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.

Some Sweetness

It has been a blissfully warm week in Vermont. Uncharacteristically, it rose well into the 90 degrees Fahrenheit zone a few days. Yesterday and today were well into that lovely zone. I sat on the porch in a positive frame of mind, tanning my winter-white skin, wearing my cool shades, strumming my sun-bleached guitar making this song.

What's more important
The melodies or the words
Just put them together and be sweet

What's more important
The birds or the bees
Just put them together and be sweet

What's more important
The peaces or the wars
Just put them together and be sweet

What's more important
The goods or the bads
Just put them together and be sweet

You never know what you're gonna get
The world will always burp and spit
Just gotta live your life with
Lotsa love and some sweetness

Who's more important
The proles or the kings
Just put them together and be sweet

Who's more important
The girls or the boys
Just put them together and be sweet

Who's more important
The kids or the 'rents
Just put them together and be sweet

Who's more important
The yous or the mes
Just put them together and be sweet

instrumental bridge

When's more important
The dusks or the dawns
Just put them together and be sweet

When's more important
The springs or the falls
Just put them together and be sweet

When's more important
The posts or the pres
Just put them together and be sweet

When's more important
The nows or the laters
Just put them together and be sweet

You never know what you're gonna get
The world will always burp and spit
Just gotta live your life with
Lotsa love and some sweetness
Lotsa love and some sweetness
Lotsa love and some sweetness

Essentially, I want to convey that despite all the crap in the world, you have to still be a good human being. You have to try to feel empathy, give lotsa love and go ahead and show some sweetness. I have had a long road trying to open up enough that people can see these traits in me. I tend to feel self-conscious when I do good things, but I am smart enough to forget about that. When it is sunny outside, when the Fahrenheit and Celsius are stratospheric, and I am on a deck with no shirt on, I feel very un-self-conscious about feeling good, and wanting others to feel good with me. Plus, all the things in the world that are worrisome become very insignificant. If I can, I would like to carry this kind of feeling along with me everywhere I go.

First note: I didn't worry about rhymeing much with this song. It was a sunny day inspiration and it just came out. However, the melody keeps it together. Its a somewhat serious melody in the verses but in the chorus it breaks into a really cool folky, happy melody. I always like singing my new songs, but I REALLY like singing this song. Though, I am sure once the newness wears out, I will wonder why I ever liked singing it as much as I did.

Second note: Being only two days old, there is a 98% chance that I will change this song in various ways. For instance, originally I changed keys in the song. I had the verses in the key of D and the choruses in the key of G. But I soon realized that was stupid. I am not confident enough to do that and think that I can get away with it. I need more seasoning. All songs go through steps, and this one isn't near to the end of the staircase.

Maya, My Asafoetida Senorita

As many already know, the original words in the melody for Paul McCartney's Yesterday was "Scrambled Eggs". When the melody for Maya came out of me, I was making a delicious Indian lentil soup with a tarka of oil, red chilies, cumin and asofoetida. It is my favorite soup in the world. Everyone should have the tarka in their repertoire. I am a big fan of asafoetida, named "the devil's herb" in some languages. It has a sneaky and lovely stink. Kind of like a unrequited love.

On a lentil-full stomach, I strummed the guitar and somehow put the words My Asafoetida Senorita to the melody I hummed while cooking earlier. Like McCartney, I thought it would be a temporary fill-in until something more suitable and likely surfaced. However, the replacement never came. I finished the song about Maya, the exotic woman in my fantasies: long black hair, brown eyes, artistic, strange, intelligent, my friend, and the kind of woman who would use asafoetida. Of course, to keep it as close to reality as possible, she is ignorant of my desires and I am too chicken to do anything about it...and that stinks.

Maya, My asafoetida senorita X 4
Do you notice my sighs with your brown eyes?
Its me thinking of all these dumb rhymes.

Maya, my o' my, I like your spice, care to share?
Maya, my friend, your blazing heat is hard to bear.
Maya, my illusions are of amour, not of granduer.

How do I wedge open her mind
so she doesn't see the space between?
Only the parallel lines connecting
her and me.

Her and me X 3

Maya, my eyes photo your sepia hair.
Maya, my knees buckled I could use a chair.
Maya, my my my, where do you get your exotic flair?

How do I wedge open her mind
so she doesn't see the space between?
Only the parallel lines connecting
her and me.

Her and me X3

Maya, My asafoetida senorita X 4
My my my my my my my...
My my my my my my my...
My my my my my my my...
My my my my my my my...
Asafoetida senorita
My my my my my my my
Asafoetida senorita

Do you notice my sighs with your brown eyes?
Its me thinking of all these dumb rhymes.

I like darker complexions on women, what can I say? I like black hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, and everything else. I am currently in one of the whitest states in the United States, Vermont. Perhaps that is why I felt compelled to write a song about my fictional Maya. It took me a while to come up with a suitable name for the role of "Maya". I chose Maya because 1)she is a Hindu goddess that represents illusion and magical arts and 2)it could be a Japanese woman's name. (what a great link!) Having an Indian connection was critical for me because asafoetida is mostly used on Indian subcontinent. Including the Japanese connection was a happy bonus, since I had lived there so long and I found so many Japanese women beautiful.

This song goes out to that Chinese girl Govinda & I met in Zhenjiang, China. We were at a club. She was wearing a silver-sequined black baseball cap with a netted back over her straight black hair, and she was breathtakingly beautiful. She is my Maya.

Pepe Hi-Q Tarka

When I have a melody idea I must record it pretty quick lest my brain unquestionably will not cooperate later on, and it will be lost forever. If I am at home, I go to the computer and use the Easy Hi-Q Recorder. It looks like this:


It has the shibui look to it that I love. I have found that I can also record from my MD player to my computer, converting my old MDs into MP3s, oggs, wave files, etc. .(& I have got quite a collection of MDs from my Japan days) Whats more, I can also record some of my favorite bands' music directly from the internet into MP3s, etc as well. Today I recorded all of Pepe California's live stuff from You Tube and recorded other esoteric Japanese stuff from Myspace and Last fm. If you like sunshine and our northern hemisphere's warming weather, I suggest checking out Pepe California. Click on Pepe for their main site, which has some awesome mixes for all seasons to download on the right side (I suggest this Chill & Red Hot Guitar or Die!! mix), click on California for their Myspace page, and click on the 's to go to Amazon Japan to purchase one of their summer-tonic albums.


The only lyric idea I came up with today was Baby, lets tarka together...tarka, tarka, tarka

Bussing up in a raincloud/cussing up a storm loud/need chill pills all around/passed left right up down/it'll be hours till town

Without You

This song has a normal-looking title. Love songs may carry a similar name. This is not a love song. Initially inspired by Mike Mills' documentary Does Your Soul Have a Cold?, Without You is about the medicinal culture in which we Americans live. I have an extremely critical view of our society in regard to prescription drugs, though I have benefited from them in the past. I took Lexapro (also known as Cipralex) to mellow anxiety for almost two years. It kinda did what it was supposed to do, and then I quit taking it, gradually weaning myself off of it. I thought I would never get off of it. I was scared of what would happen when I quit. What a powerful thing to put in your body and soul! I think too many people rely on these hard drugs when they are not necessary. It is culturally ingrained. Who ingrained it? The medicine industry, advertisements, commercials, doctors, blah, blah, blah. Our health has been exploited for profits and our perceptions of what sicknesses warrant pills have changed. It makes me sick. But not sick enough to take crazy medicines.

I've never had the word depression in my vocabulary
But now I do
Thanks to you
It sticks to me like glue

I think I need sanctuary
My soul's got flu
Is it a ruse
Apparently I'm blue

Suddenly its mid-January
In mid-June
Sobriety ruined
I saw it on the tube

And you
Tell me how I'm supposed to feel
Oh yes, you do
But I don't know how I'm supposed to feel
Without you

In the sky I saw stars and luminary
But the stars moved
Dunno where to
Somewhere else, 'cording to you

Now there's a melancholy cemetery
A new breakthrough
Too good to be true
A medicinal fondue

It used to be so unnecessary
We withstood
Our livelihoods
Just as we should

And you
Tell me how I'm supposed to feel
Oh yes, you do
But I don't know how I'm supposed to feel
But I don't know how I'm supposed to feel
But I don't know how I'm supposed to feel
Without you

Brought to you by

I am embarrassed to say that I have actually never seen Does Your Soul Have a Cold?. I just heard the premise from a friend. It is a good theory, so please check it out! I haven't had the chance yet. I rarely play this song, and I have yet to memorize the words completely. Memorization is still a weak area for me, though I am getting more proficient at letting it flow out. Anyway, Without You is lyrically simple, but it takes on a big subject. I hope it doesn't suck... Seriously, I have no idea!

Without You's chords and the pattern I play them, namely C/Am/G/Em/F in the verse and F/G/C/Am/F/G/C/F in the chorus, were inspired by this absolutely awesome song by Antony and the Johnsons (in piano)...

	Antony & The Johnsons - 03 For Today I'm A Boy.mp3
	Found at skreemr.com

The peepers are out!

I'm No Savant

I should shun these copious "info-blogs" about how to write songs like a chicken shuns open spaces when an buzzard is around. I like to figure things out by myself. I am in the do-it-yourself camp. I am a loner.

But then I find myself searching for songwriting blogs, and within a few minutes I am reading about the science of a song. I would rather avoid this kind of activity. I like to stay punk rock.

I feel that I have figured a lot of this stuff out by myself, but, not unlike my passion for understanding random countries' GDP and the evolutionary benefits of the sloth, I get enchanted. I read bits and pieces that put my thoughts in different words. Exactly the reason why I didn't want to read it in the first place. For example, I read this from The Essential Secrets of Songwriting Blog:

So don’t assume that every song you write has to be innovative in every way. If you’ve got a strong element in your song, as the lyric is in this song, let it do its work, and don’t clutter it up with other things that just confuse or distract the listener. Let your next song be innovative if you need it to be. In short, decide what your song’s attractive feature is, and let it do its work.

I didn't need to arrange my perfectly capable brain into thinking those words exactly.

I guess that is part of education. You learn how to let go of your ignorant self-reliant identity, search for other answers and advice, make an attempt to better yourself, and grease the moving parts so your motor hums. I really like that bit of advice from the aforementioned blog. However, somehow, I already knew that instinctively.

Nevertheless, I added it to my blogroll. Its good.

My Gallant Gov'na

I am an Illinoisan. And Rod Blagojevich was my governor until his recent troubles. I was feeling inspired one late night, thinking about Blago and my wonderfully scandalous home state. The news of his downfall was fresh. I wrote this song in honor of this odd, megalomaniacal man. It is my first (& only) tryst with a political theme. While I was writing it, I could not help but think of this song by the great Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise.

My gallant gov'na
Its a quagmire
You've got yourself in

You've taken the dollar
From the highest bidder
You're so, so brazen

My gallant gov'na
A cold night in Serbia
Looks so much better, don't ya think

There were madman lawmen
Tapin' your conversation
Yet, somehow you were so sanguine

So, look out, Blagojevich
Stop stratching that itch
So, look out, Blagojevich
Why be powerfully rich?

My gallant gov'na
From the city of Chicago
Where the mouths move like the wind

You know, the Tribune paper
Sure was a counterproductor
So you sought amelioration

My gallant gov'na
Are your confidants with ya
Best give them another wink wink

There's backside boys backin'
Back out of your kitchen
Aren't they such, such swine

So, look out, Blagojevich
Stop stratching that itch
So, look out, Blagojevich
Why be powerfully rich?

My gallant gov'na...

In this song I sometimes rhymed in places far away from each other, rather more like poetry I think. I don't know if that is a good device in a song, because they are so distant from each other, the idea of rhyme is sort of lost. Far-flung examples are in/wind, brazen/amelioration, think/wink, sanguine/swine. Despite its shortcomings, I enjoy having different layers of complexity in the song, so I can see myself doing that kind of stuff again.

Blago is an interesting dude. It is weird to write a song about him & his travails. I know that. But I still think that I did a good job capturing this most momentous moment of his in this song, though, seriously, he is a mere "B movie" politician with nutty hair. When he is long long out of the public's mind, I will have this song to reprise him into others' brains for a moment or two (not that others' brains would welcome it).

I like topics a little off the beaten path. Expect that from me.

Side Note: I was transferring this song by a very old typewriter to very old-looking brown paper one day and by accident I transmogrified the penultimate verse as My gallant gov'na/Are your confidants with ya/Aren't they such, such swine?. I really like it that way. Accidents can be better than anything purposeful sometimes. After Blago's trial, I might have to write the remix, depending on how many backstabbers surface.

Cactus Knee

7th chords make me think of deserts. I can't explain why that is. I don't have to. I think the creation of Cactus Knee was inspired by The Beatles' brilliant 7th chord-laden Rocky Raccoon.

	The Beatles - Rocky Racoon
	Found at skreemr.com

I wanted to make a song with lots of sevens. I was fiddling around with my guitar's 7th chords in my pop's living room, which is absolutely full of plants, with no meager number of those plants cacti. I was just singing fiddlesticks and fruitbaskets- you know, whatever came out my mouth. I guess all those cacti around me seeped into my subconscious because I started singing sitting on your cactus knee.... I grabbed a pen and started the song...

I feel the approaching fear
Its terribly dry out here
Hot in the day, Cold in the night
Could use a thorn in my rear

Hey baby, Lemme
Sit on your cactus knee

I'm no poison sidewinder
But I might get one and skin her
Drink the poison, Don the scales
So I can't say I didn't prepare

Hey baby, Lemme
Sit on your cactus knee X3
Hey baby, Lemme
Get what I need

Caught in the sunburning wind shear
Saw a mirage of my baby dear
She's wearing white, She's looking light
With dessicated eyes, I lear

Hey baby, Lemme
Sit on your cactus knee X3
Hey baby, Lemme
Get what I need

Hey baby, Lemme
Sit on your cactus knee X3
Hey baby, Lemme
Get what I need

This is a desperate man's pleading for a girl. Even a one night stand would be fine... Its been a while, baby. I might be that desperate man on my weaker days. I know I have been there. As you can see, my dry and desert feeling and theme is strong throughout the song. I like that, it matches what I feel with 7th chords. But I still don't like it as much as Rocky Raccoon.

Karma Knows

I really like the idea of karma. It is like a barter and trade system of economics. Over the course of time everything works out favorably, provided you are skilled at bartering and trading. I try to be a good karma barterer, and I think overall I come out ahead. But am I looking at everything exactly as karma would? Karma may have a different view of who I really am in the complicated world of Karma-onomics. Am I as good as I really think I am? Who am I kidding...I must be at least halfway evil. This is the idea with Karma Knows.

If I received a private jet
I'd probably sell it
If I won a car on a game show
I'd be a fool not to get a tow
If I hit the lottery
I'd help a charity
If I found a loaded wallet
I'd be sound and return all of it

Pop, My thought bubble burst
From the pressure of my self-propelled thirst
The bubble rubble stains my clothes
Who am I?
Only my karma knows

If I'm asked for advice
I'll aver without a price
If I'm requested for useful duties
I'll acquiesce without useless queries
If I'm overseeing nectarines
I'll not call them tangerines
If I'm unlike the rest of the guys
I'll try not to wear a disguise

Pop, My thought bubble burst
From the pressure of my self-reactive thirst
The bubble rubble stains my clothes
Who am I?
Only my karma knows

Is this me? No, man. X 3
Is this really me?
Yeah...

Pop, My thought bubble burst
From the pressure of my selfish thirst
The bubble rubble stains my clothes
Who am I?
Only my karma knows

I am not satisfied with a few words in this song...mainly the word overseeing. I always think picking or gathering is better...but i stick with overseeing because of the whole image of overseeing fruit for me is interesting. Also, bubble rubble seems a little different in atmosphere than the rest of the song, but I just like those two words together so I haven't changed it yet. I would welcome anyone else's opinion! Cheers, and good karma to ya!

Bird Words

I put over on the right column a link to NY Times' great blog Measure for Measure. It has multiple contributors, all accomplished musicians. One of them is fellow Illinoisan Andrew Bird. I have been listening to his new album Noble Beast in my car when I go to and fro between errands... Not the ideal place to listen to it because his lyrics are full of unusual words... They are, to me, irrationally atypical song words. But that makes me wonder...why are they irrational? I dig em...a lot...though I couldn't define a goodly amount of those that make me go, "eh?".

Anyway, here are some from Noble Beast....

WORDS:

arhythmatists
sociopaths
larval
alabaster
snack machine
dizzyspells
facsimile
effigy
Porto-centric Lisboans
Coprophagia
macromay
nomenclature
clockwork
pall
tendrils
plecostomus
Fecundities
Valerian
privateer
fire insurance
parsnips
Souverian

Them no Motown words! That is just to name a few, in fact 2 words picked from each non-instrumental song. I like his passion for strange and interesting words. I enjoy picking them out as I listen to it. I, however, have trouble putting these sorts of big and/or otherworldly words in anything I write because they feel contrived and a bit hubristic. I think with more practice in songcraft, contrived feelings will diminish-or I will pick out which ones are truly contrived. I am a word lover; I have a degree in linguistics and study a foreign language. I think my passion for words might start to appear more conspicuously in future attempts in songwriting. That is why I am drawn to it in the first place, right? I just want to be able to stay honest at the same time.

Don't Know Much 'Bout No

This is the first song I wrote. Well, I remember writing a random song in Japanese a while back but this is the first song that I wrote that was actually a song I could perform. Though I am not sure I would ever want to perform it. Furthermore, I normally don't speak in the double negative construction, instead preferring my natural single negative properness. But most listeners don't like a song with single negatives! You have to have that extra, innocuous "no" inserted. That seems strange to me. Nonetheless, I put the redundant "no" in the song, and Viola!, it seemed so much cooler...
However, this was my maiden attempt, and normally the first of anything is typically bad, unless its a movie. I am not sure this is a apropos song to ME...but, being the first song that I didn't think was dust bin material immediately gives it a special place in my heart. I am a boy after a girl with a bigger brain than I:

I don't know much 'bout no Marxism

I don't know much 'bout no Troskyism, either

I don't know much 'bout no Maoism
For that matter,
I don't know much about you
But I like you
And would like to

I don't know much 'bout no Communism

I don't know much 'bout no Anarchism, either

I don't know much 'bout no fascism
For that matter,
I don't know what you think of me
But I'd like you
to like me

You're such a politico
And under my sheen, I'm a bathing bozo
Look, its verdant green, My pristine oath
Gamble and be keen, And I'll get matching Mao suits

I don't know much 'bout no Marxism

I don't know much 'bout no Trotskyism. either

I don't know much 'bout no Maoism
But I do know
I like you
Will you like me, too?

I guess I have this semi-constant evaluation of people's intelligence going on in my head. I am attracted to girls with a brain, and that is why I am scared of them. I doubt my abilities when I am around a smart lot...however, this is something that I recognize, and thus am trying to cure. This song is kinda about me being attracted to a intelligent, government-savvy girl that I wish would try to like me despite the fact that I can't talk on her level about these difficult concepts. Or, try to like me before I showed her I actually probably can. Whatever...its only the first song I wrote (after perusing Wikipedia one coffee-laden Sunday morning)