Bloggiversary and break

Five years ago today I started this blog as a new artistic project after I quit my band of 30 years. In the days since I started Words & Music I wrote a novel, became a poet, and composed most of my favorite original songs.

I have posted about 650 poems, stories, songs, reviews, and drawings, and have clocked about 150,000 views. I am grateful for every eyeball and every eardrum that looked and listened to something I posted here.

Blogging is a social media like any other, feeding on views, likes, and comments. There is a place for that kind of thing in art – a focus on having people look at or listen to your work – but it’s not a place I want to be right now. So I’m going to take a break from the blog to devote more attention to projects that feed on time and solitude.

The only thing I’m going to miss might be you.

There is a thing called the “ideal reader” who is the individual a writer keeps in mind while he writes, to turn our monologue into dialogue. I have a picture in my head of mine. She is so sweet. And she might be you. I hope she is.

IMG_3397

I Love You So Bad It Hurts (LIVE)

The second song I played at an open mic recently is one of my favorite originals of the past few years. Musically, it’s a simple progression that’s made a little fresher by putting a capo on the 10th fret so that the guitar almost sounds like a mandolin. Lyrically, each verse repeats the first line at the end with a little bit of a twist caused by the lines in between.

 

I love you so bad it hurts
with a kind of pain that I don’t mind at all
I love you so bad it hurts

I love you so much I don’t
have anything left for anyone else
I love you so much I don’t

I love you so much I can’t
drink enough so I can forget
the way your love burns like a lit cigarette
but I love you so much I’ll never regret
that I love you so much I can’t

I’ve loved you so long I can’t see
all the way back to the morning before
my love came knocking around at your door
and I might as well just admit that I’m yours
’cause I’ve loved you so long I can’t see

The silence that Tuesday night brings

I

I went to the place where blisters were blooming on fingers that felt pride in putting them there. A woman named Mary provided a fishbowl, a backdrop for dreamers, and pint after pint. There were masters of melody, rakers of rhythm, and teller of tales about freight trains and fears. It’s easier to listen to strange-sounding strings than to suffer the silence that Tuesday night brings.

II

When the tables were turned and the clouds were behind me, the strangest illusion of calmness I’ve known washed over my nerves like a musical blanket or the last acorn to fall from the tree. Not even fear itself could frighten away the creatures who gathered to feed it to loneliness.

III

I said I don’t usually do this
I said that you’ll soon find out why
I said that I love you, again, without fear or regret, except one: that it can’t be returned.

IMG_3438

Giving Thanks

Thank you for trusting me with your secrets
I will do what it takes to make sure they’re kept safe

Thank you for listening to my stories
And for knowing which ones were for you alone

Thank you for helping me guide my strength
And overcome my weakness

Thank you for letting me into those spaces
You built as a delicate child

And thank you for entering those spaces of mine
And exploring them with sympathy

IMG_3297

I’m Not Afraid (LIVE)

I

Fear is the challenge
to overcome or to succumb
and either way your work’s not done
Once you think you’ve got it licked
you’ve only learned half of the trick
Just because you lose, or win,
doesn’t mean a goddamn thing
the next time that the fear begins

II

They say the fear of public speaking is the greater than the fear of death, which makes some sense to me since we all know from a tender age that we will die but there is nothing to say that we will speak in public. That is one bullet we can dodge. And the devil you know is always more palatable than the strange one.

By my blurry count, I have taken to the stage between 40 and 50 times and, like everything in life, each could be the last but so far this is just the latest. I wrote this song about fear a few months ago and performed it last week at Mary O’s on Avenue A between 2nd & 3rd. If you’re in the neighborhood drop in for a meal or a drink but don’t tell Mary I sent you. She wouldn’t know me from a hole in the wall.

III

Help Wanted

For those on the hunt for a new job, several positions have recently become available in diverse fields of endeavour. So, spruce up your resume and submit to this blog for consideration of the following opportunities:job interviews-page-001 (1)Please note that we will only respond to applicants under serious consideration.

 

 

Slit Skirts

townshend

Aging gracefully is one of the great challenges in the life of a rock’n’roller. Many artists have pissed away their maturity chasing the tail of their youth. Just as many have gone to an early grave without having to confront the challenge. Then there are the few who tackle it head-on.

Pete Townshend was a great help to me when I was a teenager. He found words for thoughts I was too inarticulate to express. His band’s Quadrophenia was blaring in the background of my first kiss. And as he got older he found words to express the bittersweet nature of aging.

 Slit Skirts, from Townshend’s 1982 album All The Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes takes on the subject with his usual musical bravado and some unusually literary lyrics.

Can’t pretend that growing older never hurts…

I was just thirty-four years old and I was still wandering in a haze
I was wondering why everyone I met seemed like they were
Lost in a maze
I don’t know why I thought I should have some kind of
Divine right to the blues
It’s sympathy not tears people need when they’re the
Front page sad news.
.
The incense burned away and the stench began to rise
And lovers now estranged avoided catching each others’ eyes
And girls who lost their children cursed the men who fit the coil
And men not fit for marriage took their refuge in the oil
No one respects the flame quite like the fool who’s badly burned
From all this you’d imagine that there must be something learned
.
Slit skirts, Jeanie never wears those slit skirts
I don’t ever wear no ripped shirts
Can’t pretend that growing older never hurts.
Knee pants, Jeanie never wears no knee pants
Have to be so drunk to try a new dance
So afraid of every new romance
.
Slit skirts, slit skirt
Jeanie isn’t wearing those slit skirts, slit skirt
She wouldn’t dare in those slit skirts, slit skirt
Wouldn’t be seen dead in no slit skirt
.
Slit skirts, slit skirt
Jeanie isn’t wearing those slit skirts, slit skirt
She wouldn’t dare in those slit skirts, slit skirt
Wouldn’t be seen dead in no slit skirt
Romance, romance, why aren’t we thinking up romance?
Why can’t we drink it up true heart romance
Just need a brief new romance
.
Let me tell you some more about myself,
you know I’m sitting at home just now.
The big events of the day are passed
and the late TV shows have come around.
I’m number one in the home team, but I still feel unfulfilled.
A silent voice in her broken heart complaining that I’m unskilled.
And I know that when she thinks of me, she thinks of me as him,
But, unlike me, she don’t work off her frustration in the gym.
Recriminations fester and the past can never change
A woman’s expectations run from both ends of the range
Once she walked with untamed lovers’ face between her legs
Now he’s cooled and stifled and it’s she who has to beg
.
Slit skirts, Jeanie never wears those slit skirts
And I don’t ever wear no ripped shirts
Can’t pretend that growing older never hurts
Knee pants, Jeanie never wears no knee pants
We have to be so drunk to try a new dance
So afraid of every new romance
.
Slit skirts, slit skirt
Jeanie isn’t wearing those slit skirts, slit skirt
She wouldn’t dare in those slit skirts, slit skirt
Wouldn’t be seen dead in no slit skirt
.
Slit skirts, slit skirt
Jeanie isn’t wearing those slit skirts, slit skirt
She wouldn’t dare in those slit skirts, slit skirt
Wouldn’t be seen dead in no slit skirt
Romance, romance, why aren’t we thinking up romance?
Why can’t we drink it up true heart romance
Just need a brief new romance