Feeling restless right now. Some things seem kind of stuck in neutral, some are gaining ridiculous traction at rates I would not have put money on.
I need a new bass player. Scott had to bail on the thought of being in the band because of his upcoming class schedule and outstanding commitments to two other projects. Damn, the bass player market is looking scarce right now. I haven't heard from Brian or Nathan since the start of the break though hopefully I'll get ahold of everyone soon enough this week.
Here's my ad:
Wanted: A bass player with a melodic / contrapuntal style i.e. Bruce Thomas, Andrew Bodnar, Eli Crewes, James Jamerson, etc. for a five-piece band. Songwriting influences include New Pornographers, Elvis Costello and The Attractions, Okkervil River, early Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, Beulah. Gear and dedication a must; backing vocals a plus. Call Cameron at (405) 401-3900.
Also, um, things are interesting on the personal front. No telling what this means beyond the immediate term, but before I get out of town on Friday I'm certainly going to know a bit better. Suffice it to say, some dates go crazy directions at crazy times, but that's why the world is a fun place. And my life is quite fun right now.
Ah, me.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
I really really understand what
it is I'm getting at by making the second batch of songs / "album #2" in essence about how human beings don't do sincerity with each other when there's attraction etc. on the line. 'Cause it took me two hours tonight to open up and stop talking in trenchant one-liners shot through with self-deprecation and too much big flowery verbiage. But when I did, it was pretty nice.
I guess I mean it when I say "I fear silence". If I didn't, this would not be a blog post and I would not be a musician and I would not constantly be trying to write a better song with a better melody. Apologies to anyone who might require one. Yeah, I went there. I always do, no matter what.
Tomorrow:
> figure out band practice arrangements for the rest of the week.
> bank Conrad's check
> request the 2nd-12th of January off from FedEx and prepare for StL viaje
> work specifically on "Far Beyond Me". It is SO close to done.
> once done with that, why not "With the Lights Out"? I can't think of a reason other than time.
> is it drinkin' o' clock any time tomorrow? Who knows.
> probably will be able to finish lyrics on "Echoes and Reflections." Might work on "Let You Down".
> make some phone calls?
Tuesday:
> more of the same, minus the second and third above.
And So On:
>ad infinitum
I guess I mean it when I say "I fear silence". If I didn't, this would not be a blog post and I would not be a musician and I would not constantly be trying to write a better song with a better melody. Apologies to anyone who might require one. Yeah, I went there. I always do, no matter what.
Tomorrow:
> figure out band practice arrangements for the rest of the week.
> bank Conrad's check
> request the 2nd-12th of January off from FedEx and prepare for StL viaje
> work specifically on "Far Beyond Me". It is SO close to done.
> once done with that, why not "With the Lights Out"? I can't think of a reason other than time.
> is it drinkin' o' clock any time tomorrow? Who knows.
> probably will be able to finish lyrics on "Echoes and Reflections." Might work on "Let You Down".
> make some phone calls?
Tuesday:
> more of the same, minus the second and third above.
And So On:
>ad infinitum
Sunday, December 21, 2008
THIS IS WHY CLASSIC ROCK MAKES ME ANGRY
Illiteracy. Illiteracy. Illiteracy.
Two of the best pop chord progressions ever written belong to "Monkey Man" by The Rolling Stones and "I Need a Lover" by Johnny Cougar.
Two of the worst lyric sheets in the English language belong to "Monkey Man" by The Rolling Stones and "I Need a Lover" by Johnny Cougar.
Pete Brown, the London-based Mod impressionist poet, wrote almost all of Cream's best lyrics. That should have set some kind of precedent, but nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Two of the best pop chord progressions ever written belong to "Monkey Man" by The Rolling Stones and "I Need a Lover" by Johnny Cougar.
Two of the worst lyric sheets in the English language belong to "Monkey Man" by The Rolling Stones and "I Need a Lover" by Johnny Cougar.
Pete Brown, the London-based Mod impressionist poet, wrote almost all of Cream's best lyrics. That should have set some kind of precedent, but nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Music n' Me 12/20/2008 before I pass out edition
...from tired. From tired. But you can never tell with this blog...
> "Weekend Holiday" is finally done! And it only took five months!
Well, anyway, trusting my gut on the chord changes and "Little Wild One"-minor guitar solo finally got some stuff done. And not a moment too soon.
Scott seems hella down, Aaron will call me when he's off tomorrow, Brian is in Amarillo, and Nathan apparently thinks he's fired for missing the clusterfuck "practice" Thursday night. But he's not, and should therefore get back to me.
This puts the total complete / ready to be played on by other members list at:
1. Or Don't
2. Count Me Out
3. Weekend Holiday
4. Picket Line Breaks Down
5. Who Are You This Time?
6. Ghosts Dance
Next up, probably "Far Beyond Me". And then I guess "With the Lights Out." And then probably "Bad Boyfriend" or "She Knows All Your Flaws." Or, crap, maybe "Like a Clock" once I rewrite the progression on it. Basically anything but "Nineteen Steps." ANYTHING. Ah well, the break provides in spades so far.
> "Weekend Holiday" is finally done! And it only took five months!
Well, anyway, trusting my gut on the chord changes and "Little Wild One"-minor guitar solo finally got some stuff done. And not a moment too soon.
Scott seems hella down, Aaron will call me when he's off tomorrow, Brian is in Amarillo, and Nathan apparently thinks he's fired for missing the clusterfuck "practice" Thursday night. But he's not, and should therefore get back to me.
This puts the total complete / ready to be played on by other members list at:
1. Or Don't
2. Count Me Out
3. Weekend Holiday
4. Picket Line Breaks Down
5. Who Are You This Time?
6. Ghosts Dance
Next up, probably "Far Beyond Me". And then I guess "With the Lights Out." And then probably "Bad Boyfriend" or "She Knows All Your Flaws." Or, crap, maybe "Like a Clock" once I rewrite the progression on it. Basically anything but "Nineteen Steps." ANYTHING. Ah well, the break provides in spades so far.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Miscellany n' Me, 12/18/2008
Well, goodness. So much randomness.
> My last ever final at OU, today. Tape-measure homer, I think. I THINK.
> Played music with Brian and later with Brian and Aaron. Brian is a ridiculously skilled drummer, but maybe a bit busy style-wise right now. He has good ideas, but JESUS MAN NOT EVERYONE LISTENING IS A DRUMMER WHO THINKS HE'S BETTER THAN YOU. Ah well, he'll surely fall in line. On a related note, Aaron and Brian both are kinda slow on picking up song structure. Goddamn. It's not like I'm Robert Fripp.
> But on the positive, they are two of the most gifted musicians I've ever played with ever.
> Odd "Norman High / North" reunion at Blu tonight featuring half The Evangelicals (Kyle and Jonesy), James Burke, David Weiss, Lance Custar (stumble-drunk and buying everyone drinks), a handful of peripheral NHS Class of 05ers, Aaron (an hour after I saw him at band practice), Bob Milstein (drunk and rubbing my tummy), Nick Bartell (who didn't recognize me because of my beard) and Bri (who was at three of the five places I went today) and... Stephanie Holliman. Random Waffle House Dates in Winter 05/Spring 06 Stephanie. Meh, neato. On both counts.
Gotta get some shit moving. We'll see tomorrow.
> My last ever final at OU, today. Tape-measure homer, I think. I THINK.
> Played music with Brian and later with Brian and Aaron. Brian is a ridiculously skilled drummer, but maybe a bit busy style-wise right now. He has good ideas, but JESUS MAN NOT EVERYONE LISTENING IS A DRUMMER WHO THINKS HE'S BETTER THAN YOU. Ah well, he'll surely fall in line. On a related note, Aaron and Brian both are kinda slow on picking up song structure. Goddamn. It's not like I'm Robert Fripp.
> But on the positive, they are two of the most gifted musicians I've ever played with ever.
> Odd "Norman High / North" reunion at Blu tonight featuring half The Evangelicals (Kyle and Jonesy), James Burke, David Weiss, Lance Custar (stumble-drunk and buying everyone drinks), a handful of peripheral NHS Class of 05ers, Aaron (an hour after I saw him at band practice), Bob Milstein (drunk and rubbing my tummy), Nick Bartell (who didn't recognize me because of my beard) and Bri (who was at three of the five places I went today) and... Stephanie Holliman. Random Waffle House Dates in Winter 05/Spring 06 Stephanie. Meh, neato. On both counts.
Gotta get some shit moving. We'll see tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Music n' Me, 12/15/2008
Things accomplished today:
> Footswitch arrived for the Vox Box. Integrated it into my setup successfully. No-brainer.
> FINALLY solidified the bridge lick for "Picket Line Breaks Down" and figured out how to conclude it after a few stabs in the dark. Jeez, it's only been five months...
> Figured out how awesome the tremolo effect on the Vox Box sounds for the bridge of "Ghosts Dance".
> Wrote, then forgot, all unfinished parts of "Far Beyond Me" [prechorus, bridge]. Now I must relearn them. Arrgh.
> Got "Ghosts Dance" and "Picket Line" somewhat solid with Aaron. Still have to give him all of "Who Are You This Time?" / anything else seemingly pertinent.
Things I'm hoping to do soon:
> Get Nathan caught up on stuff.
> Get Brian into the loop of things [ditto Scott, but that must wait until next week].
> Finish for certain "Weekend Holiday" -- will need trem arm for the Strat, it's being shipped.
> Same with "Certain Signals," though that one's easy.
> Make chord / bar sheets for all the current ongoing songs (That's "Or Don't," "Count Me Out," "Ghosts Dance," "Picket Line," "Far Beyond Me," and "Who Are You This Time" for those of you playing at home).
> DEAR GOD figure out what I'm doing so wrong when singing while playing guitar.
> Decide if / where / how the Big Muff fits into my signal chain.
That's too much in the "to do" column, not nearly enough in the "done" column. Ah well, it's the life.
addendum: I don't remember making that last post on here. 3:38am with my ass six sheets to the wind. The low typo rate makes me think that somehow, when I'm DRANK, I'm still deceptively lucid. Then again... refer to actual post content.
> Footswitch arrived for the Vox Box. Integrated it into my setup successfully. No-brainer.
> FINALLY solidified the bridge lick for "Picket Line Breaks Down" and figured out how to conclude it after a few stabs in the dark. Jeez, it's only been five months...
> Figured out how awesome the tremolo effect on the Vox Box sounds for the bridge of "Ghosts Dance".
> Wrote, then forgot, all unfinished parts of "Far Beyond Me" [prechorus, bridge]. Now I must relearn them. Arrgh.
> Got "Ghosts Dance" and "Picket Line" somewhat solid with Aaron. Still have to give him all of "Who Are You This Time?" / anything else seemingly pertinent.
Things I'm hoping to do soon:
> Get Nathan caught up on stuff.
> Get Brian into the loop of things [ditto Scott, but that must wait until next week].
> Finish for certain "Weekend Holiday" -- will need trem arm for the Strat, it's being shipped.
> Same with "Certain Signals," though that one's easy.
> Make chord / bar sheets for all the current ongoing songs (That's "Or Don't," "Count Me Out," "Ghosts Dance," "Picket Line," "Far Beyond Me," and "Who Are You This Time" for those of you playing at home).
> DEAR GOD figure out what I'm doing so wrong when singing while playing guitar.
> Decide if / where / how the Big Muff fits into my signal chain.
That's too much in the "to do" column, not nearly enough in the "done" column. Ah well, it's the life.
addendum: I don't remember making that last post on here. 3:38am with my ass six sheets to the wind. The low typo rate makes me think that somehow, when I'm DRANK, I'm still deceptively lucid. Then again... refer to actual post content.
Monday, December 15, 2008
WOAH. EWWW.
1) ADDING pizza bites to any Fat Sandwich = SADNESS. Delicious SADNESS.
2) I am like WAYYYYYY more of a manwhore than usualy when I'm drunk. Not that this is news, but I totally launched into the stratosphere tonite via text message.
a: propositioning a person I stopped "talking" to a while ago and getting laughed down / reproached.
b: propositioning every female in The Libe; thank god at least some of them can't get text messages.
c: pourin' it all out to a girl with whom I'm conducting PURE BUSINESS [near as I can tell]. Not "propositioning" per se, but not flattering to my drunk ass anyhow.
Tomorrow: study w/ Bri @ 1 (assuming no "myserious" cancellations... I'm a DUMB), work, hammer out some arrangements w/ Aaron. And NO eating Fat Sandwich. Two drunkmeals in three nights ain't my cup o' tea.
2) I am like WAYYYYYY more of a manwhore than usualy when I'm drunk. Not that this is news, but I totally launched into the stratosphere tonite via text message.
a: propositioning a person I stopped "talking" to a while ago and getting laughed down / reproached.
b: propositioning every female in The Libe; thank god at least some of them can't get text messages.
c: pourin' it all out to a girl with whom I'm conducting PURE BUSINESS [near as I can tell]. Not "propositioning" per se, but not flattering to my drunk ass anyhow.
Tomorrow: study w/ Bri @ 1 (assuming no "myserious" cancellations... I'm a DUMB), work, hammer out some arrangements w/ Aaron. And NO eating Fat Sandwich. Two drunkmeals in three nights ain't my cup o' tea.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Music n' Me, update 12/13/2008
"Ghosts Dance," which to my ears is the obvious single out of the batch of songs I'm working with, is DONE on my end.
Other updates:
a) New running order
1. Or Don't
2. With the Lights Out
3. Bad Boyfriend
4. Count Me Out
5. Weekend Holiday
6. Picket Line Breaks Down
7. Service Sector
8. She Knows All Your Flaws
9. Who Are You This Time?
10. Far Beyond Me
11. Nineteen Steps
12. Ghosts Dance
13. Like a Clock
b) New additions
Aaron Daniels - guitar (/vocals?)
Nathan Martin - keys (/ vocals?)
c) The rest of the theoretical line-up
Scott Harper - bass
Brian Barbee - drums
Ghosts Dance
(lyrics, music by Cameron Ferguson)
The old ways and means are meaningless,
There's just no way
To find an honest day's wage
At the end of a halfhearted day
Pockets filled with ghosts of money -
Pockets buried in receipts -
That tell me just where you've been,
You've been turning in my sleep
But what you throw away
Says as much as what you keep
And ghosts dance on my walls at night,
They move to songs that still excite you
In translucent tones of lukewarm light
I wish they didn't have the right to,
But they do...
So now I wake up bathed in
Lakes of lukewarm sweat,
Shivering out a fever
I'm not running yet
Ghosts of fingers on my neck,
Ghosts of footsteps on the floor -
It's been a long time since I
Felt like I could adore you --
I'm sorry if I bored you,
Maybe I might've meant to
[ref.]
{bridge}
And they ride away on their pale horses
To reclaim this scorched earth
On their unearthly courses
But there's just no revoking
Interlocking, heartbroke shocking
The old maps and trails are blazing
In the laps of fires
Another dusk, another dance awaits
When I retire
I don't mean to play the part of
Some willing martyr
In the old lists and charts,
Listlessly repealing charters
But waiting's not the hardest part --
Knowing no one's coming's harder
[ref.]
They ride away
They ride away
They ride
Away
Other updates:
a) New running order
1. Or Don't
2. With the Lights Out
3. Bad Boyfriend
4. Count Me Out
5. Weekend Holiday
6. Picket Line Breaks Down
7. Service Sector
8. She Knows All Your Flaws
9. Who Are You This Time?
10. Far Beyond Me
11. Nineteen Steps
12. Ghosts Dance
13. Like a Clock
b) New additions
Aaron Daniels - guitar (/vocals?)
Nathan Martin - keys (/ vocals?)
c) The rest of the theoretical line-up
Scott Harper - bass
Brian Barbee - drums
Ghosts Dance
(lyrics, music by Cameron Ferguson)
The old ways and means are meaningless,
There's just no way
To find an honest day's wage
At the end of a halfhearted day
Pockets filled with ghosts of money -
Pockets buried in receipts -
That tell me just where you've been,
You've been turning in my sleep
But what you throw away
Says as much as what you keep
And ghosts dance on my walls at night,
They move to songs that still excite you
In translucent tones of lukewarm light
I wish they didn't have the right to,
But they do...
So now I wake up bathed in
Lakes of lukewarm sweat,
Shivering out a fever
I'm not running yet
Ghosts of fingers on my neck,
Ghosts of footsteps on the floor -
It's been a long time since I
Felt like I could adore you --
I'm sorry if I bored you,
Maybe I might've meant to
[ref.]
{bridge}
And they ride away on their pale horses
To reclaim this scorched earth
On their unearthly courses
But there's just no revoking
Interlocking, heartbroke shocking
The old maps and trails are blazing
In the laps of fires
Another dusk, another dance awaits
When I retire
I don't mean to play the part of
Some willing martyr
In the old lists and charts,
Listlessly repealing charters
But waiting's not the hardest part --
Knowing no one's coming's harder
[ref.]
They ride away
They ride away
They ride
Away
Monday, December 8, 2008
Music n' Me, II
Complete and ready to go
> Count Me Out
> Or Don't
> Picket Line Breaks Down
> Who Are You this Time?
> Certain Signals
Minor tweaks and decisions needed
> With the Lights Out
> Bad Boyfriend
> Weekend Holiday
> Like a Clock [yes, it's back!]
> Far Beyond Me
> Out With It
Some work done, mostly intros
> Distraction
> Hope Against Hope
> Nineteen Steps
> She Knows All Your Flaws
> Broadcast Range
> Service Sector
> Need to Need You, Baby
Pretty words don't mean much anymore / vocal melodies only
> Sad Story
> The Drift [may get repurposed alt-country or whatever]
> Promotion
> Room For Improvement
hopefully the first record will look like:
1. Or Don't
2. With the Lights Out
3. Bad Boyfriend
4. Count Me Out
5. Weekend Holiday
6. Picket Line Breaks Down
7. Need to Need You, Baby
8. Far Beyond Me
9. Service Sector
10. She Knows All Your Flaws
11. Who Are You This Time?
12. Nineteen Steps
13. Like a Clock
HOPEFULLY.
> Count Me Out
> Or Don't
> Picket Line Breaks Down
> Who Are You this Time?
> Certain Signals
Minor tweaks and decisions needed
> With the Lights Out
> Bad Boyfriend
> Weekend Holiday
> Like a Clock [yes, it's back!]
> Far Beyond Me
> Out With It
Some work done, mostly intros
> Distraction
> Hope Against Hope
> Nineteen Steps
> She Knows All Your Flaws
> Broadcast Range
> Service Sector
> Need to Need You, Baby
Pretty words don't mean much anymore / vocal melodies only
> Sad Story
> The Drift [may get repurposed alt-country or whatever]
> Promotion
> Room For Improvement
hopefully the first record will look like:
1. Or Don't
2. With the Lights Out
3. Bad Boyfriend
4. Count Me Out
5. Weekend Holiday
6. Picket Line Breaks Down
7. Need to Need You, Baby
8. Far Beyond Me
9. Service Sector
10. She Knows All Your Flaws
11. Who Are You This Time?
12. Nineteen Steps
13. Like a Clock
HOPEFULLY.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Music n' Me
Okay, this is finally happening... I think. Three of the four other musicians I need to have the lineup I desire for my band are at least theoretically on board. My gear is assembled. I have at least five songs that I would consider stem-to-stern complete on my part right now. And I'm not doing college next semester, so that frees me up capacity-wise (more on that later). Once I lock down a day job, I'll be golden.
"Am I perhaps growing cynical?" -- these are my last three completed lyric sheets, at least from a possibly-to-be-used standpoint (All lyrics, music by Cameron Ferguson... internet legalese):
Far Beyond Me
You don't even amuse me --
Don't make me laugh with your silence
When you're just trying to use me,
And you've got it down to a science -
Beyond good and evil,
Beyond the pale of decency
Why you think you're above it
Is far beyond me
You're so sure you can shut me out
Without a single word
But if you mean to leave me shaken,
You don't even get me stirred -
Everybody needs a project
Best kept off the projector
But the pen is mightier
Than any pocket protector
* 'Cause I've passed
This test before
And I've felt
Disgust before -
If you've already
Discussed it,
Take this set and
Don't try to adjust it
[ref.]
If you want the last word,
You better take it with your last breath
'Cause this kind of casual callousness
Has got me bored to death
Disposable affection
Just leaves me indisposed,
So put the tag on your toe
Because this case is closed
** Black is black
And pink is pink -
You've shown me both,
So what was I thinking?
If this isn't
Class chemistry,
It's just the kind
From drinking
[ref.]
{bridge}
Oh, I've been PNG'd
By better people with better wrongs
Before
This is so slightly touching,
You must be slightly touched
But that's too much for me to ignore
[ref.]
Repeat last two lines into fade.
The Drift [apologies to actual events]
We took your wedding flowers
To the trash incinerator
You never said it, but I sensed it:
Maybe it's come to far,
It may later --
We're not just burning picket fences
Anymore
Are you sure this is what you really want?
I'm not sure this is what I want
I don't think we know what we want
Long nights and car rides
And carnal convulsions -
Are you wearing down? Your paint is peeling
Into his & hers sinks, and shopping,
And sinking
The sneaking suspicion of sneaky feelings
Anymore
Are you sure this is where you want to go?
I don't think this is where I want to go
Anymore, we don't know
And I think I catch --
It's all caught in the drift
And flush, and bereft
Trying to repurpose all that's left
We cursed the memories
Of forgotten lovers -
Retouched photos in retooled frames
With touches made too much,
The terrifying tremors -
At first blush, it's all the same
Anymore
And I'm sure this isn't what you need
I know this isn't what I need
But I can tell where it's gonna lead
{bridge}
And in the low glow, in the dark
It's all too plain to see
That the contacts are throwing sparks
But you can't fill the holes in you
With the ones in me
[ref. (2x?)]
Sad Story
Keep one eye on the clock -
The clock keeps running -
The time is running out,
You know your time is coming:
Face becoming indistinct,
Indifference comes calling -
What becomes of your flight instinct
When you're already falling?
Find your place in the waiting room,
They're soon to call your name -
Waiting on the edge of the bed,
It's pretty much the same:
On edge, on the scene
Prepare your parting word
Because you're very seldom seen
Let alone heard
* Now you've exhausted your last extension;
Your last stay of execution;
You're pictures in an exhibition,
Just a name for exposition
Just someone's new sad story
For someone's new next sad story
With one eye on the door,
The light keeps on creeping
Through the crack; through the facade
The cracks are deepening
The anecdotes are down to an art,
It's just a question of the date --
And in between the fading days
All that's left is watch-and-wait
** All the causes, existential;
All your crimes are ex post facto;
Excitement is inconsequential --
Extenuations gets redacted
[ref.]
{bridge}
Waiting in the open sea,
Full steam, the next to come along
Waiting for the sight of periscopes,
The white trails, the false alarms
The phony war, the threat of arms
It's another sad story,
Another album's share of songs
[*]
[ref.]
Verdict: Yes, yes I am.
"Am I perhaps growing cynical?" -- these are my last three completed lyric sheets, at least from a possibly-to-be-used standpoint (All lyrics, music by Cameron Ferguson... internet legalese):
Far Beyond Me
You don't even amuse me --
Don't make me laugh with your silence
When you're just trying to use me,
And you've got it down to a science -
Beyond good and evil,
Beyond the pale of decency
Why you think you're above it
Is far beyond me
You're so sure you can shut me out
Without a single word
But if you mean to leave me shaken,
You don't even get me stirred -
Everybody needs a project
Best kept off the projector
But the pen is mightier
Than any pocket protector
* 'Cause I've passed
This test before
And I've felt
Disgust before -
If you've already
Discussed it,
Take this set and
Don't try to adjust it
[ref.]
If you want the last word,
You better take it with your last breath
'Cause this kind of casual callousness
Has got me bored to death
Disposable affection
Just leaves me indisposed,
So put the tag on your toe
Because this case is closed
** Black is black
And pink is pink -
You've shown me both,
So what was I thinking?
If this isn't
Class chemistry,
It's just the kind
From drinking
[ref.]
{bridge}
Oh, I've been PNG'd
By better people with better wrongs
Before
This is so slightly touching,
You must be slightly touched
But that's too much for me to ignore
[ref.]
Repeat last two lines into fade.
The Drift [apologies to actual events]
We took your wedding flowers
To the trash incinerator
You never said it, but I sensed it:
Maybe it's come to far,
It may later --
We're not just burning picket fences
Anymore
Are you sure this is what you really want?
I'm not sure this is what I want
I don't think we know what we want
Long nights and car rides
And carnal convulsions -
Are you wearing down? Your paint is peeling
Into his & hers sinks, and shopping,
And sinking
The sneaking suspicion of sneaky feelings
Anymore
Are you sure this is where you want to go?
I don't think this is where I want to go
Anymore, we don't know
And I think I catch --
It's all caught in the drift
And flush, and bereft
Trying to repurpose all that's left
We cursed the memories
Of forgotten lovers -
Retouched photos in retooled frames
With touches made too much,
The terrifying tremors -
At first blush, it's all the same
Anymore
And I'm sure this isn't what you need
I know this isn't what I need
But I can tell where it's gonna lead
{bridge}
And in the low glow, in the dark
It's all too plain to see
That the contacts are throwing sparks
But you can't fill the holes in you
With the ones in me
[ref. (2x?)]
Sad Story
Keep one eye on the clock -
The clock keeps running -
The time is running out,
You know your time is coming:
Face becoming indistinct,
Indifference comes calling -
What becomes of your flight instinct
When you're already falling?
Find your place in the waiting room,
They're soon to call your name -
Waiting on the edge of the bed,
It's pretty much the same:
On edge, on the scene
Prepare your parting word
Because you're very seldom seen
Let alone heard
* Now you've exhausted your last extension;
Your last stay of execution;
You're pictures in an exhibition,
Just a name for exposition
Just someone's new sad story
For someone's new next sad story
With one eye on the door,
The light keeps on creeping
Through the crack; through the facade
The cracks are deepening
The anecdotes are down to an art,
It's just a question of the date --
And in between the fading days
All that's left is watch-and-wait
** All the causes, existential;
All your crimes are ex post facto;
Excitement is inconsequential --
Extenuations gets redacted
[ref.]
{bridge}
Waiting in the open sea,
Full steam, the next to come along
Waiting for the sight of periscopes,
The white trails, the false alarms
The phony war, the threat of arms
It's another sad story,
Another album's share of songs
[*]
[ref.]
Verdict: Yes, yes I am.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
A miss is as good as a mile
Hey, you know how I'm like always getting ahead of myself? Weeeeeeeelllllllll...
Anyway, it was just one of those "what ELSE can go wrong?" days. I even got bad tinnitus from the recording session with Jake, and that was supposed to be the redeemer. This shit little town is starting to kill me, I think.
And with that, a set of old lyrics (summer 2008 batch) made new and relevant by both recent developments and my current NEED NEED NEED to get the fuck out of Norman for at least a few days. Emphasis on "optimism is the drug" etc.
Bad Boyfriend
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
One of these summers I'll stop picking my battles,
Let my car drive me 'til the engine rattles dead
Don't know what I need to get off my mind,
Just that it's gonna drive me out of my head
Isn't it strange
When you're only a stranger to yourself?
I'm a bad boyfriend,
But a good human being --
Are you believing
What I'm saying is seeming true?
Does it come through clear to you?
The biggest problem with forgoing the motions:
Sets you riding low on the high-beams,
When you'd much rather hit the ground running
On four bald tires and a thinning head of steam
And it's a spare change
When your scenery changes your self
[ref]
{bridge}
And in my sleep, I can see your dreams -
In my sleep I can see your dreams -
In my sleep, I can see your dreams,
And I don't like what I see
One of these summers, I'll stop weighing my options --
Optimism is the drug that keeps me poor
Double-taking on all the captions --
I should really be taking in much more
You need free reign
When it comes to re-arranging yourself
[ref]
Anyway, it was just one of those "what ELSE can go wrong?" days. I even got bad tinnitus from the recording session with Jake, and that was supposed to be the redeemer. This shit little town is starting to kill me, I think.
And with that, a set of old lyrics (summer 2008 batch) made new and relevant by both recent developments and my current NEED NEED NEED to get the fuck out of Norman for at least a few days. Emphasis on "optimism is the drug" etc.
Bad Boyfriend
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
One of these summers I'll stop picking my battles,
Let my car drive me 'til the engine rattles dead
Don't know what I need to get off my mind,
Just that it's gonna drive me out of my head
Isn't it strange
When you're only a stranger to yourself?
I'm a bad boyfriend,
But a good human being --
Are you believing
What I'm saying is seeming true?
Does it come through clear to you?
The biggest problem with forgoing the motions:
Sets you riding low on the high-beams,
When you'd much rather hit the ground running
On four bald tires and a thinning head of steam
And it's a spare change
When your scenery changes your self
[ref]
{bridge}
And in my sleep, I can see your dreams -
In my sleep I can see your dreams -
In my sleep, I can see your dreams,
And I don't like what I see
One of these summers, I'll stop weighing my options --
Optimism is the drug that keeps me poor
Double-taking on all the captions --
I should really be taking in much more
You need free reign
When it comes to re-arranging yourself
[ref]
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The Set, Nov. 24, 2008
1) Pagers in the Theater
2) Fuck Tha Parking Police
3) Internet Slang is FILTHY
4) Talk Drrrrty To Me
Good set, good crowd response. Derek Smith (hilarious in his own right) filmed me, and despite a blown speaker necessitating two a capella jokes, my set went DAMN WELL. Damn well enough, apparently, to win a certain someone in the audience back on my side. AWWW Right.
Life is pretty OK today.
2) Fuck Tha Parking Police
3) Internet Slang is FILTHY
4) Talk Drrrrty To Me
Good set, good crowd response. Derek Smith (hilarious in his own right) filmed me, and despite a blown speaker necessitating two a capella jokes, my set went DAMN WELL. Damn well enough, apparently, to win a certain someone in the audience back on my side. AWWW Right.
Life is pretty OK today.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The obligatory "lyrics I wrote commenting on life right now" post, 11/23/08 edition
Ambiguation: This may be about a specific person, or several people at once, or no real person. It may be currently relevant, recently rendered irrelevant, irrelevant a priori, or relevant only under future circumstances. It may be written in the literal first-person, the narrative first-person, or the reflexive second-person. It may be any combination of the preceding AT THE SAME TIME (*your mind is blown*). It may also cause cancer.
Out With It
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
Who's the magnet, who's the metal?
The live wires, the dead letters
Coasting on dampened currents,
Blue sparks on silver platters --
Unspoken broken records
Spin out of shallow grooves,
Deeper than shallow sleep spent
Awaiting the first move
{pre-chorus}
I'm not saying I'm not saying -
I'm not saying, I'm just saying...
Trips on the tip of my tongue,
You're reading lips unclearly
Grips to the tip of my tongue -
Oh, but I think you hear me
In the grip of hesitation,
On the frontier of those fields
Those intermittent twitches,
Switches you turn by feel
Unstated, understood -
Never under sedation -
There's just a second needed
To lift the weight of expectation
{p-c}
[refrain]
{bridge}
Don't mistake me,
Don't lose it in the subtleties
You're reading lips like subtitles,
Reading a forest's worth of trees -
It's just exigence, not
Some ineloquent excuse -
Grips to the tip of my tongue,
But you can always pry it lose...
Who's the magnet, who's the metal
On the frontier of those fields?
Coasting on dampened currents,
Switched on to voltage-yields --
Unspoken token resistance
To that ecstatic shock
Can only hold out so long
When all we do is talk
{p-c}
[ref.]
Ah, to be young and optimistic and failure-prone and so wonderfully neurotic.
::edit:: My first ever anagrammed para-rhyme! Shit, my brain is doing Rubik's Cube things with words lately.
Out With It
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
Who's the magnet, who's the metal?
The live wires, the dead letters
Coasting on dampened currents,
Blue sparks on silver platters --
Unspoken broken records
Spin out of shallow grooves,
Deeper than shallow sleep spent
Awaiting the first move
{pre-chorus}
I'm not saying I'm not saying -
I'm not saying, I'm just saying...
Trips on the tip of my tongue,
You're reading lips unclearly
Grips to the tip of my tongue -
Oh, but I think you hear me
In the grip of hesitation,
On the frontier of those fields
Those intermittent twitches,
Switches you turn by feel
Unstated, understood -
Never under sedation -
There's just a second needed
To lift the weight of expectation
{p-c}
[refrain]
{bridge}
Don't mistake me,
Don't lose it in the subtleties
You're reading lips like subtitles,
Reading a forest's worth of trees -
It's just exigence, not
Some ineloquent excuse -
Grips to the tip of my tongue,
But you can always pry it lose...
Who's the magnet, who's the metal
On the frontier of those fields?
Coasting on dampened currents,
Switched on to voltage-yields --
Unspoken token resistance
To that ecstatic shock
Can only hold out so long
When all we do is talk
{p-c}
[ref.]
Ah, to be young and optimistic and failure-prone and so wonderfully neurotic.
::edit:: My first ever anagrammed para-rhyme! Shit, my brain is doing Rubik's Cube things with words lately.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Here Comes That Shit Again
I got a Halloween head.
SHIT: Spanish exam, 3:30pm... Having to find pants to match the stone/tan ("stan") corduroy jacket for my Richie Tenenbaum costume, as well as buy sunglasses and possibly a white headband... still awake, 3:37am without having studied much for the aforementioned exam... having to get up early to go to the doctor to get my absence from work excused so as not to get shitcanned... and etc.
A'IGHT: It's Halloween and I have the night off for the first time in forever... Magnolia Electric Co. at Opolis, 9pm / parties out the izz-ass afterward... gettin' paid, this evening.
I saw Zack and Miri Make a Porno w/ Tim at The Warren's midnight showing, enjoyed it thoroughly. Though it made me have weird thoughts about some recent events... ah well, that ship has sailed, probably sank, and will be resistant to salvage efforts for years due to strong currents around its last known whereabouts.
What else? I made a mix CD of which I'm really proud, possibly to be distributed tomorrow to an interested/interesting party. Hrm. Learned the pentatonic scale pattern / movable minor, major, augmented, and diminished chords last night in a fit of similar insomnia. Spent too much money on food and drink today (goddamn Sbarro & The Library, yet oh well). Am really into Love and Okkervil River and "Needles in the Camel's Eye" right now. Will be looking to start a band once my amp (paid for/shipped), cab (not yet paid or shipped), and guitar (paid in part/still laid away) all arrive. The first batch of songs for work are:
1. Or Don't
2. With the Lights Out
3. Bad Boyfriend
4. Count Me Out
5. Weekend Holiday
6. Picket Line Breaks Down
7. Distraction
8. Certain Signals
9. Promotion
10. Hope Against Hope
11. Service Sector
12. Nineteen Steps
13. Ghosts Dance
14. Paint Thinner
Not that that means a single damn thing to anyone but myself right now. Ah well.
SHIT: Spanish exam, 3:30pm... Having to find pants to match the stone/tan ("stan") corduroy jacket for my Richie Tenenbaum costume, as well as buy sunglasses and possibly a white headband... still awake, 3:37am without having studied much for the aforementioned exam... having to get up early to go to the doctor to get my absence from work excused so as not to get shitcanned... and etc.
A'IGHT: It's Halloween and I have the night off for the first time in forever... Magnolia Electric Co. at Opolis, 9pm / parties out the izz-ass afterward... gettin' paid, this evening.
I saw Zack and Miri Make a Porno w/ Tim at The Warren's midnight showing, enjoyed it thoroughly. Though it made me have weird thoughts about some recent events... ah well, that ship has sailed, probably sank, and will be resistant to salvage efforts for years due to strong currents around its last known whereabouts.
What else? I made a mix CD of which I'm really proud, possibly to be distributed tomorrow to an interested/interesting party. Hrm. Learned the pentatonic scale pattern / movable minor, major, augmented, and diminished chords last night in a fit of similar insomnia. Spent too much money on food and drink today (goddamn Sbarro & The Library, yet oh well). Am really into Love and Okkervil River and "Needles in the Camel's Eye" right now. Will be looking to start a band once my amp (paid for/shipped), cab (not yet paid or shipped), and guitar (paid in part/still laid away) all arrive. The first batch of songs for work are:
1. Or Don't
2. With the Lights Out
3. Bad Boyfriend
4. Count Me Out
5. Weekend Holiday
6. Picket Line Breaks Down
7. Distraction
8. Certain Signals
9. Promotion
10. Hope Against Hope
11. Service Sector
12. Nineteen Steps
13. Ghosts Dance
14. Paint Thinner
Not that that means a single damn thing to anyone but myself right now. Ah well.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
The Set 10/28/08 -- and also, AMPAGE!
1) Fuck tha Parking Police
2) The Future is Now!
3) Pregnancy Scare
4) Fear the Reefer
5) Blue Harvest Balls
6) My Porno Theory
Number of people: about 20
Number of people who weren't the comedians, bartender, or waitstaff: about 8
Jakes: 1
Okay, so, the Vox HHW-AC30 head got way out of my price range. However, I now proudly own this head (with a Marshall mini stack, which I am planning on selling because I also won the speaker cab from my last post)... and I am two hours away from owning one of THESE.
Goddamn, son. I am about to have some real guitar gear.
Update: Didn't win the Bassman. So I'll probably be looking intermittently at new heads.
2) The Future is Now!
3) Pregnancy Scare
4) Fear the Reefer
5) Blue Harvest Balls
6) My Porno Theory
Number of people: about 20
Number of people who weren't the comedians, bartender, or waitstaff: about 8
Jakes: 1
Okay, so, the Vox HHW-AC30 head got way out of my price range. However, I now proudly own this head (with a Marshall mini stack, which I am planning on selling because I also won the speaker cab from my last post)
Goddamn, son. I am about to have some real guitar gear.
Update: Didn't win the Bassman. So I'll probably be looking intermittently at new heads.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Feeling kinda like a lord
Okay.
Drama with the ex: concluded. FOREVER.
All kinds of money for school: lined up ($800 in excess, to be exact).
This (the guitar, not the Jewish asshole, and in maroon satin): My new guitar, in process of purchase.
This beauty: About to become my new guitar amp at like a $1500 discount (thanks, eBay!)
This cute little bastard: About to be my new cab, factory-new and custom handmade. For all of $128.00 at last glance.
Daaaaaaamn, Cameron. When it rains, it pours.
Drama with the ex: concluded. FOREVER.
All kinds of money for school: lined up ($800 in excess, to be exact).
This (the guitar, not the Jewish asshole, and in maroon satin): My new guitar, in process of purchase.
This beauty: About to become my new guitar amp at like a $1500 discount (thanks, eBay!)
This cute little bastard: About to be my new cab, factory-new and custom handmade. For all of $128.00 at last glance.
Daaaaaaamn, Cameron. When it rains, it pours.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Set, Oct. 21, 2008
1) The "Fucked By History" Punchcard
2) Blue Harvest Balls
3) Careful With That Internet Slang
4) Fuck Text Messages
Then there was the weird factor:
a: Timmy being kind of a bitch over his goddamn Gibson Echoplex
Tim ordered this expensive pro music toy on the internet and had it shipped to my house. Yet he declined to mention his shipper required direct signature. So I had to bring him the signature ticket at comedy night, only I didn't get to, because I didn't have time [work detained me extra late]. So after several attempts to him to sign me up on the list, I arrived at Othello's and saw that he DID NOT. And thus I went last, after the audience had tuned the comics out. Thanks, Tim.
b: Danny Marroquin being there
This wasn't like insurmountably weird, except...
c: Katie being there, and being standoffish and fully bitchy
So I sent her a text message, once adjourned to Blu, telling her she had forfeited the files on her old computer I had agreed to back up with her little pointed head-turn-in-aversion-to-my-acknowledgment-of-her. And this touched off like a three hours fight that saw me get three sheets to the wind and ended with my dumping her fucking computer on her porch, knocking on the door, and staggering off into the night muttering what parts of "Nineteen Steps" I could conjure in my drunken haze. Then I threw up right as I was falling asleep.
Jee-BUS. What a night. And then what a weird subsequent day.
2) Blue Harvest Balls
3) Careful With That Internet Slang
4) Fuck Text Messages
Then there was the weird factor:
a: Timmy being kind of a bitch over his goddamn Gibson Echoplex
Tim ordered this expensive pro music toy on the internet and had it shipped to my house. Yet he declined to mention his shipper required direct signature. So I had to bring him the signature ticket at comedy night, only I didn't get to, because I didn't have time [work detained me extra late]. So after several attempts to him to sign me up on the list, I arrived at Othello's and saw that he DID NOT. And thus I went last, after the audience had tuned the comics out. Thanks, Tim.
b: Danny Marroquin being there
This wasn't like insurmountably weird, except...
c: Katie being there, and being standoffish and fully bitchy
So I sent her a text message, once adjourned to Blu, telling her she had forfeited the files on her old computer I had agreed to back up with her little pointed head-turn-in-aversion-to-my-acknowledgment-of-her. And this touched off like a three hours fight that saw me get three sheets to the wind and ended with my dumping her fucking computer on her porch, knocking on the door, and staggering off into the night muttering what parts of "Nineteen Steps" I could conjure in my drunken haze. Then I threw up right as I was falling asleep.
Jee-BUS. What a night. And then what a weird subsequent day.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
This is the product
Of that last post:
Paint Thinner
There's vapor in my throat
And this time of day,
I can't tell if it's mostly drink
Or mostly things I meant to say
It's probably irrelevant anyway
The light that lays in fingers
Across the shade
Is kind of like the things I did
Proportionate to plans I made --
So much light unlaid
* The fires will burn soft and slow
All the cinders spent to embers
There's a letter meant to be returned to sender
But I hope I won't remember
If images in dreams are colored-by-number
And your face is a portrait, and the oils are devout
I'll drown my sleep in paint thinner
And wash it out
There's writing on the wall
In a language such
That I don't like what I make out,
But I don't understand that much
And we're out of touch
The sound that fades into obscurity
So late at night
As all the bars go gentle, dead
Into dormant lamplight
Calls cold and bright
** The fire will burn fast and sharp
And eat the embers in the ashes
To hold the heat on high
And feed on all the hopes it dashes
[ref.]
{bridge}
I burn the notes
Before I bury them
Like bridges that
Love can't redeem
And they curl like
Arthritic hands
And fade to black
In well-known themes
*** The vapors rise and recede
On drafts of hard-earned sighs --
The flames flicker and blink
The warm sting of bloodshot eyes
[ref.]
Paint Thinner
There's vapor in my throat
And this time of day,
I can't tell if it's mostly drink
Or mostly things I meant to say
It's probably irrelevant anyway
The light that lays in fingers
Across the shade
Is kind of like the things I did
Proportionate to plans I made --
So much light unlaid
* The fires will burn soft and slow
All the cinders spent to embers
There's a letter meant to be returned to sender
But I hope I won't remember
If images in dreams are colored-by-number
And your face is a portrait, and the oils are devout
I'll drown my sleep in paint thinner
And wash it out
There's writing on the wall
In a language such
That I don't like what I make out,
But I don't understand that much
And we're out of touch
The sound that fades into obscurity
So late at night
As all the bars go gentle, dead
Into dormant lamplight
Calls cold and bright
** The fire will burn fast and sharp
And eat the embers in the ashes
To hold the heat on high
And feed on all the hopes it dashes
[ref.]
{bridge}
I burn the notes
Before I bury them
Like bridges that
Love can't redeem
And they curl like
Arthritic hands
And fade to black
In well-known themes
*** The vapors rise and recede
On drafts of hard-earned sighs --
The flames flicker and blink
The warm sting of bloodshot eyes
[ref.]
Instant Karma gonna getcha
The Panopticon must live a sad meta-existence, finding out all sorts of things it didn't want to know.
You run, you run and never look back or else you'll turn into a pillar of salt.
You run, you run and never look back or else you'll turn into a pillar of salt.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Set, Tuesday Oct. 14 2008
1) Universal Friend Lie
2) My Porno Theory
3) Catholics (parochial school ending)
4) Bastille Day
Number of people who were like "yeah, I'd like to come see you" who actually showed up: 0
I'm getting fat because I ate a whole Fat Sandwich at warp speed and had three pints of beer and I'm STILL hungry. I better get my ass to a gymnasium.
2) My Porno Theory
3) Catholics (parochial school ending)
4) Bastille Day
Number of people who were like "yeah, I'd like to come see you" who actually showed up: 0
I'm getting fat because I ate a whole Fat Sandwich at warp speed and had three pints of beer and I'm STILL hungry. I better get my ass to a gymnasium.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Astride the Great Divide
I could characterize myself as needy, but that would be redundant. Everyone is. Everyone needs SOMETHING, some people need lots of things.
Is my problem that I need things that are fundamentally contradictory? I need independence, I need support and assurance. I need acclaim, I need privacy. I need affection, I need space. I need sex, but I need love. The last two aren't wholly opposed, but I've found myself looking at trading one for the other more often than I'd like to. I need the future, but sometimes I yearn for the past. The present tense, at any rate, has been unkind to me on a subsurface level of late, in terms of emotion and satisfaction and comfort and the feeling of belonging. I'm in between homes right now in many respects, and don't expect I'll find my new one for quite a while. Dos Passos wrote the sketch "VAG" to close out 1919 about a roadside drifter looking weathered, beaten, but at peace. I guess that's what I aim for anymore.
Fireworks
I've got a confession --
Felt like I was sitting at a funeral procession
As the star shells lit up the sky
Our last Fourth of July
I know you couldn't miss it
As six-year-olds with sparklers laughed off in the distance
We were dead when you arrived
We were tracing lines to other peoples' lives
* And I was hoping I could re-ignite
But I kept panning gold and coming up with pyrite
And Tulsa town felt so dead to me that summer
We were treading water and we were going under
I just wonder
Why you held so tightly in my sleep
I've got recollection
Sitting in the hospital, waiting for directions -
Waiting for the at-ease that never came -
These things all end the same
In your yard, we were lighting
Fuses in the dark, throwing sparks like lightning
It should've been the highlight of my year
But last lights always disappear
** And I was waiting for some eloquence to show up
But all I saw was, things so bright just burn out or blow up
[ref.]
{Oh, eulogizing effigies --
There's no disguising the atrophy
But we're free, now, anyway
So I guess... Happy Independence Day}
*** And I'm still waiting to forget
But the last thing I remember is the first thing I regret
[ref.]
Is my problem that I need things that are fundamentally contradictory? I need independence, I need support and assurance. I need acclaim, I need privacy. I need affection, I need space. I need sex, but I need love. The last two aren't wholly opposed, but I've found myself looking at trading one for the other more often than I'd like to. I need the future, but sometimes I yearn for the past. The present tense, at any rate, has been unkind to me on a subsurface level of late, in terms of emotion and satisfaction and comfort and the feeling of belonging. I'm in between homes right now in many respects, and don't expect I'll find my new one for quite a while. Dos Passos wrote the sketch "VAG" to close out 1919 about a roadside drifter looking weathered, beaten, but at peace. I guess that's what I aim for anymore.
Fireworks
I've got a confession --
Felt like I was sitting at a funeral procession
As the star shells lit up the sky
Our last Fourth of July
I know you couldn't miss it
As six-year-olds with sparklers laughed off in the distance
We were dead when you arrived
We were tracing lines to other peoples' lives
* And I was hoping I could re-ignite
But I kept panning gold and coming up with pyrite
And Tulsa town felt so dead to me that summer
We were treading water and we were going under
I just wonder
Why you held so tightly in my sleep
I've got recollection
Sitting in the hospital, waiting for directions -
Waiting for the at-ease that never came -
These things all end the same
In your yard, we were lighting
Fuses in the dark, throwing sparks like lightning
It should've been the highlight of my year
But last lights always disappear
** And I was waiting for some eloquence to show up
But all I saw was, things so bright just burn out or blow up
[ref.]
{Oh, eulogizing effigies --
There's no disguising the atrophy
But we're free, now, anyway
So I guess... Happy Independence Day}
*** And I'm still waiting to forget
But the last thing I remember is the first thing I regret
[ref.]
Monday, October 6, 2008
SHIT
Guess I've got too much (or not enough) on my mind.
I left my car - from 12:30 to 4:20 - parked in Stubbeman Village, unlocked, and running while I was in class.
That I'm not down two vehicles in two weeks is some kind of miracle.
I left my car - from 12:30 to 4:20 - parked in Stubbeman Village, unlocked, and running while I was in class.
That I'm not down two vehicles in two weeks is some kind of miracle.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Strange days, indeed
Something about October makes it a special month for my grades flatlining and the world going all bizarro. Perhaps it's the mid-semester malaise that sets in after the optimism of August and the gung-ho drive of September dissipate; perhaps the fact that people are wearing sleeves.
Okay, now I sound like Big Pete intro-ing an episode where, like, the Petes and Teddy have to break into the high school after it's closed to rescue something for Ellen. At this point in the series, I would surmise Iggy Pop and John McFlemp have already run Artie out of Wellsville. But I digress.
So anyhow, it's gonna be a tough stretch run to get my shit together in Spanish and History of Inquisitions in time to lock my borderline-B's in before Thanksgiving Break. And in the meantime, all sorts of wacky stuff keeps happening. Stuff like becoming a stand-up comic after years of sort of wanting to, forming an aggressively retro 60's-pop band with Jake and assuming the stage name of Sonny Boy, Punching Spree (nee City of Industry) STILL not having played a show or rehearsed with vocals - over a year and a half after the initial practice - despite the fact that we're just really GOOD right now, stuff like... apparently fall is the time of year that the ladies come runnin' when I ring my dinner bell. This next number goes out to none in particular.
Some Other Time
Binary signals going back and forth,
Back and forth
In the Morse dance, the switch you flip - on and off,
On and off
In the way you voice vague needs and wants,
Needs and wants
I hope you know too much ain't enough
Fiber-optic eyes that look me up and down,
Up and down
From your hands to your mouth, it's open-close,
Open-close
You'd fall asleep if you could close the door,
Close the door
We fall asleep still fully clothed
No event horizon pulls me
Over the line
When you keep a mind that
Turns on a dime
If you keep away, I'll
Keep it with mine
'Til some other time
Wireless signals jumping fore to aft,
Fore to aft
Before I act, they send me stem to stern,
Stem to stern
It's either flares up or down-and-out,
Down-and-out
It's always watch-and-learn
Digital fire running base to tip,
Base to tip
In fingers flush with flesh and bone,
Flesh and bone
Can leave me gasping or wait-and-see,
Wait-and-see
Oh, don't leave me alone
[ref.]
{bridge}
You know the language,
So use the privilege
Don't let it languish --
You get me savage
And I'll take anything
Until you take advantage...
[ref., 2x]
Other strange October happenings:
> The Dodgers winning their first postseason series in 20 years(!) with a ludicrously one-sided sweep of the NL #1-seed Cubs
> Sarah Palin having ungodly meltdowns just about every time she's asked an easy, fluffy question
> Me finding THIS on the internet
Most peculiar, mama...
Okay, now I sound like Big Pete intro-ing an episode where, like, the Petes and Teddy have to break into the high school after it's closed to rescue something for Ellen. At this point in the series, I would surmise Iggy Pop and John McFlemp have already run Artie out of Wellsville. But I digress.
So anyhow, it's gonna be a tough stretch run to get my shit together in Spanish and History of Inquisitions in time to lock my borderline-B's in before Thanksgiving Break. And in the meantime, all sorts of wacky stuff keeps happening. Stuff like becoming a stand-up comic after years of sort of wanting to, forming an aggressively retro 60's-pop band with Jake and assuming the stage name of Sonny Boy, Punching Spree (nee City of Industry) STILL not having played a show or rehearsed with vocals - over a year and a half after the initial practice - despite the fact that we're just really GOOD right now, stuff like... apparently fall is the time of year that the ladies come runnin' when I ring my dinner bell. This next number goes out to none in particular.
Some Other Time
Binary signals going back and forth,
Back and forth
In the Morse dance, the switch you flip - on and off,
On and off
In the way you voice vague needs and wants,
Needs and wants
I hope you know too much ain't enough
Fiber-optic eyes that look me up and down,
Up and down
From your hands to your mouth, it's open-close,
Open-close
You'd fall asleep if you could close the door,
Close the door
We fall asleep still fully clothed
No event horizon pulls me
Over the line
When you keep a mind that
Turns on a dime
If you keep away, I'll
Keep it with mine
'Til some other time
Wireless signals jumping fore to aft,
Fore to aft
Before I act, they send me stem to stern,
Stem to stern
It's either flares up or down-and-out,
Down-and-out
It's always watch-and-learn
Digital fire running base to tip,
Base to tip
In fingers flush with flesh and bone,
Flesh and bone
Can leave me gasping or wait-and-see,
Wait-and-see
Oh, don't leave me alone
[ref.]
{bridge}
You know the language,
So use the privilege
Don't let it languish --
You get me savage
And I'll take anything
Until you take advantage...
[ref., 2x]
Other strange October happenings:
> The Dodgers winning their first postseason series in 20 years(!) with a ludicrously one-sided sweep of the NL #1-seed Cubs
> Sarah Palin having ungodly meltdowns just about every time she's asked an easy, fluffy question
> Me finding THIS on the internet
Most peculiar, mama...
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Autumn in Nomp Ton
It's officially beginning to be fall, with scarce daylight after 7pm and the minute chill in the air that makes every breath in the 80 degree heat adopt a crispness unknown to the humidity of Oklahoma summer. I've been in several, successive shitty moods lately.
I take that back, it's most been melancholy. To me, a "shitty" mood conveys more agitation than lugubrity.
Anyhow. I think I may be shifting toward that "next" step of whatever it is I'm doing. Maybe it's still rooted in the breakup, but I don't know. At any rate, it seems kind of silly to still be on the rebound. I posted some double-doubles and now it's time to move on. Not sure exactly how yet, though music has been a good source of solace. So has poetry, which I've been writing more of lately (and reading, too -- though that's mostly for class). I hope to be eating and drinking less in the coming days. And getting up more often.
Spending the whole day in bed is like digging laterally in a hole: it doesn't really get you out, it just makes the hole bigger and wastes your time.
I did some stand-up comedy last week at Othello's and I will be doing some more this week. I'm writing bits at a pretty good clip and most of them are funny... I think. I might also start work on this idea for a screenplay I had back in winter 2007. Who knows? I might even wind up with another girlfriend (could be a bad idea). Just. Keep. Moving.
Roast Beef has always been my favorite character, but I'm reminding myself too much of him lately.
I take that back, it's most been melancholy. To me, a "shitty" mood conveys more agitation than lugubrity.
Anyhow. I think I may be shifting toward that "next" step of whatever it is I'm doing. Maybe it's still rooted in the breakup, but I don't know. At any rate, it seems kind of silly to still be on the rebound. I posted some double-doubles and now it's time to move on. Not sure exactly how yet, though music has been a good source of solace. So has poetry, which I've been writing more of lately (and reading, too -- though that's mostly for class). I hope to be eating and drinking less in the coming days. And getting up more often.
Spending the whole day in bed is like digging laterally in a hole: it doesn't really get you out, it just makes the hole bigger and wastes your time.
I did some stand-up comedy last week at Othello's and I will be doing some more this week. I'm writing bits at a pretty good clip and most of them are funny... I think. I might also start work on this idea for a screenplay I had back in winter 2007. Who knows? I might even wind up with another girlfriend (could be a bad idea). Just. Keep. Moving.
Roast Beef has always been my favorite character, but I'm reminding myself too much of him lately.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
In life, it's the small victories.
Like getting 90 Cymbalta for the price of 30 just because the dosage size is 30mg and the prescription fills at 30 pills/per and someone at Walgreen's got sloppy and labeled a three-month supply bottle with the one-month sticker. Man, have I needed those things so far this week. Good not to be temporarily off 'em.
Fall is what makes it real, you know. Ah well, if you never missed anything once in a while, you'd never know what you were missing.
Fall is what makes it real, you know. Ah well, if you never missed anything once in a while, you'd never know what you were missing.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
How to know you're doing hilariously okay in 20 tracks
1. The Four Tops - I Can't Quit Your Love
2. The Buzzcocks - Orgasm Addict
3. So Many Dynamos - Home is Where The Box Wine Is
4. The Pretenders - Up the Neck
5. The Toadies - Little Sin
6. Jawbreaker - Into You Like a Train (Psychedelic Furs cover)
7. The Cars - Dangerous Type
8. Ryan Adams - Two Hearts
9. Dusty Springfield - Breakfast in Bed
10. Ryan Lindsey - Future Unemployment
11. Prefab Sprout - Appetite
12. Cursive - The Recluse
13. The Walker Brothers - Deadlier Than The Male
14. The Pipettes - Dirty Mind
15. Old 97's - Rollerskate Skinny
16. Rilo Kiley - Portions for Foxes
17. Belle and Sebastian - Seeing Other People
18. The Velvet Underground - Femme Fatale
19. Magnetic Fields - Two Characters in Search of a Country Song
20. Bill Withers - Use Me
2. The Buzzcocks - Orgasm Addict
3. So Many Dynamos - Home is Where The Box Wine Is
4. The Pretenders - Up the Neck
5. The Toadies - Little Sin
6. Jawbreaker - Into You Like a Train (Psychedelic Furs cover)
7. The Cars - Dangerous Type
8. Ryan Adams - Two Hearts
9. Dusty Springfield - Breakfast in Bed
10. Ryan Lindsey - Future Unemployment
11. Prefab Sprout - Appetite
12. Cursive - The Recluse
13. The Walker Brothers - Deadlier Than The Male
14. The Pipettes - Dirty Mind
15. Old 97's - Rollerskate Skinny
16. Rilo Kiley - Portions for Foxes
17. Belle and Sebastian - Seeing Other People
18. The Velvet Underground - Femme Fatale
19. Magnetic Fields - Two Characters in Search of a Country Song
20. Bill Withers - Use Me
Saturday, September 13, 2008
A Resolution:
IN VIEW OF:
The fact that my life has been disaster-free since July 2008,
and REGARDING:
The emergence of a mature, if incomplete, perspective on my place in the world,
and RECOGNIZING:
A set of goals that I view as inevitable to the completion of my personal calling,
and FORGIVING:
The fact that I am not there yet, and it may be a while, yet
CELEBRATING:
That the way there is fraught with hilarious, interesting detours,
and CONSIDERING:
That poetic justice is among those hilarious, interesting detours,
BE IT RESOLVED:
That my life is the best it's been since fall 2006, and that it is therefore successful.
That is goddamn all.
The fact that my life has been disaster-free since July 2008,
and REGARDING:
The emergence of a mature, if incomplete, perspective on my place in the world,
and RECOGNIZING:
A set of goals that I view as inevitable to the completion of my personal calling,
and FORGIVING:
The fact that I am not there yet, and it may be a while, yet
CELEBRATING:
That the way there is fraught with hilarious, interesting detours,
and CONSIDERING:
That poetic justice is among those hilarious, interesting detours,
BE IT RESOLVED:
That my life is the best it's been since fall 2006, and that it is therefore successful.
That is goddamn all.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
All the profundity, none of the guilt!
My birthday parties: the goddamn best.
Jimmy's house + my people + Cale's people + the first-ever pseudo City of Industry (are we called that anymore?) show + a hell of an afterparty = it's good to be 23.
The following isn't strictly-speaking autobiographical, but let's say the thought process wasn't fully random and civil bureaucracy moves far too slowly in matters of legal dissolution. M'kay?
The Dark End of a Dead End
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
You're an easy target in
The throes of opportunity
In a crowded kitchen, in
A throng of humanity --
In a haze of sweat and spirits,
Through the smoke and incense
Your objectives predetermined and
You'll spare no expense
It's a long evening when you
Think yourself alone so long
While you drift through rooms and dances
You pretend to know each song
You're not so buoyant that
You can't be so bored
Every word's the same stale breakbeat,
The same C power chord
[pre-chorus 1]
Out of your periphery, she
Looms up like the sunrise:
Oversized and
Underlined eyes;
Bracelets and
Brocade hair ties --
A smile as cool as sly
Engagement rules are never clear,
The consequences deadened
Lying in the wait-right-here
At the dark end of a dead end
The dark end of a dead end
She's a clear mark and she's
In the process of entrancing
You're moving to the exit,
Your gameplay is advancing --
Apartment entrances
This one seems so auspicious
The face-down picture frames
All portraits of ambitions
But she's quiet when you ask,
You decide to pay no mind --
What's the price it might exact,
What's the worst that you could find?
You're not so blind and
You can't be so blithe
You're having the time
Of someone else's life
Tonight
[prechorus 2]
Out of the corner of my eye,
It appears like a diagram:
One gold band on
One nightstand;
Twenty white knuckles on
Four red hands --
This wasn't in the plan
[ref.]
[bridge:]
So much for certain somethings,
One should be so sure
Watching the investment turn
Into investiture -
Storm the castle, boy
Throw the bodies in the moat -
What's that taste in my throat?
What's this taste in my throat?
[prechorus 3]
One night stand
One left-hand tan line;
One ring
Silence on the other line --
This wasn't in the design
>No clear decision to end on prechorus or a third refrain as yet. Will need to work out full guitar part.
Yeah, life is pretty awesome.
Jimmy's house + my people + Cale's people + the first-ever pseudo City of Industry (are we called that anymore?) show + a hell of an afterparty = it's good to be 23.
The following isn't strictly-speaking autobiographical, but let's say the thought process wasn't fully random and civil bureaucracy moves far too slowly in matters of legal dissolution. M'kay?
The Dark End of a Dead End
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
You're an easy target in
The throes of opportunity
In a crowded kitchen, in
A throng of humanity --
In a haze of sweat and spirits,
Through the smoke and incense
Your objectives predetermined and
You'll spare no expense
It's a long evening when you
Think yourself alone so long
While you drift through rooms and dances
You pretend to know each song
You're not so buoyant that
You can't be so bored
Every word's the same stale breakbeat,
The same C power chord
[pre-chorus 1]
Out of your periphery, she
Looms up like the sunrise:
Oversized and
Underlined eyes;
Bracelets and
Brocade hair ties --
A smile as cool as sly
Engagement rules are never clear,
The consequences deadened
Lying in the wait-right-here
At the dark end of a dead end
The dark end of a dead end
She's a clear mark and she's
In the process of entrancing
You're moving to the exit,
Your gameplay is advancing --
Apartment entrances
This one seems so auspicious
The face-down picture frames
All portraits of ambitions
But she's quiet when you ask,
You decide to pay no mind --
What's the price it might exact,
What's the worst that you could find?
You're not so blind and
You can't be so blithe
You're having the time
Of someone else's life
Tonight
[prechorus 2]
Out of the corner of my eye,
It appears like a diagram:
One gold band on
One nightstand;
Twenty white knuckles on
Four red hands --
This wasn't in the plan
[ref.]
[bridge:]
So much for certain somethings,
One should be so sure
Watching the investment turn
Into investiture -
Storm the castle, boy
Throw the bodies in the moat -
What's that taste in my throat?
What's this taste in my throat?
[prechorus 3]
One night stand
One left-hand tan line;
One ring
Silence on the other line --
This wasn't in the design
>No clear decision to end on prechorus or a third refrain as yet. Will need to work out full guitar part.
Yeah, life is pretty awesome.
Friday, September 5, 2008
I love my family.
So it's my birthday, and my grandma mailed me this card:
And nothing is in it. At all.
Was I being unreasonable to assume it might be, you know, not empty with a tagline like that? Oh, grandma...
And nothing is in it. At all.
Was I being unreasonable to assume it might be, you know, not empty with a tagline like that? Oh, grandma...
Friday, August 22, 2008
"John McCain Smiles Like..." -- a game the election cycle vomited!
Inadvertently, in a conversation with a friend, a joke trope unfolded that blossomed into a game of one-upsmanship. The topic: John McCain's terrifying, dead smile and the visual gold more close-up photos of it would be for the Obama campaign. Of course, if I forgot the exact number of houses I owned, I might smile a little funny too. [sidenote: My grandma forgets where she lives, ONCE, and they put her in the hospital. John McCain does the same thing essentially seven times at once and gets nominated for President. I do not understand.]
John McCain Smiles Like... is an Apples to Apples style game (or drinking game) in which up to six players compete. The turns are simple: a judge is chosen at random, and each player takes a blank notecard. The prompt "John McCain smiles like..." generates responses from each, numbered 1-x (up to five) and submitted face-down for the judge. Based on creativity, lyricism, satirical value, sting, or any combination, the judge selects a winner who becomes the judge of the next round. Some kind of scoring token denotes the number of rounds each player had won. After an agreed-upon number of wins accrues to a single player, he or she is declared winner. If adapted as a drinking game, all losers plus the outgoing judge would drink, and the incoming judge would start the next turn. In the case of the drinking game, no scoring would occur and play would cease when an [electoral] majority of the responses became incoherent.
Here are some examples James and I turned out today.
(* indicates written by James Fruit, + indicates written by Cameron Ferguson)
> McCain smiles like a fence around a haunted house. *
> McCain smiles like abandoned newspapers blowing over an empty dirt lot *
> McCain smiles like cancerous goats on a lonely stone mountain *
> McCain smiles like a carny counting his nickels to go buy a can of chaw +
> McCain smiles like birthday candles on a dying orphan's cake *
> McCain smiles like a string of pearls on a beaten wife +
> McCain smiles like pale fingers clawing out of a nameless grave *
> McCain smiles like vacant gaze of a blind mime +
> McCain smiles like the ribs of a mastodon gleaming through polluted siberian ice *
> McCain smiles like the shimmering prose of a eulogy for an unmissed drifter +
> McCain smiles like a dozen rats in your baby's crib *
> McCain smiles like a candygram from the man come to collect the price on your head +
> McCain smiles like wilted flowers on a windblown streetcorner +
> McCain smiles like a rip in grandma's garters *
> McCain smiles like a cabbie with a goiter who knows you're his last fare +
> McCain smiles like the one stalk of corn the locusts didn't quite finish *
> McCain smiles like the moment of silence in between the rusty squawk of the gears in a derelict Ferris Wheel +
> McCain smiles like the door of a pizza oven in a place closed for health violations *
> McCain smiles like the last vulture to the scene of the accident +
> McCain smiles like a Sudanese machete *
> McCain smiles like the last piece of a blast-shattered window clinging to its pane +
> McCain smiles like a beaten cur that has desecrated the new rug *
> McCain smiles like the street hustler who watches your hand move to one of the wrong cards in his game of Monty +
> McCain smiles like the coach running extra innings with little Jeffy after practice *
> McCain smiles like the serene rotation of a 100-mph beanball +
> McCain smiles like Thomas Jefferson at the slave auction -- and he was there, too *
> McCain smiles like the thin finger of light peering under the door he closed on his crippled first wife +
> McCain smiles like Reagan at his tapioca *
> McCain smiles like George H.W.'s tapioca at the Prime Minister of Japan +
> McCain smiles like Christopher Reeve's wheelchair salesman *
> McCain smiles like the baleful pride that comes with swallowing down a gulp of $3 whiskey without gagging a little bit +
> McCain smiles like the tepid rack of lamb served at six by the cuckold who hasn't given up hope at midnight +
There you go. Happy metaphorizing, Blogosphere!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Exegesis H. Christ
"My hosannas have come from the crucible of doubt."
-Dostoyevsky
Frozen Vapors
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
It's easy to trace the trails behind the airplane
Through the peals of falling rain
Appeals falling on deaf ears again --
Falling under fears again
Looks like you'll let yourself in
The car must've had extra gravity
Took all of the air right out of me
But the stars might've had some extra shine
That pulled your eyes right into mine
Like heat into a diamond mine
[pre-chorus 1]
There's no use for 'thank you'
And no cause for 'please'
'Cause no matter how pleased you seem,
I still freeze
Yesterday's boy can try to build a pyre
Out of yesterday's papers
To keep you warm,
But nothing burns on frozen vapors
You'll return right back to the salt and sand
To the hills and Tomorrowland
And the days just pass like wind on the waves:
Nothing moves and nothing's changed
Oh, not the plans you made
Don't wait -- walk yourself on through the gate
Check your bags and don't deliberate
Deliberately, I thought I wasn't dead and done
Hoped I wasn't the only one
Deliberate too long and the light is gone
[pre-chorus 2]
There's no sense in guessing --
There's nothing I won't suppose
But I caught a moment in the streetlight
And I froze
Yesterday's words won't fence in tomorrow,
She's an escaper
It's all corpse-cold air
And nothing burns on frozen vapor
{bridge}
You don't really read minds
And I'm not exactly an open book
But it's still here and still mine
If you want to have a look
[pre-chorus 3]
Don't feel bad about diminishing returns
There's no balance sheet to show
Nobody ever learns
Everything he might like to know
[refrain 1]
-Dostoyevsky
Frozen Vapors
(words, music Cameron Ferguson)
It's easy to trace the trails behind the airplane
Through the peals of falling rain
Appeals falling on deaf ears again --
Falling under fears again
Looks like you'll let yourself in
The car must've had extra gravity
Took all of the air right out of me
But the stars might've had some extra shine
That pulled your eyes right into mine
Like heat into a diamond mine
[pre-chorus 1]
There's no use for 'thank you'
And no cause for 'please'
'Cause no matter how pleased you seem,
I still freeze
Yesterday's boy can try to build a pyre
Out of yesterday's papers
To keep you warm,
But nothing burns on frozen vapors
You'll return right back to the salt and sand
To the hills and Tomorrowland
And the days just pass like wind on the waves:
Nothing moves and nothing's changed
Oh, not the plans you made
Don't wait -- walk yourself on through the gate
Check your bags and don't deliberate
Deliberately, I thought I wasn't dead and done
Hoped I wasn't the only one
Deliberate too long and the light is gone
[pre-chorus 2]
There's no sense in guessing --
There's nothing I won't suppose
But I caught a moment in the streetlight
And I froze
Yesterday's words won't fence in tomorrow,
She's an escaper
It's all corpse-cold air
And nothing burns on frozen vapor
{bridge}
You don't really read minds
And I'm not exactly an open book
But it's still here and still mine
If you want to have a look
[pre-chorus 3]
Don't feel bad about diminishing returns
There's no balance sheet to show
Nobody ever learns
Everything he might like to know
[refrain 1]
Hallo Meester Prufrock
Ty Cobb, the Georgia Peach, owns the highest lifetime batting average of any member of the Baseball Hall of Fame. His career mark was .366. All this means is that Ty Cobb failed to register a hit almost 64% of the time he was at the plate (walks excepted). Ty Cobb failed to produce any offense at all almost 2/3 of the time he came to bat.
I tell myself that any time a date ends awkwardly, yet somehow it fails to console me today.
Let's just say the old lifetime wish list hasn't gotten any shorter lately.
I tell myself that any time a date ends awkwardly, yet somehow it fails to console me today.
Let's just say the old lifetime wish list hasn't gotten any shorter lately.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
On winning
I've recently had a pretty good run of things, which is not to say I'm living a perfected life right now. But there's still some security in knowing I'm in a better place than I was this time two months ago.
Empathy comes from the strangest places. Consider: I now think I empathize with Loreli more than I ever could have while we were together or, for that matter, while we were still speaking. She won our breakup, and I'm all but certain now that I've won my breakup with Katie.
What does that mean? I guess it just means being the emotional victor, letting the upward trajectory of a clean and intentioned break elevate you and the rest (re: money, time, projects, socializing, the opposite [or same] sex, etc.) tends to follow along. The winner coasts, the loser sinks. Things equalize over time.
Looking back, I see that there was very little in the structure of my relationship with Katie that was healthy. It was fabulous in our day-to-day interactions, for a time, but the de jure stuff was clingy and needy and pedestal-putting-on and fraught with all kinds of insecurity, jealously, doubt, denial, and the singleminded folly that our love was some kind of panacea to the things we as young adults hadn't made the time to grapple with. So it turned out that she didn't (and doesn't) know what she wants, and I didn't (and don't) feel like any answers were as clean-cut as I desperately wanted them to be. We started running towards something together, but very quickly wound up running from everything including each other. I know a good portion of what I did and didn't do came from love, but so much of it came from fear. And I am under no illusion that Katie wasn't similarly motivated at several crucial junctures including the final one.
So I called it. I identified the foundational weakness for myself and initiated the breakup sequence. Short of forcing the issue through, ahem, involving a third party, I did just what Loreli did when she surely realized the same of our young and naive relationship back in 2004. And she won, and I lost, mostly because I clung onto the shards of hope imbedded in the fragments left at my feet. I guess moving on is the dynamic process I've heard it to be.
And I forgive everyone, though I'm still not sure I have the peace from it all I would consider final. Ah well. Time is the one thing I've got plenty of.
Empathy comes from the strangest places. Consider: I now think I empathize with Loreli more than I ever could have while we were together or, for that matter, while we were still speaking. She won our breakup, and I'm all but certain now that I've won my breakup with Katie.
What does that mean? I guess it just means being the emotional victor, letting the upward trajectory of a clean and intentioned break elevate you and the rest (re: money, time, projects, socializing, the opposite [or same] sex, etc.) tends to follow along. The winner coasts, the loser sinks. Things equalize over time.
Looking back, I see that there was very little in the structure of my relationship with Katie that was healthy. It was fabulous in our day-to-day interactions, for a time, but the de jure stuff was clingy and needy and pedestal-putting-on and fraught with all kinds of insecurity, jealously, doubt, denial, and the singleminded folly that our love was some kind of panacea to the things we as young adults hadn't made the time to grapple with. So it turned out that she didn't (and doesn't) know what she wants, and I didn't (and don't) feel like any answers were as clean-cut as I desperately wanted them to be. We started running towards something together, but very quickly wound up running from everything including each other. I know a good portion of what I did and didn't do came from love, but so much of it came from fear. And I am under no illusion that Katie wasn't similarly motivated at several crucial junctures including the final one.
So I called it. I identified the foundational weakness for myself and initiated the breakup sequence. Short of forcing the issue through, ahem, involving a third party, I did just what Loreli did when she surely realized the same of our young and naive relationship back in 2004. And she won, and I lost, mostly because I clung onto the shards of hope imbedded in the fragments left at my feet. I guess moving on is the dynamic process I've heard it to be.
And I forgive everyone, though I'm still not sure I have the peace from it all I would consider final. Ah well. Time is the one thing I've got plenty of.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Coffee is for closers
Man... craziness all around, yo. Paid off OU, had some more weird drama w/ the ex, earned my damn coffee. I still have to pay my $50 ticket to City of Norman for my expired tag, but other than that my money is earmarked for tuition, beer, books, beer, a new pair of drumsticks, and maybe gas. Cars don't do beer.
At least I'm getting some entertaining song material out of all this mess.
Judgment Day
(lyrics, music Cameron Ferguson)
"Meet me down in Gunning Park" --
That's what the message said
"Don't show 'til after dark,
I'll be waiting there in red"
So now I'm here and
Your logic is relentless
Was it your plan to overwhelm
My ailing common senses?
You talk in declarations like
A well-hung gallows humorist
But I'm sick of the presumption
I want a life that's rumorless
What's this curtness? What's this coyness?
I've never seen a soul so joyless
Now that you've got my attention
I think you know what's best unmentioned
[pre-chorus 1]
Who died and made you God?
Now Jehovah's rubbing out witnesses
If this is your new job
I must question your fitness for it
What's your sickness? What's your standard?
What's your rush to reclaim my hand?
I stand before you and walk away
On Judgment Day
It's not quite a love of labor
Hanging on your every word
If you mean to leave me shaken
You don't even get me stirred
The spirit isn't able, though
The flesh is somewhat willing
If the customer's always wrong
You stand to make a killing
Now you're mixing metaphors
Like a drunken verbal bartender
Stringing 'em together in scores
So that I might surrender
What's this terseness? What's this tartness?
I've never heard a plea so artless
If this is some staring contest,
You might want to re-examine the context
[pre-chorus 2]
Who died and made you God?
Now Jehovah's counting his prophets
If it's hurting to hold on
Then I suggest you drop it
[ref.]
{bridge}
Oh, silence -- oh, solitude
I remember when you had your chance
You always blunted my advances
You were never really in the mood
[pre-chorus 3]
Who died and made you God?
Is your racket resurrection?
Is it always like you to
Strip away your own protection?
[ref.]
Aaaaaaand scene.
I've kind of entered a state of grace with lyrics of late. Vocal melodies, too. Music... eh, nothing is easy all the time.
Time to eat, sleep, and have some coffee.
At least I'm getting some entertaining song material out of all this mess.
Judgment Day
(lyrics, music Cameron Ferguson)
"Meet me down in Gunning Park" --
That's what the message said
"Don't show 'til after dark,
I'll be waiting there in red"
So now I'm here and
Your logic is relentless
Was it your plan to overwhelm
My ailing common senses?
You talk in declarations like
A well-hung gallows humorist
But I'm sick of the presumption
I want a life that's rumorless
What's this curtness? What's this coyness?
I've never seen a soul so joyless
Now that you've got my attention
I think you know what's best unmentioned
[pre-chorus 1]
Who died and made you God?
Now Jehovah's rubbing out witnesses
If this is your new job
I must question your fitness for it
What's your sickness? What's your standard?
What's your rush to reclaim my hand?
I stand before you and walk away
On Judgment Day
It's not quite a love of labor
Hanging on your every word
If you mean to leave me shaken
You don't even get me stirred
The spirit isn't able, though
The flesh is somewhat willing
If the customer's always wrong
You stand to make a killing
Now you're mixing metaphors
Like a drunken verbal bartender
Stringing 'em together in scores
So that I might surrender
What's this terseness? What's this tartness?
I've never heard a plea so artless
If this is some staring contest,
You might want to re-examine the context
[pre-chorus 2]
Who died and made you God?
Now Jehovah's counting his prophets
If it's hurting to hold on
Then I suggest you drop it
[ref.]
{bridge}
Oh, silence -- oh, solitude
I remember when you had your chance
You always blunted my advances
You were never really in the mood
[pre-chorus 3]
Who died and made you God?
Is your racket resurrection?
Is it always like you to
Strip away your own protection?
[ref.]
Aaaaaaand scene.
I've kind of entered a state of grace with lyrics of late. Vocal melodies, too. Music... eh, nothing is easy all the time.
Time to eat, sleep, and have some coffee.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
A Prayer for Her
May the solace and peace you have offered this world wash over you, reflected in grace and the light of day; may those ties that have bound you slip free from your hands, that you may help yourself as you have helped so many others; may you never forget your memory is valued like nothing else this young man has ever known, and that your future cannot but deliver you to a place where you are so valued again; may you stand fast against the tumult and understand that comfort, and forgiveness, and all the joy life has to offer are at your feet unconditionally. May you forgive me for not perhaps being able to pick them up and put them in hands for fear of how that might appear.
No one is perfect, no one is perfectly centered or emotionally steadfast, but the best people in existence are consistently kind. May you never forget the content of your heart and may anyone else with such kindness drawn into his or her design find some way across your path, in a confederation of human donation, as I found a way across your path all that time ago. May they never be as afraid as I was to simply extend that kindness and forsake all notions of deserving something else than I was getting.
Goodbye.
No one is perfect, no one is perfectly centered or emotionally steadfast, but the best people in existence are consistently kind. May you never forget the content of your heart and may anyone else with such kindness drawn into his or her design find some way across your path, in a confederation of human donation, as I found a way across your path all that time ago. May they never be as afraid as I was to simply extend that kindness and forsake all notions of deserving something else than I was getting.
Goodbye.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Well Well Well
Revised to-do list, week of 8/4/08
> Get to the bank
because I got my tuition reimbursement from FedEx to the tune of $1,330 and, um, I have to give it all away. But for like three days, I'm soooooo rich!
> Band practice w/ Jimmy, Grant, Tim
apparently, you can get the four of us in a room at the same time and the universe will NOT implode. Good to know.
> Autopractice/continue writing my songs
I'm up to seventeen and a half lyric sheets, plus four songs that are *roughly* complete. I have enough for B-sides or a second record. Nice.
> Get my hair cut
I feel a little wookie-ish.
Everything else, I have technically taken care of. Items # 1 and 2 are on the docket for "bright and early tomorrow."
Well, goddamn. I do what I do, and I apparently do it really well.
> Get to the bank
because I got my tuition reimbursement from FedEx to the tune of $1,330 and, um, I have to give it all away. But for like three days, I'm soooooo rich!
> Band practice w/ Jimmy, Grant, Tim
apparently, you can get the four of us in a room at the same time and the universe will NOT implode. Good to know.
> Autopractice/continue writing my songs
I'm up to seventeen and a half lyric sheets, plus four songs that are *roughly* complete. I have enough for B-sides or a second record. Nice.
> Get my hair cut
I feel a little wookie-ish.
Everything else, I have technically taken care of. Items # 1 and 2 are on the docket for "bright and early tomorrow."
Well, goddamn. I do what I do, and I apparently do it really well.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
I guess this is my routine:
1) Get out of a long-term relationship on bad terms
2) Burn the bridge so hard the river catches on fire
3) Start new blog.
And I'm back to Blogspot. Okay.
To-do list, week of 8/4/08:
> Get to the bank
because I got my tuition reimbursement from FedEx to the tune of $1,330 and, um, I have to give it all away. But for like three days, I'm soooooo rich!
> Watch the Joy Division documentary w/ Jake
call this appointment viewing. Plus I haven't seen that guy in forever.
> Band practice w/ Jimmy, Grant, Tim
apparently, you can get the four of us in a room at the same time and the universe will NOT implode. Good to know.
> Monday is Timmy's birthday
gotta show some love to my big little man. Unless he has a date...
> Autopractice/continue writing my songs
I'm up to seventeen and a half lyric sheets, plus four songs that are *roughly* complete. I have enough for B-sides or a second record. Nice.
> Audition one or more new *ahem* makeout buddies
mine is in Turkey right now, so that's no good. Plus makeout is first base for a reason.
> Drink a lot less
or just a whole whole lot more.
> Get my hair cut
I feel a little wookie-ish.
> I guess Grant wants to hang out, maybe do some music?
stranger things have happened. But apparently we've got some philosophical similarities at play, listen to similar shit, and write. I mean, that's basically the personality criteria for "do you want to go out?" But he's a dude, so we do music instead.
Rich, full week ahead of me.
2) Burn the bridge so hard the river catches on fire
3) Start new blog.
And I'm back to Blogspot. Okay.
To-do list, week of 8/4/08:
> Get to the bank
because I got my tuition reimbursement from FedEx to the tune of $1,330 and, um, I have to give it all away. But for like three days, I'm soooooo rich!
> Watch the Joy Division documentary w/ Jake
call this appointment viewing. Plus I haven't seen that guy in forever.
> Band practice w/ Jimmy, Grant, Tim
apparently, you can get the four of us in a room at the same time and the universe will NOT implode. Good to know.
> Monday is Timmy's birthday
gotta show some love to my big little man. Unless he has a date...
> Autopractice/continue writing my songs
I'm up to seventeen and a half lyric sheets, plus four songs that are *roughly* complete. I have enough for B-sides or a second record. Nice.
> Audition one or more new *ahem* makeout buddies
mine is in Turkey right now, so that's no good. Plus makeout is first base for a reason.
> Drink a lot less
or just a whole whole lot more.
> Get my hair cut
I feel a little wookie-ish.
> I guess Grant wants to hang out, maybe do some music?
stranger things have happened. But apparently we've got some philosophical similarities at play, listen to similar shit, and write. I mean, that's basically the personality criteria for "do you want to go out?" But he's a dude, so we do music instead.
Rich, full week ahead of me.
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