Davy is one of my best friends. I don’t get to see him much, but when I do I feel a deep brotherhood between us that I don’t have with any other person. He is one of the most talented people I know. And an incredible poet.
Above is a poem I wrote, inspired by the readings/concerts Davy and I would host when we were roommates in Indiana. Specifically, I had a memory of him playing the song below. But you have to imagine him belting out these lyrics: “Down here, I feel like I am Satan to her!” in our gutted out living room below a torn poster of Morrissey. We used to pass a jug of wine around the room, and then hang out on our rooftop. Some of the best nights of my life, for sure.
THANKS AUSTIN. We are the best of friends.
I wrote this song a couple nights ago. I haven’t written a song in awhile.
this is a song I wrote for a christmas album that standard recording is putting out. I just sent it to them, and they liked it. So, I don’t care about homework at all right now.
This is a song that I wrote by reversing another song I wrote. It’s the opposite of one of my songs.
This is a song I wrote a few months ago.
A song I just recorded. It’s all cut and pasted all over the place.
This is the deign im using to screen print onto these cd cases called ReSleeves
This is my song jenny reversed with some lyrics.
-it means the world for us, we cant fight. we might be nice.
…and then we fight.
She got dropped off by her mother,
south of her down town,
American home—far from her
home home in Mexico.
She knock knocks knowing
how embarrassing it will be
when she tells her teacher that
she forgot to learn the lesson.
The teacher is smiling soft
when she comes out
with a nostalgic glow about her face—
channeled from memories
of a mother’s embrace.
The teacher just pat pats
her on the back and you
know that she is there there
for this girl, and you
know that this teacher teaches
more than time signatures or
quarter notes; black keys, white keys,
or how to move fingers across them.