No Guest Energy “Attic Sessions” #8
He could’ve been a foil.
Instead he played along.
Which maybe was what he needed.
Further he wanted to mix the visual with the aural.
Blurring the difference and then the reaction you can’t know what’s what if it flows so naturally.
No verse. Chorus. Verse.
More like nothing.
Not even music.
Now I am sitting at this table in Babaoshan.
Waiting for rain.
Someone to call.
The crew to meet up with.
Going through the same thing but different messes.
Maybe ignoring it all.
Maybe diving right in to make it messier.
A girl across from me is painting flowers on thin papers.
An older lady in front of me with a little girl is dangling a bottle of water out in front of her.
The little girl in the dress has a necklace of big red beads around her neck.
The girl painting is singing along to the radio.
Do people still do that?
I don’t even know what I wanted to be doing with the radio.
I wanted to keep it easy.
Ultimately it’s so difficult.
Staying clouded most the time.
Totally fallen out of the loop and all that jazz.
Looking for a mark to make a sound to scrawl.
A makeover to imitate.
A place to sit and rest my head.
Making trouble.
Making a mess.
Rainy and cool for once.
Either drowning in the unease or anxious from just going with the flow.
Trying to keep things easy.
Keeping the mind clear.
When nothing matters nothing comes to mind.
Sticking with the path of least resistance.
What makes the grade can be so sub par.
Can’t save face when you don’t know what’s what.
What the point is anyway.
Where it’s all headed or where to go.
Speak Chinese but don’t think nothing.
This gray and gloomy makes a crusty center.
