Some weird sinz.

The next batch of song-ideas are weird-sounding.  Hyphens, yes, yes.

If I haven’t said, I started doing these things because I’d been losing songs for years.  Often while walking home I’d get the basis for a killer riff in my head.  It would seem that my best creative period is when I’m walking places (there’s a better story of that.  later.) Anyways, what always happened was by the time I got home I’d totally lose the song I had in my head.  At the time (and still), I had no convenient way to record them as I walked.  So I began to make a concerted effort to remember the riff and record it as soon as I got home.  And if I was already at home, then I would record the riff as soon I started enjoying it (or before).

So, I do believe the first time I did this was with the song Violence (which I am fairly sure the casual reader doesn’t know, but here’s a summation: it’s the title song that wasn’t on the album, and sums up the issues and themes held within).  It came to me while walking home in Albuquerque, around the corner of carlisle and copper, right around Ragin’ Shrimp (I used to work there).  The basis for the song came from the desire to write a song that starts with one line of verse before the music, like… (oh, and I hate to use this example) Bullet With Butterfly Wings.  Anyways, when I got home, I had the line I wanted, so I made the music for it, tagging it to another set of lyrics that were fast summing up how I felt that particular summer.  I quickly threw together a demo made of loops:

Humdinger

It’s called “Humdinger” because I was so proud of the lyrics, and felt obliged to call them Humdinger because I had referred to it as a humdinger of a song.  A similar thing happened in a high school band when we played a song and I said “that’s a keeper!” The song was called Keeper forever-more.

The next sketch up is called “Rise Up,” and it was probably the first song to come out of a song-cycle that I never completed/am maybe still working on.  This was a set of songs all related around the story of two people, alone on a world that is no longer populated, except for them, on a ship of bone, sailing a sea of blood.  They never talk to each other.  Hey, here’s an excerpt of a novel I started writing about it when I was buzzing from painkillers after getting my wisdom teeth out:

“With that she realized, not for the first time, that whenever he started rambling on about his past, he never once stopped to ask if she was listening.  She almost let herself laugh at the fact that it meant that not only had her companion been talking to himself the whole while, but that also she had been paying close enough attention to him to know that he hadn’t asked if she’d been paying attention.  The realization was so severe a change in her usual day that she almost spun around to begin a conversation with him, but was interrupted by a gust of wind and an influx of rain.
She began to feel dizzy, the wind usually did that to her.  She tried to calm herself down while at the same time trying not to show any outward emotion.  She realized that she was doing so so her companion wouldn’t worry.  The last thing he needs is to worry, she thought.  She went through her excersizes to calm herself down, thinking of words upon words. Fetid and foul and flour and foul and fowl and four and floor the store the more you abhor the less you control you control you control, she thought to herself, but it was no use, and she collapsed to the floor of the boat, blood filling her mouth.  As she fell she remembered a time from before she was on the boat, and opened her arms to the memory.
She was alone, and laughed to herself because of it.  The way her mind works, any time she noted her surroundings she would be reminded of how obvious they were, how cliched, and she’d start laughing. It gave her the look of a crazy, but she was long past caring.  And at that thought, she laughed again, because she knew it wasn’t true.  She looked around as a mild frantic, making sure no one was around.  Her shoulders sunk when she saw someone else in the room.  When he saw that she saw him, his eyes widened and he looked away.  She figured that he had been staring at her, but she couldn’t figure out why, unless he thought she was cute, which made her angry when she realized she wanted that to be true.  She imagined that he was angry for the same reason, and decided that she should stop thinking about it, she wasn’t going to get any work done if she kept dwelling on someone she’d never met before.  But the more she thought about him, the more she imagined that she’d seen him before, at the store she worked at, maybe.  On the street.  It was a big city, but it was entirely possible.  Maybe they lived in similar neighborhoods, or maybe they went to the same school.  She met new people everyday that she didn’t know she went to school with, it was possible.  And his pants were dirty.  It looked like ink.  Maybe glue, too.  She stifled a chuckle at the glue.  A friend of hers had told her once that when people get glue on their pants, they’re really worried that people will think it’s semen.  Even though they look pretty different.  And most people would have the decency to wipe the semen off of their pants.  That was the thing with glue vs. semen, you couldn’t get the god damned glue off.  But you could get semen off.  She remembered this one time that her friend told her about, where he was talking to a teacher and almost accidentally said the word “dildo” to her.  For no reason, either.  The word had just popped into his head, and he said “dil-” to the teacher, but he didn’t think she noticed.  Apparently the teacher was talking to the student about a relationship that had just ended, which seemed funny to her because it didn’t seem like something teachers and students should talk about.  But he had gone to private school, maybe it was different there.  Maybe they had weird orgies like her friend said they had in college.  She didn’t believe in these orgies, she’d heard of them, but had never seen any proof of their reality.  Not that she would participate anyways.  With 80 percent of the population having herpes, she didn’t need to be a part of that particular statistic.  Let someone else get it.  She didn’t even get cold sores.  Which was weird, because she had a—
She shrugged off her companion’s hand.  He was lightly shaking her, and had his hand on her face.  She wanted to ask him why, but she knew he had lifted it out of the pool of blood that covered the deck.  She didn’t say anything.  She tried to remember what she had thought about when she fell, and realized that she had confused her and her companion’s stories together.  She never had cold sores, that much was true, but it was his story more than hers.  They only had each other’s stories these days, what was going to happen if they mixed their stories together? Would they make new stories, or would they just be trash? Useless trash! It didn’t really matter anyways if they remembered or not.  She only told the stories to herself.  He told his stories to her.  Maybe she should tell him to stop.  Maybe she would forget all of her stories because his would always be echoing in her head.”

Oh, god, that’s much too long.  Anyways, “Rise Up” came from a bit of lyrics I’d written in junior year, after a very stressful event happened that turned out to be a lie.  Oh, I remember gravity failing my legs.
soon this world will fall apart.
and i will stand in the ashes.
i will stand in the sea of bone
i will
rise up and taste the fruit of the lord
as the ascent begins
and all is lost
and all is lost
and all is lost
but as the ascent begins
the descent will follow
and i will stand in the air
i will stand in the ocean’s wake
i will live in the sea of bone
i will
i will rise up. inside.
outside. inside.
i will
rise up and taste the fruit of the lord.
and the juice will fall from this tongue
and fall into the sea
and fall into the sea
and fall into the sea.
and the fruit will laugh.
and i will live in the ocean of bone.

and fall into the sea.

and fall

into

the sea.

Rise Up

This song became a similar, but better song.

Anyways, now you are all running for the hills.  More later.