cruel water

we’re all friends here, right?

good.

so i can play you this song i wrote on the farm yesterday.

it’s a capital D demo:

1. it was recorded at hooch’s kitchen counter on a telephone.
2. the shaker is a box of apple watermelon nerds.
3. multiple dogs are audible.
4. first takes all around.
5. sounds a little rough around the edges.

all that being said, i can’t stop listening to it.

likely because it was a part of one of the best days of recent memory.

work up alone on a the farm.

coffee.

fed the puppies and chickens.

breakfast.

guitar on the porch swing, where i struggled with this pop song that’s been damning up the works for a few weeks. i didn’t get any closer after a concerted effort, but then this one just fell out.

when they fall out, they’re more fun to listen to, cause it doesn’t seem like you wrote them.

then freud on the hammock.

swimming in little grassy lake.

dinner from the co-op.

kitchen recording session.

giants-cubs on the tele (giants win it on an 8th inning pat burrell home run).

few beers.

soy milk.

cookies.

sleep.

***

anyway, i don’t know who or when or why or how or what with this song …

but it’s about a drought.

and it’s called cruel water.

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(interestingly, today, the day after this recording, two hours of afternoon rain. first in months … coincidence?)

***

officer, i’d like to report an unnatural act. (btw, lefty did the most amazing thing he’s ever done on this trip, and i missed it. you’ll notice that this piñata is a giant pink dog. so it was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, and lefty, in his wanderings, strolled past it in the middle of the party, and casually sniffed its asshole before moving along.)

buster siesta.

mary ann henry got shit faced this weekend. i feel so close to her now! she was howling at the moon at one point, and was giving me a heap of shit about writing songs about whore houses. i like this mary ann henry. a lot.

josh is a bad assed rock diver. and he’s not smoking in this picture.

talia threw a fit one night, as kids do, freaking out about packing her suitcase or something, and when the dust settled, she walked into the living room where i was. i said, ‘what the hell just happened? what were you on about?’ and she just started shitting herself laughing and said, ‘i don’t know!’

katie, as part of the style team that assembles this particular look of mine, hard at work. i have hearts and stars on my toes now. and you don’t.

isabella.

blackened chicken does not give you cancer. but 17st bbq sauce is amazing, burnt or not …

the lovely smith shoot.

i love this man.

give this girl a job already, god … are we going yet? what are we ordering when we get there? what time did you get up? what are you doing? what are we doing? huh?

the great dagan shoot … made me a sandwich and brought me a drink to the hammock for an hour and fifty minutes of angry birds play time on my phone. tough negotiator …