TomFlannery.com

Nothing to report yesterday, as I spent much of my time scrunched over yellow legal pads desperately trying to be creative. Moments of inspiration, and moments of sheer despair. More of the latter I’m afraid, but that’s the way writing goes. I was so pre-occupied I forgot about the President’s health care speech last night, so I missed that bat-shit republican from South Carolina screaming in the middle of it, pulling our nation further down into the surreal trough in the eyes of the rest of the civilized world….who must continue to shake their heads in amazement that loud fat rich white guys are allowed to hijack a plan for the greatest nation on earth to provide basic health care needs to its most neglected citizens…..many of them poor children. And the media plays along like willing executioners. Gee….what do you think the lead story was this morning? It would be funny if it weren’t ultimately so destructive to human beings.

Anyway…..that’s enough of that. Trying to get a first draft of this play done, and it’s been a struggle. But today I grabbed a copy of the new Deadstring Brothers record, which certainly has the potential to make my day. Have also been listening to Brendan Benson’s 4 records over the last few weeks. Pop songs don’t get much better. If I can’t have Noel Gallagher, I’ll take Brendan Benson.

Music can break your heart. But it can save your sorry ass too. My writing hand needs the equivalent of a sugar rush today, so onward we go. Eventually, I need to pick the guitar up again. It seems sad.

In a bit…

–tf

Writing today. Or trying to. Prose actually. Damn deadlines. But without them, I’d get nothing done. Ever try to put your head into the cranium of a 15 year old? I don’t suggest it unless you’re being paid. And even then, don’t just think twice. Think about a dozen times. It may have you reaching for the Seconals before mother nature says it’s time. And while it’s not true that all early teens are damaged, a large percentage of them surely are. Tread with caution. And if you think you know how they think by thinking back to how you used to think, think again. The previous sentence may seem confusing but it’s really not. It should make perfect sense to any who have any.

Labor Day finally put to bed. That means summer can be put out of it’s misery and fall and football can commence with vigor. So what if it’s 80 some degrees today with vapor rising from the road? We can’t let insignificant details like a lingering steam bath bring us hot weather haters down. It’s fall dammit. Let the leaves fall where they may…..and change all sorts of colors beforehand. And let us watch in horrified fascination as Charlie Weis’s waistline grows larger than a hula-hoop…..as his team of poorly coached highly recruited under-achievers get stomped like fire-ants by every top 25 team they play all year. It should be great fun. It’s like going to the same person’s funeral 5 or 6 times a year.

300 more words to go.

In a bit…

–tf

Ever feel like that beer in the bottom of the glass that the drunk guy leaves on the bar when he finally staggers towards the door?

‘Tis an interesting feeling. And not one very conducive to creativity.

Could be worse I guess. Some dreg could slide by when nobody’s looking and drink me.

Sitting here very early in the AM listening to a Son Volt record and thinking about all the things I need to do and how much it’s going to cost and wondering where the money is going to come from. I’m pretty sure people owe me some money but I keep lousy books. And I wait for checks to come in the mail and they never do. Everybody wants to give me credit though. It’s like they’re trying to tell me something.

The words need to come. Without them, the lack of funds is irrelevant. And worrying about one invariably hurts the other.

Wrote a lyric yesterday called “The Hidden”. It needs a tune. Maybe today. Unless those Ed McMahon people show up with cameras and that giant cardboard check. Then all bets are off.

In a bit…

–tf

On a lyric binge. Guitar still feels like I’m holding a struggling animal, so I figure it’s time to catch up on some words. Word hungry. For me the words almost always come first anyway, so I’ve got two sorta-complete sets of lyrics. Thinking on a third now. After a while me and the guitar will learn to play nice again and hopefully I’ll have a few decent rock and roll songs to tend to.

Just picked up a copy of Joe Henry’s new record. I either love his stuff or hate it (some of his pointless jazz noodling drives me insane). He is obesely (is that a word?) talented though. We’ll see what the morrow brings. If all else fails, I grabbed the Supersucker’s latest as well, just so things wouldn’t be a total washout. In a world of mixed-up confusion, one can always rely on the Supersuckers.

And so….onward I suppose. Going back is way too much work.

In a bit…

–tf

Fussin’ and fightin’ with the guitar. Some days it won’t sound like it did the day before. Some days it feels like butter, and others the hot knife that cuts through it. Some days I want to caress it gently, and other days I want to do a Townshend on it. Most days I simply wish I played piano instead. More expressive maybe, unless you suck at it that is. Always that possibility.

I’m confused is what I am.

I know what kind of record I want to make, but some of the songs aren’t cooperating. A song is like a child. You can try to put some controls on it, but it’s gonna grow up and be what it wants to be.

So there. I feel lousy. Must call upon the ghost of Noel Gallagher.

In a bit…

–tf

Man…..that opens up all sorts of possibilities doesn’t it? Another mis-translated lyric….this one from a song by one of my favorite bands (The Hold Steady). I was hoping I got it wrong so I wouldn’t feel like I was stealing. And let’s just say I got it way wrong. So that’s pretty cool.

The Devil and Chuck Berry. Chuck is a bad man….by every definition and meaning and pronunciation of that word. So far I’ve got 7 verses written and I still don’t think it’s done. But it sure is fun.

In a bit…

–tf

Can it be? No more Oasis? Noel Gallagher has announced he’s quit the band. I saw it on the ticker at the bottom of the screen on CNN, during the Ted Kennedy memorial coverage. Odd place to find out that one of my favorite bands is no more…..but then we live in an odd world. Word must get out about such things.

Another punch-up between the Gallagher brothers apparently. No real news there….as they’ve been bashing each other’s skulls in for almost 20 years. They’ve managed to make the Davies brother’s look like Nick and Joe Jonas. But this time Liam apparently obliterated one of Noel’s guitars backstage. You don’t mess with a man’s guitars. That’s why I think this split is for real. Noel has quit the band at least 3 times previously, but never with the sight of a splintered Les Paul burned into his retinas. A ghastly sight that must be.

The man is 42, and just happens to be one of the greatest pop songwriters to ever draw breath. He’s been saddled with a drunken, boorish lout of a brother 6 years his junior, and truth be told has put up with Liam longer than most could or would have. Noel doesn’t need Oasis. Noel is Oasis, so I still look forward to his next batch of songs. I really don’t give a shite what name is on the cover. But it still takes some getting used to.

Ok, I’m used to it.

Good luck Noel. I’ll be waiting.

In a bit…

–tf

Autumn’s chill is in the air. Not sure how long it’ll last, but it feels good. The heat of summer drains me. The snap of the fall, along with promise of the explosion of the leaves, leaves me strangely energized. Or at least less slothful than usual.

And so it goes. Much planned today, and absolutely nothing accomplished. Life gets in the way when you wish to spend much of the day with a guitar and/or pen in your hand. Life particularly takes up more time if the guitar and/or pen aren’t paying very well. Or in my case, at all.

But that’s just routine grumpiness. I still manage to doodle daily in a handwritten journal, and try to fill in the cracks of time with assorted outlandish schemes destined to make me rich enough to live in the woods surrounded by a large moat and a stone wall.

Was thinking about the war today. Or the war’s actually. Anybody remember them? Men are still dying. It doesn’t make it less so because it’s reported on page ten and not page one. Blood is still red, flesh is still flesh, and dead is still dead. And more and more soldiers are coming home alive, but in pieces. Both physically and emotionally. And yet, it’s become so distant. Like background noise. The music they pipe into the supermarket….or the elevator.

Surely it’s not that people don’t care. It’s that people literally don’t remember. War loses it’s luster after a time….especially when there’s no defined finish line. And without the red white and blue shine (or sheen?), it begins to seem as close as a meteor.

I wish we could reach out and touch the sky. Maybe we’d allow them to come home then.

Maybe a song there.

In a bit…

–tf

Have a new song I need to demo today. Then I’ve got a few lyric ideas I’d like to try out. I’ll splatter the words on my legal pad and see if I can coerce some sort of meaning out of the jumble. Sometimes this means moving verses around, or switching lines from one side of the page to the other. For some reason I’m sure the head-shrinkers would have fun with, the lyrics for the bridges in my songs are almost always scrawled sideways on the page, which means when I’m recording demos I have to jerk my head to the right like a dog that hears a whistle in order to read them. After long batches of recording I look like something out of a George Romero movie.

But I do love it so. The process. The writing and the self-flagellating and the strumming and the picking and the aching fingers and the manic highs and lows and the ways that some songs stand up the next day and say “You like me! You really like me!” while others are sent alternately kicking and screaming or rather gratefully to the shredder, where nobody will ever be the wiser that I wrote such worthless piles of dung and actually considered them  worthy of the record button. ‘Tis a glorious thing, all of it.

Imagine if I actually got paid for this? The mind reels.

In a bit…

–tf

Ok, it took me way too long to figure this out, but NOFX are the greatest punk band ever….and Coaster is the greatest punk rock record ever….and Fat Mike is one of the greatest punk songwriters ever.

I’m a little slow, but I eventually get there.

I’m not sure why all this matters, but trust me. It does.

In a bit…

–tf