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four little songs hastily recorded in the summer of 2007. download them here.
yr robert frost
if you would let me i would be with you all the time, but you kick me out every night, you say you have to read yr robert frost; oh my god, you just stopped me in my tracks; you can't really call that fun; i read emily dickinson; fully and intentionally gorgeous, but i wish they'd go back to just ignoring us; we're not no one now, although i'm not allowed to kiss you on the mouth; there are days, i admit, when i think, "what the hey, on the mouth? i'm just as happy to play house."
works cited:
simon and garfunkel "the dangling conversation"
susan howe my emily dickinson
jawbreaker "sea foam green"
the mr. t experience "we're not no one"
superchunk "on the mouth"
to a waterboy
borrowing a character from songs i love, i'm talking to a character from songs i love: sebastian, he's in a mess; he's listening to the most devastatingly sad song; take the children away; take them, sebastian; listening to what he said to his character, sebastian: "just leave your troubles home"; no, your troubles are your home; leave home, leave, go, take the children away; listen, don't look back sebastian; never ever look back.
works cited:
william cullen bryant "to a waterfowl"
belle and sebastian "put the book back on the shelf"
lou reed "sad song"
lou reed "the kids"
belle and sebastian "belle and sebastian"
belle and sebastian "dylan in the movies"
aaron carter wishlist
i gave my love away, it was returned, and yet unrequited; i'd thrown my life away and when i returned my house was so quiet; i hitched my star to the wrong wagon, hitched my wagon to the wrong star; if it would make a lick of difference, i would drive there in my car; it seems that disappointment isn't really quite the word, so i can't say what happened today.
works cited:
xiu xiu "ian curtis wishlist"
w. b. yeats "presences"
jawbreaker "chesterfield king"
m/s
shot dead, my love; or by my love, who can tell? no one could tell me, it's surprising how i can admit that, or i could now; deadpan my love, for want of a way to tell; i'd spill my soul for — what's it for? would that my ceiling doubled for someone's floor; panic, i felt a touch of terror, a pair of — hell, i'd sell my blood for to see it's real; and tell the story, tell me do you feel terror and pity? the rain soaked the city; i was sick of admitting this life ain't worth living.
works cited:
the rites of spring "for want of"
jawbreaker "jet black"
aristotle poetics
