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Uncle Sam's Club for the Agoraphobic (work from 2016 Residency at ACRE)

by Josh Evert

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1.
"Bring the hotdog upstairs," You're embarrassingly tempted to text her. It's the 4th of July and they're grilling out in the back. At some point in time you're going to have to be more social. Uncle Sam's Club doesn't have a webinar today.
2.
I come down to the sound of machines No idea what they could be doing No idea how to rage against these Without money And I hope I don’t run out of steam Yeah but what are the chances of me Stickin round for as long as you need I resemble my money I was not at the estate sale they sold everything Not unlike pocket change, losing weeks Paying to weep It hurts worse when you can’t blame something Askin how nothingness could increase but my phantom limb only agrees with the nothing Askin how real the crisis could be Layin on Santa Monica beach For a second I found it funny Now I’m sure it’s disgusting buildings all started feeling empty filled with best friends or worst enemies they were playing the right frequencies canceling out coherence but no one will get ahead of me Up all night on methamphetamines workin on my lyrics so the theme is not about my lyrics I was not at the estate sale they sold everything Not unlike pocket change, losing weeks Paying to weep
3.
Who knows what awaits us after the youthful bliss? Dumbstruck by the odds that we could exist Learn to love death’s shadow, but not its kiss Passive aggressive tongue and risin licorice lips Even with shit weather, they’re all nice days Building up the strength to meet a stranger’s gaze Geeking out at how much beauty we Even with our best intentions failed To see I kiss both your cheeks as if I were French Can I crash at your apartment again Why is it that I can’t stop humming All the songs written by your ex-boy friend Woke up late and thought the day was a wash Afraid to leave ‘cause I know what I’m capable of I’m not good enough to be your shoestrings Nursing a hangover in the back seat The mangy cat had ripped the furniture to threads Everything was just as it should have been The mind is not a place it’s a process Indeed we’re dying, but certainly not dead Yet
4.
This could be how you wind up on a balcony wearing dirty clothes and with the overripe notion that Some things aren’t right Yeah, but not everything is not right Like: the neighbors just stopped playing bass-heavy music But the dog is still barking and the bass gets replaced Yeah the bass gets replaced By the motors of bikes racing by With what are you gonna threaten me Cracking up indiscriminately Too mad to be neutral and neutered by petrol I wish there was a world I could bring you into But could bring you into But Sorry it doesn’t exist If god blessed the nation And you are god-fearing Then why don’t you fear the flag that you are waving the flag that you’re waving outside on a suburban pole But I pick myself up, will to change And so it seems freedom still remains
5.
I don’t know what I want and I don’t know what you want I don’t know what all the answers are I want to be my own boss I want you to be your own boss I don’t want us to suck corporate cock If I had a story to tell then I would tell a story well I’ve got no imagination bone If you wanted to be happy you should have planted manic seeds in the nutrient-depleted field of depressed dreams mr. 21st century Johnny appleseed I’m believing in a fiction, knowing that it is a fiction, but never knowing anything else when people call, I’m overwhelmed. If they don’t, I’m lonely as hell and scribble another note-to-self Disoriented by how fast the darkness rears its shapeless head, I’m trying hard to just reconnect How clammy is this hand to hold, but you can leave the guilt at home, you don’t need guilt in a stranger’s house Will we get the matching tats? I swore someone as pretty as you must vapid or someone’s spouse How clammy is the hand of love, always too little or too much, I’m never quite getting just enough I pulled my shit together and i put it all into my pack and wandered off to no place exact

about

Songs (mostly) recorded at ACRE (Artists’ Cooperative Residency and Exhibitions) in Steuben, WI in July 2016.

credits

released August 10, 2016

EP written/recorded/mixed/mastered by Josh Evert
Guitar on Youthful Bliss by Andrew Davis.
Album art by Alexander Kollman

Thanks: ACRE, Steuben WI, Tony Paterra, Sat. Nite Duets, Jonah Lehrer (who is mostly wayyyyyyyyyyy too smart for me to understand), Don Delillo, & the movie Syriana.

license

all rights reserved

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