Words and Music
I found Paul Gordon. From time to time I’d Google him. He is such an amazing cartoonist I was sure I’d track him down somewhere, at some point… His is the dog I’m borrowinghttps://147.182.248.240/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/borrow-the-dog.mp3 in “Borrow the Dog”. Here we were, twentynothings. I was living on snickers bars I bought with change found between the…
He dragged his toe across the sand then he looked me in the eye asked me to come over to see it from his side He has crossed the mighty rivers climbed the highest peaks soared over the boundaries he knows of what he speaks and while some are surely plotting most are growing closer…
Phil the balloon man floated away We keep our things heavy to make sure we stay in one place, I suppose there are those that might say If you stay still you only grow old One day he took me and Zig to his room In his garden apartment where he met his doom The…
I was in the shower, one Tuesday morning, in my Oakland, California warehouse, where I lived worked and played, when my neighbor, Adam came barging in. “They’re bombing the World Trade Center!”, he said, trying to catch his breath. Of course our collective breath was continually sucked out of us all that day as we…
Charlie carried fewer bags every time he came around and he wonders what he lost and how he might be found been out there working in construction build it up and tear it down and he always came and told them that it wouldn’t take to long CHORUS: His lovers knew his best friends knew…
Songs can change your life, says the songwriter. Check this out: My wife likes to tell the story of how close she came to not coming out to see me play that night. “I was listening to the CD he gave me and it just wasn’t doing anything for me. If he’s ‘serious’ about his…
Truth be told, as much as I fantasize about copping a persona like Tom Waits, I’m a middle class kid from suburbia. I like to say I’m from the Hudson Valley; it sounds cooler. I AM from the Hudson Valley, just not quite far enough away from Manhattan to really be upstate; though my cousins…
I consider myself one of the last baby boomers; asleep in my cradle as an assassin tore camelot asunder, legally overt segregation in its final years. My peers and I were born at the end of an epoch of innocence, and entered into a culture of anything but. One of my earliest musical memories is Woodstock… I think. I was…
OK, I may not be the LAST Baby Boomer… but almost. ’62, ’63, ’64, these demographical assignments are not an exact science. The thing is – I have my perspective. It began sometime around “Woodstock” (they say 7 is the age of reason) and took hold through the following decade. I still think I’m cooler…