A puppet playing possum.

I think sometimes songs can be almost clairvoyant. I’ve talked before about how a lot of times I don’t feel like I write songs as much as it feels like they just kind of…appear. But sometimes I’ll look back at a song that comes about this way and find it eerily prescient, even though it wasn’t about anything that was going on at the time it was written.

There are a few songs like this that are going on the next album. They sound like they fit right in thematically, and yet they were written before I was anywhere near the headspace the bulk of the songs have come out of. I find it interesting. Some people have prophetic dreams. Apparently I write prophetic songs from time to time.

One such song is delivered from the perspective of a puppet that’s put in storage and left to rot after its owner/puppeteer grows bored with it and turns their attention to a newer, fancier puppet. It never even occurred to me until I was recording it that the whole thing works as a metaphor for relationships that don’t involve inanimate objects.

The box at Dr. Disc is full again, but there are no copies of MY HELLHOUND CROOKED HEART in there. That album’s “out of print” for the moment, until I replenish my supply of double CD jewel cases. I threw in copies of a few older things to make up the difference, including the MISFITS compilation (which probably hasn’t shown up in the box in a good two years).

Tuesday I play my own music with a rhythm section for the first time since 2002. Now that’s gonna be interesting.