A month or so ago we played In New York at our favorite roadhouse and it was not a good night that nine/eleven. Our tone might have been a little harsh, and our brows a bit furrowed beyond repair. But it is the fault of that damned anniversary. There ain't no way in hell that one can feel good about it. You don't need to go to 911conspiracy.com to know that Cheney is a dick. There's not a word of remembrance that we could find that doesn't condone the media's fetishizing and fixitation upon that whole mess. And though there is not much more important than thought and memory of those who died, this threadbare carpet of patriotism that led us to war leaves one ashamed and apalled.
So what else is new?
  At least the election season could be starting a lot sooner than we expected. What with Nevada moving up their roulette-wheel caucus to January, which would force New Hampshire to pony up before Christmas to keep their first in the nation status and ain't it hard to care in the face of the faux Congress and cynical Senate that's 'working' right now.  Ah but care we must and vote we shall. And maybe the 99% can get the ball rolling in the right direction. We can dream can't we?
   I dreamt someone asked me about what I was dreaming while I dreamt. What a dream that was! Remember Ike with the leopard-skin hair riding his bike in Ball Sq? He was gonna paint my cowboy boots like the night. All them stars and blue on one side, and the fire red and bright on the other side.  Thanks Dwight. I swam in the water and there was peace in the city for a moment or two.
  Then I was dreaming I was there with these guys sitting around this table and there was music (so sue me if I play it wrong). There was no politics to the speil, just chime the blues Louis! We were standing up and singing about pop life. Celia was slinging sixteen tons, way down in a mine called the Lizard Lounge. Ryan Fitzsimmons was stomping the little feat and Pops would be proud of the fun we had. The thrill is gone? Not a chance, we'd be up in arms like a good man should. Back in Cambridge where Ry's got the fire codes and Charlie's watching the cap, we are trying to adjust to the tighter limits in a finite space. And oh the ticket prices too, why did you have to bring that up?  Well we're just glad to have a home basement. And thanks to you we might make it work.
And the next time we play New York we know it won't be like last time.  Bow wow wow yippe I yippie yay...
We know it won't be like that,
just like the dog chase the cat.