World So Big

The world is so big
then again it's all so small...
I might be in your arms tomorrow night
or I might never make it home to you at all.

I wanted to suggest the self-exiled lover... consumed with yearning yet unwilling or unable to return home. Pride, fatalism, anger...

I knew a guy like that once. I worked with him for a short while here in Long Beach. He would talk about the family he left "to find work" years before, talk about them as though they were a thousand miles away, ten thousand. He'd never seen them again -- but he thought of them every day, wondered how his kids were. Wondered if his woman was with another man.

One day I asked him where he came from and I was surprised when he said, Long Beach.

So I asked him if he'd been traveling when he met the wife he'd left behind. He looked at me funny for a second. She lives in North Long Beach, he said.

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World So Big*

The world is so big
then again the world's so small...
I might be in your arms tomorrow night
or I might never make it home to you at all


true Love, baby, the bottom drops out
and then you fall...
It only happens one time baby
but if you're lucky maybe not at all


I could live a thousand lifetimes
I'd never forget a single one of your lies...
I could die a million times
ant the ghost of you would still draw me back to life


*name changed from "The World Is So Big" (9/25/2007)
(C)2007,TKMajor

Plain Hooky

Okey. This 12-string slide guitar instrumental is a ringer. I'll admit it. I recorded it while I was recording some other stuff for AYoS and put it aside for a day like... today.

It's just a noodle built around some slightly mixed up blues changes, a meandering amble through a few slide guitar cliches I had sitting around in the back of my head.

But I have the suitcase of songs open, the rig fired up, and that rootless, aimless feelin' that don't do a man no good... unless he sits down with his guitar and lets some demons out. No sense saving those... So, barring unforseen circs, tomorrow should see a fresh slice of lyrical angst and musical self indulgence on this very page. Stay tuned.

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Bad Rubber

I scribbled down the first verse and the chorus of this song in '75 or so in one of the notebooks I usually kept with me at the gas station I was working at. I had in mind some kind of hot rod gothic epic as told through the sensibility of a French director only in rock instead of film. But it would be fifteen years before I got any farther.

Finally, in 1990 I broke out the notebook and sat down to fill out the song. I'd been going through a fertile period with my writing but I'd hit a slump and thought maybe I could keep busy at the least by cleaning up unfinished biz. But I'm the kind of guy who is dependent on inspiration. And, I'm afraid, that was running as thin as the tires in the song title.

What was, I guess, supposed to explore the interplay between good and evil and will and surrender instead became a series of comic book sketches...

This version takes it all about as seriously as it deserves, giving the song a goofily campy sass... or at least that's what I hear when I squint real hard.

Oh... and now might be an excellent time to point out that most of what I consider my best work is still ahead. I've done a couple of my favorites -- and avoided the worst of the stinkers -- but I've been pacing myself. The best is definitely yet to come. Uh... for what that's worth.

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BAD RUBBER

We were running bad rubber for most of the summer
the oil was a rich dirty black
we were broke as hell, flat for a spell
but there was no thought of going back

Dont talk to me about love
I dont need it at all
Dont talk to me about knowledge
You know we're living . . . after the fall

We pulled into Winona
on a hot August afternoon
I saw her first,
but my buddy he done saw her too

We pulled into that parking lot
she hopped in the back
my buddy he asked what her name was (she just said)
"Honey, let's just get out of here fast"

Dont talk to me about love...

we drove all night crossed two state lines
in the morning we had to crash
I asked her waht the hell she done
(she said ya don't wanta) Know if ya gotta ask

drove down to the Keys and shut down the car
there was nowhere left to go
I turned to her and asked whats next
she said dont ask if ya dont already know

Dont talk to me about love
I dont believe it at all
Dont talk to me about knowledge
You know we're living . . . after the fall

BFD 2 Fresno

This song started with the line, "From Bakersfield to Fresno and everywhere in between," which made me laugh out loud. I've hitchhiked that stretch -- but it was back in 70 or so when it was safe (you know, back then, all we had to contend with was the Manson Family, the Hillside Strangler(s) and 3 or 4 different murderers -- all dubbed "The Freeway Killer" or "Freeway Strangler" by our imaginative local press) and, while there were more than a couple miles in between there wasn't much else besides dust and superfarms that smelled of supertoxic insectisides wafting up into the 110 degree, smoggy air... altogether, delightful trip.

(Honest to God, kids. Do not hitchike. It's not like it was in the thirties or the fifties -- or even the 60's and 70's when all the mass murderers started trolling for hitchers... Just don't do it.)

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BFD 2 Fresno

I know you wonder
how I'll ever get along
What will the lost boy do
now the smart girl's gone?
I haven't seen the world
but there's one that I know
You were just a short short ride
on a long long road...

First time I saw you
didn't know what to do
I tried to catch your eye
but you just came barreling through
all the boys scattered
and the sparks began to fly
I just stood there
you fillin' up my mind

I know you wonder how I'll ever get along...

Don't know why you chose me
Guess I thought that it was just fate
The door swung open
I threw my old life away
my hometown in your rearview
my feet on your daddy's dashboard
Didn't take long til I saw
just what I was for

I know you wonder how I'll ever get along...

From Bakersfield back to to Fresno
and everywhere in between
Everything was wrong
and it was all because of me
At the bottom of the hill I said
"here will l be fine"
Last time I saw you
you was just another grape on the vine

I know you wonder
how I'll ever get along
What will the lost boy do
now the smart girl's gone?
I haven't seen the world
but there's one that I know
You were just a short short ride
on a long long road...

(C)1997, TK Major


Blog within a Blog...

And speaking of Freeway Killers... I used to eat breakfast at a little joint in Long Beach in the 70's called Egg Heaven (my typical order was a Maria's Special, a chili and home fries and eggs and hot sauce conglomeration cooked up by Mary, the cook-owner), more or less every day on the way to work and, often as not, with my GF or pals on the weekends.

As anyone who does the diner-breakfast thing knows, you typically see the same folks day after day. Everyone has their typical seats and times... it's a big, chaos-driven watch mechanism of coming and ordering and eating and going.

One of the other regulars, a fellow around 30 or so with long blond hair, kind of funny eyes, and a droopy moustache, had initially caught my eye because he looked enough like a friend of mine to make me look twice (but not three times... more of a cousinish resemblance, if you will). But it wasn't him and he mostly receded from my active attention to become just another cog in the big breakfast machine. Still, over a period of several years, I probably saw this guy at least 3 or 4 times a week.

Eventually, a nasty motorcycle wreck took me out of that groove and into the hospital. When I got out of the hospital after two months I had to find a new place to live and moved to nearby Seal Beach, which at the time ('81) was quiet and charming. During my recuperation, I stumbled into a substantially different morning groove, different times, different breakfast joints.

Imagine, if you will, fair reader, my surprise when, picking up the local fishwrapper one day I saw a picture of the then-recently apprehended "Freeway Strangler."

This is a guy who had strangled (as it eventually turned out) over 40 young men he'd picked up hitchhiking, most of them marines, soldiers, and sailors, drugging them first and then performing more or less unspeakable crimes to them. (Can't remember if the unspeakable crimes were pre- or post-mortem. But bad stuff, trust me.)

And, you already guessed it, of course, it was the blond, droopy-moustached regular from the old breakfast joint, who I found out was named Randy Kraft. He was a fairly distinctive looking guy. There was no mistaking him as his eyes looked into the mug shot camera. Turned out he was openly gay (confounding the era's 'profilers' who had pegged the crime on a deeply conflicted "latent homosexual") and living with his boyfriend, a hairdresser, who was given a clean bill of health by the cops after a super-thorough investigation, saying the BF simply didn't know anything about Kraft's secret life as a mass murderer.

More than a few years later I became friends with a transplanted Dutch jewelsmith, a hip, counterculture guy who had been married for a number of years to a pretty young American girl. In passing, one day, I mentioned that I used to eat breakfast "with" Randy Kraft, the mass murderer.

My friend got this funny look in his eye and said, "Well, I can top that -- my wife and I used to double date with him and his boyfriend."

"He seemed like a nice guy -- but kind of quiet," my friend added with a laugh.


It's a small world. Sometimes, just a little too small.

Too Much Trouble Christine

much trouble?

Nah...

Like Goldilocks, the singer in this song seems to think he's got just enough trouble.

This is, of course, for those who've been paying attention (you know who you are and your gold star is in the mail), the second version of this song in two days.

I didn't hate the first version (or I wouldn't have put it up, hey?), despite a number of flaws, not the least of which were heart arhythmia-producing timing lapses. But I like this ver better. Still, you shouldn't be surprised if, sometime in the next year or so, yet another version pops up here. (But not tomorrow, I swear.) Don't ask me why I've become infatuated with this tune. It's as mindless as a JayCees mixer, for sure. Yet, somehow, it's re-ingratiated itself with me after a decade of neglect.

One thing comes to mind... out of hundreds of songs... this is one of the very few tunes one might actually consider a love song. (As opposed, don't ya know, to broken heart songs, cryin' in your beer songs, gonna end it all songs, etc...)

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You're Too Much Trouble, Christine

You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
So Why do I love you, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine

Christine on a beach, Christine on a plane
Christine in a cafe with the boulevardiers
Christine on the set Christine in my head
Christine in my heart and tearing up my bed

You're too much trouble, Christine...

Christine I'm terrified just holding your hand
Christine you twist me like no one else can
Christine you're crazy but you got a plan
world domination begins with one man

You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
So Why do I love you, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine

You're Too Much Trouble, Christine

think we're gonna try something new, here.

I recorded this a few days ago and put it aside. As I was prepping the file to use it today, trimming the clunks and thunks off the begining and end and outputting it to an mp3, and I sort of got the song caught in my head.

I started singing it out loud (I live by myself -- I can do these things) and finally picked up a guitar and started playing the song much more aggressively and decided I really liked it better.

But us database guys hate wasted anything, so I decided to post this one anway -- and as soon as I get done with this post, I'm going to hit the big red button and record what I'm hearing in my head right now, and, barring unforseen circumstances, like the sudden onslaught of a bout of good taste or better judgement, I should post that version tomorrow. So, it'll be an opportunity for comparative analysis and criticism. In fact, for my next project, I think I'll just do a year's worth of different versions of this song.

By the way, this is yet another song from the '96 project, The Barista Cycle. Oh, yeah... and yes, I am painfully aware of how much the tempo varies, sometimes within a bar or two in today's version. All I can say is, wait'll you hear tomorrow's version.

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You're Too Much Trouble, Christine

You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
So Why do I love you, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine

Christine on a beach, Christine on a plane
Christine in a cafe with the boulevardiers
Christine on the set Christine in my head
Christine in my heart and tearing up my bed

You're too much trouble, Christine...

Christine I'm terrified just holding your hand
Christine you twist me like no one else can
Christine you're crazy but you got a plan
world domination begins with one man

You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine
So Why do I love you, Christine
You're too much trouble, Christine

Scared

I could give myself to love
but love would only break my heart
I could give my world to you
but you would tear that little world apart

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Didn't Know That I Could Still Be Scared

don't know what to do about you
didn't know that I could still be scared
I've been alone so long that this seems wrong
still I'm terrified to find
I need you there

I could give myself to love
but love would only break my heart
I could give my world to you
but you would tear that little world apart

one day I looked at myself
and then I began again
I built it up and I tore it down
and I won't do that again

I could give myself to love...

Every time I hear that I'm doing all right
I know that I'm living a lie
Everytime that I feel myself start to slip
I hold my hand to the fire

I could give myself to love
but love would only break my heart
I could give my world to you
but you would tear that little world apart