Most of what I create never sees the light of day. I feel a sense of urgency when I’m making something, but that energy never maintains itself when it is time to show it off. Psychology aside, this leaves me with a not unsubstantial back catalogue of unreleased material, material that I have decided to place here in “The Graveyard.” I’m calling it “The Graveyard” because everything that I post in this category will be material that I have no plans for. Dead material if you will. This is where I bury it.

            Fittingly, this first piece is a song I wrote after putting my family’s dog Einstein down a little over a week ago. Pet deaths suck because you almost feel guilty for feeling any remotely powerful sense of grief over them. It is a pretty common occurrence that shouldn’t cork up your life all that much, but like any of the litany of impossibly sad things in life, it can tear you up if you open yourself to it. But opening myself up to these kinds of things is what I consider to be the blue-collar, hard work responsibility of my artistry, no matter how melodramatic it might seem. Happiness sings its own song but sadness needs to be transformed into one. In this case that song is called:

Pentobarbital

Lyrics:

The paling leaves
On the way to Long Prairie
County 75
Autumn resting in your eyes
I still see you taking laps
Begging for my table scraps
Those seizures must keep you awake
Good boy sure knows how to shake
 
But you don’t care at all
Pentobarbital
When you start to fall
Pentobarbital
 
Remember I picked you out
The only one that wasn’t loud
And when we got you home
You wouldn’t leave me alone
And then you slept in my bed
Quivering, your nervous head
September now, I watch you fade
Stupid dog, I thought I taught you how to stay
 
But you don’t care at all
Pentobarbital
When you start to fall
Pentobarbital
You don’t care at all
Pentobarbital
When you start to fall
Pentobarbital
 
Nothing can be fought
You’re dizzy in the parking lot
And these lungs aren’t mine
They’re pumping fast and out of time
Today my niece turns one
I’m sure the party will be fun
Neon pink into your leg
Don’t worry Einstein, no one’s going to make you beg
 
Don’t take much at all
Pentobarbital
My God, are we so small?
Pentobarbital