dressing to undress

maybe i should have saved some of what i said about the last cd for this one; this has to be the meanest, strangest album i’ve made in years. it all started out as an attempt to take an unexpected adventure with PTSD and channel it into music. then it became something else pretty quickly, when i discovered i didn’t feel up to the challenge of making the music as consistently ugly as it would need to be in order to truly reflect what i was feeling. and then, against all the odds, romantic ambiguity came my way again, for the first time in a very long while, only to turn to shit in short order—as it tends to do—leading things in yet another unexpected emotional direction. there are songs here that are influenced by both of those experiences and their fallout to varying degrees, along with a lot of songs that have nothing to do with either. i think the end result is one of the densest and least inviting artistic statements i’ve made in quite some time. for the most part it isn’t so much there in the lyrics (though there are some places where the claws definitely come out), but it’s there in the vocal performances and the energy/sound/feeling of the thing. then again, i thought AN ABSENCE OF SWAY was something of a downer, but almost no one else got the melancholy feeling from it that i did, so maybe it’ll be another case of me hearing something that no one else does…but somehow i don’t think so. in this case i actually found myself feeling the need to toss out a few songs because they felt a little too unguarded lyrically. i don’t think i’ve ever done that before. back when i was making really unpleasant, emotionally naked music on a pretty consistent basis (so i guess we’re talking about roughly the fall of 2001 to the summer/fall of 2002 here), pretty much no one was going to hear it anyway, so i had no reason to hold anything back. and these days it feels a little strange to hear myself singing about…myself, or someone else who happens to actually exist. as irony would have it, some of the songs that ended up on the album are a lot uglier and more unguarded than the ones i tossed aside. i don’t think i’ve let such anger and nastiness seep into my music since the post-band-breakup trilogy that began with BEAUTIFULLY STUPID, and the odd flicker after that like “a blanket shower” off of OH YOU THIS. i suppose i was due, after five or six years of trying to do anything but write about myself or sling genuine bile in the direction of any real person. not that this is a breakup album exactly, but it’s the closest i’ve come to such a thing since the bad young days.

getting into character has to be one of the stranger opening tracks on an album of mine…maybe the strangest since at least “choke” on KEEP YOUR SCARS. you can read a bit about the inception of the song—and how the initial musical idea was inspired by a kids help phone commercial of all things—HERE. it starts out sounding fairly normal, and perhaps the closest i’ve come to “alternative rock” in quite some time (especially during the “choruses”), but there’s this weird queasy energy swimming around, and the whole thing gradually splinters into the first of a few surviving attempts at taking what was going on in my head and hammering it into the music without actually singing about it; there were meant to be a number of tracks that come out of the gate sounding pretty catchy and approachable, only to descend into cacophony or become substantially crazed at some point. one of the best examples is probably where there’s smoke, there’s a smoker, which takes a while to get going, suddenly lurches into a demented mid-section just when it seems to have settled into a comfortable groove, dials it back down again for a somewhat bluesy stripped-down piano interlude, and then continues to grow in intensity and pile sounds on top of one another until the whole thing collapses in a sea of dissonance. likewise with cinders, which would be one of the catchiest, most potentially radio-friendly things on the album if not for the dissonant bugle blasts and the way the last minute or so of the song completely deflates the rhythm that was established, builds it up again, and then deflates it a second time.

once more, without feeling might be my favourite thing i’ve written on the ukulele at this point (or maybe it’s what i would do for you or hostages…hard to say), and it isn’t an angry song by any means (nor is it one of the tracks that ultimately twists in on itself and implodes), but there’s something about it—a certain feeling—that wouldn’t have been there if i had written and recorded it for CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN or SWAY. a sort of bruised quality, maybe. i intentionally didn’t warm up my voice before recording the vocals because i wanted a grittier-than-usual falsetto sound. i think it worked out more or less the way i wanted it to, and i went on to take that approach in a few other songs when a rougher sound felt appropriate (like the hoarse near-whisper of at least a dog lets you know where you stand). i felt like layering things a lot more, but it seemed like there was enough going on already with just ukulele, bass and drums running through most of the song. to that end, there are quite a few places throughout the album where i felt like adding more wallpaper only to find myself settling for a relatively stripped-down arrangement instead. that whole austerity thing is still difficult to shake, it seems.

once again, anna is my only musical guest. i wanted to ask her to sprinkle viola magic over a few songs instead of just one, but time and geography were not on my side. maybe someday it’ll work out. i did at least get the opportunity to have her play on once more, without feeling, and she pointed out to me that the song was rather busy-sounding already even though there isn’t a whole lot going on in terms of the instrumentation. although i thought i heard viola working throughout the whole thing, she was right, and i ended up moving something she played in the middle of the song to the very end. normally i wouldn’t edit something like that, but i think it works well in this case. it closes the track on sort of a lonesome and unexpected note that feels appropriate to me.

the croutons of your mind is a complete curve ball that sounds like my attempt at making…drum & bass, or jungle, or something. i can’t say i’ve ever done anything quite like that before, even back in the synth-centric days. it was really just a quick improvisation that came out of nowhere, and not something i planned at all. i thought i would try recording a synth-based song as sort of a throwback to the GROWING SIDEWAYS period, but i got a bit bored with it halfway through, and what was originally supposed to be an ending at odds with the rest of the song took over and became a separate song all on its own. the spastic drum loop is actually not a drum loop at all, but something i played on a synth in real-time with my fingers, because i didn’t have the patience to make a loop or remind myself how to quantize it. there’s a bit of distant melodic synth swimming around in there, but the main melody (if you can call it that) is provided by the voice. i thought it would be interesting to make the wordless singing the lead instrument while still having it flit in and out of the background. i suppose i could have extended it into a real electronic workout, but i like it as a brief little hiccup of a song. it cracks me up. as has become the norm lately, there are quite a few tiny songs sprinkled throughout, like the borderline demented bacon bits in your lingerie (on which i sang the bass line instead of playing it on an actual bass) and maybe someday (which i think acts as a nice little segue into is you my lover still?). as with the last album, there are also some longer songs in there, though i think this time the ratio probably favours the longer tracks a bit more.

some of the songs i had the most fun with are the nastiest. there’s love song for the human race, which takes a simple, cyclical chord progression and spins it into something that almost rivals “peculiar love” for the title of “strangest love song i’ve ever written for someone who doesn’t actually exist”. but in this case most of the tenderness is gone, and the song goes straight for the jugular. it’s pretty vicious. oddly enough, i wasn’t in a particularly sour mood when i wrote it, and i enjoyed the process of giving birth to the song and recording it. for some reason it just came out sounding kind of homicidal with no prompting from me. then there’s dr. squid bids a problem patient bon voyage, which carries the distinction of being the first thing i’ve written about a real girl and actually allowed to make it onto an album in something like four years. alas, i’m not the guy i was back in the days of SUBLIMINAL BILE, when whole albums were more or less built around specific people. or, in my case, at least three full-length albums were mostly inspired by one specific person. at this point, if you incur my wrath you’re probably only going to get a song or two instead of an album or two, so i figure i should make it count. i especially like the last line. it’s a fun way to make a rhyme. i’ll put up with a lot of bullshit from the people i care about, and then there comes a point when a line is crossed and all bets are off. if you attack me for no particular reason other than the fact that i’m a convenient target for whatever contempt you have swimming around inside of you, and then reveal that you had these supposedly deep feelings for me all along—which you kept very well-hidden—when there’s nothing left on the line (justifying your actions in part by telling me i “never would have understood” the depth of your feelings…because, you know, i’m a fucking idiot), you better believe i’m going to bite back. you don’t play a game with me that i can’t hope to win because only you know the rules, cross the finish line while defecating in my face, tell me it’s all for the best, and then get a round of applause and a hug. it just doesn’t work that way. hey…it almost sounds like i’m quoting my own lyrics here. freaky. the point is, i would have been more cryptic or left the song off the album altogether, but i like the way it came out, i don’t refer to the person it’s directed at by name, and i don’t owe anything to her (why try to avoid hurting her feelings when she was so careless with mine?), so it gets to stay. freedom of expression, honesty is the best policy, robotic oysters…you know the drill. i went on to write a few more songs that mine the same vein (including as it was…, sad excuse for a muse, i must be your prey, with friends like these…), albeit with a bit less unadulterated vitriol running through them—for the most part. i must be your prey is also thus far the only thing i’ve ever written that kind of made me think of elliott smith, at least when i was putting it together. i’m not sure why…i just kept expecting to hear his voice start singing the words instead of mine. maybe it’s the picking/strumming pattern.

how these things tend to go, meanwhile, is one of those songs that’s pretty uninhibited by my standards (or at least the standards i’ve developed over the past few years) in a very different way, and i would have ousted it along with the others that i initially felt were a bit too close to the bone, but i liked it too much to do that. it’s more or less the theme song for my life, at least when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex. it wasn’t planned that way…i bought a few harmonicas to pick up the slack left by my old standby that got misplaced in the move, and i thought b-flat would be an interesting key to blow in for a change. i started playing some chords on the piano with the decade-old harmonica holder slung around my neck (that thing goes all the way back to the classic papa ghostface period), one thing led to another, and a song toppled out. i didn’t intend to write anything that came from such an unguarded place, but for some reason i couldn’t stop singing “only to be alone” during the “refrain” or whatever it wants to be called. it was the day after valentine’s day, so it seemed fitting somehow. i think the lyrics capture my romantic spirit. i wanted to do a lot more with the arrangement, but in this case the piano seemed to fill up a lot of space all by itself. the “guitar solo”, if you can call it a solo, was originally much busier and flashier, until i realized it wasn’t working and i needed to simplify it completely to better suit the song. it’s odd to me that the thing somehow almost comes off as feeling somewhat optimistic when it’s actually a half-naked admission of defeat. maybe it’s the chords that are played. apparently this is what happens to a piano ballad when you filter it through my brain as it operates at the moment. and i realize that it’s a bit odd to end the album in such a way, but it felt right somehow.

is you my lover still? is even more ballad-ish, and if i had to pick one song i like the best on the whole cd, i don’t think i could…but this one would definitely be a contender. i have no idea why. it’s not an especially complicated song, and the arrangement didn’t quite turn out as i had planned. i intended to mimic a drum loop with live drums, recorded on one microphone going into the old digitech guitar effects box. i hadn’t even plugged that thing in since i used it on a few tracks back on the NOSTALGIA-TRIGGERING MECHANISM ep, but i thought it might fit here and impart just the dirty, phased-out sound i wanted. i also thought some distant synth might work well. i didn’t actually end up attempting either one of those ideas, instead recording some scrap metal percussion, unprocessed drums, and electric guitar took the place of the projected synth washes. i guess we’ll never know now if the initial plan would have worked out better. i think i’m pretty happy with the way it turned out, regardless. i dig the clanking percussion accents, care of canada salvage, and that funky 40-year-old teisco continues to be a strangely inspiring electric guitar that sounds better than it has any right to, given its pedigree and what i paid for it. this is also the first song on one of my cds to feature a real live TRIANGLE. pretty exciting, isn’t it? i think this might be one of the saddest-sounding things i’ve ever done…i blame margaret & katie & matt’s old upright piano. it seems to inspire my fingers to head off into melancholic directions, especially when i’m dead tired, as i was when most of the music for this song came to me.

there were a few unexpected last-minute additions to the album that also became some of my favourite things here. there’s sad excuse for a muse, which began as a waltz-time acoustic song that i wanted to beat into submission with a baseball bat, because i liked the music but didn’t think the lyrics meshed very well. they seemed too bitter to sing against strumming that deserved nicer accompaniment. at the same time, i wanted to wring a bit more venom out of the whole “breakup” thing, just to be thorough. then, one night i spontaneously started playing this bo diddley/john mayall-inspired percussive thing on an acoustic guitar with the harmonica holder in place once again, and while trying to think of what to sing on top, i wondered if the lyrics i had already might work better with this music. turns out they did, and they do. suddenly what had sounded too mopey for my liking became a lot more fun, and the original waltz-time music happily got to live to fight another day, untainted by nastiness. the end result is maybe the catchiest thing on the album, and also the most profane by far. funny how that worked out. i was almost tempted to end with a shout of “give me back my mingus cd!”, but it probably would have broken the spell. at the other end of the spectrum—and almost on another planet entirely—is getting out of character. i planned to flesh this idea out and turn it into something pretty lengthy, but ultimately decided i would just record it as the fragment it was and let it waft away into improvisation. i was happy with how it turned out, but i thought i would try playing it back with the pitch slowed down a fair bit just for fun. suddenly the song took on a whole new meaning…the change in pitch warped it into something much stranger, and infinitely sadder-sounding. now it was barely a whisper of a song that sounded like it was on the brink of falling apart at almost any second. i liked that. my voice sounded…not much like my voice. more like scott walker on mars or something. the drums i had played with mallets sounded pretty damn cool slowed down too. i fought with myself for a while over whether or not i should include the song in this form…i thought it might come off like a bit of a joke when that wasn’t what i intended. but the more i listened to it, the more i came to prefer the way it sounded slowed down, and the more it sounded like it was missing something whenever played back at the proper pitch. so that’s how it ended up like this. dig the hungover-sounding slide guitars. this is the sort of twisted thing i like to think would crop up on a modern day papa ghostface album, if gord and i started cranking out the weirdness together again.

it occurred to me before the album was finished, and again after the fact, that you could make a case for CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN, AN ABSENCE OF SWAY and this album forming sort of a loose trilogy. i also find it kind of funny that there are 80 songs between the three cds, if you count the unlisted track on CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN. that’s a lot of tunes. maybe there’s even a comparison to be made with the post-band trilogy of BEAUTIFULLY STUPID, TEMPORARY AMNESIA and KEEP YOUR SCARS in terms of things feeling connected on some level, though those albums are much less varied (sonically/instrumentally and otherwise), and the sound quality has improved a bit over the years…if nothing else, it’s interesting to hear how just about everything has changed since then.  in this case there isn’t much of anything to link the cds thematically (obviously none of these albums have anything resembling a concept or “story” running through them), but there’s a certain sound or aesthetic at work that has been developing and seems to connect the three albums—the sloppy multi-tracked vocals, the roomy, distant-mic’d drum sound, the prevalence of acoustic instruments, the reverbed-out electric guitars that are often all the teisco, and the erratically mixed nature of it all—even though i think they all have their own thing going on. this one in particular is a bit harsher and less inviting than the previous two, at least to my ears, but maybe that’s why i like it. it feels tougher. stranger. more jagged. on almost every song the drums were recorded in one take, improvised, without any rehearsal or much of any thought given to what i was going to do behind the kit. that’s generally the way i like to do it, but often the first take will just be an excuse for me to try to figure out what i want to do and fuck up completely. this time, for some reason, while i was in the process of doing both of those things i often ended up with something i liked, and decided to keep it. i still don’t think i am or ever will be a great drummer by any stretch of the imagination, but i’m a lot more confident than i once was, and playing with brushes seems to keep freeing me up to do things i wouldn’t be as comfortable attempting with sticks. it’s kind of funny to me that some of my favourite drumming i’ve ever done is still on BEAUTIFULLY STUPID; it’s some of the messiest drum-work i’ve done, from a time when i was basically forced to become a makeshift drummer while recording the album, since my band was in the process of dissolving around me. and yet it was as if by not really knowing any of the rules/rudiments of drumming, i was free to think more creatively and botch things in interesting ways. i feel a little like i’m in a similar place now. i’ve learned a lot and improved in many ways since then, but i’m still at my best when i’m not sure what i’m going to do behind the drums, and i just hit the record button and take off without a safety net. that’s when all the good stuff falls out—when you’re not trying so hard and you have no idea what you’re doing, just working off of instinct and an immediate reaction to the music. it’s the closest i can get to that feeling of being in a band without actually having other musicians around me. i still dig it. another parallel to be drawn between this and BEAUTIFULLY STUPID, if you put aside how completely different the two albums are from one another in just about every way, is that it’s another case of me making an album that doesn’t always come from a very nice place, but somehow comes out sounding surprisingly varied and accessible in spite of itself. it’s strange how that works. i guess i still do some of my best work (or at least what i view as such) when i’m drawing from anger.

i intended to have this finished and out there much sooner than late april, but a cold/sinus infection halfway through brought things to a halt for a while, similar to what happened while i was working on CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN last summer. by the time i could breathe through my nose again and my hearing was no longer muffled, i was about ready to explode, and about half of the album was recorded in a wild burst of activity during the first two weeks of april. i guess that might make it sound like i rushed things, but that wasn’t the case; that’s just how i prefer to work, and where i’m at my best. the faster i move, the more engaged i am, and the more interesting the fruit of my loins tends to be (at least to me). labouring over mixes and arrangements just doesn’t work for me, as i discovered when i tried that approach in the past. it all turns out much better when i just throw a bunch of stuff into the air and see what lands where. hey…that rhymes. i can’t remember the last time i was so tempted to keep on going and let things spill over onto a multiple-cd set, but i think it’s probably a bit much to take as it is in single-cd form, so it’s probably best that i cut myself off while i could still fit everything on one cd. it was tough, but i managed to do it…with about six seconds left to spare. good thing i had already decided to throw out a few tiny songs that didn’t quite seem to fit, otherwise it would have been a sequencing nightmare. seems i’m still not really attracted to the idea of putting together albums that are brief and concise right now, so this one is about as bloated as the last two were…even more so in terms of actual running time. but it feels to me like it should be that way. the album title itself is a bit of a mouthful, but it amuses me. it seems like it could be a snarky nod to the whole home invasion thing, when i actually thought of it a few months before that even happened. the main thing is that, at long last, the wooden gun that shoots rubber bands gets some of the attention it deserves. i knew its moment would come someday.

TRACKS:

getting into character
once more, without feeling
getting out of character
cinders
at least a dog lets you know where you stand
dr. squid bids a problem patient bon voyage
i must be your prey
the croutons of your mind
what i would do for you
maybe someday
is you my lover still?
lake louise
where there’s smoke, there’s a smoker
sad excuse for a muse
abandoned house burning down
guilt, nausea, & other things that look good in bed together
with friends like these, who needs antifreeze?
love song for the human race
you won’t bond with the vine, but i can’t cut you loose
ghosts of dragonflies
as it was, as it were, as it is & where it stands
bacon bits in your lingerie
hostages
midland michigan
how these things tend to go

STUFF TO LISTEN TO:

Sad Excuse for a Muse

I Must Be Your Prey

LYRICS:

GETTING INTO CHARACTER

i know all your love is taken
but you’ve got something better squirreled away
there’s a chance that i’m mistaken
but odds are in my favour just this once
you know, it’s like a dream come through the wash intact
cleavage cleavage cleavage of the soul
all my little grotesque misery secrets
are yours for the pruning

& you know
that parasitic underage skin glow
will rectify inequities
you know
there’s nothing left here for you to see, no
there’s nothing here at all

sucking on lozenges that were
lifted from a broken down shark
though he tried to tear us apart
we were far too stealthy to learn
anything about the necessary pain
of unanticipated dismemberment
if you can live through that, you can live through anything
or so i like to say

oh, but you know
the nails that protrude from your backbone
will not impede developing eyesores
repulsive as they are, you will need them
to throw him off the scent
oh, & you know
that suicidal nuclear skin glow
the warning signs are easy to see, so
you don’t rely on letting your chin grow

ONCE MORE, WITHOUT FEELING

something tells me you’re wrong
when you say this mockery can’t go on
stomping on your silver sun
there’s enough spare feet for everyone
i don’t wanna die
but what else am i good for?

stuffed goats always betray me
they’re all laughing in unison
i play it cool & close to the vest, but too many buttons are missing
they throw stones & dirt when my eyes are tied
to my back with very fine string
can’t quite reach to set them loose
but i try
& i try
& i fail
& i flail
& i spit at the sky, like an idiot impaled
on a letter opener built to scale

won’t you say a prayer, say a prayer for me…

hey mr. railroad
hey mr. railroad track
what would it take to bring my dead lover back?

GETTING OUT OF CHARACTER

he draped her sun-kissed face in a blanket he made of her hair
to shield her from the elements & the grizzly bears
there is no cure for the incurable snow in her heart
he cannot melt it, for there exists to heat that is strong enough

CINDERS

“breathe a word of this & your fingers will break”
her tattooed skull sighed
clouding movement with the medicine
silver earrings in the snow

a larger window made its bed
a tattered strip of wool
bound together with desire
at least two bellies full

shards of light
her hands leave coal marks
making shapes that look like wings
leaving flesh to dream of skyline
& other half-formed things

AT LEAST A DOG LETS YOU KNOW WHERE YOU STAND

licking my love affair
just like testicular atrophy
i need all the world you got
loving all the world you got

i am a heartsick puppy eating my own tail
it tastes just like longing does
with a little hint of death

when the truth really hits
we won’t be at all prepared
i need all the words you got
loving all the words you got
i need all the love you got
give me all the love you got

DR. SQUID BIDS A PROBLEM PATIENT BON VOYAGE

deflection is your favourite game
break the mirror, or rebuild it as you see fit
it must be so convenient
to rewrite the entire history of your interaction with someone
& spin things to suit your own revisionist purposes
so you can paint them as the villain
that way, you’re never responsible or accountable
to anyone or for anything
it’s a beautiful thing…wouldn’t you say?

well, here is your tooth—i return it to you
you can have your narcissism & your misery too
it’s only the outline, but it’s pretty grotesque
“we are in the art of healing, hoping forward…”
healer, heal thyself

you’re moving your mouth, but no sound escapes
just a series of lies & stupidity flakes
they leave your body in such a curious way
they’re all pieces of you, & they’ll return to you someday

you can plant your garden, but no flowers will grow
because you cancel out life everywhere you go
you work so hard to see the worst in everyone
sit above the rest of us in judgement, but you hold yourself exempt

they say you can’t con a con, but you’ve dispelled that myth
because you buy your own bullshit, hook, line & sinker
maybe it’s your disfigured soul that makes you such a good liar
i wouldn’t piss in your mouth if you were on fire

I MUST BE YOUR PREY

kissing clover
duck & cover
choose a lover
tip them over

watch them stagger
as they’re poised to fall
how will you ever
keep track of them all?

playing keep away—all your life
but all you ever keep away are the people who give a shit
keep on dreaming; it’ll come true
if your dreams don’t murder you

choose a lover
tip him over
say you’re sorry
you know better now
find another
tip him over too
till the bodies
all encircle you

WHAT I WOULD DO FOR YOU

you can dance circles around my extravagance
that’s alright by me
a paper clip will keep my tattered pants
from falling down around my knees where bone & skin collide
in the most appalling way
it’s not what you do; it’s how you refuse to follow through
that makes you seem so elegant
until the purifying process refines you
breaks you down

pulp is you
all aflutter
broccoli butter
floating downstream
the colour fades in little tendrils
like wisps of smoke
it’s been an hour
& the shit still won’t wash out
of my favourite torso rag

you might not be everything i’m hoping for
i don’t mind at all
as long as you’d agree to murder me
we’ll get along just fine
it’s not necessarily something i’ll need from you
but just in case…
it’s important to know that in a pinch
you’d do for me what i would do for you

MAYBE SOMEDAY

will we ever disconnect the phone?
maybe someday
do ducks have sex with transport trucks?
maybe someday

IS YOU MY LOVER STILL?

sex seed particulate
the drawstring is all but useless
though it lacks eager motion
rope becomes chain implosion

is you my lover? is you?
is you my lover? is you?
is you my lover still?

egg beater hands are weeping
lost in a sea of sleeplessness
we are still tied together
hoping to dream ourselves apart

is you my lover? is you?
is you my lover? is you?
is you my lover still?

the candy-studded mailman never made amends
with the sweaty bodies he wronged
now he sits alone on a sedimentary rock
waiting for a sign or something
but no guidance ever comes
so he makes a fan of his fingers
& drains the dirt road dry

tap water sapling weakling
can’t hold the flood back any longer
cease & desist, i beg you
or crease & resist…it’s all the same

is you my lover? is you?
is you my lover? is you?
is you my lover still?

LAKE LOUISE

lake louise swallowed me whole, then spit me out again
this time of year her surface is a very fine film
when the sun hits her just so, she’s like nothing you’ve ever seen
let’s get out our gliding shoes & hope she supports our weight

then take your hand away…
& we begin to fall…
there’s an absence of wanting…
we’re immune to it all

WHERE THERE’S SMOKE, THERE’S A SMOKER

i can feel my wet teeth bleed at summer’s speed
all the little vertebrates stained cherry white
i can hear the soil turn in on itself
telling me to dig my own way out
the metal is corroded from all the heat
won’t make a good contact
won’t make a good confidante
might make a good knife someday

under cover of the moonlight
licking rocks to stay afloat

my crooked nails will cut your face in half
in half
you’ll be smiling sideways like a salivating calf
like a calf

love is frozen
& blind
love is calling
“dinnertime”
love is all there ever was
& love is wilting…just because it can

SAD EXCUSE FOR A MUSE

you said my hands were cold as a corpse’s
& all your love for me was in vain
but you never conveyed much to me
beyond distance & indifference
this love you speak of was never displayed
the blame rests squarely on your shoulders

you dug our grave all on your own
tied weights to my feet & left me there to starve
now the insects all gather to make me their dinner
at least they don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes
there’s a purity to their single-minded
search for that which will sustain them

you said you gave up on something you could never have
you could have easily had it, if you didn’t play a game
that i couldn’t possibly hope to win
because only you knew the rules
but thank you for turning me into a romantic experiment
you intentionally sabotaged just to study the fallout
i guess nothing that passed between us ever meant a fucking thing

you must be so proud
of your boundless ability
to charm whoever you choose
& then fuck with them at your discretion
you just fuck with them all at your leisure…

are you happy? are you happy?
why would you want to be happy?
are you open? are you honest?
do you even know what it is to be honest
when there’s actually something on the line?

are you petty? vindictive?
are you savagely judgemental?
do you talk shit about everyone
& change sides when it suits you?
are there any words that leave your lips that can ever be trusted?
why ask questions we already know the answers to?

well, ’cause we’re talkin’ ’bout you
you you you you you
you you you

ABANDONED HOUSE BURNING DOWN

barring a storm
you’re gonna get through this
give it some form
just to make it shapeless
then give it all away, yeah give it all away
’cause anything you cling to will disintegrate in due time

36 years
come on 37
bite through my hand
you can see right through it
see right through the bone & cartilage you’ve eaten
what’s a little tissue damage between friends?
stare long enough, & the rest might disappear too

if we were one
who would wash the dishes?
you’d be no fun
i’d take up crocheting
a little bit of danger has to be retained
otherwise it all turns to month-old bread
with a crust you could break a window with
just make sure it’s not my house…

who’s gonna save you from yourself?
who’s gonna feed you when your teeth are tired?
who will you run to when your legs are gone?
who will you turn to when you’ve got no range of motion?
& the leaves, they form an ocean
we sing sweet songs of devolution
such a sweet & broken melody
but you know it all sounds pretty much the same to me

GUILT, NAUSEA, & OTHER THINGS THAT LOOK GOOD IN BED TOGETHER

she is my darling
listlessly amazing
my timing is always a little bit off
she shakes me like she’s trying to shake a graveyard cough
& we walk on air
a wounded pair

she was physically sick when she read what they said
a lie is a queasy bonfire
we’ll burn till we die
embers of us cooling on a fragrant window sill

WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE, WHO NEEDS ANTIFREEZE?

black as the devil & sweet as a stolen kiss
i think this whole persona needs a change in emphasis
all of your depth was only implied
you’re a really pretty package with nothing inside

you’re a fraud of a human being
you’re a fraud
you’re a fraud of a human being

LOVE SONG FOR THE HUMAN RACE

we’re blowing up the city & i feel fine
it’s like winning the lottery, one death at a time
as all these sycophants and parasites
are torn limb-from-limb, we watch their flesh turn to pulp

i know you’re thinking something that you dare not say
but believe me, baby—there was no other way
to eliminate the scum, you gotta trample on some flowers
but the ends justify the means…just you wait & see

the only thing i ever learned in school
is that there are stupid people everywhere you go
you cannot avoid them, though you’ll surely try
when you run out of patience, you know they just gotta die

now we’re watching the fireworks, just you & i
it’s so fucking beautiful, the way it lights up the sky
the screams are like a string quartet caressing our souls
our love will last a thousand years, & maybe two more
’cause it’s you i adore
peel that face off the ground
i think it suits me just fine

YOU WON’T BOND WITH THE VINE, BUT I CAN’T CUT YOU LOOSE

i am wise to you
took a while to see
through the veil of smoke
what we mean to one another
& it’s nothing
don’t mean nothing
all these things you say
they don’t mean a thing
you’re not worthy
you’re not worthy of my love

AS IT WAS, AS IT WERE, AS IT IS & WHERE IT STANDS

there is something written on your face
i don’t know what it means
i think it’s japanese or something
i just can’t grasp the mechanics of the language

we did exist together once
when time was not a force that deflected all our best advances
& stiffened at the sight of something not borne of desire
for that which has no name
i wanted you, in my stupid way, to want me in your own way
whatever that entailed

i know it’s over before it even started
aren’t you exploding with relief?
do you ever think of anything we shared?
i thought there was something there
for a fraction of an instant
anyway

at least i saw you when i was dreaming a cursed time or four
back then, you acted as if you cared
now you lie to him like you lied to me
you could learn a thing or two
from the doppelganger my dormant mind conjured of you

BACON BITS IN YOUR LINGERIE

bacon bits in your lingerie
bacon bits in your lingerie
stolen tongue without a thing to say
you got bacon bits in your lingerie

camouflage car piss on the off-beats
confidence is just a thin veneer
strip that shit & all you’re left with
is bacon bits in your lingerie

HOSTAGES

dearest, empty hands can yield kinetic results
if your eyes are aligned just right
with the night that bleeds so cynical & wild

romance…tried to kill that reflex
but some remnant just won’t die
you say, “before it does, take me hostage
take me everywhere…everywhere…you want to be
don’t say anything…anything…
just let the moment move you gently…over this way…”

long may we hover above the city while it tries to sleep
all the little people faking tenderness
though their bodies fail to agree
the truth is far too ugly to be ignored for long
still, they bury it beneath the lies they tell themselves
to keep their lives afloat

enjoy yourself
enjoy yourself
you rust-encrusted machine
enjoy one another
destroy one another
lather, rinse & repeat

do it again…
let’s do it again…

MIDLAND MICHIGAN

midland michigan
i know where you sleep
you’re all done up again
all done up again

it’s high school in your pants again
you’re making stupid faces at the boys
they will cut you where you want
you will bite them where they like to be bitten

a year has gone
it pissed itself away
we tried to sleep straight through
it was the only time we ever touched

HOW THESE THINGS TEND TO GO

this parasol’s perfect for sitting your ass on
but it won’t do a thing to protect you
from the lovers that fall from the sky
as their parachutes fail to open
& their lives fail to flash before their eyes
they’ve invested so much in a faulty cliché
only to be alone

if you sneeze in the bitter cold
will the icicles fly from your face like a beautiful tapestry
woven by heart on a vertical loom?
you offer all that you are to the ones that you love
only to be left alone

the sun is pissing over my shoulder
i need to be a little bit colder
no sense in giving all that you got
only to be alone

’cause nobody wants to feel anything real
no, nobody wants to feel anything real
is there anybody here who can fucking feel anything?

//