self states

i was a sailor
in the jack of all trades
harboring feel folds
and chocolate dresses
strung up on high
from the tenements of a welsh driver minuet

tailgates and popcorn fluffed love
eyes to deadpan
no background checks or resonating locks

hang your hood here
drop the keys in color coded form

anne heche and the barber photoshop
cropped casks and dull lines
drawn from a favorite portrait

the wish is a wink
a handshake at best
the kiss from a pale priestess

hung like every word meant bingo
spelt and spent every waking hour
trying to menace the english language
like a poor standardized test

you're a bunny he proclaimed
dredged from the up-skirts of a normal uphinged happenstance
drolled up stored away

this is too much
not enough
too early for winter
too late for rationing
the only squirrel
backed into the corner for sport

i guess she should have said
it was only a short distance stayed
too many fake trains
wondering astray.

Heather Nation- Sirens

One of my favorite people in the world, and good friend Heather has finally commited to releasing her debut full length to the masses!

After a decade of performing as a musician, she's dedicated herself to pursuing the dream full time with no more distractions.

though you could classify some of her stuff as folk-inspired, the range of diversity goes way beyond the confines of a typical songsmith. no mere 'girl & guitar,' cascading harmonies coupled with her honest approach to narration lay the groundwork for a marriage of imagery and undeniable engagement.

at the time of writing, she only needs about $500 more to reach her kickstarter goal. if five of your friends donate $50, or fifty of your friends donate $5, or twenty donate $25 it's that easy!

she's so wonderfully genuine and down to earth, and there's not many counts on the hand of people i'd expect to make it in this world.

please take a moment to dig in and if you see fit, make a contribution to this young, budding starlet.

Heather Nation- Sirens

xoxo,

scotty.

rooty tooty tuesday

first fuzz of the year!

Oceanside get your fuzz on next friday........

down and out in the snails of found crowns

nail your teeth to the ceiling
pack your silver spoons
and failed fists

we're on lender's schedules
and force-fed angst

year of the improbable
seasoned and gratified

download your gameface
pile on heavy hands

delete requests

start it over ///

programmed claps
hard to hear in one ear

biting tongues
biting down on the buttons

run faster
mood inducing getaways

gateway hugs
slender sums

this is what it's like
being in love with the idea
of being in love

trash left like breadcrumbs
led to the queen of complications

it's not too late to wander back into the snow
the door has not been knocked
hands have not been tied

and you have not lied to yourself yet.

PW rules my world.

especially today.

She made a good go for a weeping willow
Closed all the windows and made herself a pillow
As her limbs clung to the ground
She lay her head down

Her hair was dirty in February
She was thirty in 1963
A thousand seconds more
On the oven door
She took a long deep breath
While her babies slept

Made a good go for a weeping willow

With a cold, fixed stare
She's cursed with insight
And you can't repair
She's broken inside

She made a good go for a weeping willow
She closed the windows and made herself a pillow
And took a long deep breath
While her babies slept
And the Cadillac creeps
In your body bag

And her blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag

staggering heights

i'm a screaming picturesque

of a solitary row

imagine all the friends you sold     

i'll be the Shepard's coat

and maybe we can reconcile the crest

because because you won't  afford

wear our navy drags

and call it what you used to (do)

pale the marilyns

and sleep with all the ghosts you can

leave your bags behind

the authors are all out of wind

(begging closer to the edge)

i'm a primadonna courted

by the shells of  feeling low

there was there was a friend you called

we'll scale the prison talk

and burn all of the paper surround

the townies know you're spreading thin

wear our navy drags

and call it what you used to (do)

pale the marilyns

and sleep with all the ghosts you can

leave your bags behind

the authors are all out of wind

(begging closer to the edge)