Skip to content

Category Archives: Why God Why

I’m sorry, San Francisco, I couldn’t help it

(Lyrics. Something about hanging out with the musical side of my family brings ‘em on. Deeply infused with Paul Simon, who I always associate with trips to the Bay Area, hills, and fog due to a couple of early family trips listening to a tape of his stuff Robert made for us.)

Hello, Hello

There’s something about viewing the full life of an artist that’s comforting. Clay didn’t get a full, long trajectory of his own, and it feels like a horrible cosmic mistake. But he’d played a prodigious number of songs for a kid his age.

Someone Else’s Neuroses

Everything in my room was covered with a white, chalky, spotty film of what I can only think of as poison. It was on my accordion case, my alarm clock, my shoes. The floor was covered with dried puddles of varnish, poison, and dead bug bodies, which when handled indelicately would leave blackish-red smears of gore on the pale flooring. Bed bug freaking Vietnam.