idit

Wishing there spirit
Like a cold of valet
Sent to drive your car nearer
To the heavens at bay
Will the wonton won stupor
At the shadow ballet
Meet the shortened board super
And be shunted away
I know the born shooter
I’ve seen him, i say
They’re the futures sworn boosters
Taking 50 and hang
Up the governance responsibility
What are you doing if not richer by the week
Take your pictures
Of the crowds and see us stomping
Fix you sutures of the proud
Boys worship hunting
Man the greatest prey
Speak high and be a gun display

Your lying waits for no man
Collective in your show, man
So many i can’t help but think at all
That you see shots as new fans
Carnage the mirrored of the stand
You fascist won’t you break down
You’re such a drag at face frowns
I’m livid at the choice
You fucking rejoice

And all the while my founding fathers
Are read just like the bible
Not literally, but both with eyes to blind
If you really loved your jesus
You’d be first names with his kind

And peak at won’t you did it
And speak like i’m an idit

Personal news of note

Just to bend your collective ear for a moment, I have to say that I’m very excited about where my music and art has been going in the last year or so. With a Bachelor’s degree in English now in my rearview mirror, a very enjoyable job at my local indie bookstore, shopping a feature length script and finishing up another, and continuing to write music and prose, I feel like I’m firing on all cylinders.

On top of the production, I also, for pretty much the first time, have nice looking physical versions of my latest album releases. Plus, I put a single out last week that will be reviewed in the very near future on a blog out of Eastern Europe (you can hear it here: http://thesupposedso.bandcamp.com).

My website is up as well (you’re on it) where you can find my evergrowing body of work. But check out the link below if you feel like purchasing a CD. I also have a CD/Cassette bundle option if you want to proudly display Allie’s cover art in its various forms.

If you dig it at all, tell a person who doesn’t know me.

And stay up, kids. Try and be well in spite of these dark times. Try and make someone’s day better at least. https://thesupposedso.bandcamp.com/merch

New Song

This is not a mental illness problem.
This is a white supremacist with a gun problem.
Anyone telling you different is wrong (2x)

I have a very serious mental illness
Fuck i never thought of killin at all
Maybe myself but i’m bigger than that shit
Maybe myself knows a little more than kid

I’ve been a wreck caught diddled and swarmed, kid
I’ve been a casualty of mentally armed, kid
I have never held a gun, won’t ever
Could be a crime to be saddened forever

I’ve never worn a belt of bullets, no
I’ve never thought of harming anyone, nope
I am sick and tired of your arms
I am so sick and tired of the storm

This is not a mental illness problem
I’ve know so many mentally ill who were victimized by em
Just another number triggered by storms
But no gun fired to tell me i’m wrong

This is a mental illness problem
This is a white supremacist with a gun problem
This is a Right supremacist with a gun problem
Anyone telling you different is wrong

Too many people and too little thinking
Too many steeples with no one underneath praying, really
Too many people dogmatic and horned
Too many guns cocked simple and sworn

This is not a problem of what and why
This is a problem of how and it’s plain to see
You can get a gun quite easily
You can trigger victims, cocked and be cried, see

This is not a mental illness problem
I am mentally ill and i ain’t got that problem
Hell, anyone with a gun is mentally ill
But not the kid that is a victim, still.

This is a white supremacist with a gun problem
This is a white supremacist with a gun problem
This is white supremacy
This is no feeling for no peace

This is a white supremacist with a gun problem
This is a white supremacist with a gun problem
(2x)

Cops too, brother
Cops too

New Feature Length Script

I wrote a script. It’s called More Adventurous or, I Plan On Sleeping In. It’s about a queer 15 year old young woman and her two friends, who are older and graduating ahead of her, the music from the mid-00s they love and live to, and the sickness that befalls her Dad, all leaving her with more to think about than anyone should have. And while I don’t know how to get a movie made, I do know that I have this website that is host to nearly all of the writing I’ve ever produced. Read it if you like. Listen to the music as it arrives in the story. And know at least that this piece of work is straight from the heart.

Visit the above link (https://thesupposedso.net/scripts/) and look out for my next trick, Tell Me Why, Willard Bronson, a character study in the vein of Barton Fink.

Much love, my friends.

Live Volume Two: Alone in a Basement

A lot is wrapped up in this album’s existence, not least of which is that it was recorded, yes, alone in a basement, with no other instruments to caffeinate the compositions, and with just one take to do, simple chords and melody to bring home the sentiment. The current and following reality of what was going on in my life before, during, and after recording this album is enough to fill up many volumes of text, music perhaps, and words always; enough fodder to confuse the deepest skeptic. 40 releases of self conscious personal growth and a thousand apologies. My history is an evolving trick of the mind, and I’m up for the challenge, this old stuff included. I really dig this collection.Six songs and a common thread throughout. I rewrite Imagine, for christ sake. Play it loud.

Need Something LP, full lyrics

Tramps Like Us

I don’t care to hear what you have to say
Not today
The air in here is clear but the breathing sways
And washes away
All my self remembers what our late night flames became
‘Cause tramps like us
Baby we were born to be saved

Life’s a ruthless page from the book of mud
Not made up
It can be snatched up like a diamond by a leather glove
And sold off
Why must we deliver with some question of
That tramps like us
Baby we were born to be loved

And now our memories gather to a place
Where we can be a little more alive
A little more free
And now a casket never took our souls
From the laughter lost and hands to hold and have done
‘Cause tramps like us
Baby we were born to have fun

And can you be a crying angel
Swooping down and smiling at the sun
‘Cause tramps like us
Baby we were born
Yea tramps like us
Baby we were born to run

Insurrection

Let me go and sidle up
Sink like a ball of snakes
Where to be beside us
Rattled from some past mistakes
Indicate a pleasure placement
Likened to a cell mate’s tangled face
And I can not advise
Sheltered from its playmate
Boarded I’m a wave

We are freed by a broken arbor
Dying from some liquid armor sale
And dueled to a sword’s discovery
Of anything that sequences a bar and bail
And why do ships prevail
Beyond the problem of sink or sail
Relax, you said
We’re almost there
Comfort me, I’m growing scared

And frame me into a farmer
I feel as if the switches swing from grace
And barely a plea for something stronger
Shows in a washed up failed up state
I’m free
I’m free

Miles To The Street

I am not sleeping, I’m awake
I am so many things upon the break of day
And as my comfort slips and shakes
You’ll find me happily regarded as insane
But I never knew what that meant anyway
Without the medicine, psychosis will explain
My understanding of the possible refrain
Will follow certainly without producing rain
I’ll go assuredly with an embrace
And dwell upon the miles to the gate

I am tired so I’ll sleep
I’ll lay in comfort as I turn to watch tv
Three episodes and I am drifting toward a dream
I close my eyes and gaze on all there is to see
Oh love of mine, will ya please
What’s on your mind? Is it at peace
Oh darling when I say to you our tempers are diseased
You’ll know the only way to think of them will seem
Like driving all the miles to the street

Oh past of mine, will ya please
Get off my mind, because it seems
That all regrets recorded will undoubtedly deceive
I’d have more care upon the present but we’re all admittedly
Tired of the winter
When it’s summer we’ll be free
As all according paragraphs delete
I guide us down the miles to the street

No Song Sung

I’ve been waiting too long
For someone to tell me
I’ve been waiting too long
I’ve got the dial up high
The record down low
But I’m tempted with the next song
Sick twist, a mother insists
That a patient man dies
From a poorly pattered small talk
So worn, the papers will swarm
Around a high crime
To a file of taxes haul
And so it will go
Beyond my control

Please don’t call my name out loud
I am trying to just sing out
No songs played will find my down
‘Cause I could go at any time
Into another mind
And write it out

Return your neighbor’s old germs
And cover your mouth
For the good of any switchback
Retire to cabins in woods
To playing with fire
And thinking in the abstract
These words are tattered and torn
But together they form
A special on a class act
Wheels turn and carry us forth
To a penchant for wires
Admittedly a cash-wrapped soul
And so it will go
Beyond my control

Please don’t call my name out loud
I am trying to just sing out
No songs played will find my down
‘Cause I could go at any time
Into another mind
And write it out

I wanna tell you a secret
That I’m so in love
And hung up on a reason
That’s only half along
There’s too many please men
More than’s enough
And I’m so tired
Of wondering why

So please don’t call my name out loud
I am trying to just sing out
No songs played will find me down
‘Cause I could go at any time
Into another mind
So I say, please man call my name out loud
I am trying to just sing out
No song sung could ever write me down
‘Cause I could go at any time
Into another mind
And find it out

Taking The Chair

I am off and finding letters in meaning
I am cost-effective strangling
A passage of air
I am not about to fiddle a feeling
It is all that I can do
To be imperfectly aware
And the cross in sections dangle in dreaming
My forgotten features wonder me a haggle in hair
So step off if you’re a fashion for season
It’s your boss I have a problem with for taking the chair
And the old boys bugging
The new world chuggin along

So come on
It’s a drag the underwriter’s
A scheme on a societal con
So be gone
The ground is under water
The sky is a projection of god

It’s a kind of day stuck inside
I wonder what it’s like outside
I wander at the thought of a life
Beyond the passing of time
The novels that I read
And your face with that expression i like

It’s a song
It’s a pass at some enjoyment
A way to be a riddle to all
So come on
I see what isn’t present
I breathe with a perspective I lost
And the old boys buggin’
The new world strugglin’

Living Like a Lorry

Out of the inside track
Now is a fracture
Of never looking back
I’ve been a Jekyll’s mask
Stranded a sweet sad sack
And training my mind to pass
Over a watchful hand

Desert oases moan
Clipped with a classic
Of too much on the throw
Happy to heave and ho
Glad to be grateful at home
Whatever it wants me for

It’s a strange time sleeping in the valley
With a spit shine on a closet full of shoes
And I feel fine just sitting on the trolley
Riding around ‘til the clacks close
And walking ‘til the sides fold
And finding what

A little funny how the streets shine
Blinding a bit
A little money and the furthest field’s falling

So rewind to the features on the folly
I can win time with a pasture full of please
I can insight to the creatures creepy crawling
‘Cause tripping’s not the way it’s supposed to be
And sipped bread’s wasted
Can the new world shake it with me
Living like a lorry
And feeling pretty sorry

Drawn Talking Animals

I suppose it’s a cartoon picture
Trembled by a feeling that forgot
And like much of the comic features,
It’s more than like a rapture than a rot
So pull the car to the side of the road
I cannot drive through tunnels painted on

I know a movie’s not a candlelight
It doesn’t melt the way to theorize
Drawn talking animals should realize
They’d certain die from backfires

So forgive what the language listers
Be for gone to captions on the right
And rewind what the flipped conjectures
Quietude a quite condescent sight
So drive fast down a painted road
We’re young alright
Reconvene the satellites
And memorize
The loss of life

And sing la da da…

Absentee

I control lift and scroll mind recoils and a mantra seeps instead
Mass resign open time press rewind and have central heated beds
There’s a will upon a wistful language feeds to brow
And the mangled evening’s row
Full of gunning down an empty shopping crowd
When no one’s out
Thanks to the shutting down

Much reviled fashion filed fractured smiles out a window pane to hell
Intrascripts backward flips matches strict on a something I can’t tell
It’s a game I wanna write myself beyond and separately a distance looking down
Bring my crown
And sell me out
Speech is money now

Do you think or do you know or do you wanna find out
Will you follow the bay or the ocean’s drowned about
Will you keep what you pray close inside yourself
And be gone overjoyed with an answer from the clouds
And run around
Going underground

Is the past for a while like a burning bush
Is the trick tree of life meant to rile or shush
Is a calm state of joy just an electric strike
If you plant it will it grow will it be goddess like
Shadows move and creep
Engines set to flee
Oh, absentee

Need Something

(Have a happy) Need something
(Have a happy) Breathe something
(Have a happy) Read something
(Have a happy) Earn something
(Have a happy) Steal something
(Have a happy) Sell something
(Have a happy) Struct something
(Have a happy) Feel something
(Have a happy) Hear something
(Have a happy) Brave something
(Have a happy) Share something
(Have a happy) Save something

It’s an attack on a private life’s public life
It’s a retract of a thousand songs sung
It’s a reward for some hours hours caught inside of
It’s an insanity nip at the heels hung
So be courageous and go sleepwalking total makeup
So be outrageous and stay eager and drunk
So be insightful with a memory of kinda kinda
Just use what’s closest to go have some clean fun

And reel to reel your feelings, intrepid dreamer
Toe to heel to toe to heel to be gone
Describe your insatiable for freedom rocker
Both you and I were born to take up and run

(Have a happy) Need something
(Have a happy) Break something
(Have a happy) Live something
(Have a happy) Pray something
(Have a happy) Smoke something
(Have a happy) Grow something
(Have a happy) Say something
(Have a happy) Know something

And drive and deal past the burning system straddle secrets
Be an original and take up no gun
Seethe and strip down the casual liners language listers
Be unbelievable and haggle no sun
Slip and slide by a bodega bumping common whiskers
With able toddles take your teeth and be done
Deputize the inherent pridist prodding preacher
Compromise with no ridiculous drug

And need something
Need something
Need something
Need something
Need something (alright)
Need something (all rise)
Need something (all time)
Need something (alright)

New Fiction Out Now!

I have a book out today! It is called The Supposed So: A Fictional Memoir in Five Parts.

I started writing the first novella in the series just about exactly 10 years ago, and the subsequent four followed in waves until I finished the last one just this past Fall. It’s about a lot of things, perhaps the most obvious thread being the tenuous nature of reality, and how the mind, full of ideas, ends up placing importance on subtleties and details in its persistence to somehow find meaning in life’s strange currents. It’s about love, confusion, the confusion of love, the love of confusion. It’s about mental illness and music and friendship, failing, failing then succeeding, succeeding then failing. It’s about the general sadness we so often feel just because of nothing in particular.There is a bit of avant garde strangeness to its narrative structure, but it is very much a coherent piece of work. Its writing was a labor, edited, reworked, and rewritten countless times over the years. It isn’t perfect, but it’s the book I needed to write. I’m excited about its possibilities. And am quite glad it’s finally finished.

Because of the nature of print-on-demand services, it’s more expensive than a book should be. So, if you’d like to own and read a copy while saving about 15 bucks, email me via the contact link at the top of this page and we can arrange for you to pay just the cost of printing and shipping (bout 22 bucks). Otherwise, check out this link to see and read more about it and to purchase at list price.

Thanks for your support. I hope if you’re reading this that you’re continuing to survive our weird existence, and that you know I miss you dearly. If you aren’t reading this, I miss you too probably, and I hope that that vibe floats through the space between us and reaches you in moments of quiet.

contact your members of congress

*text RESIST to 50409 and follow the prompts to contact your sitting members of congress*

I don’t know what you believe. I don’t know if you think our sitting president is a good example for anything to anyone. I don’t know if you believe the last election to have been fraudulent in some way. I don’t know if you watch BLM protesters and think they are “thugs” or whatever other racist terminology your diction appropriates. I don’t know if you read the president’s tweets and believe every word he writes. I don’t know if you want lower taxes or small government, or whatever other silkscreen of legislated selfishness you believe to be for the good of all. I don’t know how you think of people of color or women, and I don’t know if you harbor grievances of a denied white superiority or of a patriarchy you feel slipping away. I don’t know who you vote for down the ticket, and I don’t know if you think democrats are “stealing” “your” country from you. What I do know, is that what we all witnessed yesterday was the culmination of years of a man spewing lies and vitriol, in an inane attempt to cop popularity points, claiming falsities for the basis of narcissism. What I know is that if you still have deaf ears, you are outside of your own mind, sitting comfortably in a reality split from what you see and hear with your own senses. What I know is that two weeks is too long.

https://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/18/2383?fbclid=IwAR11M2cIfp6Buj2bXW0g1TI2zlcT26A_RkzEpv3rJ4uUAs3rEHlKewYuCIM

All His Consternation

It’s not uncommon to deny
the pasture played and out of sight.
Without a daring act of life,
what are you doing?
I’ve been a house with melted walls.
I’ve been the basement cold and dark.
I’ve been a door without a lock.
And I’ve been looking

for a way in,
an unforthcoming path to spin,
a dogged absent curfew of the mind.
I am a give and take,
a desperate look to apathy,
a potion boiled over
as your life’s at stake.
Come see me look up.
Come see my old platonic self.
Come hear me scream no conversation
to the clouds.

Oh darling, won’t you sit?
Take a pull from the bottle marked gin.
Take a clear exaggeration
and lay it on the cursed and dying kids.
For christ’s sake! The moon shifts,
and I howl through the gaps in the cliffs.
And I can spell it out for ya, baby.
I’m exactly where I’ve been:
Down a river up and dammed
where a while seems infinite.

So hold me now.
We’ll find out
what breathes in,
what breathes out.

But right now, all I know is
you gotta play the game.
You gotta compare every name
of yet another older white man
blindly missing all the plagues.
And the taste of blood
could never make him form a flood.
Attacking all his consternation,
call in some back up.
‘Cause my fingers crack and bend
for every dollar that I spend.
I swear I’m just sitting here on the sofa
as I watch my wallet thin.

So pack up.
We’re staying.