I keep thinking what else is there to even say that hasn’t been already said, and then there’s a fourteen minute song in front of me. Is this just gonna keep happening or am I ever going to run out
this one was actually about the whole csh anniversary thing and in my own experience how like people keep asking about deleted stuff that wasn’t even up for six months, yet I released much better stuff since, in both sound and lyrics but it doesn’t even come close to favor that the stuff I released in a time I really would not like to have to hear about for the rest of this.
I have such pride for Renouncer and Genevan, some of good morning great nothing because it’s the first time where it’s not something anybody could’ve written and was from my own personal experience and reflections, memories and so, though I should know better now, it still sort of feels like being held hostage to who I was when I was at the worst point of my life.
I’ve thought about these lyrics from Reality by Car Seat Headrest since the The Scholars came out,
I was warned of all this, didn't listen, didn't listen,
please wake up, I need to talk to you right now,
I got bored of all this and didn't listen, didn't listen
muttering BLID to get me through the next 12 minutes,
I caught a glimpse of myself and fell right in,
I fell right in didn't know
that there was only one way out
I don’t know what will or who wrote those exact lyrics meant or felt but I always interpreted it as you grow up seeing art as this guide, and how when you finally reach the destination it stops being this new possibility and can become boring but also, hostile from the interactions with those who enjoyed it or don’t.
tumblr just deleted like half of what I typed out, but essentially I keep up stuff i hate because it feels better to think that things will change, and I won’t be held to what I made when I was fourteen in my twenties and that contrast could help someone find their own proof that things don’t have to be this way forever, but I don’t really know if that’s the best, my goal is to be in a band, and I keep feeling like I’m sort of grieving my art’s ability to change when it hasn’t even had the chance to be something tangible. This was the song that I wrote earlier that I was referring to,
I was old enough to like the bitter taste – reference to “The Drum Strikes Back” by Car Seat Headrest
Now is so sweet – also a kind of inference from drinking coffee frequently as long as i can remember and it being assumed i just didn’t like it without something to sweeten it but i do and didn’t find out cause i never tried until i was older
Where, where is my common sense?
How did I get in a jam like this? — lyrics from “Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town” by the talking heads
Believe, I believe in the hopeless
Love, love, love is simple as waking up tomorrow or for five more years – rewritten but also based on their lyrics
I forget what I’m supposed to say
Now it’s too late to say things have changed
Every year the tree grows another two inches
in a few more it’ll be too late to change your plans – some trees can drop seeds, root and climb in height fast, if you dont kill it or move it fast enough it can become too difficult and you have to adapt to it’s place, even if you didnt want it there or changed your mind, the tree is already there and its not going to stop growing.
And when you look back you can tell
how long you’ve been gone
When I can’t remember where it began
You can never be born again in another place
What would you hear, if I told you, “I was finally happy,” – reference to “That’s How You Made Me Happy Again” by CSH and the idea that artists can’t be healthy and good art, they can and are much better at creating when they are not being subjected to awful experiences or struggles because they can separate themselves and find metaphors with only reflection not in the moment.
Would you abandon all sight towards me
It follows you in every city, in every stranger who calls on memory, using your name
To talk about your past, as who you are in front of them now
Everybody grew up, and left someone alone in the theater
Its on him to get himself up before the new show
But just before the lights came on,
we watched him move his mouth - reference to The Opera House by The Olivia Tremor Control
Some religious revelation that felt different
That it was from you and not paper
Not dressed in silk, but in my mirror
Cause he’s an actor, but if we were brothers – sort of a reference to those boys where will says, “this is the part where i start to regret writing this”
It would have been easier to reason why things happened this way
Faced down and broken by the time I look again
You make the choice to be who you see
You made the choice to serve me
What would you hear, if I told you “I was finally happy,”
Would you abandon all sight towards me
I want good money for my time
This isn’t what you wanted
Its not my problem to face problems – perpetually having to come back to something you wrote at a bad time, and that sort of being the only thing anyone ever asks or talks about.
To be anything more than a baby bird
Waiting for his mother to come back
He doesn’t understand what he was supposed to do
When his brothers and mother flew away – there is virtually no one who tells you what happens after someone sees your art, how do you learn to live with that new life where it is shared by your past, and your future will be pitted against it
Formed a shape in the sky, something like a sign
I’d understand if I was older
I’d like to think that it’s going to solve everything
What would you say, if I told you “I was finally happy,”
Would it be a fault of mine that you don’t belong to anything anymore
Would you walk away, now that there’s no one to say the movie sucked
You’re left just with the lingering feeling that it’s never going to be okay
We all felt what someone else has overcome, we all walk ahead
We all change, and there is little left of what was before
It doesn’t have to be the same to be what it was before
If you can’t get over it, then there is room for another space to start looking
If you can’t stand to be left alone, there’s places still playing your favorites
This is the way it’s supposed to be
This isn’t the way it should end years down the line – no one ever has the life goal of “i want to be as miserable as a teenager for the rest of my life” as their intended goal, and even if they try, it usually doesnt last, but outside views of yourself are out of your control, audiences can very well hold the artist hostage to their old art.
What would you hear, “if I told you I was finally happy,”
Would you still listen when I talked about the past
Would it make a death meaningless to know that
He’s an actor waking up tomorrow or for five more years
On the credits, he goes home and doesn’t think about why he cried
Any more than I think of how I forgot what to dial when you’re stuck in my head
When I see you, you are only what’s in front of me
if I told you “I was finally happy,” if I told you that I loved you again
What would it mean that I felt something else before, would it exhale
if I told you “I was finally happy,” what would you think of me now
That it wasn’t with you, that it wasn’t when we were young
If you were finally happy, what would you want me to hear
Would you wait after you say you’re going home
Would you still look at it the way it was before it had faded
You know a new frame won’t change the picture
It will just be cleaner in the new space you sleep in
The old is so sweet the further you get from it
And the new is all to be broken in, the shine blinds your sight
I believe in why I came here years ago from televisions
All I fell in love with, ex-communicated by the time I saw past the flickering light on the box
I could turn away, I could walk away, if you’re never really sure, can you ever say that this is what you want
If I can’t walk away, is this what I need, is this worth what it’ll be by the time it’s in pen.
There’s probably more I meant by this but I’m half asleep