A Fondness of Winter

Last night I wrote a little dittle that I'm calling "A Fondness of Winter". It had a familiar smell to the likes of Grizzly Bear and/or Laurie Anderson, I think.

Somebody's seeing angels, aren't ya
Some weaving through the raindrops, aren't ya
These wooden walls are crying for dust

When hair gets long
Happy homes sing happy songs
Changing faces
Happy homes will sing along

Its easy to for get a phone call, angel
They sleeping in the morning/evening shadows, angel
The winter's feeling warmer, aren't ya

When snow won't fall
Happy homes keep happy walls
No ice keeping frozen memories
Happy homes won't cry at all

I am wary to post these lyrics up immediately because A) they are due to change and B) some noonan might come around and pretend that HE'S the poeter. Screw him, folks.


Lisa and I went walking today down the long and legendary 'Leventh Avenue, dishing out resumes for any job - saltwater fish emporiums, incense-hazed CD barns, and local banks. Pray for success!

Thursday night at 9 I am playing some jazz with Dave O'Toole, and Chris Orsinger (el al) at Jo Fed's. The rumors are going around that this place is on the brink of closing, which would be sad for Eugene's fledgling (but dazzling) jazz scene. Come on down for an overpriced drink and some great atmosphere and better jazz! You are reading my BLOG!