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“i’m a bad buddhist,”
you said. “when enlightenment
seems so far away,
it’s harder to think of eight
and easier one.”
“love calls you by your name” played
on the stereo
in the corner of the room.
large flakes of snow fell
past the balcony outside,
each one different,
each a zen signifier,
like the haiku books,
the cohen in the corner,
and the sad, dusty
altar in the hall alcove.
“hon, you’re not a bad buddhist,”
i said, jealously
eyeing the roach smoldering
between your fingers.
“you’re not a buddhist at all.”
as if i’d slapped you,
the tears welled hot in your eyes,
but before you cried
i asked, “isn’t that what it’s
all about, this shit —
always striving, yet never
attaining the goal?”
you started, “i thought you meant…”
and i cut you off.
“maybe, but i’m drunk and high
and my tongue is a
traitor bent on my downfall.”
so i crawled to you,
splayed, languid, on the sofa,
and i hooked my thumbs
in the hips of your panties,
slowly slid them off,
and kissed an apology.
“wild horses” came on, and
“that’s more like it,” i said. “now
fuck me, you bad buddhist, you.”

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hey, what’s your name?
hey, where do you come from?
hey, do you wanna
get your things and go?

hey, who cuts your hair?
hey, who’d you show up with?
hey, do you wanna
get your things and go?

don’t want to put you on the spot
but i’m such a curious guy
you seem pretty open so i figured i would give it a shot
don’t hate me for trying to try

hey, how tall are you?
hey, what are you drinking?
hey, do you wanna
get your things and go?

don’t want to put you on the spot
but i’m such an impatient guy
life is short we need to make the most of ev’ry second that we’ve got
we’re wasting our time acting shy

hey, your place or mine?
hey, why are you leaving?
hey, don’t you wanna
get your things and go?

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i know what it’s like
to crave someone, anyone
— everyone — lonely one;
the heart dies when not compelled,
and the dying heart
can’t divine tell the difference
between that which could
abate its misery and
that which would simply cause more.

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we give so much — but
for what, and to whom, and why? —
and lavish these gifts
on those who appreciate
so little. and yet
for we two, this is enough.
the irony is
i can’t give you what you want —
love, true happiness,
a black man in the white house —
nor can you provide for me
leftovers at lunch,
the weight of your arm on mine,
the safety i need.
lost, purposeless, we careen
through life at random —
givers, we, made now misers
by what is not ours to give.

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I’ve been toying with a wiki for a client of mine.

If you’re thinking “What the hell is a wiki?” you’re not alone — they’ve been around for ages but most people have never heard of them. Or at least they think they’ve never heard of them…

Basically a wiki is a combination of a web page and a Word document. It’s a collection of content online that readers can edit through their web browsers.

Ever read Wikipedia? The biggest, most famous wiki around.

So like I said, clients of mine wanted one built so they could collaborate on some documents they’re writing as part of a provincial task force.

And that got me thinking… What if I opened my lyrics up to input from you? I’ve pretty much been pounding my head on the wall for months now as far as pushing these songs forward is concerned… What would happen if you got all up in them and started monkeying around too?

Take a look at my new lyrics lab and let me know what you think. And in case I didn’t make the point strongly enough on the lab’s home page, DON’T BE AFRAID TO EDIT!

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hello allison
where do i begin?
how about with an apology?
i’m sorry for the way things ended
i swam deeper than i intended
and when i’d gotten over my head
i left you to drown instead

but you’re still a part of me
you’re still at the heart of me
alison my dear

hello catherine
i guess my charm wore thin, didn’t it?
so much for your psychology
looking back, the worst thing about you
was how i wouldn’t have dared to doubt you
until it was all too late
if that was your plan, it worked out great

but you’re still a part of me
you’re still at the heart of me
catherine my dear

hello madeleine
i’ve forgotten how long it’s been
you’re part of my mythology
i don’t know where the road may lead to
but it’s nice to think that if i need to
i can call on you and you’ll be there
you gotta hang on to the ones who care

you’re still a part of me
you’re still at the heart of me
you were there at the start of me
madeleine my dear

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This being the first Friday the 13th of 2008, it’s Blame Someone Else Day. I am soooo not making this up, but if I were, it would be your fault for believing it.

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Well friends, after what feels now like a long, long, long couple of years, I’ve started writing again. I’ve fallen so out of the habit that it’s hard to write even this post; things come harder now. It’s a struggle, when it wasn’t before.

But it is a habit, writing, and so I’m going to have to start forcing myself to do it until the words flow naturally again.

Never thought I’d be talking this way about my silly little songs, but there it is. Wish me luck on the way back from Nowheresville.

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