Swift current.. Here’s to the quick American. 

In going through old notebooks, came across this short verse.. Don’t actually recall writing it, but a quick google search leads to believe the words are mine.. and it sits in between Pearls and starts of lines that became The Local so me thinks it sits right.

Quick American.

Notice late or notice none. 

She had gone ahead to run.

Load and lock it easy one.

Such a quick American.

Open sky.

Now you had fun.

Bloody bastards as they come.

Such a quick American.

Nevermind.

What’s done is done.

Such a quick American.

Like the sunshine promised spring, summer is coming. 

The new solo album is still a few months away. Hoping on getting out a single soon. In the meantime, here’s a bedroom demo of a new song.

Lyrics already posted below.

Is there any mystery?

Perhaps it’s guaranteed.

It may come across as cold.

Some things better left alone.

Hand in hand you shield the street side of the sidewalk.

Chivalry’s a wreck but dealing with what it’s got.

Between you, me and the bedpost.

Can I call you a cab.

Thanks for picking up the tab.

The address is by the door.

Look me up when you want more.

Hand in hand you shield the street side of the sidewalk.

Chivalry’s a wreck but dealing with what it’s got.

What my body takes, what my body takes

What my body takes should surely make a heart break.

What my body takes, what my body takes

What my body takes should surely make a heart break.

Between you, me and the bedpost…

Singing in a band with some friends. It’s really fun. Here’s to endless summer.

http://pleasurecruise.bandcamp.com/

We worry so much about becoming something we are not, we often do not become the people we were meant to be. 

RIP Mr Layton.

It’s hard to leave this room on weekends.

Words will fail me. I won’t like the view.

It’s hard to leave this room on weekends.

Pearls just mask the mess inside.

We all have darkness in our minds.

Take the best and leave the rest outside.

It’s hard to leave this room on weekends.

Remember to smile and stand up straight.

It’s hard to leave this room on weekends.

Pearls just mask the mess inside.

We all have darkness in our minds.

Take the best and leave the rest outside.

We all have diamonds in our eyes

Take the best and leave the rest.

All of my most recent streams of consciousness have happened on twitter. Creativity has now been reduced to 140 characters..

Gypsy babe. Gypsy babe. You elude in many ways. I wish on stars. I stare and barge. Can be no more then gypsy fade.

Two years ago I had the wonderful opportunity to join Matthew Barber (Toronto singer/songwriter, not Vancouver Hot Hot Heat tour manager, although he is lovely too..) for a few shows in western Canada. Matt is a truly gifted lyricist and quite the serious whiskey drinker. The tour was short and I kept too quiet..  but at one memorable moment, in the car between Calgary and Kelowna, Matt pointed out a bird. Wither it be a Raven or an Eagle, he would remember better than I, as I shrugged off the comment and kept my eyes on the road. Later that night, he told a beauty of a story before he played, of driving through the mountains that day, revelling in the rhythmic repeatedness of the highway and the enchanting joy with which the bird took flight… I sat there listening, wishing along with everyone else in the room, that I had caught a glimpse… of a moment I’d been fully present for but missed.

This is why the world still needs dreamers..

DREAMER

The world needs a dreamer to paint the sky blue

Climb every mountain and howl at the moon.

The world needs a sailor to keep the stars true

To challenge the wind gust and make love to you.

We are all here. We are all wanting.

We are all lost. We are all searching.

We are all here.

The world needs a champion to hope for the best

Live in the moment and get guilt off your chest.

We are all here. We are all wanting.

We are all lost. We are all searching.

We are all here.

It won’t stop raining. It is July. I wrote this piece while away from Vancouver last winter. I did my best to escape, but now it won’t go away. 

RAIN

It’s raining here

you’d think, after Vancouver, I wouldn’t care

But it’s different

That’s what they say

It’s a different cold

It’s dry ice with pierced blue eyes

And arms too rigid to defy

The sun comes to mislead

There is no warmth to find

Only a small creaky bed

and paintings scattered across the floor

downstairs, parents sleep

but it is not safe

do not trust anyone in this place

it’s raining here