Yesterday’s Moon

This was meant to be a hopeful happy coming home love song. Turned itself into an “I’d love to stay but you know I’m a traveler” song.

Lyrics

yesterday’s moon sleeps behind the hills far away
I’m chilled in the dark, the sun’s not yet risen today
hungry and tired but no matter, I carry on
around the next turn is the home where you wait with the dawn

these traveling ways are the only life that I know
in spite of the leaving and all the while missing you so
maybe this time I’ll have all I need here with you
and I’ll settle down and we’ll share a sunset or two

tomorrow night’s moon will soon peek over the hill
red setting sun is giving way to night’s chill
it’s warm here with you but I’m hungry to carry on
to see what’s around the next bend beyond the next dawn
to see what’s around the next bend beyond the next dawn
to see what’s around the next bend beyond the next dawn


Losing the Focus

Finally read the writing book “Writing Down the Bones” and one of her ideas is to write about memory, to just start sentences with “I remember . . . ” and every time you get stuck, start another line with “I remember . . . ” and plow through.

I’ve often wondered what makes our brain choose what goes into retrievable long-term memory, what gets tucked in back to play hide and seek, and what goes away without leaving a trace. I’m having a slight case of longing for the good old days, which I know full well weren’t nearly as good as right now.

Best Beloved was upstairs recording a podcast so I went out in the garage and sat in the back seat of my Juke to record this so I wouldn’t disturb her. You may want to note that the back seat of a tiny car is no place to play guitar, even a tenor.

Lyrics

I remember my dad turning dirt with a shovel
to put in a garden out back
I remember the grass as the yard tumbled down to the lake
I remember the fish on Saturday night
catch and eat and repeat
and the sound of winter geese flying south as I lay awake

I remember the waves kept knocking me down
and I never had the nerve to surf
I remember the peace of the bay on the other side
I remember bonfires at night
and roasting whatever we had on a stick
falling asleep on the deck on the incoming tide

I didn’t know then what would stick
what my mind would keep
the pictures I’d take
what went deep
I remember the smallest things from then
What will I remember from now?
I want to choose the memories
but I don’t know how

I remember the house on the beach was so cold
it was warmer when I went outside
I remember I didn’t go home when that tiny trailer sold
I remember the red motorcycle and a tiny grey car
and the cork tile roof of my bug
and my friend Ross and all the goofy jokes he told

I didn’t know then what would stick
what my mind would keep
the pictures I’d take
what went deep
I remember the smallest things from then
What will I remember from now?
I want to choose the memories
but I don’t know how

the apple tree, an old grey barn
piece of glass stuck in my foot
afraid because the bike was too big even though I was 8
the piano and the car we left behind
the stars in the mountains
and always wanting something and always being told I had to wait

I didn’t know then what would stick
what my mind would keep
the pictures I’d take
what went deep
I remember the smallest things from then
What will I remember from now?
I want to choose the memories
but I don’t know how


19 Questions

An old friend hasn’t been speaking to me and when I asked why, the answer was confusing. I asked again and it got more confusing and distressing. I finally suggested that maybe we weren’t good for each other and should move on to less complicated friendships and they said “Sounds good!” (Including the exclamation mark.)

I’ve accepted that it’s not always me, that I’m not necessarily a blundering oaf socially, but I’m sad today, about this friendship and one I’d wanted to write about this year which gets rolled into this one as part of the same bundle of hurt.

Lyrics

how do you know what someone wants?
what does it take to be loved?
what can you do to make them stay?

who gets to take? who needs to give?
why is it so? when does it change?
what can you do when they’ve gone away?

how can you see it coming on?
what do you do to see the truth?
who do you trust if not a friend?

why do we bother? what’s the point
when does it end? where do you go?
who do you turn to in the end?

and how do you know that’s true?
and what can you ever do
to stumble past the last miscue?
how do you move on from two
now they’re them and you’re you?
I ask cause I don’t have a clue


Here Before

It’s one of the 5 gloomy days of the year here in southern Arizona and that makes me gloomy. Coming home from airing up the tires in the van I was struck by the deceptively disconnected details in “All Around the World”, the last song on Paul Simon’s “Graceland.” These pictures came up on their own, images from a hard time in each of my lives which I combined into something that never happened, but it feels like it did.

Lyrics

Winding through a tiny sliver of West Virginia
It was late and we needed gas in the worst way
Between Ohio and Pennsylvania lost in the dark
We got in at 11, had to leave before the break of day

I’ve been here before and I got through
maybe because I didn’t know what else to do
it’s a shame
no one’s to blame
that’s how it’s always been for me and you

so sick I was hallucinating
tingling all over and sweaty, I was a mess
desperate for something, I still don’t know what
and I cried out for you, and then I fell asleep I guess

I’ve been here before and I got through
maybe because I didn’t know what else to do
it’s a shame
no one’s to blame
that’s how it’s always been for me and you

instead of asking me to leave you left me here
alone and empty, lying on the floor
and I’m lost in the dark and sick to death
but we both know I’ve been here before

I’ve been here before, I’ll get through
maybe because I don’t know what else to do
it’s a shame
no one’s to blame
that’s how it’ll always be for me and you