Posts Tagged ‘Stephen King’

New Album in Works

Sunday, November 2nd, 2003
Current Listening:
Drag the River: “Forgiveness”
My daddy preached to me

Everyday for years

The day that he died

I swallowed my tears

The tip of the bottle

And a wish you were here

I’d trade forgiveness for a beer

Wow. Somebody threw strands of toilet paper through the trees in front of Jesse. In its own way, it’s really pretty. Like streamers of garland. That are supposed to wipe asses.

I was a Ninja for Halloween. Black pants, a black t-shirt, and another black t-shirt to make into my mask. There was this other guy in a ninja costume, but he was wearing a long sleeve shirt (with a logo!) and a bandana for a mask. I was so much sweeter than he. We did Trick or Eating, which meant we went to the Davidsons College and got a route, then went door-to-door collecting canned food. We got two bags full, which is a decent amount. Then we watched a late-night screening of The Shining. Interesting flick. So much so that I want to read the book.

I got some books at the library, thanks to Carrie. an Amiri Baraka treasury, Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys (A Very Short Book), and Stephen King’s autobiography/work about writing, On Writing. I’m about thirty pages into each.

So I’m slowly collecting another album’s worth of material. If all goes well, I should record it over the Thanksgiving break. This album will be my most acoustic yet: acoustic guitar, piano, and few electric guitars. It has some of my strongest stuff yet, though (I think). “Starting a Religion”, a slow, hymnal number; “Double Take”, an offbeat song about the similarty of the two ‘opposite’ political parties, and “Danse Macabre”, a visual, piano-driven piece.

Left Hanging

Nobody wants to explore anymore.

All we want is a copy of National Geographic and

a bologna sandwich, preferably with Super-Size Fries.

Can you blame us? Who’d want to leave

the serenity of a newspaper floor, our own feces

floating in a water dish, and pretty, shiny bars?

Thank God for the bars. If we squint and look

with what little imagination we’ve got,

we just might see a menacing cat staring us down.

He’s got mange, he’s missing an eye,

and a gleam in his good eye like a madman’s watch.

Watching the birds outside the window, we laugh nervously,

dismissing what we fear most. Let them live on the edge each day,

just outside the cat’s cracked paws. Let them live.

At least they don’t have to read old issues of National Geographic until they die.


Sunday, February 2nd, 2003

Al Gore on Saturday Night Live. Somehow, it didn’t improve his image much. Now, instead of seeing him as a stiff, emotionless politician (a “Gorebot”, as Tom Tomorrow took to calling him), I see him as a stiff, emotionless politician who once appeared on a sketch show that has seen better days.

I am, of course, at my parents’ house, a fact one can infer from my having seen television. The TV I brought to my dorm room quit soon after the State of the Union address, which doesn’t bother me much. That’s also why I wrote nothing here yesterday. Last night I stayed over at Shawn’s house. We rented This is Spinal Tap, a movie which neither Shawn nor Aaron found as funny as I did.

Friday’s classes came and went, with only two noticeable incidents. The first was in History of Rock ‘n Roll, when professor Leadbetter played some different early blues songs. I got this urge to go back to my room and hammer some of my own out on the guitar. And I did. Later, in my British Lit class, I wrote a couple of poems which may or may not make it onto my main website. I had to walk to downtown Missoula because my bike is still here at my parents’ house, but the stroll was pleasant. The weather was a bit drizzly and the fog clinging to the air almost made the usually dingy Missoula streets almost pretty. Even the turbid Clark Fork was something to look at as countless drops of rain speckled its smooth surface.

I finished reading “Apt Pupil”, a story which I found quite disgusting. Now I’ve started in on “The Body”, which in the popular mass-media world goes by the movie title Stand By Me. Is there anything Stephen King has written which hasn’t been made into a movie?

Tomorrow, I have to write an AIS for Brenner’s class, an assignment which tickles me pink. For the first time, I am looking forward to something in my college classes. I looked forward to some stuff in my acting class, but I’ve considered that more of a diversion than a bona fide course. I need to e-mail my Senior English teacher, Mr. Kane, about Brenner. Shawn tells me that Kane had Brenner and I’m not at all surprised.

It’s a bitch about the Challenger. But you know what really pisses me off? The fact that nobody cared a donkey’s ass about the space program until a shuttle blew up.

Anyway, something important might happen tomorrow. I’ve done my best to steel myself, but there really is no speech for me to write, I guess. I have a feeling I know of what’s going to happen. I can hope against it, but I have to face overwhelming facts.

That’s all for now. Mr. King’s prose calls.