"its that kind of night"

here is the moment. i was on my second glass of red wine, ever. shaun & i had just did valentines up last night at 611 supreme, some french place on pike with a bewildering menu, & i had dined on crepes. another first, may i add. we were standing in the gallery of grey, on 12th, among glorious paintings of ghostly spacemen & patchwork mountains. then, some lad in a vest stands on the table -- essentially, a log with a sheen -- & strums a banjo. he plays this song by a band maybe closest to my heart. & how we ended up there, then, to hear that, i dont know. but ive listened to that song a hundred times over, in seattle, on the airplane home, in detroit, in new york, on my way back, & mostly, when everything started falling apart. i lost that sense of home. & a year ago, well, this story just never ends. but im better for having gone through it, right?

tear down the house:

tear down the house that i grew up in.
i’ll never be the same again.
take everything that i’ve collected,
& throw it in a pile.

bulldoze the woods that i ran through.
carry the pictures of me & you.
i have no memory of who i once was,
& i don’t remember your name.

park the old car that i love the best.
inspection’s due & it won’t pass the test.
it’s funny how i have to put it to rest,
& how one day i will join it.

i remember crying over you,
& i don’t mean like a couple of tears & i’m blue.
i’m talking about collapsing & screaming at the moon,
but i’m a better man for having gone through it.
yes, i’m a better man for having gone through.

ever since i learned how to curse,
i’ve been using those sorry old words.
but i’m talking to these children & i’m keeping it clean.
i don’t need those words to say what i mean.
no, i don’t need those words to say what i mean

tear down the house that i grew up in.
i’ll never be the same again.
take everything that i used to own,
& burn it in a pile

bulldoze the woods that i ran through.
carry the pictures of me & you.
i have no memory of who i once was,
& i don’t remember your name.

murder in the city:



it was a really nice night.