Steel Bones

And the morning came to pass Reflected in the colored glass Falling down on concrete skin And steel bones all trembling Night preys on the lonesome Losing days left and Right and wrong are nothing now The light has come and gone And the day, it sang a song A melody so clear and strong Echoing through broken dreams And steel bones and silent screams Night preys on the lonesome Losing days left and Right and wrong are nothing now The light has come and gone And the evening built a nest Against the winds of midnight's breath Steel bones are crumbling Beneath the weight of all the sin Night preys on the lonesome Losing days left and Right and wrong are nothing now The light has come and gone

jbg

Emerge

Where have I been? Well... for one, I was trudging through the Wasteland that was the 2007 Chicago Marathon. Was it as bad as the press reported? Yes. I think it was. But I survived and finished and, thanks to my generous supporters, raised over $1000 for the American Cancer Society.

So there was that... and recovering from that, physically and emotionally. So I just wanted to stick my head up to say that good things are coming... Much news soon.

Love,
jbg

Explosions Below

Lately, I've been less hesitant. Less uncertain. More decisive. Still, perhaps not quite as decisive as I'd like to be. But better. So... here's something I'm a little hesitant about: sharing some lyrics. What, you say? You're NEVER hesitant about sharing lyrics. Sometimes for weeks at a time, that's ALL you share. And you'd be right about that. (You are SO smart) But these new lyrics are a little different.

 My writing over the last year or two has, I think, veered towards the personal and direct. Certainly the writing on the Paper Arrows' album did. But... lately, I think, I've fallen back a little bit into more impressionistic writing. Which is fine. I've been enjoying it. I think I do it better now... maybe I've found a better balance.

Anyway... So it came as a surprise last week when, on the plane ride home from L.A., I had one of the most vivid, difficult, personal, and ultimately (I guess) rewarding writing experiences I've ever had. It was pretty unbelievable actually... almost out of body.

I had no idea where I was going when I started writing and the whole thing kind of spiraled out of my control and left me a blubbering mess. Literally. Crying as quietly as possible in my seat, tens of thousands of feet in the air, scaring the crap out of my traveling companion... battling with the words in front of me as they poured out of my hand onto the paper. 
I don't know quite how else to describe it.

Out of body is probably the best way. So over the course of maybe 45 minutes, I rocked in my window seat, wept mostly silent tears, and with a singular focus chased and channeled the lyrical demon I'd unknowingly summoned... it just kept going and going and going.

What I was left with at the end of the experience is... something I'm almost afraid of. Something I've been trying to set to music, but not trying too hard... out of fear? Out of... I don't know. So... before I hesitate. Again.

EXPLOSIONS BELOW Explosions below And still lingering dreams Of funerals and arguments And trying to breathe As water runs in From impossible seas Saying goodbye Never leads where it seems To lead Burning my skin Til it peels away And hoping the coast Gives me something to say In the end it turned out I was borrowing days And I opened my eyes Just a little too late It's always too late It's all drifting away It's all fading to grey And I'm watching her go And I'm checking the phone And I'm waiting for love But it's never enough And I'm drying her eyes Like it means we'll survive Like it makes it okay That she's leaving today And taking her things And leaving her rings And I'm missing her laugh It's echoing out In the hollowed out rooms It's echoing loud And I'm sick of the ghosts And I'm tired of hope And I'm tired of tears So tired of tears I'm forgetting the days They're all slipping away I'm letting them fade Into shadows and graves Into thunder and rain Into sunshine and planes And explosions below And I'm hiding my face And I'm trying to breathe And I'm catching my breath And I'm ready to leave And I'm burning her name With my hand in the flames I'm turning the page Of the last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me

jbg

The Verge

Today is quiet... Or rather, today I'm quiet. Things are on the verge. That's probably the best way to put it.

Things are on the verge. The transitional weather seems to have spilled over into life... or maybe, given this summer's revelations regarding meteorological concurrences, life has spilled over into the jetstream. But somehow everything feels new, or as if it's going towards newness. And that means, of course, acknowledging the old and finding a way to say goodbye to it... trying desperately to hold on to the good and to be at peace with the bad... And today feels on the verge.

Tomorrow... it's off to L.A. Can't wait. Maybe life will be on the verge from here on out... maybe that's the new thing. Maybe being on the verge means you're always taking chances, always pushing limits, always moving forwards... it may be uncomfortable at times, but maybe it's the price you have to pay for living true, for taking risks, for moving on from failures, for saying goodbye, for grieving and drying your tears, for walking out on the wire with no net...

Maybe that's The Verge. And maybe, just maybe... I'm finally okay with that.

Today.

September 20.

Love,
jbg

In The Small Hours

So I couldn't sleep last night... Which has been a rare occurance lately. Some combination of mild sleep medication, running 30 plus miles a week, the occasional beer, and feeling (relatively) more settled in life has meant that my insomnia has been more or less under control.

 But last night... Maybe it was the fact that I've been sick since Monday and sleeping like crazy and my mind had finally had enough sleep. Maybe I'm anxious about something. I don't know. In spite of enlisting some pharmaceutical help, I found myself wide awake past midnight. So instead of fighting it, I got up and adjorned to the living room to read and write... a practice I embraced quite a bit in previous times of sleeplessness.

The weather has been absolutely amazing the last few days... like we're walking a bridge between summer and fall and are lucky enough to get a week with weather that embraces the best of both seasons... the warmth and sun of summer tempered by the moderation, comfort, and change of fall...

As I sat in my living room, reminding myself I didn't have to work on Thursday and encouraging myself to take advantage of this rare day off to finish healing from my illness and just generally get a few things done which have been slipping through the cracks (whew), the smell of someone smoking on the street drifted through the open windows...

Late night smoke always reminds me of living on Magnolia Ave. with Ben... he was working a 2nd shift job and would come home about 10 o'clock at night from work... we would hang out for a bit and chat, and then I would go to bed and he would go out on the back porch and write... typing on an old manual typewriter and smoking cigarettes.

I would drift off to sleep to the steady beat of typewriter keys and the strangely comforting scent of smoke... Man, those were some great times. And simple times. And already, a long time ago. So I guess I had a little moment of Proustian nostalgia (best... etymology... ever: nostos - "a journey home" + algos - "sickness").

My voice has been pretty cashed from being sick so I've been taking the opportunity to try to write lyrics with no music... with the idea I'll go back when my voice is better and write the music... this is the opposite of how I usually work I guess... but Jay and I had a discussion a little while back about writing this way, and I've been trying it more and more... letting the lyrics and melody guide the music.

Anyway, I had a verse worked up I pieced together on the train on Monday as I was riding home from work, feeling sicker than sick... I took that verse, and tried to capture my post-midnight-insomnia-smoke-induced-pharmaceutical-influenced-weather-seasoned nostalgic feelings...

 UNTIL WE COULDN'T CRY NO MORE I missed your opening And lit the lights And crosses faded Into the night On top of copper Needles raised Into the sky And for the saved I'm reminded how I Sat with you and cried Until I Couldn't cry No more The smoke, it rose Into my room And down below The fires bloomed In tiny breaths The life was passed From lips to lips From first to last I'm reminded how I Sat with you and cried Until I Couldn't cry No more

jbg