props to mend the broken hearted

I haven't painted in years, but bought some paint last weekend and got started. This one turned out pretty good.

I have a new musical side-project" with my friend Steve called "Quick, hide the monkey boy". The idea is to create one night songs, write and record a song in one day, ideally less than a few hours. We've started a little blog for it hidethemonkeyboy.vox.com where you can listen to the resulting hilarity.

Two songs up. I've got to find time to get Steve up here so we can record some more songs. He's busy, I'm busy, everything is so damn busy. Life is getting pretty filled up it's getting hard to schedule in all the fun.

This is a song I made inspired by a new internet friend. I think it turned out okay, except the bit of goofy vocals in the last bit. What do you think?

I'm torn on what to do with this fucking blog. It started as poetry blog as I mourned the end of my marriage. Some of the poems were good, others were just horribly personal and confessional. I had those up for a bit, got through the haze of my grief and got some sense in me, so I pulled them down. Then I added some songs, pulled them. And now it's dormant.

I've moved off of poems and I've been writing more songs, both my own songs and in various incarnations of bands, which are mainly different pairings of my friends. I think I now have 4 different "bands" - none of which have a finished set or prospects for performing anytime soon. It's time to focus, Shane.

Here's what I'm thinking... I'll make this blog my catch all. The love songs, the band songs, the poems, the blog shit, all of it in one spot. For me. You can be a voyeur if you want. This is all my shit, my creative output - good or bad.

Okay, it's decided that's what I'll do. So hello internet, this is my fucking life!

Shane

PS: I've made some of the old poems available for public viewing. I don't know how I feel about them. But you can see the ones that I thought had some poetic merit.

there is a pathetic
xmas tree in my living room
cut by my hand from
the forest behind
my house

21 branches barely holding
up the lights & decorations.

the kids want to add
more ornaments but i
fear it will buckle under
the weight.

it is the best tree
I've ever had. it is a miracle,
marvelous in it's
dismal glory.

xmas day the kids will be
with their mother in another city.
the tree & i will celebrate in
our own way, as

we are kindred souls
both just strong enough
to carry the burdens
placed on us.

west coast winter comes in fits & starts
two days ago there was two feet of snow
flakes the size of quarters & now
it is almost gone, i can't believe

i'm writing another fucking weather poem.
storm knocked a tree onto the power lines
to my house & i've been sleeping on ex-
wife's couch while it gets restored.

the kids are happy to have both parents
together, son seeing it as a sign of hope.
i feel like a visitor in my former life. the word
even making new implications.

i remember when we first married,
24 years old, on our honeymoon trying on
wife as a new title, it felt exciting & adult
then i got older & secure enough not
to think about it.

now that she's an ex, i've been trying on that
title too. the winter storms come so quickly,
it is hard to plan for anything.

there is a long winter coming
first real snowfall collecting on the driveway now
finding mittens & coats for my westcoast kids
in the storage bin of leftover winter things
that weren't sent to their mothers house.

i've never done well with routine.

i deleted my account from a dating site this morning
resolved to stop seeking tokens to replace her
not to win her back, but because substituting a life
isn't the same a making a new one.

the snow is convenient  - cold, lonely & longing
for a warm touch - though i don't really believe in it.
weather is such a lazy device. too obvious &

you wouldn't fall (ha ha) for it anyway, would you
& since it is just you & me now, i expect
much more from us

ginger can talk for an hour without taking a breath

hasn't been in a relationship in 8 years.

finds everyone & everything fascinating

has many friends and family that have died in
unusual ways

loves her cats and is holding out for true love
(and I believe her)

has a lovely face when she says things that
are in appropriate

chain smokes Marboro lights while veering dangerously
in and out of traffic lanes.

plays terrible music at full blast in the car
& insists that I sing along.

has, and will continue to, break many mens
hearts, possibly mine too, if i'm stupid about it.

she is a terrifying curiosity: the type of girl I know only from
a distance, popular high school beauty in white convertible,
attending upstate new york parties with handsome
blue blood boys in v-neck sweaters.

we are very different:

I don't like her music.
I don't find anyone fascinating.
I break no hearts.
I've never been to New York state.

& as we drive through the utah night
i try to explain that there are many things i can't enjoy
on principle.

but she doesn't hear me
as she's lighting a 3rd consequtive cigarette
swerving in and out of traffic, waiting
for her turn to talk.

i know I am a fraud sitting here, though i enjoy it
& will put in a half-ass effort later in the evening
to capture her body. i could love her pathetically
for a few days before our differences would
be too apparent.
 
but at the end of the night I am grateful in a way
when she rejects my advances with a sincere kindness,
trying to spare my heart

as if it were there to be
broken