Season of the Brute

Midnight in Los Angeles

I've just returned from a downtown catch up session with my friend Damon.  We don't get to see one another very often but when we do it's very nice.  We went to the 2nd street cigar bar, paid the $5.00 VIP fee which allowed us to bring in our own cocktails to a private upstairs room.  We purchased a couple of cigars and had the VIP room to ourselves.  We smoked and caught up on our seldom intersecting lives.

I walked in to catch the last 5 minutes of Angela's consciousness.  I'm glad I got to see her before the sleep police took her to jail.

As I write this I'm listening to a harmonica track that Ronnie laid down on a new S no S tune called "season of the brute".  I always love to hear what Ronnie plays one S on S songs.  A rather soulful harmonica if I don't say so myself.  I'm excited for you, dear reader to hear it.

This brings me to the S no S album that is currently in the works, album number 8.  I'm pretty deep into the record, as usual it's at times boarding on an inescapable obsession.  I'm dealing with the demoralizing situation of spending all day long thinking about it, wanting to be working on it, only to burn every ounce of energy just living through the day, to come home at midnight and have no productive juice left.  This is a feeling I know well, yet dear reader don't feel poorly for me, it's the state of the universe.  I know enough about my process to know that I'll finish this beast in due time and that as frustrating as the waiting is, there is value in it.  Taking 15 years of song writing and squeezing it into a collection of 10 - 15 songs is a heady task.  It requires long wave thoughts, deep thinking and many stops and starts.  I will get there.

Season of the Brute

I’m fully grown in your garden

fend for myself in the dirt

I don’t go begging your pardon

I’m not your average worm

the season of the brute it's taken root

it’s taken root

the harvest of forbidden fruit

just when you think there’s nothing left that they could do   to you

the subtle pull of persistence

starts from deep in the earth

my cultivated existence

is probably more than what I deserve

the season of the brute it's taken root

it’s taken root

the harvest of forbidden fruit

when you believe there’s nothing left that you would care, to lose

the season of the brute it's taken root

I’ll die and meet you in heaven

all of your life I lurk

watching and waiting in shadows

and I do all the dirty work

when you can’t accept that things are through  here is proof

the season of the brute it's taken root