Oh No...

No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No I think I'm in love. No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No Oh No.

Prize and Battlefield

"Belief is both prize and battlefield, within the mind and in the mind's mirror, the world. If we believe humanity is a ladder of tribes, a colosseum of confrontation, exploitation and bestiality, such a humanity is surely brought into being. You and I, the moneyed, the privileged, the fortunate, shall not fare so badly in this world, provided our luck holds. What of it if our consciences itch? Why undermine the dominance of our race, our gunships, our heritage, and our legacy? Why fight the "natural" (oh weaselly world!) order of things?

Why? Because of this: - one fine day, a purely predatory world shall consume itself. Yes, the Devil shall take the hindmost until the foremost is the hindmost. In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.

Is this the doom written within our nature?

If we believe that humanity may transcend tooth and claw, if we believe diverse races and creeds can share this world as peaceably as the orphans share their candlenut tree, if we believe leaders must be just, violence muzzled, power accountable and the riches of the Earth and it's oceans shared equitably, such a world will come to pass.

I am not deceived. It is the hardest of worlds to make real."

David Mitchell "Cloud Atlas"

Warm Ghost - Open The Wormhole In Your Heart

God's Awful Grace

I'm watching the ravens outside my window in the rain. They're overdressed in their black ties, scouring the ground for dinner time. They don't see the treasure chest inside my rib cage. But God does. I've been watching too many war documentaries. I woke up last night and thought I was in a German prison camp. I was lost. But I normally am. I've found this out about myself. I am an island. And not in the clever way. I am an island. More so than anyone else I know. Maybe it's turning into a problem. But maybe not. I am an island. I am an island of a man, and I can't seem to make the wanderlust be quiet. I've made an enemy of convention. It tastes sour on my tongue.

I see your manger. I see where you sleep. I know someday we'll meet. I self medicate, and I need rest. This is my letter to you. My self-styled hymnal. I constantly test the mettle of my heart. I poke it with a stick to see if it'll snap. I grow weary of the lack of purity in all things. Then I see the diametric opposition and the gray ground, and I just get confused. Shipwrecks on the jagged cliffs of the sea. I don't "just get by."

My seeking leads me to be sought. I feel that. I try to have patience too. I really try. I try to mean what I say, and say what I mean. I need rest.

Holy Shit

Indeed...

What Would Paul Newman Do...

I always ask myself, "What would Paul Newman do?"
It's not a bad guide...
Cause I'm that kind of guy.
You earn no respect when you don't fucking try.
You can be weak at night in the depths of your bed,
But there's no room to be weak in the depths of your head.
Like that hip-hop fool,
Popping words like they're truth.
Keep your thought inside that frame.
Be in tune to when and where they display.
Like the rounders in Manhattan,
Cigarettes, leather jackets, attitudes they patent.
Youthful energy, aged wisdom, a soldier you've known.
Utilize every ounce of testosterone.
Keep your muscles clinched, over the bones.
Be wild young man, and howl at the moon.
You are bear-like, explore and push right on through.
Take your risk, take your licks.
Then brush it off.
Don't buy into the idea that you can ever stop.
Life is a bonfire.
So burn the lights out.
Burn right on through the hesitation and doubt.
Pull hard on the reel and take the leviathan out.
Up from the depths of the deep dark water,
Quiet and steady like your hard-ass father.
Cinch up the rope and sit high in the saddle,
Always know there's nothing you can't handle.
I learned my entire life not to be of ordinary men.
It's the struggle between the ninth rep and the tenth.
On the corner of ideal and faith sits my residence.
That's the definition of confidence.

Silence, Experience Shows, is What Terrifies People Most

The hits just keep on comin'.

Predestined Arrangement

Predestined Arrangement by coryreinisch

I Love This Band

Yeah, I Don't Know About You Man...

...but, I've got to look myself in the mirror every night before I go to sleep.

I wonder to myself, "how many goddamn knives does he have?" It baffles me to no end. I can't possibly be more uneasy than I am at this very moment. It's that quiet feeling in the warm dark. The uncomfortable flush-warm feeling of evil as you can literally feel your blood moving through the pipes in your body. The dizzy nauseous feeling that settles in when your gag reflex triggers your stomach to vomit it's contents. He makes my fucking skin crawl. He fucking disgusts me.

Sometimes, when I look at him, his face morphs and shapes itself into a vermin-like specter. Something from the weasel family. He moves, no, he slinks around. His eyes have no color, just black marbles sunk back into his slender skull. Other times when I look at him, he glances away, like he's been staring at me for extended time. He studies me. He tells other people that "we're exactly alike." He creeps me out.

It's like he waits in the darkness, with a knife in his teeth...crouching...sweating with clammy skin, breathing heavily...probably touching himself...waiting for me to show my cards. With his pointed nose, and squinted eyes. An angular snout to poke into the tight uncomfortable, private spots of other people. The places you don't show anyone unless they are extended an invitation. He finds them anyways, with no invite. He only violates. He rapes trust.

Then he jumps out of the shadows and sinks a knife in my back. It's like I'm living a bad dream. I don't even like him...I never have. I don't know why it's understood that I do. I don't have the slightest fucking clue as to why there's any loyalty there at all. And her...she fell down the wrong rabbit hole. She can expect a twisted journey of ups and downs...talking through drugs and cheap sentiments. These moves are too calculated now. Every instance is a coincidence when it happens once.

It's strategy when it happens twice.

The Growlers - Feeling Good

Keep On Keepin' On

This band has been soundtracking my emotions for years. I love them as much, if not more, now than I ever have.

Delivery

One thing I've learned (and liked) about myself is that I don't sacrifice my dreams for security. This has presented some real and obvious challenges, and if anything is a certainty in this world, it's that nothing is guaranteed, but I don't see another way. At least, from where I sit.

Carver - Take Me Out

Wind In My Office

I used to dream of a farm.
Cattle by the mile; a tan on my arms.
The work would be biblical.
We are burdened by that great burden.
Somewhere, though, there is poetry,
In finding a task that we love.
You've got to be smart nowadays.
Strong of good mind.
Dexterous in thought and aptitude.
The city is troubling some times.
A wind blows through my office,
There's a computer in your eyes.

If...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

- Rudyard Kipling

Teflon

That's right....

Your windshield (this morning) told you what the fuck I've been up to.
I made sure of that.
It was going to happen...I've had it planned for as long as I can remember.
A busy bee I've been.
I hope you looked at yourself in your rear-view mirror and caught your own glance.
I hope you got to see your own eyes.
Confused...
You used to write on my mirror.
In black marker.
Call me a cocky fuck if you want...
I learned from the best.
You always had a sword in your hand when you'd write your words...now I do.
It's easy to push the blade into a soft heart.
But your windshield told you what I am today.
Slides...oh yeah, it slides...I wish I would've seen your face.

You might wanna duck...
You're not going to like what you hear.
That's right.
In some circles, it's considered flattery.
I rarely have vindication in my quiver, but I was going to do that whether you asked for it or not.

This ship left the harbor a long time ago.
I can be that way too, when it's pulled out of me...
It feels good, doesn't it?

Ravenna

It's all in the follow through.
Forgive and repent.
I reckon damn so.
I walk among saints, and yeah, I sleep with those sinners.
They tug at my heart and they'll hurt you alright.
It's seeing your flaws and knowing you won't fix them.
Everything is burning around me.
Swallowing acres of people.
They scratch and claw and bite and rake and swing.
Effort bubbling under their nails.
There hasn't been a stranger year.
Lockjaw that won't sing, and songs that won't come.
People I love and also don't trust.
They don't write themselves, do they...
Why won't it rain?
I feel every feeling.
I want to tell you how I feel every feeling, and then I don't.
And then I do again.
And then I don't.
Mostly, I won't.
People don't know what to do with me.
I don't know what to do with my pride.
Peter and Paul spoke with their hearts.
I mostly want to be polite.
And then I don't.
Because,
I've got muscles to flex and tears to cry yet.
I was born under the moon in the sweet southern air.
I love everything.
I love everyone.
At once.
As much as I can.
As much as is allowed.
I clearly see the good in the world.
I want to be a great addition to it...woven into its fabric.
You and I see,
We're just made of carbon.
And it don't last.
It's the temperate silence of sweet serenity.
It's the sound in my head and the heat in my heart.
It's God's love.

"Honey, we all deserve to wear white..."

Ready, Rotten, Dead, Forgotten

I'm surrounded by capitalists.
Ghosts in people suits.

Digging, and digging, and digging.
For something that won't be there in the end.
Leaves faster than was found.
With no sound.
Under the ground.

Like some old Farmer's Almanac,
I feel a bit more wise.

But I don't know why it's taken so long to find my own voice.
My feet have carried me this far.

Pulling through the valley,
And hearing God's songs is like some vigilante,
At war's end.
It'll be nice to breathe.
To finally breathe.

It'll be really nice.
To feel that rain again.

I can't tell if my intentions get out in front of my mouth,
Or if it's the other way around.

You can see how that might stand in conflict with my better judgement.
But oh well.
My ears just ring,
So my eyes just close.
I know where I want to go.

If that's as close as I can get, that's as close as I'll take.
I expect it will be nice.

The Hottest Summer Ever and a Decade of Terror

There could not be a stranger year. There could not be a more backwards reflection. There could not be more paranoia or great divides in trust. People have gathered under my nails as I scratch and claw and rake through their minds trying to find their rationality. Bloody nails that hurt and burn and sting. Fires that billow and smoke that evaporates the sweet air from our lungs. Wine and beer and whiskey that only sings you to sleep until the next morning. Songs that won't come out and lockjaw that won't move. Everything is burning around here. Great fires that swallow acres of altruism. An armor is required for passage and flight. We all take the world upon our shoulders...as we must...and somewhere beneath that...under the fading carbon is the meaning of it all. It's the temperate silence of sweet serenity. It's God's love.

The Felice Brothers - Frankie's Gun from Laurent Rejto on Vimeo.

Very Much Yes

New Song

Threw her together tonight.

Bob Dylan's 78th Hangover

Bob Dylan's 78th Hangover by coryreinisch

Park Your Integrity Right Here

A good friend recently expounded on nothing less than the merits of integrity. Inspiration comes in all forms.

Sometimes I wonder if I have the good sense. The kind of sense it takes to paddle in between the shores of life's long river. I like to think that I do. I think through effective and purposed raising, some of this was branded on my hide. Even while I was squirming to get away.

But I also do that. I do get away with it sometimes. That's the rub. I could dive into the abyss here and wrestle with the different colors of moral conviction and the directive benefits and ruthless cage of guilt. However, I will not.

It's like I read on some wall somewhere. "When I was little, I wanted a bike really bad. So I thought I'd work really hard, pray for it, and then I'd deserve it. Then I realized that God doesn't work that way. So I stole it and asked for forgiveness."

I don't believe it's an inherent personality trait that's been decided for me, or anyone for that matter. In fact, I've found (to my own detriment) that my "politeness" has worked against me, in a counter-active way. Just as someone might find their ruthless intentions negatively influencing their environment. My friends often tell me I'm "too polite." That sounds awfully self-indulgent, but in some respects it's ridiculously fucking true.

I'm also not saying that you hand-pick where to apply your integrity. It should be held steadfast at all times (I do really believe this...I'm not trying to convince myself). I also know that we all stumble in this regard. Quite often, even when there is colossal effort. There are just certain times in our lives where we find a certain amount of gray area. That's why I think it's ultimately important to hold your integrity true to yourself. If you have an internal compass and place value on it's direction, you're never really lost.

Trust me...this is no high-championing of my virtuous existence. Cause God knows...

I've recently been afforded an opportunity to do something that I really genuinely want to do, but have refused to do so in order to spare someone's feelings. The same someone, who once presented with the same opportunity, did not spare mine.

It has nothing to do with holding moral high ground. It has everything to do with sleeping at night. Looking in the mirror and being able to look yourself in the eye, confident with what you're seeing.

Dammit.

Dealt a Good Hand

I don't normally show my cards in this regard, but a good friend put me on this awhile back and it holds tremendous water with me.

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."

Philippians 4:12

It's good to feel what you know to be truth.

This Shit is the Jam

New Song I Wrote Tonight

I Killed Laura Palmer

I Killed Laura Palmer by coryreinisch

I Did It

I finally did it. I've been dreaming of it since I was 16. I finally did it.

Predestined Arrangement

I haven't written in awhile. Well, on here. Busy, busy, busy. Blogs are retarded.

You Should Start A Band by thefrontierbrothers

Brilliant

Oh, There's That Hummingbird

Oh,

There's

That

Hummingbird in a spring sunrise,
Should be no big surprise.
Flutter in a grand whiskey haze,
I'm fairly convinced it's just a vanity phase.
Everything happens by accidental grace.

And,

I

Suppose

I can't really ask for more,
When you draw me a roadmap to your front door.
Caitlin, you have my favourite name...
Pretty like violins and front porch swings.
I'm afraid you could drop me to my knees,
Like some Bible verse, or Sam Cooke song.
I'd be fine being perfectly wrong.

My

Eyes

Squint

While the morning strafes the ground.
I'll win you with a busted typewriter as sure as you breathe.
Nobody should underestimate me.
A threadbare lazy lean on the fence.
I'm spent.

See

How

Strong

All these winds are?
I won't be too far,
When you draw me a roadmap to your heart.

Cory, Do You Like Computers?

No.

The Sexiest Video I've Ever...

AND, I know her.

Hard Drinkin' Songs

This band is incredible. They are so much cooler than I could ever hope to be.

Everybody Must Give Something Back For Something They Get

This is so bad ass.

Yes, Please...

It's also for Reinisch, but c'mon man....we really need a bit of it.

Narrow Focus, Idea Generation

My left arm goes numb and tingles now.
I try to shake it out like some wiped-out pitcher in the bottom of the ninth.
I don't know if this is the first engine rattle as a sign of too many miles.
Nor would I pay much attention if it was.
It's probably nothing spiritual.

We used to be electric punks.
You and I.
A couple of idealists.
Carving out ideas.
In an ideal-less world.
I'd say anything if it sounded like it came from the inside of an incinerator.

But your purpose is easy to find when your needs aren't being met.
Don't you ever forget that.
In fact, you can quote me.

Somewhere I began to care what people thought about the things I'd say.
That's when you find yourself rounding the corners.
Using painter's tape.
So they don't see the errant swipes.
God...you might as well tell your corner to throw the towel.

I don't feel old, but I may sound it.
Where I used to pick up the sword and slash away,
I'm more inclined to diplomacy.
It's not fighting harder,
But fighting smarter.
Rather.

I used to pick up the sword and slash away.
Don't wager bets you can't pay.

Dedication to Roam

Yep...I Want You

The Shorter Story Usually Wins Out

Some people die in the service of others, and some people just die. Some people cry and some people don't take the time to feel anything that stabs them with a spear. Some people drop bombs. Some people are masters of war. Some people fasten all the triggers for the others to fire. Some people copy straight from the book. Some people light their own lamps and light the trails for those who can't see. Some people sit on the banks of the rivers with their fathers and throw hand-tied flies to raise the trout. Some sit behind desks. Some affect motion. Some run. Some stand their ground. Some motor through with no disregard, and some ruin them with humility. Some gut check themselves with simple questions. Some just make money. Some pass out forgiveness like a ticket to Heaven, and give-give-give, when all they do is take-take-take. Some just forgive. Some lower caskets. Some give birth. Some people are Judas. Some are Joan of Arc. Some are yellow, and some are black. Some are white, and some are red. Some are guilty. Some are beautiful. Some are looked-over. Some are talented, and some just try really hard. Some are what you see, and some are what you get. Some warm your heart. Some are never bruised. Some go through life with golden halos, while some can't win for losing. Some can't be alone. Some don't want you there. Some don't want anybody there. Some want to be lost on the mountain. Some just want you to be their date to the dance. Some want you to be the spouse you promised, and some just want to be mad about it. Some people love Jesus. Some think He's a myth. Some know it all. Some have no hope. Some live for today. Some resign to the fact that they never will. Some want to be men when they're only little boys. Some girls want grace. Some women have it. Some want children. Some won't ever have them. Some get them without trying. Some people are grumpy. Some are a blessing to be around. Some people only complain, and some people only count their blessings. Some people say they'll change. Some people actually do. Some people actually don't. Some people leave before it's over. Some people are here too long. Some people respond. Some people don't. Some people are too sensitive. Some people live in shells. Some people hate people. Some people know that the only life we have is this one. Some people wake to a brand new day, each and every day. Some people appreciate their soul. Some people reach out their hand.

Some people tell the truth, and some people lie.

Like a Well-Ironed Shirt

The Head And The Heart - Down In The Valley (not the video) from Sub Pop Records on Vimeo.

Literally, the Best Thing I've Ever Seen. Seriously.

Brunettes and whiskey. What drunk genius nailed down my two favourite things in the world into this real advertisement? It should have been me.

You Didn't Know The Words

I wrote this a long time ago...years ago. I haven't read it in as many. Maybe I didn't know what it meant to me then. Now, it reminds me of good love, and it reminds me of feeling right with the world, which I currently do...

YOU DIDN'T KNOW THE WORDS

The young man who keeps fortunes in a mason jar,
Tells himself growing old doesn't scare him.
He couldn't be more right.
Light bulbs in the darkest light.
The girl smells sweet next to him in the swing in the summer night.
Smooth white magnolia in her hair.
She flies under the radar, she flies everywhere.
He has plans and pennies, the courage and a view.
He sings a timeless tune.

Patrick Sweany - Corner Closet

Dressed All In White

Snow day in Austin. Don't get many of these around here...

What Would You Say to Bob Dylan?

Todd Snider On Bob Dylan (1/21/11)

it's hard to think of new ways to consider bob dylan and his work
he's probably the most debated and discussed singer to ever live.
but here's a question. especially for songwriters.
what are you going to do if you meet bob dylan?
have you thought about it? do you have a plan?
i've been working on a plan since i was about twenty years old
and still don't really have one.
is it presumptuous for someone to think they might meet bob dylan?
i don't think so.
from what i hear, he likes to stay on the poorer side of town.
and we know from the story about the cop who didn't recognize him
that he goes for walks.
i know a guy who thought he saw him on a street corner but wasn't sure
if he was bob dylan or a hobo that looked like him.
bob caught him staring and said "it's me"
my friend didn't say anything back.
i know a guy that was in a studio once with him and witnessed a situation
where somebody's booking agent gave bob a rambling speech about
the impact his music had on the world as he was sticking his hand out
to introduce himself.
my friend says bob just stood up without extending his own hand, walked
over to an exercise bike and got up on there
and started pedaling without saying a word.
in front of people no less.
what are you gonna do if you ever meet bob dylan?
i know another who was on a dylan session where they came back in
to listen to a track and after all the famous musicians got done with their two cents
bob asked the intern gopher kid what he thought and went with that.
i don't know what the hell i'd say if i was around bob dylan.
another buddy of mine had a band that played a festival in europe with him
and he said to get back to the hotels everybody had to take the same ferry
leaving the bands, bob included, exposed to the crowd.
my friend found a table with a chess board on it and sat down
and noticed bob dylan leaning against the rail and looking at the water.
at first nobody noticed him but eventually he started to get surrounded.
my friend got up and walked right up to him and said
"bob we got the chess board you wanted"
and bob saw his chance and took it. my buddy got to play silent chess with him
the whole trip and as long as bob seemed engaged people seemed to
leave him alone.
i don't know if i'd have had the courage to do that.
i also know a musician who got a call from bob dylan's manager
saying that bob wanted to ask him a few questions about a certain instrument.
my friend didn't know bob even knew who he was and was floored.
"of course" he yelled. "when?" ...
"how's today" the guy answered.
"fine with me" my friend said "what time"
"how bout now" the manager answered.
"sure . . . where do i go" my friend shot back
"well." the manager went on. "you seen that brown van out in front of your house?"
"yeah"
"bob's in there."
holy shit.
i got another buddy that said he was gonna audition for bob once
and the plan was for bob to come over to my friend's house.
my friend was supposed to have tuned guitars ready. he did.
bob came in with his dogs and kids. the kids started right in messing
with the guitar pegs and a dog shit. they never spoke of either thing.
then bob wanted to know if there was any other guitars and so my friend went out to the garage
to get a new one and somehow managed to get himself pinned under his own garage door.
so within a few minutes of meeting bob dylan my friend was screaming out to him for help.
i'm hoping if i ever meet bob dylan that i don't end up pinned under a garage door.
speaking of doors i heard another story from a studio in memphis where bob came in
to sing on somebody's record or something. they all say he didn't speak a word to anyone
the whole time. even when spoken to. and then, upon leaving he turned to the receptionist
and said "big doors huh."
no one remembers what she said back.
i have another buddy that worked with him once and made fun of his hooded sweatshirt
disguise. and bob brought him a hooded sweatshirt.
that seems like it worked
another buddy of mine auditioned at bob's house. he said he was kept waiting a while.
he said he told bob how great he thought he was. bob said nothing.
they picked a bit and bob got up and left.
ouch.
i have another buddy that was staying with a famous guy on an island.
one day putzing around on something to do street he sees bob dylan
and screws up the courage to walk over and say
"hey bob i'm so and so and i'm staying over at so and so's house,
i know he'd love to see you. you want to come with us."
he says bob just stared at him a minute and walked off.
i don't think i'd try to insinuate some mutual friend thing if i ever met bob dylan.
but what do you do. tell him you like his lyrics for fuck's sake.
or a particular song? are you kidding? a particular song?
no fucking way. or a period. can you imagine what he does here?
can you imagine how many people that never even consider once what
they would say if they met bob dylan get to.
and i'm standing around here like a schmuck.
and what do they say? they say shit like "my dad loves you"
or "my kid loves you" or "when are you going to do this or that again"
or "we loved you in the '60s"
you know i bet he gets as much of that as he gets the
"what did you mean by this" or "what made you say that"
or how bout the odd "were you talking about me"
fuck i've got that before. and i'm a folk singer from the '90s for fuck's sake.
they don't even really have those.
imagine how much crazy shit bob dylan hears?
especially all you traveling musicians who hear crazy shit yourself sometimes.
imagine how many of us have gushed him blue in the fucking face.
imagine how many superstars have just superlatived him sick in the fucking stomach.
should everybody just leave him alone? that doesn't seem right.
it seems like sometimes he should get to hear a "thanks bob"
which is essentially what all of it really is.
thank you. that's the only part of my plan that's been in there for a while.
i can't help myself from wanting to add.
"and not just for the songs and music either, but for the books and movies and interviews
and videos and photo shoots and concerts and the big dome house and the shades.
and all that shit. and speaking of the songs and the music. i love all of it.
every inch of it. every song, period, show, band, outtake, fucking all of it.
no favorites.
but you see here i go . . . now i'm starting to talk to the very bob dylan
the same way i talk to my nephew about bob dylan.
in that spastic way that remind me of an old far side cartoon
where the two gorillas are under a banana tree gorging on bananas
when one turns to the other and says
"you know man, i know we're supposed to like bananas. being gorillas and all
but i think its different for me. i mean, i really like them"
that's how most true bob dylan fans sound when they start trying to explain him.
that poor fucking bob dylan shouldn't have to meet anybody.
i wonder if he likes to sometimes. i wonder if there are compliments he likes.
anyway i better wrap this up. i'm heading over to my nephew's bar mitzvah.
god i hope bob dylan isn't there. i'm not ready damn it.
i'm just not ready.

I Still Love You

A lot.

Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins - Rise Up With Fists! from Team Love on Vimeo.

Push Pin Reminders

I want to drive a convertible.


She & Him - Don't Look Back from Merge Records on Vimeo.