Tales of the Treadmill
Tales of the Treadmill
Three Cheers 3
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Trying again with this damn thing. Jesus.
Okay, this post appeared like three months ago- and it’s taken me from then til now to get back into songwriting mode. So, I’m posting this again and then I’m going to finish this god damed song. Cause it wants to be the last song on the record... really badly. Who am I to argue?
I’m not sure where this whole early American vibe is coming from. It made it’s way into a song months and months ago too- I Belong to You with the visual of Paul Revere riding through town and announcing how everything kind of sucks instead of ‘The British are coming!’. Kind of the same thing I guess.
The point of all this blather is that there’s a new song brewing that I’m digging a bunch. It’s vaguely written from the point of view of some scared kid who was serving at the Alamo right before Santa Anna stopped by to pee all over the joint. I just imagine there might have been someone there with a bit of sense and less of the wrongheaded heroic bravado that gets everyone into so much trouble. Some kid that was like, ‘um, this is wrong. I think we should maybe just scoot out the backdoor, cause this isn’t going to turn out well.’ And of course, Crockett and Bowie probably pushed him around and taunted him, calling him a ‘pussy boy.’ I hate guys like that. Crockett and Bowie were probably hypocritical assholes who gave each other bj’s out behind the privy.
If you haven’t guessed, I have no idea what really happened at the Alamo, and little interest in the truth of the matter. I just like to build these grand models in my mind based on scraps of sketchy information I see here and there- just to amuse myself.
I so wish Texas had won it’s independence. With like, Austin as a sort of walled in sovereign oasis, like kind of an antithetical Berlin. Then the Bush’s could have ruled Texas, rooted for the Cowboys, and left the rest of us alone.
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