i-pod wars
oh no! on my! is probably the band I'm listening to as much as anyone the last couple weeks. the songs I was listening to were found on music blogs. the band used to be called the jolly rogers, but I think someone already had that name so they had to change it. you can still find the band's website under that name and I did that a couple weeks ago. on the site they said they'd send you the jolly rogers cd and a pre-release copy of oh no! oh my!'s upcoming first cd. they said they'd do this for two dollars. this seemed like a trick somehow, but I paid through pay-pal and hoped for the best. a couple days went by and I e-mailed daniel from the band asking him if I was going to get the music in the mail or if I was supposed to go somewhere and download it for free or something like that. he sent me an e-mail back saying the two cd's had been sent out that morning. a few days later both cd's arrived with no artwork or in cases or anything else. on one, in what I think is probably daniel's handwriting, it said "the jolly rogers" and on the other it said "oh no! oh my!". I thought this was pretty great for some reason, probably because I think the band's music is going to make them quite famous when people hear it and they were nice enough to burn me a couple cd's at home and mail them too me the way one of your friends will do the same thing.
I wrote this on my way to work this morning, stealing lyrics from songs I was listening to and sent it to daniel over e-mail--
your music steps down on my floorboard a little too hard worrying about the crazy woman downstairs who asks me questions when I see her like “do you really think they actually have satellites up in space”. then she smacks her lips the way some old people do. I put the years in a lunch pail and shut the door behind me, a loose jiggle in the lock. 5:48 a.m.. pre-morning ruddiness, the rain taking a moment. down the middle of the street a drunk bleach blonde black woman is walking petite in very high heels. she’s singing but I have my headphones in so it sounds like you. a break comes between two songs and she says “what’s up brother”. I sing back “oh you are the one obe-wan”.
coffee, sweet vanilla soy, the way she smelled three months ago coming out of the shower, which is how it starts raining again. it made me want to stop eating, mark the occasion somehow. down in the empty train station you’re singing “I live alone”, and it’s not entirely empty, there’s a guy sleeping sideways on a stone bench, but he’s part of the emtpy, stays there when the bloodthirsty train comes, its doors mouthing the words “open up and let us come in”. there’s a guy from the cafeteria at work sleeping, his head against the glass. he flips burgers. I always wonder how many people sleep past their stops on the train.
“I was in a hurry”
“do you have the time sir”
“I fall all the time sir”
then back out of the tunnel into the world the way the world looks before people get to it. the way you can look at everything without worrying about it. a voice buried in the mix of the music. zombies. wires everywhere you go. the way that woman took off her coat last night. the way a new song in your ears feels like it was waiting for you like the smell of the avenues.
I wrote this on my way to work this morning, stealing lyrics from songs I was listening to and sent it to daniel over e-mail--
your music steps down on my floorboard a little too hard worrying about the crazy woman downstairs who asks me questions when I see her like “do you really think they actually have satellites up in space”. then she smacks her lips the way some old people do. I put the years in a lunch pail and shut the door behind me, a loose jiggle in the lock. 5:48 a.m.. pre-morning ruddiness, the rain taking a moment. down the middle of the street a drunk bleach blonde black woman is walking petite in very high heels. she’s singing but I have my headphones in so it sounds like you. a break comes between two songs and she says “what’s up brother”. I sing back “oh you are the one obe-wan”.
coffee, sweet vanilla soy, the way she smelled three months ago coming out of the shower, which is how it starts raining again. it made me want to stop eating, mark the occasion somehow. down in the empty train station you’re singing “I live alone”, and it’s not entirely empty, there’s a guy sleeping sideways on a stone bench, but he’s part of the emtpy, stays there when the bloodthirsty train comes, its doors mouthing the words “open up and let us come in”. there’s a guy from the cafeteria at work sleeping, his head against the glass. he flips burgers. I always wonder how many people sleep past their stops on the train.
“I was in a hurry”
“do you have the time sir”
“I fall all the time sir”
then back out of the tunnel into the world the way the world looks before people get to it. the way you can look at everything without worrying about it. a voice buried in the mix of the music. zombies. wires everywhere you go. the way that woman took off her coat last night. the way a new song in your ears feels like it was waiting for you like the smell of the avenues.
posted by gradylove at 9:20 AM
2 Comments:
you smell like the avenues, and vanilla syrup, and sleep fed blankets with their big openings and tucked in corners, but mostly you smell like you
good story of how to find a band- I feel envious...
Post a Comment
<< Home