キンピラ・ピーラ

安全じゃないよ

毛穴の洞穴

掘り下げると

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

人参が必要だよ

 農業技術

なかなか下手だよ

持ってないよ、ブーツ

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

茶色の色調

オレンジと混じってる

労を惜しむ

腸チフス

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

キンピラ、

キンピラ、

キンピラ、

僕もピーラ

キンピラ・ピーラ

Raccoons In My Car

There's some Raccoon guys

Who didn't know why

They were in my car last night

...in the moonlight

They just made a mess

Of things that weren't there's

With that five-fingered finesse

...wearing a mask

And I'll never know why

It's a Raccoon mind

That is different than mine

...most of the time

Even though the door's not ajar

There's Raccoons in my car

They left quite a scene

Why are they so mean

There's been some Raccoons in my car

...

It seems it should have been hard

For Raccoons to get in my car

The dash is stratched

The door's still latched

I've been violated

I'm not very elated

There's been some Raccoons in my car

I Miss You & I

I miss you whoever you are
Someone with whom I don't need to be a star
I miss you whoever you are
Someone with whom I don't need to be a star

I feel like a squirrel hiding from an enemy
Hiding on the other side of the trunk of the tree
Some things scare the bejesus out of me

I miss me wherever I am
Someone with whom I don't need to be a ham
I miss me wherever I am
Someone with whom I don't need to be a ham

I feel like a crawdad pinching his claws
Feeling threatened like a old shark named Jaws
Sometimes being this scared must be wrong

Whoever you are, I need one of you to find me
Whoever I am, I need one of me to steal me
Whoever we are, I need all of us immediately

I feel like the exotic sloth in an exotic place
Like a lonely frog waiting on a dried up lake
Someone waiting this long seems such a waste

I miss you whoever you are
Someone with whom I don't need to be a star
I miss me wherever I am
Someone with whom I don't need to be a ham

Knock On Wood

I didn't know what to do with that deathly feeling
Knotted nerves all bunched up within me
Like the buzzards picking the carrion bones
I felt so alone

I was all alone to fight
But all I wanted was flight
Away from that feeling
I carried in my inner being
But now I got soul strength
And it should all be good
Knock on wood, knock on wood, knock on
Wood

An enemy within me fought normalcy
An enemy so perverse it was unseen
I could feel it but there were no soul scouts
To help me figure out what this was all about

I was all alone to fight
But all I wanted was flight
Away from that feeling
I carried in my inner being
But now I got soul strength
And it should all be good
Knock on wood, knock on wood, knock on
Wood

Knock on wood

Ballad of Woe

Jacques said
All the world’s a stage
And last night when I called you
And got your answering machine
I got a bad case of stage fright

And didn’t say much of anything
Please allow me to explain
I didn’t know what I was thinking
Oh no
I was sans skills, sans strength, sans game, sans everything

We were at a crazy club
Everyone was dancing
Acting a fool and acting nuts
But we were in the throws of conversing
There was a thing
Or at least I wasn't pretending

To woo a girl close
You gotta be a thespian yo
Or else it’ll inevitably
Be a ballad of, be a ballad of, a ballad of
Woe woe woe woe woe woe

instrumental refrain

To woo a girl close
You gotta be a thespian yo
Or else it’ll inevitably
Be a ballad of, be a ballad of, a ballad of
Woe woe woe woe woe woe

Whoa,
Slow down
Memorize
My lines
Next time, next time, next time

Jacques said
All the world's a stage
And next time when I call you
And get your answering machine
I'll have all my lines memorized

I like this song. The meaning is quite obvious, because I described a situation with a few details of place in the first person style, like a time-lined story (sort of). I haven't written a song like this before. Normally I gravitate toward generalities. Also, it is first time I pilfered from Shakespeare in writing a song..(many lyrics and also the title of the song). Other things I like about this song: answering machine, dancing, sans sans sans sans, whoa after woe, yo, Jacques. Its good to start a song with a bold French name.

perverse and meaningless

I'm unsure. I have no feedback from which to judge my progress as a songwriter. I think I am not so good, mainly because I never think that I use my brain as I much as I could when constructing words. I think I get lazy. Writing a song isn't an inherently pro-active process. One can write a song without even thinking (or writing) sometimes. The difference between a song that people can relate to, feel a connection with, or find interesting and a song that is ho-hum is, perhaps, the amount of brainpower one puts into it (if the talent exists to write a good song).

Wait. Talent? What is that? It is merely a result of hard work and timing. In almost every detail I agree with Malcolm Gladwell, author of the well-received book Outliers. Though I am an advocate of his theories, I am a bit forlorn by them; I feel I don't have the spark to put me over the edge of mediocrity.

Noggin gymnastics require constant stretching! I need more pressure to stretch.

I think I have the ability. I really do. I wonder if I have the concentration. I think I settle too easily.

Contrarily, some of the best stuff I have ever sang, thought of, or felt has been free-styled. It might be that my brain waves are on overdrive, a sort of unbound freedom, in those situations. God needs a tape recorder. The next morning we can awake and revisit those situations. Watching yourself without inhibition is one of the wildest things you can do. Watching others positively react to an uninhibited you can blow your mind. It can change your life. Why do minds sometimes open up? I want to bottle my most confident moments, and then concentrate it for future use.

Anyway, songs are funny creatures. They help one navigate the seas of one's topsy-turvy mind, but if one wants the navigation to complete itself, one needs the confidence to advertise one's feelings, insecurities, and personality.

We all need to connect 1 to 8 sometimes, and forget about 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

Harmony

I wanna make my own kind of music
With my own acoustic instrument
I think its cool and really rad
To make a song and feel so very glad

I could try to be a cool DJ
Make the ladies dance til the morning
But those songs aren’t my very own songs
And I don't party all night, night long

I like the beach in the afternoons
Under the sun singing my own tunes
Watching the girls shake their booty
Runnin’ around playing Frisbee

I like things to happen organically
We can sing without an entry fee
Clap one of your hands or tap both your feet
Whatever your style, its all harmony

Harmony X 3

I love it when a song releases me
When I’m all alone its very easy
In front of you its very challenging
The reward, though, is like a diamond ring

I’m no savant or musical genius
But I know that I really like this
Sing a song and make some contrails
Across the sky when I finally exhale

I’ll even lend my acoustic instrument
If you have some feelings you'd like to vent
Or even if you have no real reason
Just to sing about some random mountain

I might sing this song on a beach or camping
Or I might be in my room singing gently
I won’t need that fancy electricity
Where-ever I go, its natural harmony

Harmony X 3



I have yet to figure out a way to play this song. You don't need a hyper-analytical mind to know that I was in a good mood when I wrote it. Good moods don't typically translate into good songs. Artists are by nature moody and few people like an artist who is always saccharin sweet. But this begs the question...do I consider myself an artist? I am on the fence with that one. Artistry comes with practice, and I don't think I have invested enough time yet.
Though, I realize it is a flexible term. The Ramones had to find a lead singer because the bass player (Dee Dee) realized he couldn't play and sing at the same time.

Digressions aside, I dig the idea of this song, & once I get a tune with it, I would like to sing it on a beach with some inebriated friends. However, revisions are needed... For one, its pretty corny. Also, I think there is too many verses, too many words, and not enough breakdowns... more to come here.

5 & a 10er

All I got is a 5 & a 10er
& that’s not enough for the occasional sinner
To go to town to find
A girl who’ll give him the time

All I got is a 5 & a 10er
& that’s not enough to buy me dinner
If I want to be healthy
and buy the organic kind

All I got is a 5 & a 10er
& I’m not even a beginner
I’m old enough to be a senator
Writing laws instead of rhymes

WHAT’S MORE…

I could use a 50 & a 100er
To find something a lil’ prettier
Than the cardboard box I use
as a table…bedside

UH-HUH X3

All I got is a 5 & a 10er
& that’s not enough to get a new pedal
On my broken bike
I can’t even get around

All I got is a 5 & a 10er
& I’m gonna wait until the end of winter
So when the birds fly back
I’ll get a 6-pack and be unbound

All I got is a 5 & a 10er
But I used to only have a 1 & a 5er
And the song I wrote then
didn’t have such a positive end

BUT STILL…

I could use a 50 & a 100er
To find something a tad bit realer
Than the fake girlfriend that resides
In my… 5 & 10er mind

UH HUH X3

I could use a 50 & a 100er
But I guess I'll have to fool her
All I really need is some
Cool box drapery… chicanery

UH HUH X3


I am a graduate student living in San Francisco. I have no choice but to ration my expenses with care. When I thought of this song, I actually did have a 5 and a 10er in my wallet, & I was thinking how it would be nice if I had more. Also, every detail in this song is (or was) true.

Incidentally, the melody I use in the verses sounds very similar to "Plastic Jesus".

Wet Matches

I was a mole oblivious to
The sky’s deep azure blue
(I was stuck) in dark shadows
My soul was in zig-zag flows
Now people I care about think I’m rude

What was going on in my head?
Consequences of the bed
(I’ve realized) are real and deep
They bite me in my sleep
Reproaches I now dread

Lord I’m trying to
Fasten the hatches
Latch the latches
Secure myself
And pray the scars get patches

Lordy, I’m hoping
Friendship rehatches
Trust can build in batches
Look eye to eye
And not feel like wet matches

After all the situations I misread
Many bros want to tear off my head
(I need to) open my eyes
And see the humanity lights
Or be a single living dead

My behavior was like mothballs
Smelled bad and lasted far too long
(It’s time to) open drawers
And numerous doors
And stop being a hallowed out gourd

CHORUS

It’ll take time I know
I’ve got the time, ya know
I’ll use the time to show
I’m a real dude with empathy and gold

CHORUS



This is my most personal song to date...in the sense of personal criticism. I have been a bad boy in my past, and rectifying certain things is important to me. At any rate, lyrically, it was a major step for me to try to write about something deep within me. It was very therapeutic and cathartic.

You're Getting Away From Me

Oh, you’re getting away from me
The strings are stretching so thin for me
You’re 405 furlongs from town
You’re 504 fathoms down

You might still in my dreams when I sleep
But my memory is getting hazy
Oh, you’re getting away from me
Oh, you’re getting away from me

Oh, you’re set deep in my history
Like my old black and white TV
Playing some River Raid
On my beat-up Atari
Oh, you’re getting away from me

Even if I saw your photo
I’d double take
Brain synapse earthquake
Kind of like knowing an elbow
I forgot your face
Oh, you’re getting away from me

Oh, you’re getting away from me
The strings are stretching so thin for me
You’re 405 furlongs from town
You’re 504 fathoms down
Oh, you’re getting away from me


This is my sparsest song to date. There is a lot of air in it when I play it. I went with simplicity; a good step. A few chords with some words... It is hard to not add unnecessary bits, though! Not sure about the river raid lyric, but I really like it...it feels like something I would write.

Sunfish Lady

Bright Sunfish lady
You breathe in a different way
In a different way
Bright sunfish lady
You breathe in a different way
Gills on your face
Bright sunfish baby
You breathe in a different way
From me

Why don’t you teach me?
To breathe your way
Breathe your way
Why don’t you teach me?
To breathe your way
I’d get an A
Why don’t you teach me?
To breathe your way
Lady please

We can school together
And not separate
Separate
We can school together
And not separate
Its most safe

Oh, baby please
Don’t (Swim Away)
You know I can’t (Go Too Deep)
Without Surfac(ing to Breathe)

Bright Sunfish lady
You breathe in a different way
In a different way
Bright Sunfish lady
You breathe in a different way
Different way

CHORUS

Bright Sunfish lady
If I can learn to breathe
At least sporadically
You’ll like me, I think
Even when I can’t breathe
Baby next to you I can’t breathe
Bright Sunfish baby

This song exists because I like the word sunfish. Rahfish. Rawfish. Sun Rah Fish. Fishin' for Sun Rah...

I welcome me back

It has been a long time since my last song update. This mainly because I have moved to San Francisco, and acquainting myself to the city has taken precedence. Also, I thought about retiring this blog because I didn't know if posting these songs (none of which I am totally happy with) was a good idea. But, in the end, I decided that if I didn't post them, nobody would even know they exist (besides myself, and perhaps a family member or two). Well, tonight I am going to post a few songs I have written since moving to San Francisco.

However, I am no longer going to explain my lyrics. Well, I might a little. But if I have an explanation, it will be more about the process than the meaning. I think that is more interesting to write about anyway.

Plus, I want you to interpret my words in your own way. If I have any visitors anyway. If you a visitor reading this, Thanks!!

Passover

It isn't that I haven't wrote anymore songs. No, its not that.

I don't believe in writing these words anymore. I am in the midst of a process. A process of bettering my ability of writing my feelings and observations in a song form. I want to get better at it without the process of writing a blog too.

It is consuming, this thinking about the world in a song-structural format. My brain says yes.

Yes, I like songs more than blogs. I like lots of things. I feel a little over-bearing.

The stoppage of this blog is near. But maybe not forever.

What are you doing, Jon?

It has come to recent attention that people cannot leave comments on this blog. It must be a HTML problem in my template code. I will fix it soon. I am a mere idiot in computer-speak. Though I do a go HAL 9000 impression...

"Without You" Recording

I have not had many comments on this blog. I am perfectly OK with that. I am not really publishing this stuff for the world to see. Actually, I don't know who I want to read my songs. I just hope they understand it is a constant process of deciding crap vs good. The line is so fine, and I still can't fully recognize it.

Anyway, one confidence-boosting comment was from my buddy Mike Atwood in regards to my lyrics to Without You, a song I wrote last year. I took an an hour today and roughly recorded Without You. I am fairly new at recording, so bear with me! For a quick listen, please jump over to my MySpace page, Dusty & Plain. It is listen to-able there. Mike, tell me what you think...

Cheers and happy listening? J

Backyard

I was sitting at the kitchen table when dad started talking about something political or societal; I cannot remember what. He was bitter with the way something was and is. With an understanding askew glance, I, without a smidgen of forethought, mentioned how some people are without the ability to see hypocrisy. I became smitten with that concept. It is true that numerous people cannot see hypocrisy and its effect on their lives. Two days later, in the evening fading light, I reprised that idea and quickly made this song. The first two verses came instantly and the rest cohered so well I was scared...

Why is it impossible
Why is it so hard
For some to see
The hypocrisy
in their own backyard?

I just don't know
I just don't understand
Why some people
Can't even see
The back of their hand?

There's no lack of ignorance
There's no lack of shout
But just like Abe said
Why open your mouth
And remove all doubt?

Is it 1984 all over again?
The proles consumed, consumed by sin
And love and sex and others' fame
Weather reports and football updates
By made-up dames
They keep our eyes off, off the game
That controls the middle, begin, and end

They say

Close your eyes
Open your mouth
Come on now, eat this
No, its not foul

Its magically delicious
That's no lie
Come on now, you can trust us
Because we live your life

Is it 1984 all over again?
The proles consumed, consumed by sin
And love and sex and others' fame
Weather reports and football updates
By made-up dames
They keep our eyes off, off the game
That controls the middle, begin, and end

Is it even important
For someone to take charge
And help the people see
The hypocrisy
In their own backyard?

Two caveats: I have used the word prole and dame in two recent songs. I have a anti-authoritative streak and a pro-woman streak in me I guess. I think that is an accurate statement.
Anyway, you may ask what hypocrisy I am referring to. Figure it out for yourself!!

Cheers! Jon

Helsinki and a Word

	Architecture in Helsinki - Like It Or Not (Version 2)
	Found at skreemr.com

More songs written! More coming soon! Please have patience! Who am I speaking to!

Criteria

I started this song late Saturday night, two days ago, after everyone else had went to bed. Earlier that Saturday, in the afternoon, I had started another song, titled Face To the Name. It is not ready for this blog, but it is pretty good I think... Face to the Name is a so-called "serious" relationship song, and after wrangling with it for a while, I was ready for some lightheartedness. Criteria became alive very quickly. It is thematically about my relationships with girls but fun, poppy and major-chord driven. Anyway, here is the words:

I went out with a girl with the same name as my mom
I went out with a girl with the same name as my sister
I went out with a girl with the same name as my dad

And I dunno what to do
I just can't choose
If my growing criteria
Makes it hard to do
I mean, what if she has hysteria
I'll have to get outta there

I went out with a girl with the same name as my grandma
I went out with a girl with the same name as my grandpa
I went out with a girl with the same name as my dog

And I dunno what to do
I just can't choose
If my growing criteria
Makes it hard to do
I mean, what if she has hysteria
I'll have to get outta there

I'm too picky these days
And too tired for the games
I know I'm kinda lame
But some cool lady must at least find me OK

And I dunno what to do
I just can't choose
If my growing criteria
Makes it hard to do
I mean, what if she has hysteria
Or she has malaria
Or always swearin', yeah
Or likes drama
Or drinks cola
Or has no aura
Or had head trauma
Or has paranoia
Or has the same name as my grandpa
I'll have to get outta there
I'll have to get outta there
I'll have to get outta there

I feel like that, as I have gotten older, I have gotten a better sense of what I would like in a woman. When I was was younger I couldn't have truthfully answered the question, "what kind of girl do you like?" I didn't really know. However, paradoxically, while discovering what exactly I like and desire in a woman, I might have narrowed it down to the point where I might never find one. I don't know if that is true or not, to tell you the truth. But the idea has crossed my head, obviously.

Incidentally, when I read the lyrics, I can't help but think of Seinfeld and how he always picked the stupidest things to break up over. Am I like Seinfeld? For further incidentals, I have never dated anyone with the same name as my mom, dad, sisters, grandma, grandpa, or dog. But I could...my dad's name is Kelly and my grandpa's name is Joe. I don't have a dog.

The Peepers

This is my first spring in Vermont. The seasons change a little later here than any other place I've spent spring. Its mid-May now, and we are due for a good frost tonight. This happens. In mid-April, the peepers came out, singing their song. Though I didn't know it until later, Dad says they were premature this year. We had an unusual warm spell at that time. The peepers' internal clocks got distracted, causing them to emerge early. I was on the deck playing guitar, which overlooks our small pond, when the first peeper sang this year. I heard the first peep of 2009 on this property. To me, it was the first peep anywhere for 2009. Then a beautiful din of peeps started, a lovely cacophony of love songs. I wanted to sing with them! So, I sang about them. I sang these words:

The peepers are out
The peepers are out
They're singing their song
They're singing their song
Its a spring, spring song
Its a spring, spring song

So now, nothing, nothing, can go wrong
So now, nothing, nothing, will go wrong

The peepers are out
Its almost a shout
They're singing so loud
Miles from any town

So now, nothing, nothing, can go wrong
So now, nothing, nothing, will go wrong

The peepers are out
The sun rays are out
There's nary a cloud
Miles from any town

Mother Nature, nature, is always right
Mother Nature, nature, feels so alright

The peepers are out
The peepers are out
They're singing their song
They're singing their song
Its a spring, spring song
Its a spring, spring song

Mother Nature, nature, is always right
Mother Nature, nature, feels so alright

And it feels so alright

I was feeling the peepers that day... & I should have felt their aural tonic for weeks. However, as the earth so often does, the earth did not comply with their boisterous beginnings. A short time later, hard freezes shut down the peeper operation. The singing stopped. I was sad that I had not had more time to sing with the peepers. I felt I should rewrite the song to describe over-zealousness. Us humans are not unlike those peepers. We often bite off more than we can chew, start a project with a paucity of pre-thought or would answer a question without knowledge rather than admit ignorance. These peepers should have known better. My May has been without their song. Because of that, paradoxically, I didn't change the words to reflect the situation. I sing it the way I first sang it; I do not want to forget the joy I felt singing with the peepers that mid-April day.

Dusty & Plain

I have many faces. I like the uplifting, the ironic, the dire, the idiotic, the dense, the airy, the straight-arrow, the earth-bound and the otherworldly. I really like nonsense. Whimsy makes a happy Jon, so I started this Myspace page on which I will put some stupid creations to advertise my whimsy in music. I am Dusty & Plain...it makes me happy to be stupid!

I hope to someday soon start putting the songs on this blog into a listenable form right here on this blog. I need better recording equipment. I take some things more seriously I guess. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Dusty & Plain.