“Beyond hoping that someone will like one of my songs, I don’t think about how a song will be received. I just hope that, when somebody hears one of my songs, they’ll want to hear it again. I don’t have an impact or an effect in mind. I really just try to write something that makes sense for me, that seems true. For me, songs are sort of sacred ground, because it’s a place where you can actually tell the truth. You don’t have to be diplomatic. I think the point of a song is to just say something that’s true, or that expresses an idea that reflects something that’s true, whether it’s a truth about human nature or about the way people bullshit one another. A song doesn't have to be serious to be true but to me, that’s what a song is. And if I can get that right for me, then it’s worth writing. You’re asking people for their time and attention, and it’s a chance to tell somebody what you think, or to share a joke. I just always hope that whatever’s in the song is worth demanding somebody’s time.” 

Lyle Lovett

Soggy Saturday. No need to get wet & muddy. Fill the cup and sharpen the number 2 pencil. Write down the words the snapshot sings to you. 

 Old photos tell fresh stories.

 Looks like these lucky kids were headed to school.

Birthday party with a live band!

We’re talking about practice here, not plagiarism—plagiarism is trying to pass someone else’s work off as your own. Copying is about reverse-engineering. It’s like a mechanic taking apart a car to see how it works.

Austin Kleon from his book Steal Like an Artist.

Just started Austin's book. So far it is killer! Packed full of dynamite quotes from explosive thinkers.

"It’s one of my theories that when people give you advice, they’re really just talking to themselves in the past."

Austin Kleon 

Yep. That is the truth; dead center bulls-eye. 

So.......

 “Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again.” 

Andre Gide

“Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic.” —Jim Jarmusch

“Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing.”

Salvador Dali

Salvador Dali

“We want you to take from us. We want you, at first, to steal from us, because you can’t steal. You will take what we give you and you will put it in your own voice and that’s how you will find your voice. And that’s how you begin. And then one day someone will steal from you.” 

Francis Ford Coppola 

Jean Marc Janiaczyk

If you spent a few days visiting this country cottage with only your 6 string friend and your trusty tattered notebook for company, what song would you write? What story would you tell?

"You've got to keep the child alive; you can't create without it."

Joni Mitchell

The bike basket. Wanted more than a new slingshot or cane pole.

Needed more than new Western Auto jeans or black PF Flyer low tops.

One lucky posse member, usually the self appointed leader, had some style of basket on his or her steed. When the summer sun hit one quarter up, the gang would gather at the monkey bars next to the courthouse, planning the day and filling the baskets with rations and essentials. Which included, 8 oz bottles of RC cola, Moon Pies, bologna sandwiches, Scotty jelly jar of fresh dug garden worms, Band Aid can with a dozen or so kitchen matches, lady finger firecrackers, Bull Duran bags filled with marbles (no steelies-they were outlawed by the gang last year), compass used in World War 2, numerous leaky water guns, various homemade and store bought sling shots, one Red Rider BB rifle, one quarter full worn tube of bbs, A & P coffee can with fishin' line and Eagle Claw hooks, one chewed hardball, assorted ball mits and a Mickey Mantle bat. Once the gang was packed and gathered, a herd of Schwinn's and Sears steel stallions would ride off into the rising sun. True freedom, knowing your only concern was to be home before the streetlights came on. 

A Theology Of Sorts

Matthew West

Words are fragile.

(Too much so for the task.)

But what else is there

to fill this black hole

between experience

and expression?

There is a vast expanse

of grey matter-

a cosmos

between what I feel

and what I can convey.

God is.

That's it.....

my great theological statement.

Touch is the best proof:

Moment-to-moment exchange,

the feeble imprint of that

fading image still visible

to those who look close enough.

Damp dark Monday. Lyrical mind still asleep. Time to compose a new arrangement for The Dream. Ian Anderson at my side ready to go. Pot of coffee poured. I'm thinkin' a smokey peyote washed intro then........

The Dream

Graeme Edge

When the white eagle of the North is flying overhead

 And the browns reds and golds of autumn lie in the gutter dead

 Remember then the summer birds with wings of fire flaying

 Come to witness spring's new hope, born of leaves decaying

 And as new life will come from death, love will come at leisure

 Love of love, love of life and giving without measure

 Gives in return a wondrous yearn for promise, almost seen

 Live hand in hand and together we'll stand on the threshold of a dream