That One Time I Got the Flue

At the World's Edge
Where weather is born
She reached through the dense fabric
Left a fingernail in my spine

A relentless cold sweat
As the nail melts slowly
She scries the Arctic tundra
A Russian folk song on her lips

I Remember When

I couldn't write a song.

And now the music is everywhere and in everything.

If I stop and listen to the world long enough a new tune is born.

I have more work ahead of me than I could possibly imagine.

And it doesn't feel like work. Ever.

It feels like being alive.

Finally.

I swear, man.

People, my people specifically are much more interested in talking about the fact that I make music rather than checking it out.

Well any of my work really but mainly the music.

I mean, I don't care what other people think, trust that ain't it.

It's the lack of sincerity.

Like "Oooh you're a musician? What style? Link me to your shit!"

Why, so you can not listen to it like everyone else and their Mom is doing?

This is what I mean about blowing smoke, man.

You ain't gotta spew nothing at me. Cause I ride around all day bumping my shit with a big smile on my face.

What did you think this is?

Loser-Ship

Loser-ship is like a stink that doesn’t wash off. 

You can hide behind fancy clothes, a nice hat, tattoos and sunglasses but wherever you go and whatever you do that big old monster is always poking its head. 

As obvious as a turned out pocket.

Sometimes I am low.

But I never stop.

Even if the mere movement is infinitesimal.

It is there.

I remember when

I didn't know what I needed to know.

And it ain't even that.

It's the "What is it that I need to know to UNDERSTAND what I need to know!'

Feel me?

Do you remember that?

Because I never stop feeling that way.

Regret

My only life regret is not discovering the things that I love sooner.