Track 4 of "Cutting Edge Nonsense" Alas..the title cut.That deep bass rumble you first hear? That would be a Tibetan Singing Bowl.I wanted a tribal feeling for this piece.

They without honor Rule iron-fisted, never Earning our respect.

Poor Mxyzptlk! Never pulled one over on Superman for long.

Memory creates A world from possible pasts. Soon it's gone again.

New swallow's lessons: "Before you learn how to crawl, you must learn to fly." I learned after writing this that swallows DO actually crawl around in the nest before they take the plunge. Oh well. You learn something new every day.

First day of April: I have played so many tricks. Who is the fool now?

Pungent aroma, Skunk versus car, skunk loses. Mommy won't come home.

Raking on Sunday: Leaves observe no one's Sabbath; Neither, then, shall I.

Re-recording of an old song I'd originally written for an even older band, Buckle. I think Buckle's been done now for almost eighteen years, so it may be safe to dust this off now and expose it to light again.

Traffic in Eastern Massachusetts blows. Just saying.

The 15th and final song written for RPM and FAWM. Fittingly the lyric is about the end of the process... even though there was still a ton left to do when I came up with it. I guess I was feeling optimistic, which is seriously unusual for me.

"O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the redeemed of the LORD say so" Psalm 107:1-2

The homophobic Reverend was embroiled in a homosexual sex and crystal meth scandal in 2006. This was my rally song for him. I was hoping he would preach on why it is not bad to be gay. INstead he went and got reprogrammed.

A friend told me about this experience. I cannot name names but he insisted it was a true story. The "Phil" mentioned is not retired Senator from Texas "Phil Graham," I don't care what he says, he was not there: the evidence is conclusive.

After a brief hiatus out in the weeds, I found myself back on my own course, but what to do if the force knocks me off my horse and breaks the resolve of my frame to sustain?

A true story from a rough week. The window into the soul of a man really does run through the contents of his stomach.

I grew up in Redding, California. That part of Northern California is more like Alabama than it is San Francisco. Hence, it could be called "Calibama."

Whenever I am at a loss for words and I'm just not sure what to say, I think about how control is an illusion and I say "Ya-ta-hey."

Only the people with problems call after the decent have gone to sleep...