Cancer

After deciding not to walk across the country, I went on a silent retreat to figure out what to do with life instead.  I decided to be a math teacher, but after a couple years of dropping out of college for various reasons, my friend suggested I go to Nashville because he thought I was pretty good at music.  I went on another silent retreat and decided at 25 years old I was young enough to pursue my dreams.  January 2nd 2010, I got to Nashville and a blizzard came through and stayed for two months, downtown was closed for two weekends, I couldn’t find work, I was living in my car eating only peanut butter and stolen coffee from Panera bread and at the end of February when my tax return came in I gave up and drove back to Houston.  On May 1st, Nashville had a 1000 year flood where several people died being swept away, I can’t help but think I would definitely have been one of those people, had I not given up.  In those two months though I managed to put together this entire album.  I’m very proud of it. It’s about the downward spiral I went through writing the first album.

This was the song I left off the first album cause it didn’t fit so I thought it was a good place to start.  This guy was always kinda teasing me about my dream of walking across the country, ‘are you doing it for the right reasons?’ haunting me all the time.  I told him off like he was a bully eventually. We’re friends on Facebook, hes ‘liked’ the song, it’s weird writing about real people, but it must be done.

Hey, Moe.
I gotta know, Moe,
what happened to the Corona commercials?
Where did they go?
Did plans change or are they just moving too slow?
“What’s the story, buddy-buddy?
Give me a call, how about tomorrow?
We’ll toke it up and hammer down,
just give me a call” . . .  I don’t think so!

Hey, Moe!
I gotta know, Moe,
how many Tylenol did you consume today?
Or is that alcohol flowing through your veins?
Follow your friends, and all of their trends,
to more expensive ends, or
do it in bed, aim straight at your head.
It’s only lead, what are you waiting for?

Only the best drummers can play this, one time a trumpet player jumped on stage during it, its one of my favorite things to play.

Half a pound of coffee gone,
will clean a room and float a John.
I hit a gong in Donkey Kong,
then hit a bong with Cheech and Chong,
and right or wrong I’m in a thong.
This song is strong but way too long.
Sleeping on the Sandy shore,
everything feels like a chore.
I wish I was a matador,
cause sitting around has made me sore.
Pacing circles round the floor,
my thoughts are breaking down the door,
loud as a drum and bugle corps
in the center of a civil war.
And just when I can’t take anymore,
I twist a lime into the drink I pour,
whose side effects help to ignore
the fact that I’m so freaking bored!
Now I’m officially bored!
So damn bored…

Baking smores with ole Al Gore
til Eleanor (the carnivore we adore) lets out a roar,
‘Here comes Thor!’  He answers, ‘Whore!
what’s the score between Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore?
Who tore a spore of folklore in the soup d’jour
in the top drawer down the corridor.
*snore
Man I’m bored.
Encore?

Reading your audience is very important, sometimes this goes over very well, sometimes it’s better without words.

The sun was shut out by the weather
Been a long time since wed been together
But after a bottle of rum
what should have been fun
turned into a painful endeavor

the foreplay began on the couch
removing clothes all round the house
something stuck in her hair
she tripped on a  chair
and headbutted me in the mouth

undressing the rest is a mess
fooling around id never have guessed
that shed been allergic
to my laundry detergent
til her nose ran all over my chest

they say you make perfect with practice
but sometimes your efforts disastrous
drunk and impatient
my bedframe was ancient
we broke it when we both hit the mattress

tired after all that transpired
a trip to the fridge reinspired
when giving a lick
she was suddenly sick
the whipped cream had already expired

making our way to the spoon
removing her fruit of the loom
it wasnt so cute
when she let out a toot
and the smell over whelmed her perfume

I used to walk up to three hours in the middle of the night along freeways and would always imagine violent encounters with strangers.  I would ask people what its like to punch someone in the face, cause I’ve never been in a fight. 
My fingers are freezing and fd up the fight scene but you get what you get.

Now I’m on the sofa, with the mota, passing television…
Standing up, he grabs her hair, and smacks her
open palm across the jaw
and before she could fall, hits her again.
The shit and smoke were under broke as she spits and chokes on his distorted rage.
Now I’m coming down from space, with a weapon,
and my feet flying over the loveseat, leading the way.

My instincts replied when he tried to kill Kelly.
Smash a glass bottle and his face turns to jelly.
Knees pummel his belly. 
Jesus, no one was ready.

I wake up still shaking.  It’s almost noon and my open wounds are raw.
How I got home, I don’t know, but I’ve never been hungrier 
and nothing seems funnier than nine missed calls.
I’ve seen her since out with her friends.  Her new man? I wonder if he’s violent,
and if in her silence, she carries it all.
Cause I know I couldn’t convince her that no one should ever leave her that way.

My wife says this is the song she fell in love with me.  Teenagers also seem to love it.  I’m afraid since weed is legalizing everywhere people might start thinking this is about cocaine.

Question:
the jury has made its decision.
I’m clearly in need of correction.
They’re give me one year probation,
Deferred adjudication.
For what?

My parents
acting like they’re so embarrassed.
Like, why must their son be the strangest? 
His behavior is simply outrageous.
Don’t touch him he might be contagious!
For what?

Possession
of a subliminal sensation
for a temporary duration,
a method of relaxation
for a vivid imagination
For what? Bullshit….

I smell Bullshit!
Bullshit Bullshit

Just capturing the depression of sleeping in my car, working a thankless job for a dream no one believes in, being totally alone and not ready to die.

I listen to music until I fall asleep
I listen to music until I fall asleep
To keep my mind from plunging in too deep

How did I ever come to this
How did I ever come to this
What’s creeping through my head I can’t resist

My head weighs heavy on the floor
My hands held steady on the door
Close it once, closed forever more

Over the edge the cliff is steep
It’s all I can do to keep
From plunging headfirst into the deep
To keep my mind from plunging in too deep

I had a clear idea in mind for this album, I would try and fit the 5 stages of grief into 12 songs.  In my head I would say, ‘im gonna be very pretentious’ I had an intro, an outro, an instrumental in the middle.  Cancer, like the tropic of cancer book, like destroys you from the inside, but also because it’s my astrological sign, and this is all about me.  I tried to incorporate other signs on other songs, Moe had a goatlike grin originally, Kelly is a fight song, in justice says bullshit, rain dance has a lion, boredom has a drink I pour,  it’s a stretch but damn if I wasn’t proud of this album.  

This song’s an instrumental I wrote on the piano, when I was transcribing it in my car in the middle of the night I heard a train whistle, it was surreal.  Three separate open mic occasions I played this instrumental and a train blew it’s whistle and so I added ‘my own’ permanently after.  It’s given me a standing ovation in a few packed elderly wine houses, it’s blown out speakers in bars, I’ll never write another song like this, please enjoy

Gave it to a girl in a coffee shop, she saw me walking the next day and gave me her number.  Girlfriend number 2.

Write one right now’ you say with a smile
As I pull pen and paper from out of a pile
I scribble some words and after a while
It forms in its own free flowing style
I try not to rush as the sun makes the climb
But I hastily write some ridiculous rhyme
Like stealing a salad from an insolent mime
Who’s rolling around in a fuscia-green slime
I see you staring with cynical eyes
Until curiosity compels you to rise
To catch a quick peak and then criticize
My feeble attempt to improvise
‘Now let me see it on the count of five’
But I snatch it away where your hand makes a dive
Suddenly, instantly, you understand I’ve
written something much more than mere moments contrive
I summon the courage before taking flight
Vulnerable to any venomous bite
To say nothing could bring me a greater delight
Than seeing you smile in this afternoon light

I used to walk everywhere between 3 and 12 miles a day, and I’d reach a certain spot and start chanting this every time, ‘im almost home, I’m Almost home’.  This album I really tried to explore dynamics, soft, loud, fast, slow, odd time and standard, I get a lot of compliments on the first half of the album but the ending has merit, I was really aiming high, it’s not like I really knew what I was doing, everything just seemed to work out.

I study text when the lectures too fast.
Taking home tests, I’m not gonna cheat,
but in another month, I’m still facing defeat,
and I ask myself, ‘is this it?’
I will not quit.
I’m almost home.

We met in the bookstore, in the coffee shop 
where I was a regular. She wrote down her cellular.
Cut me some slack; had a panic attack.
She amazed me on my birthday when she made merengue
pineapple pie, to be the perfect surprise.
I ate every slice, not just being nice.
I won’t insult or disappoint with empty promises.
With love and respect, I’ll accept who she is.
Whenever things are tough, I’ll think of our first kiss,
and in another month, if it isn’t obvious,
I see that this is it.
I will not quit.
I’m almost home.