typhoid i never wrote down that dream from last night anywhere, did i.
been out all day.
i remember little.
my brother was in it.
i found a bunch of cash in $20 or $100 bills under some bar stools at a bar.. seems like people dropped them a lot.
and the guide is back. yipyip.
sitting at a table talking.
about who may know what may know.
stork daddy his recent covers are songs of great emotional depth, not sung with a general lack of emotional nuance, but a specific kind. he sings like a drunk, who needs the words out of him, spits them out, booms them when they need to resonate. for me this is more true than the whining, than the posturing of the originals, who preen the words out in high school drama club voices, or kabuki or greek drama voices, cathartic in their distance from our reality not their closeness. for me, and for a lot of people, we know the words and we know the feelings, but they seldom match up. and so we're left with things we need to say, which made sense at the time, and we need to just say them, we speak them righteously, recklessly, but maintain our solemnity. or at least that's always seemed to me an american male ideal that cash embodies. granted, cash's range is limited, it's marching into a fight no thought of losing or winning, it's righteous anger, it's gambling, it's being hungover on drink or lonliness. his emotional nuance is in the general character he gives every song. i recognize in his handling the turth of ourselves faced with even the most complex of truths, we're still simple in the midst of it all, trying to make sense of it, to be the hero, to maintain our balance, to keep our voice steady and our eye straight. that's johnny cash. and that's why he'll be the one for me, making complex songs simple and simple songs complex. 040415
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