Shadow on the Wall

Gone

It's hard for me to see when I'm wrong
It's hard for me to weep when I'm strong
But I could never sleep when you're gone
Oh but still
If you were gonna crucify me
I wouldn't want nobody to see
'Cause you could kick me hard when I'm down
Down, down, down

I don't want wanna be
Nobody's fool
I've played that part so many times before
How I long to be
A shadow on the wall
I will make no sound at all
And when the sun goes down
The shadow on the wall
It cannot be seen at all
At all

Over it
Hey it's not that you would mess with my head
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
I believe that you believe what you said
You think you know me best and you care

But that's not fair!
'Cause I don't really want to be safe
It must have been the way I was raised
Sleep with one eye open I say
Hey hey hey

I don't wanna be
Nobody's fool
I've played that part so many times before
How I long to be
A shadow on the wall
I will make no sound at all
And when the sun goes down
The shadow on the wall
It cannot be seen at all
At all

Oh
How I long to be
A shadow on the wall
I would make no sound at all
At all

Brandi Carlile, Shadow on the Wall

Is this way easier?

Brandi Carlile, The Story (Cover)

(See more recent post for this cover tune. I have decided to put the video blogs up through YouTube so that I would be able to manage them more easily.)

So, rather than write some poetry and post this song, I just assumed cover it and paste it up. I just discovered this artist, Brandi Carlile, (though I think I refer to her as "Brenda" in the video intro, shoot- see I really did just find her!) thanks to my listening obsession with Pandora. I have always loved Ani DiFranco and then this other amazing woman's voice was chiming through my computer speakers. Phenomenal energy, phenomenal lyrics, just so Patsy Cline-ish and raw- very beautiful music.

I am loving her today.

Here is an additional Brandi Carlile track I am in love with today, "Closer to You":

Uncovered Indefinately

Going to sit and meditate with my guitar in hands, capo on the 2nd fret, and not cover anything. I am going to see what happens. Ugh. I haven't wanted to revisit myself in this space and have been prolonging the time away through working out covers only. I feel like I have this truth locked away and that it will be like Pandora's field-day (never mind that damn little box) when I am alone and open my mouth.

Someone said something interesting last night to me. They said that they were recently told by another that when we have out a shield, we also have a drawn sword; that in battle, we are taught to throw a block while maintaining the resistance. I think that I wonder sometimes what is in the other pocket, the one to the opposite side of the shield; I wonder what's in the clenched fist gripping at the hilt.

Perhaps, instead, the writing isn't on the wall, but in my hand. In blue ink. I am conscious there is a message, worn by time, but still insistent not to wash my hands of it just yet. Like, the way I felt after a boy first took it and caressed it under a table, I felt so sad to wash the experience away with soap, as if each trip to the water faucet would bring me one further from the moment I longed to be in. If at eight, I could feel at that depth, imagine the ocean below at twenty-more. Much to navigate. The space I mean, that both separates us into oceans apart, but connects us as we travel upon its sturdy back of circumstance.

I love you Past. I love you and I don't have to think about how to have you in my life, as you are. This is the experience. We are living in. We are living across. We are both living on. Intregal(ly) connected upon the same sea of certainty. My first mate, my captain, my siren at rocky-shore edge. (Breathe).

The present we bathe eternally in. (Breathe).

And the present has passed. (Breathe).

But, then a new present returns. (Breathe).

Forever Yours,

B

Throw Your Arms, cover

(Needs to be re-done. . . ha ha. Biggest critic has the power of the veto action.)

So, I got the suggestion that I should use my hood this morning to cover my bed head. Well, I think I am maybe the only one that finds early morning (afternoon in this case) hair is simply rad. A serious testament to a night slept well, great dreams, and easy living.

Yep, never mind the cross-eyed action once again. I think I know this song by heart, but wasn't bothering to test myself. Hence, the constant reading off the screen action.

Ok, I've got like five minutes to shower and get over to Redondo Beach.

So, if there was any mandolin player out there, hint hint, who wanted to learn this Eddie Vedder song:

E(m?)/A/E(m?)/B

or, the way I am playing it is basically capo on the 2nd fret, D/G/D/A - and then, bridge is just D/G/A.

YouTubeable

Hmm. What's the song of the day? I listened to plenty of Jason Mraz this afternoon in the car. I was super disappointed to find that he is not quite as YouTubeable as I had hoped. I really wanted the chance to find this one song and then study the lyrics and chord progression tonight for this open mic on Thursday. Needless to say, it was a true needle 'n haystack search after following one internet-tangent after another.

So, to all you ex-boyfriends out there who made me CDs with your dedicated list of Mp3s, it would have been super fabulous if you had also left me a list of the song titles. What's sad is I don't know from whom I picked this live track recording up from. What's even sadder is I can't recognize the handwriting, but I probably own a pair of his socks somewhere amidst the collection.

Angel Babies, thanks for last night.

(Place-holder)

I am going to re-record this song then place it back up. I can't stand parts of it, like my being super off key and my attempt at some vocal licks that are super out of my range.

I can't express how much it felt good to just go out last night and chill with great people. I am trying to focus a bit on the positive at the moment (hard, I know, I am so tempted to wallow). So, good times at the mic last night, I guess I never mind goofing off at it. Sure to repeat soon (tonight most likely). And, I better pull some lyrics to some familiar songs off the internet here, or I am sure to repeat ballads from our dear Ben Harper all evening.

Bargain-chipped

I've decided to include some musical piece as an intro to my own personal writing. I think so many times, we creatives are longing to find a way to uniquely express a very common experience. So, I put it my way, Dylan wrote it his, but we are both attempting to harness a bit of the ineffable.

In my inability to suck in,

hold,

exhale

and repeat today,

I realized I was traded over a table,

gambled at my own expense,

an accepted defeat as consequence for trivial longing

Bargain-chipped for someone else's freedom

A good night sleep

A favorite show

a post-couple-war copulation

following the loss of your personal life's stronghold

Under what terms did I masquerade?

What value priced out for?

If I could trade you in for peace

Admittedly

I might.

But,

I sleep to escape from daydream-girl fantasy

I don't even own a TV

And, there isn't enough fight in the circumstance I chose

to have peace come at the expense of me

Vanilla-bean fantasy, look eslewhere

I asked what flavor of ice cream he wanted

Vanilla

Keep it vanilla.

Being the saccharine-sweet sugar I am

I scooped him a sundae of wonderment,

a fudge-dipped, cherry tipped of desire

on one hell of a banana boat of fantasy:

And, hon',

We don't sell vanilla here.

Not a value judgement as so much just a statement

I think if you really wanted to keep it that way

Vanilla, I mean-

referring to a relationship fancy-free,

you wouldn't find yourself

wheeling 'round in the revolving door

to a store you continually return

over and over again

only to rediscover it doesn't carry

the Vanilla

you're looking for.

I implore:

Rid yourself of this cognitive dissonance

once more

Resolve the urge to continually revolve.

Make peace with the mistake it was to walk away

to turn down the sundae

for that simple, predictable-

and oh so palatable vanilla taste.

Quit participating in the pretentiousness

that what we have is what we live for

when really, it seems that if we have what we lived for

we might surely cease to live at all-

'cause the over indulgence in the what of our desire

rather than in the actual desiring itself

seems to give away

give in

and make hasty waste of triple scoop, chocolate decadent fantasy.

Have your vanilla- but don't come 'round here seeking it out.

And, if you do,

don't be surprised when it turns out that in

the temporary absence of your continual return

the store you repeatedly seek

has closed up

gone underground

or just underneath-

the sheets perhaps

of something more permanent,

like an enclosure of circumstance and choice-

remade and remade ad infinitum

Latin for I'm stuck.

Latin for your Vanilla-bean of regrets in choiceless living.

Slow n Steady

Leonard Cohen cover, Jeff Buckley version. Take 52. Yes, I'm reading the words and chords off the computer. Simple progression, just making it easy for me. Nope, not typically cross-eyed, contrary to video footage embedded here.

Best part:

"Baby I've been here before

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you

I've seen your flag on the marble arch

But love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah"

Home is Whenever I am With You

Nice. Speaks my mind. Makes me want to shake my tambourine for you.

This method-acting

I am excited to report that I am going to some random street corner this evening and will be playing "out." Sans the mic, of course, but there will be live bystanders and perhaps a Guiness in store. Covers, covers, for sure. In good time, I will hope to revisit the ones I can claim for my own in addition to penning some new ones. But for those in the know, we can probably imagine that the new ones will be recycled versions of the old, so why trample a done thing, right? Maybe, new experiences will equal new material. For my own listening pleasure, I hope so. I don't think I can stand to hear the whining anymore either.

Some ideas floating in the mind-mix.

Damn

when I know that I couldn't pretend

my heart into passing

this polygraph of testimony:

I'm over it.

Green-screen of living

On autopilot to escape into the daydream

My mind method-acting (out)

the alternate piece staring you and me.

So, duck You into the margin of my thoughts

Take a seat

there

in the chair

Beside what could've been.

Watch the wooden stage-

upon which play the players,

from a script to the role you wrote

yourself out of.

Jason Mraz, I'm Yours cover

Like we really need one more cover to this Jason Mraz tune, but it was too catchy to avoid. So, after a big long 4-year hiatus, here is my stab at this radio-kill song, butchered of course, ha ha. Figured posting a cover was my first step towards putting it all out there with some original, oldies but goodies. I am sort of on an anti-pining tip, so maybe it's just time to start penning lullabies or some other emotionally harmless stuff. Next step, Baa Baa Black Sheep- so watch out.

Dear Moth:

This is your Flame speaking. Lately, I have been burning rather bright, too bright. Perhaps, I have been unaware of the potential burns that can result from this. I have been selfishly bent on (over)communicating my desire and need for constant kindle and have neglected to remind myself that this is not your responsibility. It is in your nature to appreciate, but continually feed? Yes, not apart of the original negotiations.