Sometimes I'm not sure of the answers, answers to forgotten questions, I am getting. Sometimes a certain theme or object or idea - I can't seem to get vague enough there - slides in front of everything else, insisting on attention.
Something like this.
I hope you remember that the boys have a sort of songwriting partnership happening and, the other night they debuted their latest tune for me. With dancing and an odd rap thing and a howl or two and some truly inspired accidental harmonies... at 9:30, at night. I was duly impressed. They went away and then, a bit later, Nick scurried back out and asked if he could make a note and leave it on the table:
The next morning I took some notes for them as they tried to recreate the the song and dance number from the night before... at breakfast. Later Zack opened the word-processor and a half hour later handed me this:
Yes, actually, that was a sticking point that nearly kept this song from light, Nick wanted to call it "I'm a Contrey Guy", as is evidenced in the note he made himself. Zack liked "Country kid" even though that phrase is never in the song.
It's a great song, fast paced, with some creative, uh, previously unexplored symbology.
In what I can only guess was 1988, I may be a year or two off, my pal Kirby (the names are chaged around here, or are they?) and I took it upon ourselves to write a country song. We wrote this:
It's trite and pedestrian and I still sing it every now and then.
What is the message I am supposed to understand? Why on earth have I been asked to think about this strange coincidence, this curious synchronicity, this perhaps important lesson?
I wish I knew.
From Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."
"Well, too bad, you're going to have to live with me for most of my life ."
So, thanks for looking over my shoulder today. I had more to say about this but I didn't, I just wanted to say that. Also, "[I'll be] eating figs while slaughtering pigs" is beyond argument the best line in a