Such a lonely road
Such a lonely road we're on
Hope you know the code
Hope you know the customs.
I won't forget you
I won't forget you
Don't you know
You changed my whole world?
I dream about your soul
And I hope
You're still as good as gold
Why are you so sad?
Girl, it ain't that bad
Worse things can happen at sea.
Why'd you wear that frown?
You know I'm the clown
In the class of you and me
Oh, you taught me so...
Now you stand alone
By yourself out on the road
I feel your body could
And your pulse begin to slow
I won't forget you, no
I had this fear
You'd have to go
It leaves me hollow
I love you so much
I'm going to have to break your heart
To add the human touch.
Why are you so sad?
Girl, it ain't that bad
Worse things can happen at sea.
Why'd you wear that frown?
You know I'm the clown
In the class of you and me
Oh, you taught me so...
Monday, 15 June 2009
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
Telling Stories
Now we can tell the story
What's your excuse?
I know the details will be gory
But we need the truth.
You've built a wall around yourself
That I'll never scale
You can't re-write our history
I've tried and I have failed.
But I still hear you screaming out
I can't reach you
It was your shout
We can't erase this
But I doubt
It'd make a difference
To your story.
So where does this leave us standing?
I think we're estranged
For the first time in my life
You are the source of pain.
The bonds of our affection
Are bound in brothers blood
But our ship's sailed beyond the pale
We're trapped by the floods.
But I still hear you screaming out
I can't reach you
It was your shout
We can't erase this
But I doubt
It'd make a difference
Your still telling stories.
So let's give thanks now
Here's to our youth!
Our dreams are fading
That's the truth.
We never made it
We're living proof.
All we're left with
Is our stories.
What's your excuse?
I know the details will be gory
But we need the truth.
You've built a wall around yourself
That I'll never scale
You can't re-write our history
I've tried and I have failed.
But I still hear you screaming out
I can't reach you
It was your shout
We can't erase this
But I doubt
It'd make a difference
To your story.
So where does this leave us standing?
I think we're estranged
For the first time in my life
You are the source of pain.
The bonds of our affection
Are bound in brothers blood
But our ship's sailed beyond the pale
We're trapped by the floods.
But I still hear you screaming out
I can't reach you
It was your shout
We can't erase this
But I doubt
It'd make a difference
Your still telling stories.
So let's give thanks now
Here's to our youth!
Our dreams are fading
That's the truth.
We never made it
We're living proof.
All we're left with
Is our stories.
Friday, 23 January 2009
Making promises is easy...
Aye, so it's been over a week since I wrote a blog, therefore I guess that means I have failed magnificently in my attempts to write something every day. I have written plenty, but it's been mostly emails or mypuss messges trying to get the last couple of dates booked for the Joey Terrifying tour. We've got the vast majority of shows booked but are still looking to fill a couple of holes in the itinerary. We leave in less than seven weeks so hopefully I'll manage to get it all sorted out sooner rather than later. We've got a shitload of stuff to sort out before we go as well, not least getting our van pimped so it's suitable for both passengers and gear!
The band has been taking up most of my time recently. We practice at least 6 hours a week, are constantly writing and the task of booking shows, sorting out CDs/merch, mailing stuff, making sure everyone is happy is endless. I've been working quite a lot and am gutted that I have to work all weekend. I feel like I haven't seen my lady properly for ages, although I am happy even if I only get to sleep beside her. Clare brings me peace like nobody I have ever known. My debt to her is lifetime.
I still haven't picked up my acoustic, although I hope that will change this afternoon. I've been writing loads of lyrics for Joey Terrifying songs, but I haven't done anything THT-wise since I recorded 'Scream Your Heart Out' and 'Queen Of Hearts'. I've definitely got a couple of belters brewing because there are a few things that I need to get off my chest that can only be adequately dealt with in song. Words are sometimes not enough.
Dundee show tonight with The Black Rat Death Squad, Inches From The Mainland and Fragile. This is the first night of the new Entropy format, where the the pre-club show at The Balcony will be £2 entry with £1 going straight to Oxjam. The other pound will go towards expenses for travelling bands. If ye get a cowpunk stamp at the gig, it entitles the stampee to half price entry to Entropy at Kage, so everybody wins. Make-That-A-Take will be booking these shows every month, although it's going to fall to Barry and RD to take care of everything while we're away on tour!
I'm off to brew a manuka honey tea and make a couple of comps to play in the Balcony between bands tonight. It's all about creating an atmosphere, ken?
x
The band has been taking up most of my time recently. We practice at least 6 hours a week, are constantly writing and the task of booking shows, sorting out CDs/merch, mailing stuff, making sure everyone is happy is endless. I've been working quite a lot and am gutted that I have to work all weekend. I feel like I haven't seen my lady properly for ages, although I am happy even if I only get to sleep beside her. Clare brings me peace like nobody I have ever known. My debt to her is lifetime.
I still haven't picked up my acoustic, although I hope that will change this afternoon. I've been writing loads of lyrics for Joey Terrifying songs, but I haven't done anything THT-wise since I recorded 'Scream Your Heart Out' and 'Queen Of Hearts'. I've definitely got a couple of belters brewing because there are a few things that I need to get off my chest that can only be adequately dealt with in song. Words are sometimes not enough.
Dundee show tonight with The Black Rat Death Squad, Inches From The Mainland and Fragile. This is the first night of the new Entropy format, where the the pre-club show at The Balcony will be £2 entry with £1 going straight to Oxjam. The other pound will go towards expenses for travelling bands. If ye get a cowpunk stamp at the gig, it entitles the stampee to half price entry to Entropy at Kage, so everybody wins. Make-That-A-Take will be booking these shows every month, although it's going to fall to Barry and RD to take care of everything while we're away on tour!
I'm off to brew a manuka honey tea and make a couple of comps to play in the Balcony between bands tonight. It's all about creating an atmosphere, ken?
x
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Ok, so I already broke the one promise to myself that I made pertaining this blog, namely that I was going to sepnd at least five minutes every day typing something. I failed to do so yesterday, therefore I feel as though I have failed in this endeavour. In my defense, however, I was working all day then was feeling sorry for myself, gripped in the midst of the January blues and seriously in need of some wife-time. Therefore, I spent my night up at Clare's and feel all the better for it. Sometimes a cuddle and a good night's sleep make it all better.
Folks that aren't in bands seem to think that we sit around all day getting baked and jamming. Oh how I wish this was true! I have hardly picked up my acoustic guitar so far this year, although sometimes I think this is a good thing as ye are not continually playing the same riffs and messing around with the same chord progressions. Sometimes I think jamming too much makes the whole process to mechanical. I think I write better when I just pick up the guitar and play straight from the heart, wrapping a couple of chords around whatever thoughts pour out of my mouth.
On the subject of band's, we got an awesome review for the Joey Terrifying demo. To say I am quietly stoked would be an understatement. Here's what they had to say...http://www.punknews.org/review/7951
Doss!
Folks that aren't in bands seem to think that we sit around all day getting baked and jamming. Oh how I wish this was true! I have hardly picked up my acoustic guitar so far this year, although sometimes I think this is a good thing as ye are not continually playing the same riffs and messing around with the same chord progressions. Sometimes I think jamming too much makes the whole process to mechanical. I think I write better when I just pick up the guitar and play straight from the heart, wrapping a couple of chords around whatever thoughts pour out of my mouth.
On the subject of band's, we got an awesome review for the Joey Terrifying demo. To say I am quietly stoked would be an understatement. Here's what they had to say...http://www.punknews.org/review/7951
Doss!
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
The sudden arrival of the day brought feelings of despondency. The battles fought in the early hours of the morning seemed entirely justified, a necessary evil perhaps, in those precious few moments before dreams were interupted by daybreak. The dead of night is a cold and lonely time in a double bed.
The pink starry pyjamas are beside the box of harmonicas, sitting next to yesterday's socks and a half-written page of meandering scrawls. The ashtray tucked under the bed would be met with disapproval, but our little guilty secrets are part of the games we play with ourselves.
It's always tomorrow around here.
A phone call. Plans are hatched and it's off again. It's nice to have a conversation while you're still trying to remember how the voicebox functions. Still, thoughts are read before words are spoken. Talk is merely a way of filling the silence, the conversation is over before it begins and we know all is well. We have telephones and texts, emails and blogs.
Talking?
Feeling is better I feel.
The pink starry pyjamas are beside the box of harmonicas, sitting next to yesterday's socks and a half-written page of meandering scrawls. The ashtray tucked under the bed would be met with disapproval, but our little guilty secrets are part of the games we play with ourselves.
It's always tomorrow around here.
A phone call. Plans are hatched and it's off again. It's nice to have a conversation while you're still trying to remember how the voicebox functions. Still, thoughts are read before words are spoken. Talk is merely a way of filling the silence, the conversation is over before it begins and we know all is well. We have telephones and texts, emails and blogs.
Talking?
Feeling is better I feel.
Monday, 12 January 2009
At around 10.30am, I heard the sound of what I thought was the postman putting letters or struggling to put a package through the letterbox. Having finally dropped off to sleep sometime after 3am, I thought nothing more of it except 'Hmm, maybe it's those records I ordered finally arriving'. With this thought in mind, I leapt up and grabbing my dressing gown, made my way excitedly to the front door.
No records to be found. Alarmingly, I was met with the sight of a not-unattractive twenty-something woman telling me that the property in which we reside is supposed to be empty and that she was bringing in a potential occupant for a viewing. Now, I live in my current abode rent-free thanks to my wonderful friends who took me in when I was homeless and distraught, so I was in no position to argue with the landlady about the legalities of my refusal to let her in. Instead, I merely mumbled a few incomprehensible syllables and gingerly awaited the arrival of my flatmate Clare, who duly sorted the situation out.
This is type of scenario is unremarkable in many ways. Had I had my wits about and not been stuck in the post-sleep, pre-awake realm, I would undoubtedly have fired off some witty retort concerning how we are perfectly within our rights to squat in a property that has been empty for six months, although this would have puzzled her as why would the flat be empty while she herself was recieving monthly rent payments into her bank account. Alas, any opportunities to use my wicked acid tongue were lost under the weight of my own fumbling inadequacies and being held hostage by the unyielding mistress of sleep. That and the fact that I was clad only in boxer shorts and a Living Daylights T-shirt (which I have been wearing since Saturday morning, best not tell my Clare...) made an already uncomfortable situation all the more difficult, insofar as my skinny legs, unkempt hair and tattoos were the first things to cast themselves forward into her startled retinas. Perhaps I should've also been a bit more thorough when asked who I was and what I was doing there, as opposed to 'I'm Deeker and I was asleep until you tried to get in'. Oh well, an opportunity wasted...
Still, it's morning and there is much to do. Records to burn, records to post, a wife to meet, mochas to drink, croissants to be consumed, songs to write, band practice to have, tabbies to smoke. A busy day despite the fact I'm (thankfully) not working after serving the needs of the boozing population of Perth all weekend. Still, be thankful for small mercies.
Five minutes has elapsed and I must get a move on.
Peace.
No records to be found. Alarmingly, I was met with the sight of a not-unattractive twenty-something woman telling me that the property in which we reside is supposed to be empty and that she was bringing in a potential occupant for a viewing. Now, I live in my current abode rent-free thanks to my wonderful friends who took me in when I was homeless and distraught, so I was in no position to argue with the landlady about the legalities of my refusal to let her in. Instead, I merely mumbled a few incomprehensible syllables and gingerly awaited the arrival of my flatmate Clare, who duly sorted the situation out.
This is type of scenario is unremarkable in many ways. Had I had my wits about and not been stuck in the post-sleep, pre-awake realm, I would undoubtedly have fired off some witty retort concerning how we are perfectly within our rights to squat in a property that has been empty for six months, although this would have puzzled her as why would the flat be empty while she herself was recieving monthly rent payments into her bank account. Alas, any opportunities to use my wicked acid tongue were lost under the weight of my own fumbling inadequacies and being held hostage by the unyielding mistress of sleep. That and the fact that I was clad only in boxer shorts and a Living Daylights T-shirt (which I have been wearing since Saturday morning, best not tell my Clare...) made an already uncomfortable situation all the more difficult, insofar as my skinny legs, unkempt hair and tattoos were the first things to cast themselves forward into her startled retinas. Perhaps I should've also been a bit more thorough when asked who I was and what I was doing there, as opposed to 'I'm Deeker and I was asleep until you tried to get in'. Oh well, an opportunity wasted...
Still, it's morning and there is much to do. Records to burn, records to post, a wife to meet, mochas to drink, croissants to be consumed, songs to write, band practice to have, tabbies to smoke. A busy day despite the fact I'm (thankfully) not working after serving the needs of the boozing population of Perth all weekend. Still, be thankful for small mercies.
Five minutes has elapsed and I must get a move on.
Peace.
Sunday, 11 January 2009
So, what's the craic with this?
So, why have I started a new blog? Are there not enough pages on the internet that have been defaced by my metaphorical scrawl or infected with my music? There are THT pages, Make-That-A-Take pages, Joey Terrifying pages and reams of other bollocks that I've contributed to the world wide wasteland. However, all of these are concerned with various endeavours, be they musical, community-based or rooted in DIY. None of these are dedicated to my writing/rantings.
I was inspired to do this blog by Thee Alex from www.undergroundscene.co.uk. He started a new blog recently concerned with a 45 day program to 'get happy', an exercise that inspires both admiration and a degree of trepidation within myself. The idea struck a chord, however, as a great means of getting back into the habit of writing, even if it is only five minutes worth of bollock-talking or general splatter-painting. That is going to be my aim here, to write 'creatively' for at least five minutes a day.
I have written for as long as I can remember, whether it was writing play-by-play commentaries of the amazing imaginary wrestling events I would host with my figures, ring and Subbuteo stadium for an arena, or writing reports on the Dundee United game I had just attended as a kid (I still attend United games as an adult). I always wrote poetry and lyrics from high school onwards and have written short stories and ficition sporadically for most of my life. Like most I guess, I feel like I have a book within me somewhere, that somebody out there may connect with my writing or feel they have a kinship, merely by reading the words that I write. Perhaps that is fanciful and a source of folly, perhaps I am just dreaming out loud.
For the purposes of this blog, and indeed a philosophy that I readily apply to my life (for better or worse), I shall go with 'first thought, best thought'. Like Kerouac talked of 'sketching', I shall open my brain and let the thoughts flow onto this 21st Century manuscript. I shall endeavour to write something every day for the next 45 days, much like Alex has done. What this brings me, I know not. I shall do it anyways.
Anyways, as I am sure will become a staple of this blog, my five minutes is up. It's Sunday, I've just finished work and I'm about to go to band practice. Home by midnight and bed by 2am seems like it'll be the story.
Onwards...
Deek
I was inspired to do this blog by Thee Alex from www.undergroundscene.co.uk. He started a new blog recently concerned with a 45 day program to 'get happy', an exercise that inspires both admiration and a degree of trepidation within myself. The idea struck a chord, however, as a great means of getting back into the habit of writing, even if it is only five minutes worth of bollock-talking or general splatter-painting. That is going to be my aim here, to write 'creatively' for at least five minutes a day.
I have written for as long as I can remember, whether it was writing play-by-play commentaries of the amazing imaginary wrestling events I would host with my figures, ring and Subbuteo stadium for an arena, or writing reports on the Dundee United game I had just attended as a kid (I still attend United games as an adult). I always wrote poetry and lyrics from high school onwards and have written short stories and ficition sporadically for most of my life. Like most I guess, I feel like I have a book within me somewhere, that somebody out there may connect with my writing or feel they have a kinship, merely by reading the words that I write. Perhaps that is fanciful and a source of folly, perhaps I am just dreaming out loud.
For the purposes of this blog, and indeed a philosophy that I readily apply to my life (for better or worse), I shall go with 'first thought, best thought'. Like Kerouac talked of 'sketching', I shall open my brain and let the thoughts flow onto this 21st Century manuscript. I shall endeavour to write something every day for the next 45 days, much like Alex has done. What this brings me, I know not. I shall do it anyways.
Anyways, as I am sure will become a staple of this blog, my five minutes is up. It's Sunday, I've just finished work and I'm about to go to band practice. Home by midnight and bed by 2am seems like it'll be the story.
Onwards...
Deek
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