So, lately life has had it's downs, as it goes, especially during the holidays (generally, I mean), but I have been writing things that I like, which is good, and also I've been down with some music things.

current listening:

The XX: XX
Lil Boosie: Superbad
Freddie Gibb: The Label Tried to Kill Me
Pill: 4075: The Refill
Ben Ross's new shit
Owen Steel
traditional female country singers

"Divorce" by David R. Elliott

Honey,
you're always askin me,
why do I save a seat
for someone who don't ever come?

Honey,
you're never satisfied,
you look me in the eyes,
and I might believe

but for now,
I know I'm wastin my time.

Honey,
you're right she's left me,
no one could protect me,
my savior ain't gon ever come.

Honey,
you try impressin me,
I turned the other cheek
but I dont know where you're coming from

so for now
I'm leavin you behind.

His name ain't nothin for defining me,
here's losing him, here's findin me.
He sent me flowers and a wedding ring,
I geuss I shoulda listened to my family.

http://www.sendspace.com/file/i7tbt7

http://www.mediafire.com/?5htqmqxd1a1

I think that when that moment comes,
I'll quiver in the snowlightredgreen
newish blue,
and cover all my calenders in x's and o's
and that will be it then,
goodnight Mary,
you saw me through throwups and come downs,
and probably you had spare batteries
for my walkman, discman, camera.
that crisp summer
that cold winter
that long summer
that long winter
that new summer
that old winter
strawberry grass,
blue snowflakes
decorations of red on a green christmas tree
will never be the same dear,
when you're not here with me.

http://www.mediafire.com/?ntgdymzz4wm

new song, either titled Permanent Rain, or Believing In Iron.

Most rappers sign a lot of their friends and make them part of their crew or whatever but this is just another example of how Cam'Ron is better than everyone else, and why he's my dude fa lyfe (read: my fave rapper). Obviously dipset was awesome, Jim Jones wasn't terrible, and Juelz, JR Writer, and even Hell Rell (if only for Ruegers in the Trunk, which was bomb), were awesome. And now that they've left, he's signed Byrd Lady, who so far is not bad at all, and 40 Cal, who is fucking awesome. (http://www.mediafire.com/?mmxj5zominy)

Iron Chandelier

the skies of a new world waiting
slowly sayin your name.
the hospital was lovely
but ive spent my time in nicer beds.

belittling the offering
and wondering aloud,
i caved into the public
and grew anxious from the crowd

fallin over everything,
my knees giving in,
i asked for mostly nothin
but forgiveness from my sins

and i still believe in the old iron chandelier
left hanging over mary's dining room
conquering the shadows on the carpet
where it's obvious the flowers never die

in the light
of the iron chandelier

the eyes of the old world closing
and just barely awake.
she traveled the cold tile floor
in her naked feet.

reiterate the offering
and show me you're proud,
i caved into the car
and slowly drifted with the crowd

dreaming through the everything
and yielding with your touch
i watched your eyes freezing
and deciding it's too much

robin was awoken by the light,
robin was awoken and surrounded by the light

by the light
of the iron chandelier

awesome defined:

Into Formalism right now:

• The aim is to produce "a science of literature that would be both independent and factual," which is sometimes designated by the term poetics.
• Since literature is made of language, linguistics will be a foundational element of the science of literature.
• Literature is autonomous from external conditions in the sense that literary language is distinct from ordinary uses of language, not least because it is not (entirely) communicative.
• Literature has its own history, a history of innovation in formal structures, and is not determined (as some crude versions of Marxism have it) by external, material history.
• What a work of literature says cannot be separated from how the literary work says it, and therefore the form and structure of a work, far from being merely the decorative wrapping of an isolable content, is in fact part of the content of the work.

c/o Wikipedia.

Reading this short story by Thomas McEvilley III, called Wakerobin, it is very good, and I recommend it. He's a dude that is into formalism, hence my scouring of wikipedia for further information .

My experience with the Halifax Pop Explosion is now over, and I loved it. I only went to two shows, but there were really only two shows that I really wanted to see, so things could be worse. On Thursday I saw Cadence Weapon (for the third time) at the Paragon, and it was amazing, as usual. He did some new jams, and though I was quite drunk, I seem to remember them being excellent. He opened with an impassioned reading of a really good poem, after having mentioned his recently attained Poet Laureate title. I love a poet laureate can be this drunk rapper I love in a club in my city. My generation rules ass.

Yesterday afternoon Owen Steel, Babs and I all played a set at Taz records as sort of another fcs showcase, and it was a really good time. I was more than a little nervous, which is sort of odd for me at this point since it's been so long since I've been legitimately nervous before a show, but I think that's fair since the last proper acoustic set I played was last April. I did one new song, that I'm pretty happy about, and an old b-side that I've recently fallen in love with. I'm currently talking to Tuna and Dan about producing and performing on a solo album by yours truly, tentatively titled Believing In Iron, after a poem by Yusef Kumonyakaa that posted on this very blog recently. This is the album art:

I feel it is somewhat representative of the over-all tone of the album, which won't be anything new for ol David R., but that's okay. I'm thinking the level of production value and sparse instrumentation will make up for that. And I like the new song a lot and think it will do well as a closing track. I also plan on putting a low-key version of Summer Lines on the album, since I think it's an important part of the over-all aesthetic of the album, which is essentially about leaving my hometown and adjusting to a bigger and better city, etc. Anyway, here are the lyrics to the two songs I played yesterday that people had not heard before (most people).




Dark pours in, she's saying what she means.
Another glass of wine, glowing from the TV screen.
Just overwhelmed,
a blue just barely gray,
a verse just barely started,
a line I wouldn't say,
she comes on like it's morning all day,
spares me the disguise,
I'm never one for apathy.

And sends me with a casualty.

Flippant with her eyes,
and tellin me I've,
brought it to light,
right as the flame fell.

A little cautious, I get what that means.
Obvious is easy, you won't owe them anything.
Just when it hits,
that night is turned to day,
a line I would've quoted,
instead of what I'd say,
she breathes in like the air is crisp all day,
spares me the lies, and understands the empathy.


Here are the lyrics to the aforementioned b-side:

Call it what you want,
I'll erase the rain,
standin at the bridge,
where the sun dies everyday,
with those two big darkened eyes
and her thumbs gripped to the keys,
in the sunset all ablaze,
wearing heartache on her sleeve.
Call it what you want,
girls are all the same,
but her hair is red like sun,
and I still call out her name,
when the day is down to dust,
and the night is dark and cold,
she still believes in hope,
but the story's getting old...

Tell her just to wait,
it'll all come around someday,
when the sun dies the blue and gray,
and angels always say,
you should all stop pretending...
Mary's just a female with her own happy ending.

Call it what you want,
I'll outline your pain,
standing in new kicks,
but the rest is just the same,
with that wet look in her eyes
and her fingers wrapped in rings,
she tells me I'm alright,
caged birds always sing.

And here's a pic:

with love,
David R.

For BUN (final draft new song)

for graham pt 2

Believing in Iron
by Yusef Komunyakaa
The hills my brothers & I created Never balanced, & it took years To discover how the world worked. We could look at a tree of blackbirds & tell you how many were there, But with the scrap dealer Our math was always off. Weeks of lifting & grunting Never added up to much, But we couldn't stop Believing in iron. Abandoned trucks & cars Were held to the ground By thick, nostalgic fingers of vines Strong as a dozen sharecroppers. We'd return with our wheelbarrow Groaning under a new load, Yet tiger lilies lived better In their languid, August domain. Among paper & Coke bottles Foundry smoke erased sunsets, & we couldn't believe iron Left men bent so close to the earth As if the ore under their breath Weighed down the gray sky. Sometimes I dreamt how our hills Washed into a sea of metal, How it all became an anchor For a warship or bomber Out over trees with blooms Too red to look at.

So last night Heavy Manners played yet another show with the Bad Arts, and it was excellent, as per usual. There were some technical malfunctions, but it was a really fun night. I love playing in this band, and I love playing with the Bad Arts, cause I get to rock out as much as I can for our set, and then go buckwild for the Bad Arts. I love it. T-Snake and I considered fighting a guy, and then him and Liz had to call the cops later when his drunken ass drove off into the night, and I got cut up on the forehead a bit with a broken glass, but it was a genuine accident, so it's all good. The people I really wanted to see there were there, and I got drunk, and it was an all-around good time, so I can't wait to play another show. I also can't wait to write more songs with this band and really get a long solid set on the go, that we can move around and pick and choose from, etc. So far we're getting great reception, so I hope that continues. We're also talking about going back into the studio to do Girl From Moundsville. We've decided that we want to make a 4-song EP that would go Girl From Moundsville, Summer Lines, Drug$, April is the Cruellest Month, and I think that would be a solid CD for people to have. H-FAX fa lyfe.

Well, blog, it's been a little while. I am currently drunk for no reason, laying in my bed, smoking a cig and drinking IPA. A lot has happened. Heavy Manners (my apparently mid-90's semi-radio-friendly hard rock sonic youth-ish, wilco-ish 50's pop type band) has a show this Friday, I'm living in an awesome house with AL PAL, DAN and JU and it is awesome, and I guess I'm 'dating' this girl who is a way better human than me. So essentially what I'm saying is that things are looking up. Even though our money sitch is still a little fucked, I don't really care, cause I'm so fucking pumped about the previously mentioned life developments. September, all in all, has been good to me this year. JD came up and got drunk with us, retro night was better than ever, the band is really good, I love this roommate sitch, and this girl, I'm sorry to mention it again, but she is awesome as fuck. So maybe Morrissey was right, and I just hadn't earned it yet. But right now I'm feeling good, though possibly it has something to do with being drunk. Bun called tonight, and that lifted my spirits as well. Tomorrow I work a double at the ol O'Carroll's, but Ima see my grrl in the afternoon, so who fucking cares? Fuck, I should not post things whilst drunk. I'm currently listening to Sonic Youth and Black Eyes almost exclusively. Yup.

Well, now I believe I was correct in my previous post, as playing with a band this recent Thursday has confirmed that I am done with acoustic stuff, this band is gonna be awesome. I'm starting to feel like I have something similar to a plan forming about this whole career business. I had a really good weekend. The show was a ridiculous success at the Capital in fredericton, and I can't wait to go back. I didn't get to do tree-go this weekend, but I did see Inglourious Basterds with a bunch of awesome people that I was pumped to see, and I did get really high, and drunk twice throughout the weekend (for very little money), and I did see the Bad Arts in top form, and I also listened to each First Aid Kit album pretty throughly. They are a great band and I need to see them live very soon. Anyway, successful trip, got to see a lot of people I miss, and apparently I'm gonna be back in freddy in the next month.

I think my problem right now is that I've already done all the things I want to do that were/are within my means. What I mean to say is, with what I have now, there is nothing new for me to do, and that's why I've been bogged down with this idea that I'm never excited about my own work anymore. I used to be writing songs, and just constantly listening to the demos as they piled up and being pumped and thinking, 'Fuck, this is exactly what I want to be doing, and isn't something I've done before. ' Maybe I wouldn't quite articulate that in such a manner, but essentially that is how I felt. I was constantly excited because I was constantly writing and consistently conceptualizing, creating and defining something I had in mind, musically, and as much if not more important, lyrically.

I don't think that I'm necessarily not writing good songs. It's not like any of the songs I've written since I've moved to Halifax have been fucking stupid, or useless, or unlikable, really. They've been called boring once (sort of), heavy-hearted (which can be applied to most my shit, I think), and it's been said that they sound like what I've been doing anyway. Aside from that they've been recieved as 'awesome' by just as many people. So it's not like I can convince myself that my career is over and that I'm somehow past my prime at 21 (god, I hope not). But I am not doing anything that I haven't done before, and that's where I get conflicted.

I think that this is because there is nothing left for me to until I get this band going. I've done pure country, alt-country, countrypolitan, straight pop, smiths-ish pop, rappish smiths, my b-steen thing (from Nebraska to Hungry Heart), 90's radio rock, drunken 90's dirt-rock, my Kurt Cobain thing, noise-rock, sad bastard pop, my Jeff Tweedy thing, lots of Elvis things, finally a duet that ended up exactly as I wanted it to... my point is that at this point, I have to do as much as possible with this new band (I still need to do a little more Sonic Youth/Black Eyes stuff while I have my youth, and there are many other obvious things I'll be able to do in a band) but after that, all I really have left is a coherent rap album. At least one. Then maybe I'll be a guitarist for a Motorhead cover band called Killed By Death. That would be so awesome.

prose

'She's at Carol's drinking tea, I imagine,' as I lift another rotting 2x4 out of the wreckage, watching for rusted nails and placing it abruptly onto the pile on the edge of what used to be my bedroom. Rick is asking me where my fiance is and smoking on the grass with a coffee mug, and I am sweating already in the morning sun, watching the last few grains of mist rise into the clear air of Eveleigh. This used to be our basement, and my older brother and I had both lived down here at one point or another. In the early days, it was only housing for our water heater and wood stove, often shared by the family's various pets and probably some wildlife, and thusly not entirely habitable. It also housed our bicycles in the winter, and was hollow enough that we could drive around in small circles on the cracked concrete floor. As long as a long rain hadn't come any time recently, which would render the basement completely flooded, at times so much so that a simple pair of rubber boots would not even suffice should you need to move the woodpile or check the water heater. Or ensure that the various tools my father kept were safe from the water, lest they become rusted and useless.
The basement continued to flood even after my father had dismantled the upstairs bedroom and rebuilt it downstairs for my older brother, expanding our living space to accommodate our expanding family. He eventually dug a hole into the concrete and placed a water pump inside that ran the flooding water out of our house and into the grass, but this didn't always work wonders, which meant that every so often, something you had would be ruined by the water rising.
At first our house was only a small shack. The basement was as previously described, but the house itself was only a kitchen with an attached dining room (which my mother would eventually use to keep her growing collection of unicorn figurines) and a small living room and bedroom, these two sections being connected by a short hallway where the bathroom was. I distinctly remember the bathroom door having a sign on it that read 'Pay Toilet 5cents.' I never did find out where it had come from.At some point shortly after my father bought the house from our neighbor up the hill (our neighbor to the left was my grandmother) he'd built an expansion of three rooms, a whole other section of the house, almost completely by himself, with whatever scraps he could muster up. Due to his particular building circumstances this section of the house was missing some giprock on the walls, and none of the rooms really had ceilings, which meant that this section of the house was also poorly insulated. This section of the house came down a short flight of stairs on the left side of the living room, to two bedrooms of exactly the same size, mirror-images of each other. Past the doorways facing each other to these two bedrooms, there was a larger flight of stairs leading into my parents bedroom, in which there was a small door leading to the attic, part of the original section of the house. The area between the plastic coated insulation and the wood on the ceiling of my parents bedroom became a housing facility for bats over some time, and I remember my father and I lowering the plastic and sending hundreds of bats out the window with faded tennis rackets.

I climb out of the hole that was our basement and sit on a stump beside the burning barrel, and start drinking the coffee Mary's brought for me from next door. Mary's age shows now more than ever, as she aches to bend and pass it to me. I thank her and light a cigarette, wiping sweat from my brow lazily and spitting onto the dirt I used to play basketball on. The old backboard I'd built from scraps of wood still clings haphazardly to the tree, but the hoop is missing. I assume it's disappeared somewhere in the backyard junkyard. Rick asks me about the date of the wedding and about what could've inspired this idea, but to me that's a silly question and I answer casually. I remember imagining this moment years ago, I tell him, and continue to relay the emotional weight of my latest purchase, and the hell-or-high-water approach I took with the project of reclaiming my childhood and bringing my life full-circle. 'What does she think of all of this?' Mary asks, pointedly, raising an eyebrow just enough to send waves through her forehead towards her gray hair. I dive headfirst into an unnecessary explanation of my faith in my loved one's commitment to me and this project, and I glowingly explore aloud the extent of my devotion, and even now this makes me somewhat nervous, but that feeling passes. I feel the tangible difference this time. I feel the tone of all the people in my life and I recognize a recurring calmness and relief and satisfaction in this choice. The attitude is right, the mesh is right, the foundation is on hard land, which must be worked and cultivated honourably. And I feel a certainty I've always chased, not so much as a wave over me, but as a bright illumination, and I can see everything.

I walk around the yard of my past and future and stop at a large rock my mother had painted, both on the edge of a small pond my father had built, and the woods. The paint, though faded, still clearly reads Elliott Family with a small frog to represent each member, with our names written underneath our respective frogs. This was certainly the work of my mother. I am relieved to still have it, not that I'd imagined it would somehow escape, and I lean in to brush off some dirt and get a closer look at the lettering. This rock is beside the entrance to the large path my father and I had built in what I'd always called our mini-forest. This was a large area of trees covering much of our two acres and stretching to the pond we used to skate on. All of these trees were about the same size, and much smaller than any trees in the surrounding woods, and this created a sort of mini-forest look, I'd thought. One winter the snow had gathered on the top of the mini-forest, such that the sleet and hail were able to form a surface atop the trees, which you could actually walk on in some places. One summer my father and I had cut a path through these trees that began at the rock, and ended at the edge of what used to be our massive garden. It was for our three-wheeler, which usually couldn't make it through without stalling.
Our garden seems dreamlike in retrospect. We grew cucumbers, carrots, pumpkins, peas, string beans, etc. I remember the garden as plentiful and delicious. I think about my plans to recreate this garden as best I can, first by burning the grass currently occupying the land, with the help of men with shovels and water buckets to control the blaze. The I would turn the land and hope for good soil. I walk up the hill in our front yard and lean on the tree I'd always climbed. After some hesitation, I climb it. I sit on a branch and look over our land and past the tracks to the river and beyond that to endless trees.
'The tracks' is a path stretching from Saint John to Fredericton that pretty much passed through our backyard. It used to be railroad tracks some hundred or so years ago, I guess, but the tracks had since been lifted and left only a perfect, seemingly endless path perfect for youthful energy and small off-road vehicles. Streams broke through the tracks on their way to the river in some places, and once I found a still maturing catfish trapped in the debris when the water level had fallen too far for fish to swim. I'd considered taking him home and gutting him in the sink, but instead I freed him and watched him swim for freedom, and I don't know why.
I peer inside the remains of the clubhouse I'd doggedly attempted to fix every year, constantly putting a hammer through the wall or bringing it to a halt on my thumb. I remember some of the bikes that are there, left over from our ever-growing collection of junk bikes in various stages of disrepair, scattered around our yard year-round. I sub out my smoke and climb back inside the shell of our basement, continue working and begin to daydream about the house of my future, with my wife in a rocking chair, reading a book in front of the fire. Listening to records and walking around the countryside. The day wears on and eventually I head to Carol's for my coffee and to join my future wife at the table. Later, when the sun begins to fall, we play cards and drink more coffee and tea, and answer Carol's many questions vigorously, with youthful enthusiasm. When I peer over my cards at the woman I love, I feel light-headed as though the nostalgia in the air is intoxicating my emotions, and I remember all the reasons I love her, and she catches me looking, winks quickly, and smiles a perfect smile that lands my feet in concrete, with a satisfaction better than any I've felt after a day of hard work, or the completion of a harrowing project, although this part of my life will and has required elements of both.

Girl From Moundsville

Damn, not another summer
not a single sunburn
dyin in his every cell.
Call her up from Jersey,
meet her in a hurry,
toss her out but put her in your will.
Miles south of Wheeling,
stuck in West Virginia,
rarely dealt with ne'er-do-wells.
So she came up from Moundsville
met a bigger city,
18 years at the wishing well.

She'd do well,
he'd do well,
to keep dyin in their every cell.
And treat it like a carousel.

'It was like, ethics'
shouldn'ta gone to Florence,
fuck it though, what the hell.
Shoulda grabbed the doorman,
look what I'm reduced to,
she can't tell so it's just as well.

Anybody in their right mind,
woulda left the first time,
and walked the straight line.
Now I'm pullin teeth just to have her,
sort of like a thief,
but moreso like a lover.


*these lyrics borrow very heavily from Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth
**This is available on myspace.com/davidrelliott and also here:
http://rapidshare.com/files/260344693/girlfrommoundsville.mp3.html

New song

That's why she comes, to set him off
and put him on,
and cross her arms the victor,
sweat and blood,
run her off, build your arms,
to harm her.

That's why the cross, however cross
can serve it's function.
Fallen men can cast their shadows, reel the world in,
build their arms,
so they can keep her.

She says you only work hard
to work hard

Uh huh,
Save for open sores, it's just cuts.

Build it up til you owe it,
so much for loss.

That's why she tossed, without regard
your earnest charm, and all the harm you brought her
sweat and lies, cut your loss
and build your arms,
so you can save her.

She says you only act hard, cause you're scarred.

Uh-huh,
it ain't to open doors, it's just guts.

Build it up til you own it,
so much for lust.


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http://rapidshare.com/files/258468224/armz2.mp3.html

We use our lighters a lot, and we are on Facebook too much. These are acceptable flaws of my generation, I guess, but not really actually. The thing is, it's easy for people to ignore all the things they did that were really stupid. It seems to me that they're obvious (especially with the boomers) so I'm not gonna defend my generation with a list of flaws, but I'd just like to argue with one little detail. I don't agree with the opinion of previous generations that a mega-superstar is a really important and fantastic thing. Some people are pointing out that our generation can't have superstars like Michael Jackson and the Beatles because of the internet. I don't really see what the problem is. I'm satisfied with a variety of artists having careers in music and thusly creating material for a variety of music fans who get something out of the listening to and experiencing it, etc., I just don't see why it's so integral that there should be artists who everyone in the world knows the same way they know McDonalds. Plus, I think it's also just kind of logical that as rock music grows older and is available easier and easier the superstar of that caliber would be less frequent. I don't know, maybe I'm just thinking too much about it.

Current Listenings:

Albums:

Sonic Youth: The Eternal, Sister, Daydream Nation
Regina Spektor: Far
My Morning Jacket: At Dawn
Public Enemy: Yo! Bum Rush the Show
Handsome Furs: Face Control
Cam'Ron: Crime Pays
Wilco: Wilco (the Album), Sky Blue Sky
Black Eyes: slftld
TI: Paper Trail

Songs:

Aaliyah: One in a Million
The Bad Arts: Our Mistakes
Eminem: Tim Westwood freestyle
Big L: All Black, Put it On
Ryan Adams: Oh, Life
The Belle Comedians: Long Drive Home, Loaded Bones, The Big Empty (the whole myspace, I guess)
Babette: Gravestone Metaphor
Love & Rockets: So Alive
Kurdt Kobain & Pat Smear: Do Re Mi

On the Ineffectiveness of Being Baffled

Today a man on the street was yelling 'good news!' and passing out little pamphlets that most people were turning down or ignoring outright, and I took one and saw that it was neither good nor news, but nonetheless as I walked away I began to imagine what pointers I might give this man in soliciting human response and interest, as if I am somehow an authority on the subject. This is kind of baffling since I support neither his religion or his urge to peddle it on a street corner. In fact, I find the entire christian philosophy somewhat baffling, and this brings me to consider that maybe just because I find something baffling, doesn't mean I am somehow qualified to undermine and ridicule the practice. I suppose that throughout the run of a day, I am baffled at many things that I believe in, either because they're tangible concrete facts of life to which there exists evidence, explanation, roots and growth, or because I simply feel that they are 'real.' Which has become sort of a loose term this far into human history. I find myself baffled and confused by young women in Nike's I could never afford begging on the street corner; young men with no aspirations expecting to live off of good luck and lackadaisical resourcefulness; young criminals who quite literally do not give a fuck about anything, boys actually, in and out of so many systems of crime, poverty and law, sometimes unjustly, sometimes deservedly; obvious crackheads asking for change for the bus; policemen trained to keep a populous well-behaved, abusing their power and the system more than the hard-headed young men swinging cuffed fists at them; three-month relationships that bear children and the calmness with which that news is received; the callousness of parents; the carelessness of teachers; the bitterness of the elderly person who finds anything he/she doesn't understand to be dangerous; the emergency of fake love, the catastrophe of real love, and the absurdity of both. And these are things at our fingertips every day, things to be ignored, or possibly talked about among friends who are also baffled. I wonder retrospectively what sort of existentialist crisis I might have experienced walking down Waterloo street with enough contraband to be sent away for attempted manslaughter, and the lack of appreciation I've shown for never even having a close call, and the cruelty of a punishment of that caliber in such a context. So many ridiculous ideas and stupid decisions followed through with no tangible aftermath, just material for the inevitable tell-all memoir. The wheel of self-esteem, the inevitable rise and collapse of self-comprehension. The willingness to play into whatever cliche is most like home. The tenacity of hypocrisy. The scars of work and play. There aren't any truly baffling facts of life anymore, just different backgrounds and points of view and products of varying environments. I've lost that hard-headed belief that I make sense and that 'they' do not. I understand, on one level or another, most people, I think. Or at least I try. More to the point, I identify. The terrible devotion in my blood, the crux of my creativity, personality and supposed road to salvation, poised always on the edge of something brilliant, the worst circumstance reduced to experience and experiment. I've sat with the homeless in a shelter and ate thanksgiving leftovers and drank terrible coffee, I've received free boxes of nonperishable food and various municipal hand-outs, I've applied for and been denied financial assistance, I've gone without food, but rarely without substances. I've snorted crushed street pills in the presence of my impressionable young brother in an apartment building filled with crackheads (and he still remains adamant that he will pursue the ministry, however alone that must make him feel in a room of family members). I've surrendered my youth and aspirations to fake love and premature commitment, too intense and utterly baffling to my loved ones. I've called in sick high on acid, still drunk from the night before, stoned, I've been approached by a supervisor about my 'drinking problem,' and I've gone to family functions buzzed on leftover beer and weed from the night before, just to feel normal. I've played with emotions, and I've had my emotions played, extorted and exhausted with a smile and an endless night. I understand and feel the need for violence, sex, intoxicants, distractions and little spots in a world you don't understand that you can call your own, even briefly, even if it isn't much. I've felt the sun warm my back in the morning after having not slept, walking down Union st with a coffee looking for the next customer, the next high, the next dealer, haggling street prices with questionable wiggers who may or may not have guns. I've said and done stupid things and I know that I'm not what some people think of when they hear my name. I can talk tough, act tough, keep cool, and negotiate, and I can act pathetic, write unbearable torch songs and explain my way out of them later. I cannot, however, let go of anything. I've been devoted to inanimate objects, unprosperous love interests, preposterous opinions, and impeccable manipulativeness. At this point, I have the time of day to understand anything that seems baffling, since I've seen that baffled look in the saucer eyes of a young woman I thought I loved when I explained what I'd done with my weekend, and was moved to reconsider my carelessness and nihilism, and my lack of respect for the people I affect. I am not addicted to drugs, but I will do most anything to assure the presence of cigarettes, or love, whichever comes first, most and easiest. And I think when the cigarette inevitably wins, I lose the right to be baffled by hookers, vagrants and young criminals.

As Yet Untitled by As Yet Unnamed

So, I know some dawgs are wanting to hear what me and the boys have been doing so far, but we are still in the process of recording, so in the meantime, here are some lyrics for the song we are currently cutting:

You shoulda double-checked when you laid it,
stagnant starry-eyes, just glued to the pavement,
simple as the wind pushing you to arrangement,
steady as the pulse in the line of containment,

but who did you become?
the morning's sposed to make you new.

If the summer's gonna drown me,
crowd me, at least give me some peace of mind
If it sounds like someone crashing,
break it down, slow it down... and get in line.

You could've had the paint splayed flagrant,
sharp as a tac, sullen like a vagrant
simple, subtle news moving you til you change it,
stricken with pursuit, leaving you in amazement,

but where do you get off, actin like a victim,
the timing coulda been less rude.
and who did you become, waiting.
The midnight coulda been less blue.

Maybe it made me I'm sure I'll get over it,
and be easy, be easy.

...sink into the pavement.

...

Hello Blog, it's been a little while, I think. Um, well, I haven't been writing in my journal at all as of late, and that's unfortunate. Maybe once I get my lust for life back I will be more inclined to describe my day to day life. Lately I haven't been doing much, except when Dan and Ju were in town. I hung out with those dawgs and Tynan every day they were here I think. Good times for all. Really looking forward to fall. Cannot wait. I miss people a lot right now. My mom is visiting tomorrow, that will be nice, however brief it may be. Been listening to the Smiths and Q and not U, and Elvis Costello a lot. Downloaded some soul and R&B stuff, and At Dawn by My Morning Jacket. Also listening to Sonic Youth a lot more as well. I wish No Kill No Beep Beep was as good as it's title. Been writing here and there, not a lot.

New song, Don't Panic demo, This Gun track, hilarious b-side

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What's That About?

I cross the line, kick digits to your name.
Cross your burdensome arms over the heart on your sleeve.

And oh, I could bother you with endless refrains
cross out the metaphors and scribble your name
uncross those arms, quit lookin at me like I'm insane.
Brighten up, lighten up, what's that about?

Did you trip again and send them away?
poured it onto page after page
send my regards,
I've overstayed,
I realize,
I raise the stakes.

Just kids with blurry eyes that are wide for the change.
Barely content, fully wired for the pace.

At least she was honest when she told me to change,
wouldn't miss a beat, I think you know about my aim,
quit with the smiles, honey, you're wasting time.
Lighten up, lighten up, what's that about?

Do yourself a favor
and get yourself some change.

http://rapidshare.com/files/239435780/whatsthatabout2.mp3.html

Autumn Rose

So I finally put Autumn Rose up for any of y'all who ain't put yer hands on the shit yet. Um, currently working on some stuff with Paul and Tunan, will record soon, will let y'all know. No idea about a band name or anything, but we'll see how it goes. Anyway Autumn Rose is now here: http://rapidshare.com/files/238795125/Autumn_Rose.zip.html

some 2007 shit

I wish this had not vanished into oblivion, with the Rain Dogs.

'You got winter in yer eyes,
it's so white that it hurts,
I was drinkin strong coffee,
you were still in that shirt,
I was waiting for you patiently,
like I was wishing for rain,
I was dressed in all green,
everyday is the same.

But still,
you ain't nothin but sun,
still,
you could shoot the shit with anyone,
still,
you were walkin with a small parade,
still sayin nothin,
we had nothin to say.'

or this,

'I got suspense,
if you suspend your belief,
I'll save you grief.
I save all your little shit.
I am too much with this.'

Yeh, I don't know, it just seems more profound than anything I've written lately. I guess Tuesdays were some pretty okay times for lyrics for me. I wish I could figure out what it is I've lost since then. Vigor?

'washing the midnight blue out of work clothes'
washing the scent of blue & grey out of your work clothes
watching the morning dew rise out of the dandelions
watching the silent hue turn from light to bright
and watching the grass and trees turn to concrete and neon
semi-formulated pseudo-existentialist, slightly ontological
alienation,
and being found in things you'll never really find.
and you have no family, no deep-rooted songs
passed down and repeated so they stick to you
moreso than anything you'll ever write,
but you will write, you need it,
'so deep all the sex and dope in this world can't erase the need'

there are certain things,
that are heavy

and the past shoves you forward
in a corny kind of way that
makes
you shiver.

and still though,
it's easy to not believe you,
when I can't see you
and I don't hear from you
for so long that it's sortoflike
echoes
in that

i only caught the tail end of that sentence
and i still dont believe you

its short i hope thats okay

http://rapidshare.com/files/233813327/chainlinkfire.mp3.html

Just Call Me Lonesome available for download

So that does it, all done.


http://rapidshare.com/files/232973401/Just_Call_Me_Lonesome.zip.html

ps: new wilco album has leaked, and is fucking awesome.

100th POST YALLZ

Yeh, so this is my 100th post, that's cool, I guess. Um, country album done, currently working on figuring out some kind of band scenario with Paul and Tynan here in Hali, so I don't really know how much new stuff I'll be putting out in the next little while. FCS becoming more of a big deal every day, and I think you know how awesome that is. FCS fa lyfe.

Alright, it's time to get real. I am so fucking terrified that something has to be going wrong in my life for me to write something profound, and I have no idea what to do about it. Hopefully this isn't the case, but dude, Hank Williams had it, and I am really fucking worried. But, just to keep spirits up: http://www.4shared.com/file/104288932/452f5b05/Camron_-_Where_I_Know_You_From__Produced_By_Skitzo_.html Brilliant shit.

Just Call Me Lonesome release today

So, I am currently in the process of uploading the country album onto myspace for anyone that is interested in hearing the final product. It is much shorter than I had originally planned, but I think that's for the best. Also you've probably heard everything on it, but here it is, and I will also upload a downloadable zip file in the next little while and post a link to it on the myspace.

Official track list:
1 Now I Got Those Cigarettes (Elvis EP)
2 Don't Be Cruel (Elvis EP)
3 Tears on my Pillow Medley (Slim Whitman rendition, Sylvester Bradford & Al Lewis)
4 Aged to Imperfection (unreleased)
5 Whiskey River (relatively new)
6 That's Gold (Babette Hayward cover)
7 i have found what you are like (relatively new)
8 Tomorrow's Gonna Be a Brighter Day (Jim Croce cover)
9 Real Love (Out of the Shadows) w/ Babette Hayward

Will see about a cd release.

So, the new Eminem album (Relapse) is officially garbage, and the new Cam'Ron is officially ingenious and perfect. Also, new Regina Spektor album this month, and the first single (Laughing With) is great, as to be expected. New Wilco album pretty much goes without saying I think. Anyway Crime Pays has leaked, and can be found here so I suggest you d/l it. Thanks Bun for the link.

Love, Baby, Honey Please.

http://www.ibiblio.org/ipa/poems/komunyakaa/my_father%27s_love_letters.php

I'm going to make a conscience effort to really start reading a lot again. Started with No Exit yesterday, and continuing with Yusef Komunyakaa today. Also suggest listening to his readings. Anyway if I do end up putting together any kind of cohesive collection of songs in the next little while, I suspect I'll be titling it 'Love, Baby, Honey Please.' In any case the following may be a somewhat feeble attempt at rekindling my love affair with poetry.

A line of cars in the silver,
that punctured lung feeling of decay
passed on a narrow street
and you feel your feet bog down downtown.
But even if it's unreasonable,
it's really real.
And it's all you can do to hold her awkwardly
on the piles of rocks and chainlink orange
shadows on the dirt glowing
and you can't remember being so young,
but you definitely were,
arms crossed and hat backwards
really feeling every step like new feet,
and maybe now it's all you can do to buy new shoes.
There needn't be an exit, only shelter
and that's why you felt like a shadow
standing in line with the people you never gave change to,
and it changed you.

Greetings From Halifax

So hello everyone. This is my first post from Halifax, and everything I've done here the past couple days has been firsts, and they've all been awesome. Everything seems new and awesome, especially me. Not in the cocky sense, but in the sense that I feel young for the first time since I was like 15. 16 at best. And so what I'm saying is that this city is awesome, and I fucking love it. Just walking around makes me feel new and excited again. Wide-eyed and pumped as fuck. Money is good, Al Pal and I are just rocking buck luv, and today we hung out with Paul and all I can say is that this just seems to keep getting better. In fact, today was thoroughly satisfying and uplifting and fun. And it's just being mature and appreciative that is making it so extremely satisfying. This is one of the most difficult life-changes I've ever made, but it's also the best idea I've ever had, and this seems early, but it isn't. Right now everything is great, and this week Me and Paul (Willie Nelson reference) are gonna start writing. And I'm gonna start hitting the shows and open mics and shit, and it's gonna be awesome. I love and miss all my dawgs, and several other people that are important to me, but this is fucking just brilliant. Brilliant. Also new Cool Kids, couple new Cam leaks from Crime Pays, new Eminem still sucks balls, and we bought Ashes of American Flags the other day and it is mind-blowing. Definite recommendation.

TOP 25 (personal faves)

Cam'Ron
Cadence Weapon
Jay-Z
Lil Wayne
Eminem (up til eminem show including 'Infinite')
The Notorious BIG
Sticky Fingaz
Eazy-E
Juelz Santana
Clipse
Ice Cube
ODB
Ghostface Killah
Drake
Rakim
Big Daddy Kane
Chuck D
Kanye West
Young Jeezy
TI
DOOM
Gucci Mane
UGK
Three 6 Mafia
Murda Mook

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OKAY OKAY, so I just found this video that I have been looking for for literally three fucking years. I used to rock the fuck outta this back in the day when it was on Rapcity tha Bassment.

http://rapidshare.com/files/222238349/whatmakesanxious.mp3.html

when you split your lips
i am not proud and my chin drops
but i shouldnt have to reason with myself
dont be so unreasonable with yourself
but we wont ever kiss
i am not allowed to let it drop
but i should make my mind up myself
ill make it up to all of you in health

i dont know why ive been stuck for so long
there's just something bout the way she treats me wrong

you shouldn't get to know me
before you meet me
convenient how you're grievin
tell me when you need it

she presses her fist up to her chin
insists she's young cause she's been born again
but the faith she found couldnt be deep enough
so when she wants to drown in pills
i can tell she's serious

i cant take it

'What the Thunder Said,' has really endured as a blog title for me. Nice, TS, nice. Um, I don't know what I'm doing next, but I've been listening to a lot of Morrissey (Viva Hate and Kill Uncle in the spin zone dawg) and Louder Than Bombs, and a lot of rap, so maybe my rapsmiths shit. Um, I guess I could easily finish the country album any day, but I'm letting it sit for a little while cause I really want it to be perfect. So the track list is probably gonna change again. Might be a new song, maybe not. Gotta check some shit. Anyway I'll let y'all know, you know I'm good like that.


Man, VIVA HATE, like wtf? Awesome.

Alright, I'm not gonna front, the last few days have been pretty great. The show last night was really great, everyone played a really good set and everyone was super rad to hang out with and talk to and meet. Did okay, I think, as far as my set went. It was easy to feel confident, lots of support from dawgs. Almost done the new country album. Babette Hayward lent her beautiful voice on a song for it, and I kind of think that makes it worth the free download, don't you? Anyway yeh April might be alright, still super-pumped about Halifax in less than a month. Working at the post office is going okay. I feel like I need to start writing again though, even though I don't really, I could just keep it chill on the real for the rest of the time I spend here. But I probably won't. Probly gonna concentrate on trying to write some with Babs. So much rap shit is happening right now. Still waiting for Eminem's new album (slated to 'Change the game,' if you have any faith in what D12 and Royce have to say about it), Cool Kids album, Cam'Ron's Crime Pays (which has already proved that he's the most gangsta muthafucka alive, DIPSET), Serius Jones just blew my mind with 'Smoke,' though the other singles haven't struck me as much, JR Writer has a new album comin out called 'CineCrack,' which will kick ass. Apparently
Cam owes a label another Dips album, but that won't be for a while, The Dream just put out a new album that kicks ass, and I don't even know what else. 2009 is gonna be awesome. CREAMIN N DREAMIN 0-9 BABY!

"So you were walking that tightrope,
you said it's starting to look like a noose,
it's and seems to me to just be a nuisance.
You were hanging your neck on high hopes,
you said, it's time my money called a truce,
it seems to me to be no use."

All I can smell is death,
the sun from my eyes a spurting bulb,
and I see no colour behind these shades
just cold steel hard pressed
and my body is no temple,
Oh how I roam,
in the fall,
when the curtains shakes like she leaves
Simple enough to make you wanna live.
Anyone so fucking stupid as to

He don't love you, like I love you, if he did he wouldn't break your heart.

"Well you're back in your old neighborhood
The cigarettes taste so good
But you're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
There's something there that you can't find
Honest when you're tellin' a lie
You're hurt but you don't know why
You love her but you don't know why"

'I hope he was freestyling, cause if he wrote that, then I just feel bad.'

Ugh, 99 in Hip Hop. 2000. I wish I was there. Just for a day, just to read the current issue of the Source and be like, what the fuck is this Benzino mothafucka even tryin to say? Fuck that shit would've been awesome. Although I definitely heard 'Nail in the Coffin' in 2000. So I'm legit. "People act like Eminem tha only one sellin. Nah man.' 'He ain't takin food outta nobody's mouth, and you know I ain't on good terms with Em right now, but I gotta stick up for that, cause he worked too fuckin hard for someone to take that away from him.' Royce is right man. And also Benzino sucks balls man, fer real. 'If you talk to any rapper....we know what's going on at the Source.' I don't know why I'm rambling about this, maybe cause I'm drunk, but from memory:

I would never claim to be no,
Ray Benzino
some 83 year old fake pacino
so how can he lift me over this balcony without throwin his lower-back out
as soon as he goes to lift me,
please don't you'll probably fall with me
n our asses'll both be history,
but then again youd finally get ya wish,
cause you'd be all over the streets like 50 cent.
Fuckin punk pussy, fuck you chump
gimme a 1 on 1, see if I don't fuck you up
try to jump the ruff ryders n they cut you up,
then you put Jada on the track that's how much you suck dick in the industry,
swear that you in the streets hustlin,
you sit behind a fuckin desk at the source, butt-kissin
n beggin muthafuckaz fer guest appearances,
but you can't even get the clearances,
cause real lyricists, don't even respect you or take you serious.

I could go on, but this is the best diss song of all time, just look it up.

"They got somethin for my ass every issue, thank you, cause I keep runnin outta fuckin tissue."

One day older and nearer to my lord...

I think it's fascinating to conceptualize the idea a person making you want to live one day, and making you want to die the next, without your feelings for them even changing. The things you end up doing over someone who is simply being. At this point I try to see my emotions in retrospect, and intellectualize the worst parts of the imbalance. It's too easy to place blame. It's too simple to blame a girl for a panic attack. It's intellectually lazy. I think retrospection helps me write. When you're in the throes of obsession, burning in the initial sparks, your opinion of them and yourself and how those two personalities relate to each other is altered by a kind of stupidity called blind love. Afterwards, for me at least, you can more objectively analyze, interpret and thusly articulate your feelings and why they exist, even though you may never fully understand. This makes me think of my old man and what he might say, and I think an important lesson I haven't fully come to terms with is his ability to accept misunderstanding. Sometimes even in retrospect it's impossible to understand the way someone feels. Eventually you just realize that maybe your feelings and actions, and those of another, might not make any sense. That's because love (and it's bizarre emotional cousins, so to speak) doesn't make any sense. It doesn't adhere to geography or time structures or societal constrains. It just is. So sometimes you find yourself drunk and alone with sad bastard music on repeat, and it doesn't make any sense. But that's okay.

Rock N Roll won't solve your problems, but it'll let you dance all over em

journal excerpt (March 21st):

I drew a bead on you,
as calmly as I could
and I watched you collect yourself
in whirlwind and fire,
with the breath of revelation, caught in the thorn tree
and the death of chivalry.
But you were too scared to be real
and the stardust as such caught you there.
You were too naive to be caught,
too confused to be cajoled
With a short breath, your revelation
scraped inside each chamber
like a bullet on the bead that I drew on you.
Or when I handed you that grenade
and you said, 'Tough.'

'Quotes of the day:'

'In the midst of life we are in debt, etc.'
'She doesn't even like me, and I know because she said so.'
'The rocks below say throw your skinny body down.'
'If you're wondering why the love you long for eludes you, I'll tell you why: You just haven't earned it yet, son. You must stay on your own for slightly longer.'

'No regrets, all of my debts, will be paid when I get laid.'
'Tell the gossipers and liars, I will see them in the fire.'

'You're always late with your kisses.'

'I should warn you when I'm not well.'

'That ain't a woman, that's a girl.'

I Have Found What You Are Like by David R. Elliott

This is a country song I wrote today:

I was standin on the porch,
on my stoop, watchin mist rise,
while my baby was restin her head.
This morning I am weary,
tired eyes that barely rise,
by tonight I should hope to be dead.

And the choir voices will sing,
and my baby's golden ring,
will carry my weight
and she'll rain.

I was standin on the brink,
in a stupor, tryin to rise
while my baby was paintin her eyes.
I'll be sittin, on a break,
with a coffee, round bout 8,
with my baby on my mind
in someone's arms that aren't mine.

And the choir voices will sing,
and my baby's golden ring,
will carry my weight
and she'll rain.

For my last night I want drinks,
just to silence what I think,
The sun will just rise and I'll light up a smoke,
with my baby in bed with her heart wrapped in rope.

And the choir voices will sing,
and my baby's golden ring,
will carry my weight
and she'll rain,
til the dirt turns to mud.

So I finally found JJ's blog for good, as linked in the upper right corner of your screen. I'm not gonna lie, he's kind of a genius. The new stuff in my life, is not much, I'm still just working on this country album. Doing renditions of my own songs is wierd. It's not wierd when Willie Nelson does it, but in this case I believe it is somewhat strange. But I guess the album is kind of rendition-y anyway. I am still really enjoying the making of it though. I've been using my new yamaha acoustic/electric for it, but I might pull out the ol girl for a song tor two just to keep it real. I can't believe it took me this long to delete the link to my blog from my facebook.

This city lacks passion. That's what it's problem is. And I know/don't care that I sound like an attention needing sad sack who had a bad day, but fer real though, it's either that, or people just talk shit. Cause I've had numerous people come up to me or send me messages where they're like, 'holy shit, David R. yer so great,' or whatever, and I'm always like, awesome thanks, here's 4 albums for free. And the thing is, if there was someone I met whose music I liked enough to go up to them and express it, and they then told me I could have 4 albums of there's for free, I would be on that shit like light, and I would absorb that shit. And that' not bullshit, I did that with both Organizers albums, and pretty much everything Adam Mowery does, that dude wrote one of my favourite songs ever. I even did that with Written Axe to Trigger, which isn't even really the kinda shit I dig, but I thought those dudes were cool and that the record was good, so I repped it. And it's not just with me, the first time I went to Backstreet to see For the Sake of the Song there was a packed house and everyone had a good time, and all the sets were great, and no one showed up to the following two. Like fuck off everyone, Gord's trying to give something to the city, for fucking free, with free coffee, and no one appreciates shit. And then I read this article in here magazine (wish I had a good excuse for reading garbage) and I hear about how all these people desperately want the music scene revitalized and it's finally starting to happen with A Khord, etc. Well fuck you guys, you don't even go to free shows. There are people here who play great music (Adam Mowery, Clinton Charlton, Babette Hayward, etc. etc.) you just have to get off your ass and care. Get into it. Even when people go to shows they just fucking stand there until they get drunk enough to yell 'freebird' like that shit is still funny. And God help you if you wanna play loud music that isn't emo, metal, or borderline white supremicist gibberish punk. It's ridiculous that I could get blacklisted for playing a show exactly like the Replacements. And even when you think you're ahead and people care because you got booked on the merit of your myspace, you end up playing for 10 of your friends while a shitkicker won't shut the fuck up and let you finish your set cause he's so anxious to get on stage and play power chords and yell extremely unfunny lyrics about facebook. Fuck that. Our scene fucking sucks. Even when I was 16 there were a lot of people going to shows. Even fucking Coastline got people out to shows, despite their inability to bill interesting bands. Even Fredericton has a pretty healthy music scene that people actually care about. I've met musicians in Fredericton because friends of mine up there were so into the band. Fuck I even have fans in Fredericton and I don't even play shows there, there's just some people their who care enough about music in general, that they think it's worth their time. Thanks, btw. Plus there's no oversight, and there's no accounting for taste. In Halifax, if you play a shitty show, good luck finding another one. Or if your band just fucking sucks, then fuck off, but here you can make a pseudo bar career out of being a terrible musician in even the least important ways, let alone accounting for creativity, originality, etc. So fuck you Saint John, I'm goin to Halifax.

Life is hard, I get it. Fuck off God.

Just Call Me Lonesome or You Send Me

So here's what's coming up for March and February for me music-wise: Because I have very little to work with right now and all I really want to do is leave, I'm going to make a definitive David R. Elliott country album with cuts spanning most stages of my songwriting, and will be recorded extrememly lo-fi with the shitty guitar that I originally wrote all these old country songs on. IE, the guitar of all the drunken kitchen sing-a-longs and No Show Jones, etc. Later in the month, I'm gonna start working on a Nebraska style rendition of Don't Panic, but this will not be the last word on Don't Panic, as I have huge aspirations for what that record could become, I just wanna have the basics down for when I can meet these aspirations. In the meantime, here is the tracklist for Just Call Me Lonesome:

1 Now I Got Those Cigarettes (unreleased, summer 07)
2 Don't Be Cruel (Elvis EP)
3 Gotcha Darlin (Tuesdays)
4 Broken Cigarette (Elvis EP)
5 A Brighter Day (rendition)
6 Aged to Imperfection (unreleased, summer 07)
7 Follow You Down (new)
8 Lovin You (unreleased, summer 07)
9 That's Gold (rendition)
10 Same Heart, New Winter (Blue & Grey)
11 Two-Timin Blues (No Show Jones, unreleased)
12 Sundown N Dawn (City is Dark b-side)
13 Blue Christmas (cover)

To the haters:

Nothingsevergonnastandinmy
Nothingsevergonnastandinmy
Nothingsevergonnastandinmy way again.

So fucking goon rules losers, you can't beat em then you props em. It ain't nothin, don't make it if you no good.

And to everyone who is down, I gotchoo (at the end of the century?).

This Gun March 6th Official

So, This Gun is currently available at the link below. I think what I'm going to do in the next little while is make Blue Sky Country Gold, which will be some really old country songs redone and also a few pleasant covers and shit, just for something to do over the next little while before Halifax. So I'm thinking it will involve the following:

Aged to Imperfection
Now I Got Those Cigarettes
Don't be Cruel
Tomorrow's Gonna be a Brighter Day
Lovin You
Broken Cigarette
etc.

So, maybe I'll do that shit.

http://www.mediafire.com/file/m3mmonomyqw/This Gun Official.zip

City is Dark (Torch Songs & the Charred Remains) and Devotion in my Blood official March 5th

Now it's the Watchmen premiere, and two new albums. I will be uploading This Gun soon, and then maybe the Elvis EP, Tuesdays and Blue & Grey, and eventually a B-Sides thing.

http://www.mediafire.com/file/fojrimhmomm/City is Dark.zip

As far as a tracklist for Devotion in my Blood, I'll leave that up to y'all.

http://www.mediafire.com/file/guozjo4jihj/Devotion in my Blood.zip

sorry that city is dark was password protected, it works now.

It's late right now, but that doesn't even really seem accurate in light of my current schedule. But no matter, any complaints I've had about the recent week or so are now officially whining, because starting tomorrow I work 7 days a week. But it's no biggie (like 2Pac), I'll work with the old man like 4 days a week, and cook at the Inn 4 days a week. I guess technically it's 3 and a half days at each place. But no matter, I have Friday nights and Saturday until 7pm to myself, and that shift will be mostly eating and smoking, and I'll be able to sleep in before my afternoon shift on Sunday. And I'll get to spend the next few weeks really learning and being creative with cooking, which will be good for when I need a job in Halifax. What I'm saying is that it is doable. The point is that at the end of the month, after the bills have already been caught up, I'll have full paychecks from two different jobs, and will have therefore cleared any debt so we can just peel at the end of April, and I'll also be able to purchase a guitar, which I am in dire need of at the moment. Therefore, it's as if this mature, well-thought out planning thing of late is wiping out every concern or criticism concerning the upcoming move, and swiftly at that. This just proves what Al Pal and I were discussing earlier tonight, and that is that the only thing that truly gives life meaning, is hard work and reward. Or more specifically, legitimate earning. But not in specifically monetary terms. I know I'm being rambly, but srsly, true value in life is in the things you make an intelligent decision on, decide how you're going to achieve it, and then work whatever amount is necessary until you've earned the reward. Get up n go to work. That's gold.

Watchmen Tomorrow

This post isn't about Watchmen, but seriously, the wait is finally over. Holy shit I'm excited. Um, so I hope everyone's taking advantage of my album being free so far. We've devised a foolproof plan to launch into Halifax, and so it's merely a waiting game at the moment. In the meantime, I'm not sure what I'll be doing aside from working as a cook and a postman, and I guess playing some shows at some point. I'm currently discussing a possible fcs presents kind of thing in Freddy with me, Liz Hayward and Ben Ross. So no promise, but hopefully April. In the meantime I've posted my favourite song from the new album on my myspace and also a cover of a Jim Croce song that I like, I guess out of boredom, but I think it's pretty alright. I'm hoping to put together like a 7-person band in Halifax, so in my imagination it's quite exciting.

Crowded around your blue,
standing outside looking in,
scraping heat across the frost
of another dying winter.
In little rooms with little pictures
and a bowl of multicolored apples
gathering dust
on a kitchen table
crowded around her blue

I am out of love for you
even when in love with you.

Real love will follow you down.

Review / Free Download of 'Breaking Hearts'

http://distortdistort.wordpress.com/2009/02/28/david-r-elliott-the-novellas/

So, it's Sunday, and it's my day off, though I will be at work by 4:30am. So like, fuck these shifts right? But it's cool cause I need that green. Still can't sing since Wednesday. Too much loud rapping. Plus I'm definitely getting sick. Right now I'm hanging out with Bun and Al Pal and we're gonna eat breakfast and str8 kick it. I have no idea what I'm going to do next. I'm mostly concerned abut my job right now. I'm really into all this old eminem stuff right now. Really old b-sides and mixtape tracks and guest spots from when he would just do anything to get his name around. Lotsa tight rhymes. Ahh, 99. I've been listening to Sunken Treasure stuff so fucking much. But since I work all the time now, I've also been returning to Hank Williams, George Jones, Jacksonville City Nights, JR, etc. So I don't maybe I'll make a country record. We'll see.

Official Release Date

It is the official release date for Breaking Hearts, by David R. Elliott & the Novellas.  Unfortunately JD has quit the band among several other things, so Cameron and I will be Two-Axe-Attackin our shit.  However, we've been arranging some of the songs today, and so far it seems promising.  We have a few surprise covers, so hopefully some dawgs wil be down with that.  Today our record will be available at Backstreet and Scheherezade and tonight at A Khord we are accepting beers and coffees for cd's.  It's kind of a limited release, for obvious reasons, but we should be able to get one out to all the dawgs that need them, and then I'll make it available on Waffles for free, and fuck it if someone you know has it just rip it.  Share it, just tell them the myspace, you know?  Anyway the show is at 11 tonight, not 10 like I told everyone.  My bad.  I think we'll probably be at Backstreet on Friday as well, I'll let y'all now when I do.  See you at the show tonight.

Also, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEw7LoDjuLA to listen to this awesome song by Dre and Em for the Wild Wild West soundtrack. It's awesome cause it's like a g thang beastie boys song. 'Dre grabbed the maps, the plaques and the gold, I grabbed two girlies and a blunt that's rolled.' Awesome.

Hello all. For anyone who does not have Autumn Rose, you can get it on Waffles now, if you are a member. Its there in its entirety. Come to A Khord on Wednesday. Cam and I are currently working on some open-ended shit. Gonna be finished Take it Slow soon, City is Dark will be on Waffles soon, and so will This Gun, within the next few weeks. Also Take it Slow will be available at Backstreet SJ this week. We are also working on a Novellas album, to be potentially titled A Million Statues. These are not empty promises, Im actually doing this.

Positive Updates

So, Cam came home today, and earlier in the week JD came home, and is living with us. So, today David R. Elliott & the Novellas played at Backstreet for some folk. There wasnt a huge audience, but the folks that did come out were all pretty rad. We are playing at A Khord opening for The United Steelworkers of Montreal, so I think details about that will be up soon on Giraffecycle. Might be playing in Hampton at a Kitchen Party, which seems kind of necessary while Im still here. Fair, I think. I think our set tonight was as follows:

1 Thats the Way Love Goes
2 Qoholet
3 Take it Slow
4 You Can Call Me Al
5 Your Blueeyed Boy
6 Drug$
8 End it in Smoke (JD fucked it up)
7 Blue Jeans Baby
8 Your Next Chance to Hurt Me (JD cover, I fucked it up.)
9 A Toast to Death & Xmas

Met some cool folk, gonna get a lot tighter for the show on Wednesday, and we have a few covers and a brand new song I wrote yesterday. Dont know if Ill reveal the covers. Im like that. Got like 4 finished albums on this computer...might put them up somewhere. Also making copies of them, and a new EP, and a Novellas EP, and hopefully we will have some of this stuff at the show, it is hard to say. Anyway, so today went pretty well in the general sense, and I appreciate that.

So, I know nobody has heard City is Dark except for JD, but I now have 5 new songs for a new album, or at very least an EP. So I don't really know what to say about the songs, their just love songs...torch songs. All kind of have a common thread, I think, but I also think I've achieved something I've been talking about for months, with the song I wrote this afternoon. My best writing time is immediately after being high with people, if I'm by myself. The title took really long, but it still isn't great; it's called Take it Slow. I like simple titles. Expect that for the title I decide on, I was considering 'Love Songs,' today. Don't worry that won't be it, but it will be simple. Hopefully one word.

01: Drums
02: White Flag
03: Stargazer Lily
04: Qoholet & Song of Songs
05: Paint Your Winter (Shades of Blue)
06: Take it Slow

City is Dark

I know nobody has heard it and I am sorry. I haven't got an internet connection, as a result of my computer losing it's mind with viruses. Thusly it may still be a month or so before I can regularly update my music shiz. So, here are the lyrics to the opening track, 'Blue Snowflakes Start Falling,' from City is Dark (Torch Songs & the Charred Remains):

A calm runs over us,
shimmering brilliant in a cold rush.
Flickering in headlights,
beaming into the park.
And girls with red scarves,
and red cheeks on white streets.
Girls with red scarves,
and red cheeks on white streets,
know that when blue snowflakes start falling on the cold streets,
that's where I'll be;
the city is dead 'til then.

The city is dead.
The city is dead 'til the winter comes.

A storm falls over us,
quivering silent in the cold slush.
Flickering in streetlights,
dark-yellow shining in the dark.
And girls with red scarves,
and cold feet on cold street.
Girls with red scarves,
and cold feet on cold streets,
know that when blue snowflakes start falling on the cold streets,
that's where I'll be;
the city is dead til then, anyway.
The city is dead.
The city is dead 'til the winter comes.

It was written in the fall obviously. Not a lot of exciting guitar parts, mostly vocal. Anyway I will post it when I can.