Songwriting confidential #61


You can only lean against so many lamp posts and buildings before you become cemented into royal Hobo-ism, a scandalous Johnny on a hot potato park bench..Between playing guitars that grappled and mugged me and leaning into hairy winds, crummy doorways, unfriendly hallways with rotten breath, crappy cars and dimwitted liaisons with giant fisted woman with painted ears, I have morphed into what looks to be a parabolic shoe with chicken bone teeth; and this is the tale of the old songwriter,.the one who will whisk you away for a delightful gourmet dinner at Eddies wings and suds joint,.Lets go, were late,.and I have to get a biopsy at 7.00.