One day in September, you come here
You pull my head down and you whisper in my ear
And you tell me the sidewalk is as far as the world really goes
But that’s a secret everybody knows

You hold my head in your hands, you say my name
How is it that though you say it some 20,000 times
It’s never quite the same?

And you tell me that Hercules died burning
Consumed by an article of his own clothing

That’s something I’d rather not be reminded of

I think of books as very, very different from songs. I consider song, like, the primal state of human beings. It’s the first thing you do when you are born is you start to sing, whereas writing is artificial and awesome but totally different thing. It’s sort of like comparing making a fire to building a house.

The song is fire. You react to it primally, instantly. You don’t have decide whether you like it. And you don’t really have to sit down and think about it much after you’re done listening to it. It really does run through you like wind, whereas a book is a journey. It’s a thing you agree to go on with somebody. And I think every reader’s experience of every book is going to be different.

Obviously, I hope everybody who likes my stuff enjoys the book, but I do think it’s a different sort of ride. It’s more of a marathon. My songs tend to sprint towards some epiphany and then explode.

John Darnielle, Interview on NPR Weekend Edition, 9/14/14 [x]

Well I’ll go to college and I’ll learn some big words
And I’ll talk real loud, goddamn right I’ll be heard
You’ll remember the guy who said all those big words
He must’ve learned in college

And it took a long time till I came clean with myself
I come clean out of love with my lover
I still love her, loved her more
When she used to be sober and I was kinder

Hey hey thanks to everyone for saying nice things with regards to my…overly eventful Saturday. Very lovely of you. I’m healing up pretty well so far — it still looks like someone took a weedwacker to my entire body, but it’s becoming much less painful to complete crucial life tasks like HOLDING OBJECTS and WALKING AROUND.  I can also now state with confidence that I didn’t contract Leptospirosis from drinking a bunch of river water…so morale is on the rise around these parts (:

If I had a car and you were riding in it 
I’d show you what my car could do 
I head east down highway fifteen
And see the starlight 
shower over you 

Gas fumes rising from the blacktop 
Cheap motels with flashing signs 
Just an old sweet song, made new 
And oozing through the pines 

Here II

You can hear the rain coming
about eleven seconds before it hits
heavy and all-surrounding,
silencing the forest with a
relentless pressure.

You can feel the current shifting
about eight minutes before it surges
steady and fearsome,
suffocating your movements with a
sickening strength.

I can feel the sadness building
about an hour before it breaks
exhaustive and overpowering
all hollow aching and dragging 
pitiful questions across time zones,
all wanting and waiting and
turning over long-dead conversations
in the palms of my hands.

What else 
to do, then?

shelter myself 
beneath dark exotic branches
and cling to jagged limestone formations
that rip the flesh from my body

Waiting for the day
when I surrender to the wildness

Waiting for the day
when I let the current 
drag me 

So that I can finally
leave you behind
without ever having to
turn my back
and go.

Neil Diamond on the transistor
Whistling past the graveyard in the dark
You with that old scar running down your face
Way up north in Arnolds Park
Way up north in Arnolds Park

Fireflies and mosquitoes
Shirt sticking to my skin
You with the stars there in your eyes
Autumn rolling on in
Rolling on in

Very rough Saturday.  Perhaps the roughest.  Might post about it later once I’ve lain around wallowing in pain a little longer.

In the meantime…here’s a brief sampler of what my entire body looks like at the moment, plus massive bruises all over my back and the backs of my legs. Pretty!