Dirty Yellow Chair

"Dirty Yellow Chair" is a song I was going to write. It was going to be full of sounds like shallow water and charity dollars. Change, you know. The lawnmower next door turns off. Vaughn says hi from our front porch, my stomach feels groggy, someone says hi back to her. Man or woman I can't tell. I hear things from the back room. I hear things not so well. The AC whirs. We destroy the planet. I stand up, turn off the light; it's not needed at 3:45. Pull the string. I was going to write down lines like "Sitting in her cute yellow chair / the chair doesn't tell me who she is" and "Leaning back into the face of the electric drops / her words doesn't tell me who she is / She's the dirty little angel I'm strapped to / her face like a triangle and her fingernails." It's found language. It's not me but it is. I can't decide if I want it so I don't write it down. Until now that I'm typing what has been happening. I fall into it like an accident. That has as much meaning.

Promiscuous Materials

Jonathan Lethem doing some very cool stuff (and allowing some very cool work to be done) with his Promiscuous Materials Project.