1. |
Ice Age 2
03:21
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You can’t sleep; your room is haunted
Do you believe in ghosts?
I’ll come by—we’ll be the shittiest exorcists
Vero Beach has ever known
I’ll meet you at the movies
We’ll wear our best SSBDs
I got mine at the Coral Gables Goodwill
You got yours backpacking in Bali
But if I have to see that sloth scene from “Zootopia” one more time,
I’d probably lose my mind
There’s only one other person with us in the theater
No doubt annoyed by how funny we think we’re being
And I know we’ll never beat “Ice Age 2”
We’ll pretend to do yoga by the Ferris wheel
Early in the morning
And we’re laughing
Yeah we’re always laughing
About blowing social moves at O’Shea’s
Or Eric Andre memes for days
Those foolish bumper sticker placements
Or all your vegan ways and
¡Claro que sí, por su puesto chica!
Nunca superaremos Ice Age Dos, ya
But still we’ll always be laughing
Yeah we’ll always be laughing
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2. |
Sigmund Freud
02:51
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So fiercely independent, frightened me just a bit
And when I say that I’m lying; I was scared shitless.
If not for the blue bubbles I see,
I’d think all you owned was a flip phone reserved for emergencies.
So “Do You Like The Beatles?”
With bagged wine on beaches
And borrowing my phone for some pictures.
The universe smiling upon us.
These old things? Sick ‘ralls man!
I owe you one folded up sticker.
It’s the one still stashed in my CamelBak pocket waiting for you.
The motif of the weekend, read it out, still ringing true:
If anything can go well, it will
I hope that it will
Dude’s name must have been Doc Brown or some shit;
I’m transported in time, back to a 16 year-old kid
Claiming I don’t want to be told what to do,
But really I’m just too terrified to follow through.
Was maybe just all the serotonin spiking my brain punch, we
Still had that quick kiss by the Bleachers and a look back at the tree.
And I’m sure Sigmund Freud would have some interesting thoughts on this matter.
But that’s something I’ll hopefully have the pleasure to see and address later.
But for now I’ll follow what’s written,
Sparked with self-passion like Whitman,
If anything can go well—oh god dammit—I hope that it will then
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3. |
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And in the worst case I fear
I’ve already been set back about three years
It’s clear
At least between my ears
With more minutes wasted in the throws
Of reading Wikipedia early life bios
I know
Gotta let it show
Sounding off my barbaric yawps
Here falling asleep to multi-tabbed TED Talks
Just stop
Turn back the clock
Because I know I have already wasted too much time
And I wish I could somehow get
Some kind of real life Norton GoBack
But I can’t, and I won’t, now back on my own race
Break out from drafting the pack and on my own pace
Now I know I have already wasted too much time
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4. |
Yung George Washington
02:40
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Under my bed I used to have this tub
Filled to the brim with all these Legos
And for about a decade that’s all I would touch
Clinking pieces filling up the soundscapes of my house
Somehow more recently I've tried
To dive back inside
It don’t feel like it did back then
Too hard to just flow with no directions
Has my creativity been zapped?
Am I under attack?
Back when who even knew what was uncool
Wore a vest every day in preschool
So I’ll just do my best to keep it fully honest
Like a young George Washington
Totally transparent
Like I got that invisibility cloak on
So call me Harry Potter
The boy who lived and will keep living on
Except now I’m an adult—or I guess kind of—
Just keeping it honest, a young George Washington
Because the funniest thing about growing up is
Realizing that these
People you once thought had it figured out
Didn’t know a goddamn thing
We’re all just getting responsibilities loaded on up
And trusting that we’re smart enough
To figure it out on the fly
Strength in the fact that people much dumber than us still somehow survive
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5. |
Blackout Jeopardy!
02:58
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I called you in the morning, just like I promised, six hours after your 3 AM call.
Fashionably late (of course), not too eager, and after I made it out the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru window.
Voicemail took me by surprise, stumbled through (stage fright) after you didn’t pick up the phone.
Apparently your morning voice was so rough it would have made my ears bleed but I know that wouldn’t have happened. I’d probably be jealous that you sounded like Billie Holiday.
And I’d try to get you in on a track, but that would just be an excuse to play guitar with you all day.
I’m tryna get all my sustenance in bomb shot form,
Tryna hold down a job for more than a year, but I know
I should probably try harder
Because so far not so good.
And where in the skill section of my resume
Should I put that I’m a boss at playing blackout “Jeopardy!”?
I hear it all day, but I need something more.
I know I’m still young—blah, blah, blah—I know, I know, I know, I know…
Been told it too many times before
But really I know nothing, Jon Snow
It’s slide party szn, and I’m still stuck down here, I guess that’s one positive reason.
Armed with praying hands and binoculars, oh where did she go: #her
Panicking the spaces between marked by our read receipts, I hope I’m not Billy Madison-ing
I BLEW IT!
Oh shit, now I’m repeating myself! I’ve done that bit before.
Nate what the fuck are you doing?
I don’t know…
Though I’ve been told it too many times before
Oh yeah I know nothing, Jon Snow
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6. |
Displacement
03:38
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Sitting outside: porch couch one night in October
Thinking I’m right where I need to be,
Or, if anything, maybe a little early.
And I didn’t think forward, I didn’t think behind,
I just lounged out laughing, weight angled on my side.
Now I’m looking back through that rearview mirror
Where the objects are always looking closer than they appear.
And I remember sitting on that stool
Physics class, junior year of high school
Head furled, thinking tough and out ahead,
Chin rested on my elbow, taking notes on displacement
While all I heard was how we can live, as long as hard as we can,
We’ll still end up with this zero value now
If we never run it out of our hometowns
So now I’m ready to run, ready to go,
Sift through that shore, whipped by that snow today,
Set forth and on my way.
And I’m ready to go, and I feel alive,
Hit it summer to summer then off I’ll fly away
And get myself displaced.
And I remember back in 2005, sometime around January, late
That speech I gave about how I would become president at age 38.
And I think I had no concept of age back then,
But at least I had myself a cute little life plan.
With the purity of my youthful mind
Unadulterated by any kind of x-ray eyes.
So look back at true honesty:
What’s always stood out to me.
It’s a look back at true honesty:
With my spectrumed mind obsessing over these things.
And I always held on to them so dear,
But now somehow they’re lost throughout the years.
Oh I held on to them so dear,
But now somehow they’re lost throughout years.
Somehow lost along the way and throughout the years…
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7. |
BCE
03:47
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And still today, my greatest realization
Is somehow I haven’t annoyed you into my excommunication.
And ever since, my life has been changed for the better,
Ever since that BCE: Before the Cioffi Era
And time stops—yeah I feel time pass out drunk.
Yeah time stops—in that long-time-no-see-hug.
And I know doing the most ends up doing the best.
With that acid message written on your hand,
Read it back to me, it said, “let go”
And it’s eyes on Rosh Hashanah
With my stupid seersucker jacket on.
And I’ll never forget those smirking eyes.
Those fateful eyes out of our too-cool-for-school disinterest,
I must’ve looked so stupid—this fuckboy seersuckered kid.
So this one’s for Kathryn
For all she’s done for me
For Kathryn
For all she’s done for me, and means to me,
There’s a new line every time we meet
So let go
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8. |
Muppet Treasure Island
03:36
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I remember back in preschool
I was obsessed with pirates: that was my career goal.
And even now I could make it happen, yeah,
All I need is a ride over to Somalia.
But I think instead,
I’d rather sail with you across the world in this bed.
Our new kind of pirate’s life, “boats n’ hoes”
All across the seven seas with you.
All across those seven seas,
You and me, we’re sinking deep.
And just like every other West Palm Beach kid,
At one point one summer I went to sailing camp.
And I took that boat and glued my rudder east
And sailed on over the edge and out past the brink.
The princess to my Prince Henry, we’re navigating about.
We’ll watch “Muppet Treasure Island” and sing, dance, and shout.
Jack Sparrow some sea turtles, cruise off like Magellan.
Even cast of like Tom Hanks, you know I’ll be your Wilson.
So we’ll pull the blackout curtains down,
Alarm clock neons unplugged and out.
The only light will be the glimmer of your eye-beams
And my candle that kind of smells like Abercrombie.
You and I starting out and onto more
With our feet touching more bed than floor.
Cast away, sailing constantly,
Reach some port somewhere in a couple of days.
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9. |
Three Years Tops
02:48
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I lied about my major to a partial stranger and I have no idea why.
Too exhausted through atrophy to break down that routine, but I really got to try.
Relied on simple smarts for way too long
They took me through college and now through this job.
So set the timer for three years tops
But now somehow that’s creeping up on me.
And with this fire burning, in my pocket it keeps burning,
Ain’t no shutting this furnace down.
Because it’s burning in my heart and it’s burning just to start and now it’s burning through this whole town.
So I guess it’s getting better, it must be getting better, must be getting out along my way.
Breaking down old routines, they’re rolling right on through me, hibernating on a hurricane day.
Over and over again, you stomp down the welcome mat.
Over and over again, I check my acknowledgements.
So now it’s painfully clear that I’ve been misled, hoodwinked, done in again.
It’s easy to tell there’s not much care around, but I’m about to throw it back and lay waste to this town.
So don’t you ever fucking think for a second that I’m not one step ahead, swinging for the fences.
Shout it out at the top of my lungs all along that open fishbowl drive home.
And it does enough to cool me down, but not freeze the fire out.
It’s for my sake and mine alone.
Set it clear, but not afraid, no l'esprit de l'escalier, forever til next I’m home.
So I know it’s getting better, "a horse" it’s getting better, now that I’m on my way.
Breaking down old routines, all this fuckshit rolling through me, hibernate for only one more day.
Over and over again, I roll up the welcome mat.
Over and over again, meaningless acknowledgements.
Over and over again, louder and in the clear
Over and over again and again and I will make it through this year
I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me.
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10. |
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In eighth grade, we took a trip to Busch Gardens for science class. We were supposed to be learning about the energy of motion but realistically, we were just some kids trying to ditch school and ride some roll coasters.
Now though I’m brought back to that split between the energies, potential and kinetic: the capacity for motion and then the motion itself.
And it was easy back then; spit it out on the test using that analogy fed to us about the roller coaster cart at the top of the drop and how it possessed all this great potential. Then its kinetic conversion as it plummeted down through shrieks and spirals.
But that roller coaster, all energy in this grand system, is so aligned with life and new introspections.
For I feel I’ve too long been that cart at the top of the drop, so while I may have all this energy stored up, it’s that potential to push forward.
In reality, I’ve done nothing. No kinetic movement toward tomorrow, no compounding on rail vaulting.
And that’s the one that counts—that’s the one that sees progress—yet despite its importance, it’s so hard to get started.
It’s the cart at the top of the coaster
Inching on forward, asymptotically closer.
It’s singing its way out, wheels howling and coasting toward
Some great unknown, clouds obscuring any notion.
The only difference is life can’t exist on a closed system. It’s like the more the cart stays stalled up there, the more likely it is to break down: for those rails to crash and crumble into rusted specks of dust and end up wasting that potential, no august kinetic to fully realize.
And I know, I know, I know, I know it sounds like some Sylvia Plath derivative dribble, but that’s an inevitable shame because, well, it’s never been said any better.
And definitely won’t be by my young dumb ass, no, not here, not now, not ever. All the while, the cart at the top of the coaster gets lonelier and lonelier as others wheel around, jump over and screech onward. The cart’s complacently packed down into some kind of “well…this is normal.”
I’m really not trying to be depressing; I’ve never been one for melodramatic angst. But it’s a way to compartmentalize, and analyze, and bring some sense to this existence.
And I guess actualization is a solid first step to meet. Next is to snap out of the comfort in my world’s last true meritocracies.
It’s the cart, just waiting to start.
It’s the cart, and it won’t fall apart.
Or, well, hopefully not.
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11. |
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70 hour weeks
Stockpiling my savings for the sake of stacking numbers
Feeling like a shark constantly needing
To keep moving forward or he’s dead in the water
I ended up watching that sloth scene from “Zootopia” one more time in class.
It was the best thing on Netflix Kids, popped it on after we finished our state exam.
What unexpected bookends to place my year, and oh what a year it’s been.
Doing my best to impart some moral guidance
Funerals, fights, and graduations
And it’s bittersweet, for selfish reasons at least,
I’ll certainly be living much less passionately,
Yeah be much less funny
But I now know that the FOMO
Is less severe than the “I finally gotta go”
So let’s go and let go
I know, I know, I know, I know…
If anything can go well, it will
I know that it will
I know, I know, I know, I know
That I’m ready to run and I’m ready to go
Sift through that shore
I know, I know, I know, I know
That I’m ready to run and I’m ready to go
I know we’ll never beat “Ice Age 2”
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Natty Ward New York, New York
Sounds like your summer camp counselor when he's off the clock
New music: feelloudly.bandcamp.com
Contact: nattywardmusic@gmail.com
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