smoke and mirrors

my extended absence from this realm has been met with mixed reviews. with some, it feels like they're afraid to offend me--like my dog has just died and they're sheltering me from that painful memory by grabbing my elbow and diverting me if we even begin to turn the corner toward a dog...no, no no, you guys. that was this time. others are annoyed and betrayed, taking a much more ani difranco approach to my negligence. she says it best: "if you're not angry, then you're just stupid and you don't care."

i admit it. i've been stupid. i haven't cared enough, and sometimes i've cared too much. interesting how those two seemingly converse ideas result in the same outcome: nothing.

i don't make it a habit to take life advice from john mayer. the further his career progresses the more i wish he would judge some of his songs a little more harshly. the point is i still think he's right when he says something to the effect of judging a song before it's done is like telling a two-year-old what he has to be when he grows up.

i have to remind myself of a wise woman's words:

"I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.....Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground--you can still discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests that something is as good as it's going to get. Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation, while writing needs to breathe and move." -Anne Lamott

four months into this whole thing and i'm still tiptoeing around, hoping to keep my skeletons in my closet, maintain my mystery, follow the rules...but doing these things hasn't made much i want, and even further, hasn't made me into what i want to be. i don't feel a lot of ownership with a lot of these songs because i am hesitant to set aside what i feel perceived to be. this acknowledgment is progress, but no less frustrating.

thanks for keeping after me. that's what i'm saying.

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about this song:
i really did receive a magic set for my birthday thanks to one heather fawson. it really is a box of ropes called "rope tricks untangled." even the few simple tricks i know are so satisfying. it is a little demonic how much i enjoy this deceit. obviously i'm not a true magician yet. i will eagerly reveal the trick for a piece of candy.

i thought of the first verse pretty quickly after spotting the magic set in my room. the guitar came right along with the words. the guitar is as simple as it's been for me in a long time. i have to admit that the lack of harmonic complexity kind of bores me.

the magic theme runs rampant. it unexpectedly became a love song about a woman whose lover leaves her on her birthday. i hope she's more than a damsel in distress. after ranting about my rigid creative process for several paragraphs up there, this song took on a lot of new meaning for me.

what it's about:
fidelity:
to self, to those you love. to setting aside parts of you and being who you need to be, not always who you want to be. to your past without repeating it. to change. to time (a magical quick fix is a myth). to the multiple meanings of age. to really long blogs you're afraid no one will care about.

recorded:
in 3 takes in my room. one mic. guitar and vocals simultaneously.


julia: guitar, vocals

smoke and mirrors

magic set for my birthday;
a box of ropes to lasso you in.
oh my disappointment to find
tying you down's some kind of illusion.

with wrists raw you went hunting
in the couch for pennies and dimes.
you said "oh, mr. lincoln, whatchya (<--haha) doin' behind
my lover's ear, let's go buy her something nice."
it was your last goodbye.

candle, candle, in the cake
i'll blow you down, turn out the flame.
oh, smoke and mirrors.
oh, goodbye year,
a martyr for a different age.

commit a card to your memory,
put it back in the deck.
but fortune's a temptress if she catches your eye
she'll take your heart, and that card
you'll lose on a bet.

candle, candle, in the cake
i'll blow you down, turn out the flame.
oh, smoke and mirrors.
oh, goodbye year,
a martyr for a different age.