Gold Mine:
Month: March 2010
Today Your Name is Ana
Of course. It’s always about a woman when you get to the root of it. A woman, or lack thereof. And so the boy came to his conclusion.
Ana’s Attic:
And with his lofty reverie of an actual house with an actual person in it, I left him behind as well and continued my search for Ivy.
Oh, I See
Oh, I see. Right. I had no idea. Gosh.
And Car Dude continued his tale…
Flat Tires For Sale
Not counted among the permanent residents of what these people called ‘Wahoo’ was a young fella who apparently lived out of his 1981 Toyota hatchback. As the car was non-functional and immobile on account of it not having any wheels left, those wheels having been given up some time ago by the young man to pay off debts owed to old Bertha at the nearby diner for ‘food taken and eaten’, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be considered a resident especially since the rednecky dude lived in an RV. Maybe it’s becuase the Chinaman and the Russian said the kid ‘talked funny’. Anyway, the kid began his tale, starting tomorrow and moving back.
World Without Wheels
Crazy Man Michael
I caught glimpse of the fabled “guy who just walks around on the old trails”, staring at little bits of nothing, starting at the wind, never a man have I seen more in need of rescue. What if…he muttered. He obviously doesn’t belong in Ivy, Ivy must be a garden, right? And neither do his songs, but where should he/they go, if not there?
Rescued Songs
I lost the mixes for these songs and rescued these versions from the myspace page. They have been myspacified and are of an even lower quality than they would have been! But that doesn’t matter at this point.
Needle
World Without Wheels
Ana’s Attic
The Russian’s Tale
There’s this Russian guy, he lives in the old defunct gas station, he must have come over with the Confucian. His name is Max, and when I visited him, he assured me that he stood astride the Berlin Wall with a pickaxe as that wall fell beneath him, and he shared a little story about what really brought about the fall of the Soviet Union…
Max then told me he believes history is made by individuals eating other individuals. I then left.
Letter from Yeltsin to Gorbachev, 1991
im sorry gorby but youre gonna hafta leave
take your ugly wife and your big important party
take down your flag, see, mine’s red white and blue
here’s your marching orders for you
all I said was that she was greedy like a vole
and all your goodwill was falling down the hole
and I told Vladimir she had an ass like a house
and that the people want a little mouse
screw your demotion, gorby, i’ll get my revenge
ill be president and i’ll drink all day again
like when I worked on houses for the proletariat
all the toilets worked in my oblast
i kept a secret from myself since ’32
now I can build the houses, gorby, here’s one for you
not unlike the one your party built for my dad
when he got back from the gulag
A Million Waves
And this man, also from some strange clime or time, crossed a million waves to be here, to sing to me, him alone, it seems, and unlike the trailer man and the chinese passenger, his brow was light. Perhaps he still gazed upon the stars.
A Million Waves:
the waves break on the sides
gotta keep the sail wide
then im rocked for a million miles
of endless waves and my heart says
that is all that awaits
a sleeping bag around me
i guess ill sing my self to sleep
old tin cans rattling
and ancient whispers
keep me breathing
and my heart beating
keeps me wise and pulling lines
in the light of the sun
in the morning
Oh, Gunpowder
A stranger, not from here at all, a man of foreign visage and demeanor, with a permanent crease on his brow, but a fellow scientist I gathered.
Oh, Gunpowder:
they went looking for the essence of life
did they find it?
they went looking for the balance of everything
did they find it?
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
they went looking for the origin
did they find it
in the beginning was the explosion
did they find it?
oh gunpowder
you are forever
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
they went looking for immortality
did they find it?
they went looking for perfect morality
did they find it?
oh gunpowder
they found you, oh gunpowder
we killed each other
and set each other free
and the fireworks went flying
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
sulfur
saltpeter
a paperweight
and honey
X Rayed Rose
What a sad shell of a man, an empty shell, and I shuddered to hear his song.
then theyre gonna put you in the tunnel
then theyre gonna lie you on the table
what am i gonna say to your mom
shes gonna think that its my fault
x rayed rose
x rayed rose
x rayed rose
x rayed rose
then theyre gonna stick you with a needle
then theyre gonna cut your pretty petals
then theyre gonna prune your thorns
baby are you gonna be reborn
baby are you gonna be reborn
Some Disenchanted Morning
The first inhabitant of Wahoo was pretty straighforward, the local type, lots of those guys in these parts. Did I know, before he opened his mouth to sing, he lived in a big old RV?
Some Disenchanted Morning:
i’ve been stuck in this old trailer
in the darkness and the rain
down by the field where i met her
at the edge of the hay
i spun my wheels into the mud
it raining hard and im stuck real good
she told me I missed all of my chances
and i wont get any more
in a cold trailer with no romances
waiting at my front door
all the powers down tonight
the water’s coming up over the dike
some disenchanted morning out on the sea
my door is wide open will you run into me
some disenchanted morning here’s hoping
your door is wide open come on baby
come on baby
come on baby
Passing Wahoo
On my way to Ivy, or where I hoped Ivy would be, I passed through a little town called Wahoo, population: five. The five people told me that ‘Wahoo’ was Indian for ‘Really Fucked Up’. Anyway, each one gave me a song.
A Million Waves:
Some Disenchanted Morning:
Oh, Gunpowder:
X Rayed Rose:
They all started at the same time, but after a while I deciphered the cacaphony and realized that they were all just telling me what they did that summer, in their own way.
Buried in the Dirt…
And lo and behold, buried in the dirt, a song of similair vintage… does this explain the player’s poor performance or is he buried all by himself?
Look what I found underneath the tree…
The Ongoing Story of the Everlasting 86 Tapes
Gosh, golly, Betty Jean, here’s one for the high school musical. I thought I did everything right and this is it?
Jack Shit
I hear Ivy has a sports team, or they did, a really long time ago. They could never get it right.
Number 86
A really incredibly ancient song, followed by a sort-of-newer one. Half of the second one is actually a rewrite of the first song, but can serve as a sequel. The second half of the second song is actually older than the first song. I think.
So obviously ‘number 86’ is about football. Maybe they should try baseball.
Fires On The Beach
This is a newer recording of a very very very very VERY old song. I dropped a verse, did some spit and shine, and here it is. More High School Musical. This was recorded in Glorious Mono then
S T E R E O I Z E D
You’ll just have to use your imagination for the kick ass guitar solo.
Fires On The Beach:
When the afternoon gets too deep for me
Let’s go outside and meet the sea
Tonight we’ll build a fire on the beach
When we can join in
With the other kids
Let’s kick our feet like dying swans
And fall out of reach
And laugh and yawn
Shake your body, baby
Like it’s all that you’ve got
Tonight we’ll build a little fire on the beach
Lay down with me
Wrapped in a sheet
You and me, we got time enough to dream
Of monarch butterflies
That dance across the dawn
When the chrysalis is gone
Can’t you hear their song?
When the afternoon gets too deep
Let’s go outside and meet the sea
Tonight we’ll build a fire on the beach