U + Ur Hand

I am picking up a story-line where tnkerr left off on the practice write offered with this weeks OLWG prompts. Do yourself a favor and begin by reading tnkerr’s  Am I Here?.

********

We sat on the porch, Casper and I, he telling me the sensational tale of a man who literally pulled himself from the muck by his bootstraps, and I making notes as he spoke, until the twilight of the evening sky became a low lying quilt of blazing gold and violet that wrapped itself around the slowly setting sun gently nestling her into the cradle of the Cerrillos, far off in the distance.

No longer a young man, the evening’s recitation took an early toll on Casper and we parted soon after the sun set, with a promise to meet up again the next day. 

I took a cheap hotel in town, settled onto the swayback mattress provided and delved into the notes I had taken over the course of the evening. It didn’t take long for me to realize that although Casper had set out to tell me the tale of his life, what he had ended up imparting upon me was not really a story of the accomplishments of a lone man at all, but rather the story of one man’s life forged from the dross he had been shackled with at birth, by a most remarkable woman. 

A woman he met one particularly lonely night, on the back-side of a biting put down line in a bar once called the Alamo.  A woman who burned him to the ground, and then sifted through the ashes for the true grit of which Casper Coloradas was made and created out of that salvaged grit and ash, the man he was destined to become.

U + UR Hand
Check it out, goin’ out, on the late night.
Lookin’ tight, feelin’ nice, it’s a cockfight.
I can tell I just know that it’s goin’ down, tonight.
At the door, we don’t wait, coz we know them,
At the bar, six shots, just beginnin’,
That’s when dickhead put his hands on me, but you see-

I’m not here for your entertainment,
You don’t really want to mess with me tonight.
Just stop and take a second-
I was fine before you walked into my life.
Coz you know it’s over, before it began.
Keep your drink, just give me the money,
it’s just u & ur hand tonight.

Midnight, I’m drunk, I don’t give a fuck.
Wanna dance by myself, guess you’re outta luck,
Don’t touch, back up, I’m not the one, uh buh-bye.
Listen up, it’s just not happenin’,
You can say what you want to your boyfriends,
Just let me have my fun tonight, a’ight.

I’m not here for your entertainment,
You don’t really want to mess with me tonight.
Just stop and take a second-
I was fine before you walked into my life.
Coz you know it’s over, before it began.
Keep your drink, just give me the money,
It’s just u & ur hand tonight.

In the corner with your boys, you bet ’em five bucks,
You’d get the girl who just walked in but she thinks you suck.
We didn’t get all dressed up just for you to see-
Quit spilling your drink on me, yeah.

(You know who you are, high five and talkin’ shit,
But you’re goin’ home alone, aren’t ya?)

Cause- I’m not here for your entertainment,
You don’t really want to mess with me tonight.
Just stop and take a second-
I was fine before you walked into my life.
Coz you know it’s over, before it began.
Keep your dream, just give me the money,
It’s just u & ur hand tonight.

I’m not here for your entertainment,
You don’t really want to mess with me tonight.
Just stop and take a second-
I was fine before you walked into my life.
Coz you know it’s over, before it began.
Keep your dream, just give me the money,
It’s just u & ur hand tonight
U + Ur hand is credited as a collaboration between Pink, songwriters Max Martin and Rami (Yacoub) and record producer Luke Gottwald. It was performed by Pink and released on her 2006 album, I’m not Dead.

It gets its title from tried and true the put down line, “I guess it’s just you and your hand tonight.”

 

This is my response to Jim Adam’s call for songs containing the body parts, Ankles/Hands/Feet/Fingers/Toes/Wrists on this week’s Song Lyric Sunday. Although I owe it’s real inspiration to tnkerr.

Clean My Wounds

She liberated Gideon Bibles from cheap motel rooms on cold rainy nights when even the most talented of whores could no longer dance between the raindrops.

The tricks she pulled were deviants, set on exacting payment for the most obvious of her sins. Many of them, in the name of Jesus.

Sometimes they injected her with the fear of god so vigorously, she wore the stigmata of their rapture for all to see. During these times she sold her pilfered bibles. Proclaimed herself, “Washed clean in the blood of the Lord.” 

Until her wounds healed.

Or the next raindrops fell.

Clean My Wounds
Corrosion of Conformity

I see the world through bloodshot eyes
Streets filled with blood from distant lies.
The dogs of war never compromise,
No real time for rearranging.
“Help me Jesus, help me clean my wounds”
He said he cannot heal that kind.
Bleeding soul becomes a bitter mind.
He said it happens every time (Knock it down)
And that’s how the story goes (Knock it down)
In the land of a thousand no’s (Knock it down)
I’m all over you in time my mind is changing.
Knock it down
Black on black gives me a heart attack
And the silence makes it deadly.
Some choose to kill with simple will.
I’ve seen them fall fast and steady.
“Help me Jesus, help me clean my wounds”
He said he cannot heal that kind.
Bleeding soul becomes a bitter mind.
He said it happens every time (Knock it down)
And that’s how the story goes (Knock it down)
In the land of a thousand no’s (Knock it down)
I’m all over you in time my mind is changing.
Twist of fate won’t give me a break
And myself, I’m slow and tired.
I’ve got to rise with these bloodshot eyes
But I keep falling when I’m higher.
“Help me Jesus, help me clean my wounds”
He said he cannot heal that kind.
Bleeding soul becomes a bitter mind.
He said it happens every time (Knock it down)
And that’s how the story goes (Knock it down)
In the land of a thousand no’s (Knock it down)
We are bleeding sins and our sins are always fadin’
Oh fadin’, oh fadin’, oh fadin’
Oh, knock it down, knock it down
Oh, knock it down, knock it down
Oh, knock it down, knock it down
Oh, knock it down

Clean My Wounds was written by COC lead singer/guitarist Pepper Keenan and performed by the band, Corrosion of Conformity. It was released in 1995 on the band’s third album Deliverance.

 

This story told in exactly 100 words was written in response to Jim Adam’s call for songs that contain the words Come/Go/Leave or Stay on this weeks Song Lyric Sunday. It was inspired by the phrasal prompt, selling bibles, offered by tnkerr on this weeks OLWG #142

Ode to Tools

Screw you, lover boy!
What you think I am?
A toy?

I don’t need your
baby blues
Or your sexy
sleeve tattoos
I can do bad on my own
So you just leave
This girl alone!

You done met your match with me
Cuz I been all you’ll ever be
I got this thing!
Young man? Ya hear?
So buy yourself another beer.

What’s that you say?
I sure look good?
To a tool like you-
I’d think I would!

Yep, I’m a bitch
Just like you say-
I’m the bad ass bitch
that got away!

 

This little ode goes out to all the Tools out there that will be celebrating today’s Hallmark Holiday by scouring the local venues looking for lonely women.

My contribution to Dylan’s First Line Friday on MLMM wherein the first line, “Screw you, lover boy” was supplied.

We Just Disagree

“You can’t just leave!” April hollered from the front porch as she watched Dave continue across the snow covered yard and hop in the truck.

Dave cranked up the defrost, turned on the wipers, and when the frost had cleared enough so that he could see through the windshield, took one last look at April. Standing barefoot in the dusting of freshly fallen snow in her pink Hello Kitty jammies, she looked so much like the girl he had fallen in love with. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. And truth be told, he was no longer that guy.

“Sure I can.” He said aloud, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him, threw the truck in reverse and gave it some gas. “Just watch me go.”

*****

They had met in college. April was working on a degree in Political Science and had dreams of going to law school. Dave wasn’t working too hard at anything but perfecting his twelve ounce curl, but despite their very real differences, they had fallen in love and gotten a place together off campus. 

Dave eventually dropped out, sobered up, and took a job with his dad’s construction company. He took over the role as sole breadwinner, while April, although she dabbled at housework, stayed focused on her studies.

Over the years, they talked about having kids many times. Fought about it a few more times than that. But always, when the dust cleared, they found themselves agreeing to disagree. He was still working his way up in the company anyway, and she was still in law school. The time to start a family had never been now. On that they had always agreed. 

Finally this past summer while visiting Rome on holiday, they agreed the time had come to start a family, even throwing pennies into the fountain in Trevi in hopes that their first born would be conceived in Rome. After all, in the past year April had made partner in the firm, and Dave had succeeded his father as owner of the company. The timing could not have been more perfect.

They had been trying for months before Dave happened onto a piece of information that led him to believe April had a tubal ligation years before, one of those weekends she was supposed to be taking a deposition out of town.

Today, his suspicions had been confirmed.

*****

Agreeing to disagree was no longer an option. It was time to go.

So without taking even one last look, Dave put the truck in drive, hit the gas, and went.

 

We Just Disagree was written by Jim Kreuger, a guitarist for the band fronted by and named after a former member of the band Traffic, Dave Mason. Mason sang lead, and Kreuger, harmonies on the version of the song that made it onto Mason’s album, Let It Flow, in 1977.

We Just Disagree

Been away, haven’t seen you in a while
How’ve you been, have you changed your style?
And do you think that we’ve grown up differently?
Don’t seem the same, seems you’ve lost your feel for me

So let’s leave it alone ’cause we can’t see eye to eye
There ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy
There’s only you and me and we just disagree
Ooh ooh ooh, oh oh oh

I’m goin’ back to a place that’s far away, how ’bout you?
Have you got a place to stay?
Why should I care when I’m just trying to get along
We were friends and now it’s the end of our love song

So let’s leave it alone ’cause we can’t see eye to eye
There ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy
There’s only you and me and we just disagree
Ooh ooh ooh, oh oh oh

So let’s leave it alone ’cause we can’t see eye to eye
There ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy
There’s only you and me and we just disagree

This post is my response to Song Lyric Sunday’s call for songs that contain the personal pronouns,  I/Me/Them/Us/You/We.

It also contains the three phrasal prompts offered this week on the OLWG #140. The phrases were:

  1. throwing pennies
  2. when the dust clears
  3. watch me go

Surly and Recalcitrant Equipment Boys

In the early morning hours of May 28,1992 following yet another filled to capacity show in one of the counties largest venues, a very stoned Woody Wannamaker, lead singer and guitarist for the up and coming band, Gauntlet, was weaving his Bronco up a mountain road with one of the more beautiful perks of being an almost famous rock star naked from the waist up, arched over the console- her lips firmly planted- in his lap.

Woody never saw the twelve point buck enter the roadway. He never heard the massive thud of the Bronco hitting the buck, or the scream of ripping metal when the Bronco face-planted into the tree that stopped the truck from going over the mountainside. 

He also never saw the crushed skull of his then nameless young companion being extricated from its fateful position in his lap, where it had been the only thing between him and the imploding steering wheel upon impact.

What he did see was everything he had worked for his whole life disappear. What he did hear was a judge sentencing him to ten years in the state pen. And when he had done his time, all he heard was “Sorry, man” from everyone who was anyone in the business.

That is until JJ offered him a position running sound lines for a second rate metal band that was opening for the band that was opening for…

He had taken that job. It was supposed to be a stepping stone. He was supposed to network. Make connections. He could still sing. He’d find something.

But he never did. 

Today he was running sound for the headliners. He was one of the top sound tech’s- one of the most sought after men in his field- but in the early morning hours, when he lay awake in bed the tortured visions of all that could have been playing out before him, all he felt for his current station in life was contempt.

He hated the band. He hated the guys he worked with. He hated the screaming crowds, the cast off chicks, the lonely hours spent on the road making a name for somebody else. 

But above all he hated himself. He hated the miserable man he had become as a result of putting all his efforts into mourning a life- that he had killed just as surely as if it too had died in the front seat of his Bronco that night. 

A life he would never again have the opportunity to live.

Mlmm’s Music Challenge is hosted by Jim Adams. He provides the song, and you go where it takes you. My piece is based on Bob Weir of The Grateful Dead’s dedicating the song to their “surly and recalcitrant equipment boys.”

This week’s song was The Race Is On which was recorded by numerous artists, the two featured in Jim’s post being The Grateful Dead, and George Jones.