Lyrics Like Crickets and Elis Regina
So Dennis and I brainstormed over a bottle of some wine Cathy picked up from Sams while out on her “12 Bottles Under $10 Tour.” Equally revelatory,Dennis decided that slow motion could potentially be used to depict Taylor smiling. I had asked him something like, “If you were going to make a video essay about your life and wanted it to be like 45 minutes or so and thought that using slow motion a couple times during that time had the potential to really be, well, you know, moving…what scene would you choose?” Taylor smiling, he had responded.
The wine, we both decided, was excellent.
I thank Dennis’s patient ears for listening to so much tonight. Fresh ears for my corn and fountains of crazy-ass ideas are welcome. We occasionally broke out into song this evening.
My album is tentatively titled Cool It On the Boom Booms. There must be singing in abundance and we won't exactly be rejoicing except on the rarest of occasions. Or maybe not. A lyric tonight involved the woes of George Tenet, but we both walked away feeling feeling like it was probably too creepy. There is no rejoicing in the woes of George Tenet.
Lyrics have yet to make sense. I’d rather it the other way, though. I’d like to come into some finely tuned lyrics that evoke thunderstorms and the cool wet feel of a Grape Shasta just pulled from a Styrofoam cooler after a Cub Scout softball game. I want lyrics that conjure up waking up to the smell of freshly cut grass from some weekday July afternoon from long ago when the day awaiting me involved, for the most part, the building of violent spaceships out of oversized Tinker Toys, numerous and tremendously satisfying games of Uno and exploratory sleepovers where me and a buddy challenged the earth’s early morning hours hopped up on candy bar nougat and 2 liters of Cola that we attempted to drink in their entireties.
Cathy is in Boston. We give thanks to Kevin for his tremendous efforts over the years in the often times late night nether zones of family airport retrieval.
Tomorrow I clean. There are boxes to be broken down and horribly neglected miscellaneous crap to be sorted, filed and pushed to the side. For one, I'll be cleaning out the muffin tins Cathy used to bake her astounding feats of zucchiniliciousness.
That being said, we bid you goodnight.