12:00 - 2006/01/28
songs
The songs are back. Crowding the perimeter of my focus, lobbying hard for completion. I evoked them, I know, and thus accepted responsibility for their development. Any negligence on my part and these nascent chart-toppers could emerge stunted and deformed. I served as midwife to plenty of monsters with the old band. Tragic specimens...not to be confused with monsters of the compelling freakshow-celebrity type. Never in the humble laboratory of our practice space did we breathe life into a Misterioso, a Rumble, or a Sister Ray. Our abominations were web-fingered and thick-browed, painfully double-jointed and unspectacular. Songs that bore the mark of nervous assemblage without the stamp of deviant genius. But those songs taught me, I hope, what I couldn't teach them. And this band is stitching together a handsome set of corporeal sleeves for the new ghosts that haunt me.
"Ghosts of what?" I wonder, "My youth?"
As I shift my grip on my instrument case and
trudge on towards my little apartment, a disturbing possibility suggests itself,
"These songs aren't the ghost of my youth...I am."
