Tag Archives: Personal

“When the Levee Breaks” (Led Zeppelin)

If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break
If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break
When The Levee Breaks I’ll have no place to stay. 

Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan
Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan
Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home, 
Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well.

J.W.

No Apology: A Letter

india kid

Mehreen Kasana

On my way to class, I take the Q train to Manhattan and sit down next to an old white man who recoils a noticeable bit. I assume it’s because I smell odd to him, which doesn’t make sense because I took a shower in the morning. Maybe I’m sitting too liberally the way men do on public transit with their legs a mile apart, I think to myself. That also doesn’t apply since I have my legs crossed. After a few seconds of inspecting any potential offence caused, I realize that it has nothing to do with an imaginary odor or physical space but with the keffiyeh around my neck that my friend gifted me (the Palestinian scarf – an apparently controversial piece of cloth). It is an increasingly cold October in NYC. Sam Harris may not have told you but we Muslims need our homeostasis at a healthy…

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“Cottonwood Creek”

THIS SHALL HENCEFORTH BE READ IN A FAUX-N.P.R. VOICE, WARM AND MELLOW LIKE A FRESH CUP OF COFFEE:

Good morning and welcome to another edition of The New American Poetry Hour. I’m your host, Pretentious McDouchebag. On today’s episode we have an old poem by Jackson Williams and let me tell you now, dear listeners: they’re not that good. This poem is not that good and show the marks of a young man who learned very early on that he’s not that good with poetry. It written during the summer of 2006, eighteen years old and fresh out of high school. I apologize to those tuning in today. 

But mmmmmm, this is good java, no?

Old Glory

COTTONWOOD CREEK

Let me go back
to where existence began:
I believed by that water, no older than five,
that our dreams will happen
where our hearts feel good enough to thrive,
only after we rise up, and remember how we ran.
At night I still remember crickets by the thousands,
a plague upon the eardrums, turn up the television;
fresh, holy visions of summer days, spent under a bridge,
a B.B. gun for frogs, scattered rocks to throw,
a time we will remember, until the creek runs low.
August brought us rattlesnakes, and ghost stories
of old dead miners breathing under bedroom windows,
don’t wander and disappear alongside the creek,
ghosts and goblins, demons who would not speak,
and we would listen: Cottonwood Creek, what is yer secret?
We would spend days there, trapped in time,
then we’d surrender it, just barely in time;
my thoughts began here, I do believe,
and the more time passes, this much becomes clear:
this quiet haze began here in our history,
still I know less parts to what must be a mystery
of what always brings me back to here;
So terrorize me, hypnotize me,
lie to me and please be kind to me,
because the mind moves swift, like a river,
but it is a creek that forms my soul.

J.W.

“Float On” (Modest Mouse)

I backed my car into a cop car the other day
Well, he just drove off, sometimes life’s okay
I ran my mouth off a bit too much, oh, what did I say?
Well, you just laughed it off, it was all okay

And we’ll all float on, okay
And we’ll all float on, okay
And we’ll all float on, okay
And we’ll all float on anyway, well

A fake Jamaican took every last dime with a scam
It was worth it just to learn from sleight-of-hand
Bad news comes, don’t you worry even when it lands
Good news will work it’s way to all them plans
We both got fired on exactly the same day
Well, we’ll float on, good news is on the way

And we’ll all float on, okay
And we’ll all float on, okay
And we’ll all float on, okay
And we’ll all float on, alright…

J.W.

“Promises” (Eric Clapton)

I don’t care if you never come home.
I don’t mind if you just
Keep on rowin’away on a distant sea
cuz I don’t love you and you don’t love me.

You cause a commotion when you come to town

You give ’em a smile and they melt
Having lovers and friends is all good and fine
But I don’t like yours and you don’t like mine.

La la la …

I don’t care what you do at night oh
I don’t care how you get your delights
We’ll leave it alone
We’ll just let it be
I don’t love you and you don’t love me.

I got a problem
Can you relate?
I got a woman
Callin’ love hate.
We made a vow
we’d always be friends.
How could we know that promises end.

La la la …

I tried to love you for years upon years
But you refuse to take me for real
It’s time you saw what I want you to see
That I’d still love you if you’d just love me.

I got a problem
Can you relate?
I got a woman
Callin’ love hate.
We made a vow
we’d always be friends.
How could we know that promises end.

J.W.

McApple Pie of My Eye

mcapplepie

Eyestrain Productions

If you know me personally at all, chances are you’ve heard about The Pie. Maybe I’ve even taken it out to show you, let you touch it, encouraged you to sniff it. The Pie is legend, and has been for a great many years now. And if you know about The Pie, then you know we’ve just passed a significant milestone on its journey through the ages and into immortality.

The rest of you I’m going to have to bring up to speed.

I mentioned an important anniversary several weeks ago in this blog. Not the one related to the blog itself, nor my comic book work. I’m talking about that other, mysterious anniversary, I was so specifically vague about. The twenty-five year anniversary.

Rather than recap the whole sordid story from the beginning, let us instead begin at the end – or at least the end as it stood…

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“Falling For You” (Weezer)

Holy cow, I think I’ve got one here
Now just what am I s’posed to do?
I’ve got a number of irrational fears that I’d like to share with you
First, there’s rules about old goats like me
Hangin’ ’round with chicks like you, but I do like you
And another one, you say, “Like” too much

But I’m shakin’ at your touch, I like you way too much
My baby I’m afraid I’m falling for you
I’d do ’bout anything to get the hell out alive
Or maybe I would rather settle down with you

Holy moly, baby wouldn’t you know it?
Just as I was bustin’ loose
I’ve gotta go turn in my rock star card and get fat and old with you
‘Cuz I’m a burning candle, you’re a gentle moth
Teaching me to look a little bit kinder and I do like you
You’re the lucky one, no, I’m the lucky one

I’m shakin’ at your touch, I like you way too much
My baby I’m afraid I’m falling for you
I’d do ’bout anything to get the hell out alive
Or maybe I would rather settle down with you, oh

Holy sweeps, goddamn, you left your cello in the basement
I admired the glowing stars and tried to play a tune
I can’t believe how bad I suck, it’s true
What could you possibly see in little ol’ 3-chord me?
But I do like you and you like me too!
I’m ready, let’s do it baby

I’m shakin’ at your touch, I like you way too much
My baby I’m afraid I’m falling for you
I’d do ’bout anything to get the hell out alive
Or maybe I would rather settle down with you
Down with you

Hyper-relatable song right now in my life…

Jackson Williams.

The Top 10 Tips I’ve Learned from Minimalists

theextraordinarysimplelife

tiny-house-2

I’m not going to covet other minimalists’ lives anymore.

I don’t travel the world with a single backpack.

I haven’t packed up my family to travel across the country in an RV for a year.

I am not a single woman with a futon, a suitcase and a laptop.

I didn’t choose 600 square feet of dwelling space with a hobby farm ‘round back.

YET, I adore reading about these amazing people and their even more intriguing journeys toward transformation. In perusing books and blogposts, these characters seem like old friends. We’re all rooting for them. Their triumphs and courageous leaps of faith provide the inspiration for our own stories. However, through all this story following, I have found there is not one formula for choosing a simple life…it is not a one-size-fits all t-shirt. No matter what our life looks like, I do believe each and every one of these…

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