Progress – Revision 1

Start. Shoes,

Soaked-through canvas Dundas to Manning like I was never allowed to wear

When I was younger past the knocked-down apartment, or maybe it’s a school. Low tops finally feeling

Or beginning feeling up toCollege like

Bad ideas, like I’m at Crawford trying

To write myself back into Ossington all the songs

I used to know.

——————

Some interesting projects in the works this fall. I’m going to try to figure out a way to sync this piece with some sort of geography or map or something. If I can figure it out, it’ll be pretty cool, I think. Check back. Maybe in a few weeks this’ll be more than something I thought up on the walk home.

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One Hell Of A Plantstand: A Few Blind Melon Videos

Nobody listens to Blind Melon anymore. Why? They watched the same shows as children that I did!

That was Blind Melon covering ‘Three Is A Magic Number’ off of Schoolhouse Rocks in such a way as to make you begin to wonder if the song is, in fact, not about numbers at all. Cosmic.

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Mixtapes May Be Dumb, But I Made You One

Going through some old things recently, I found a whole stack of CD’s I’ve kept underneath a pile of old notebooks from school. They were wrapped up in an elastic band, scratched to heck and tossed in a box of random stuff I’d been keeping in storage. Normally, I’m really careful with my albums, so this was an alarming and curious development, to say the least.

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In Which I Become The Han Solo Of Bullshit

I thought that title up last week, and liked it more than anything I wrote towards the idea of having it headline.  So it’s on this one, a point-form list of thoughts and things in the works…when I’ve got enough time to have things in the works:

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Adventures in Automatica: Half-Asleep, The World

I dreamt

last night that ladders

were scattered

across the lawn like

grazing giraffes, with

paint

speckled sides

eating acacia leaves

and color chips while we

walked under

their long limbs and

dug at the foot of the house,

unearthing pipes and roots

we tried to bury long ago,

bones the color of candlewax

and rust lying next to where we’ve

tried to live

since.