Hipsters and hoodrats. Burritos and chicken wraps. (A shocking bit of footage viewed through a shitty tv screen). There is a fear of perfection. Of being swept away into generic and into intervals of fifths and thirds. I am a first year student in this language although I've naturally used it for many years. The difference is astounding and the same could be said about English, nearly. We've all been writing essays with guitars out in back alleys. An explosion of built up emotion. No one knows anyone. The only for me here is the record. The studio. The band. Dirty laundry and so many dreams that fall apart in their strenuous preparation. Head out on a Friday. Play them all again and again and again. Until perfect and then again. Sit away for a few days and then revisit. I must have predicted I was not going to find a frisbee partner out here because I deliberately forgot my frisbee. I am living out of an outdoor closet. With tiny baby spiders that will infest my clothes. (Keeping a careful eye on the cue cards). Well-rehearsed sorrow. Experimental music. Send feedback. Become the musical prodigy. I need time away to explore all of the facets of this imagination. On a friday night, normally looking for liquor stores and neon lights. Ridiculous run-ins with the law but the Arizona state troopers can't track me over here.
Leave all of my friends behind. There is nothing here but music for me. No more college. Just music. No girls. Booze and weed and rock n roll. Somehow affording wonderful meals. We are growing together. I am weaker than him. But sometimes we complement. Justify your case. Gregarious curious researcher, invade your personal space and envelop the world with dark thoughts about bright people. All of the world is full of opportunity. Early 20s making it. Give them a chance at remembering the song title. Give us a chance for creative naming. I will always clash for the more genius ideas to win. Fight for it. Barely know where I am. Ventura Boulevard and Topanga canyon. No hollywood stars for eyes for me. I am underneath the floorboards. Banging around with my pots and pans in boxes. My life reduced to a bag and an sad apartment reduced to a few boxes. Shameful memories of forgetting a beautiful lady who desires masculine attention but swats away any attempts because of me. Flattering sure, but we all have to move on. Let yourself be taken advantage of sweetheart. I am confused out in these hills. 15 minutes from the waterfront. Somehow. Give me a sense of your location. I'll trace a route on a map. Take a straight line back. Over the mountains and treetops. Had a bad year sure. I'll resurrect all of my old hobbies and turn them into careers. Give me a paintbrush or a microphone. kaleidoscope with one eye closed. Pull your hair out imagining all of the groupies and sluts with orange skin all around. Amazed you never made friends. I made friends with small birds early spring before they migrated north for the summer. Mosquitoes would just evaporate in the heat. Not in the heart. The feeling I get when I look to the west. Your own worst enemy is yourself. You are both the protagonist and the antagonist. There is nothing more than your own lack of motivation that busts out your kneecaps. There are no hidden cameras. They are all in plain view. Become a celebrity and some sort of animal on stage and in bed. Let everyone know that you exist in this world and this opportunity will present itself again but not in the same form. The same formula would not come true. Different ingredients. There is nothing but kindness. His kindness is insatiable. Nice guy making a personal investment. Yeah I'm quirky. I can deal with this.
Just when you thought it was beginning.... Hold on over the railing and I will not let you drop far. To your death.
