you're no better than i.

i have a story to tell you, and it's not a pretty one. it's a story of lust and betrayal, and loss. you say that sounds cliché, but i've got some surprises for you. stick around to watch the story unfold, and you will see. this is just the introduction. you ain't seen nothin' yet.

i'm gonna lay it all out for you. i'm gonna tell you with pictures, with words, and with sounds. you will feel the full onslaught of my genius, and you will know the truth; it will blind you and set you free all at once. you are rolling your eyes, you think i'm grandstanding, you think i'm crazy... but you will see...



i’m trying to reconcile our disconnects
i love you so much i get side effects
no gain comes without a sacrifice
no pain matters when i look in your eyes

the shadows stirring in the depths of your stare
the nape of your neck, a lock of your hair
i’m not really myself when you’re not around
i’m a record player, playing no sound

i am a digital divide
i just came along for the ride
scrambled bits, forgotten crime
left to rust, rotten in the ditch of time

the fact that i can say this to your face
doesn’t remove the bitter taste
of slowly flickering away
the last lingering light of a slow-dying day

there’s not so much more self-control
when i slid on down the rabbit hole
the tides came in as i lay on the shore
and i slipped out to see on the underscore

the notes hung together like sun and moon
the refrain tripped up a beat too soon
if i hadn’t guessed, i wouldn’t have known
that your heart had long since turned to stone

don’t want you to misunderstand
why it is i forced your hand
it hurts me more than you could know
that i’ve got nothing left to show

i’m just an empty husk of a man
a jumbled word, an anagram
if there’s a way that we can weather
then help me put us back together

oh my stars i am in love
with you, it hurts, it hurts so much
the feeling cuts me like a knife
a cliché bryan adams line

you think i wanted it this way
but what i feel i cannot say
i fear i’ll always be the same
afraid to jump into the game

maybe that’s why i never change
even to me it’s a little strange
i’m metaphorically paralyzed
it’s my emotional disguise

so please forgive me all my vice
don’t make me beg you once or twice
i’m trying to do what i can
to be more than an anagram

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prologue

the story is about to begin. the scene has been set. our hero is a boy who has run away. he has spent all his short life running, trying to escape, though he knows not from what. he believes himself an orphan, too different from anyone else to be family, to be human. his thought pattern is linear and single-minded. he is relcacitrant, diffident, and selfish. he lashes out at everything, blaming everyone but himself for his woes.

this is his humbling. we will begin soon...

the lines are frozen

i'm creating a moment in time. this is a precursor; a preamble... a primer. after this preface, there will be a succession. it will be a logical succession, based on a pre-established and mutually agreed-upon common lexicon.

the pattern will be easy to interpret early on. it will be episodic, linear, and didactic. a story will unfold.

hopefully, we will interact over the course of this series, and it will be mutually beneficial.

already, the first four episodes are nearly complete. there will be many more to follow. i dub this series horizontals. enjoy.