Last Thoughts on Michael Larson

The following is a piece I wrote over the past couple of weeks, an homage to Michael Larson, A.K.A. Eyedea, who passed away on October 16th, 2010. This person was someone I looked up to, someone who held a lot of influence in my life... someone whose work stayed with me and grew around my soul like a vine around a Century fence, know what I mean? For those who haven't heard much of his music, I encourage you to buy an album or two of his, in particular "The Many Faces of Oliver Hart," "First Born," and his latest release, "By The Throat."

For my homage, I chose to write a pastiche, which is a literary form in which you imitate another writer's style. I am imitating a poem Bob Dylan wrote and performed for Woody Guthrie when Woody was sick in the hospital... You can listen to it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVbr0y8zp68

Although I still want to continue working on this (because I'm not entirely satisfied with it) I realize there's point when you have to let things go, even if you still think you can make it better. Far too often, with projects I undertake, I never finish them because I start something else or lose interest.. This leaves me with a lot of cool stuff that's only half complete. Anyways- with this, I know it helped me channel my emotions and work out some rather difficult kinks in my mind.. I hope you find a little truth in it...


Last Thoughts on Michael Larson

What can you do when the wind blows hard

'Til your face can't feel it and your hope's gone far,

When the words fall short or they barely imitate

All the complex emotions that you're tryin' to convey,

When the lights grow dark, and they leave the streets alone

Or when you missed the last train that woulda took ya straight home,

When the traffics too thick or a book is too short,

Or when you've gone downtown to face another round of court,

When your caught with your guard down, or your lips are too loose,

When rain falls in buckets and it beats through your roof,
Or when the scenes not the same as it was awhile back,

And your feet have turned left and walked right off track,

And your packs about empty, or your bag is all sticks,

And every feather hits ya with the weight of ten bricks,

When the coffee won't do it, and the beer won't either,

When your ex is with him every time that you see her,

Or when the kids seem selfish, and you begin to feel hopeless,
And when the things that you buy tend to blur out your focus,
When the comets stop comin' and the blue moon hides,

When you're tired, out late and still miss the sunrise,

When your back starts achin' or the needle finds a rut,

And you don't have the heart to quite go with your gut,

And the ceiling fan stops and the air settles down,
And its so damn hot that you curl up on the ground,

And you wonder to yourself... You ask you some questions-

Like, "How do I respond to all the shit that I'm test with?

Where do I move it? What can I tell them?"

Your winds knocked out so you wheeze instead of yellin',
And you gotta keep trying 'cause you're scared of sayin' quit,
'Cause you know every road has a hole, a little dip,
But the doubts still in you, and its weight feels tall,
Pulls you in between desires like the first snowfall,
And it seems mixed up in a dark shade of blue
With tight tangled knots like a little kid's shoe
And your mood won't mend with any headache potion,
Your skin won't smooth with any calamine lotion,
No matter how much you save or got comin' in a check,
What pattern that you wear or which chains on your neck,
It will not disconnect, keeps followin' you around,
In the morning, afternoon, and on the other side of town,
You feel stuck real good, just stuck in your place,
And you wonder why you joined this whole damned race-

Well,

There's a man I know that can guide you through this,
A man who wrote line after line of music,
That came to rest deep in the hearts of many,
He was known as Eyedea, of which he had plenty.
Now we all know an artist or two that has a vision,
and we all know some people who push beyond limits,
But this man personified potential he had,
wasn't happy boxed in with some short term fad,
or labels that only traced the outline he shaped,
wasn't one at night and another by day.
I guess what I'm gettin' at, what I'm trying to say,
is this man was original, authentic, and great-
and above all else he taught my mind to not wait,
cause there's a whole lot of work left beyond my gates.



Thank you Eyedea for all the inspiration you continue giving me. Peace.