Sante Fe to Salt Lake

TCK/KK Tour - Day 4/5 (Drive from Santa Fe to Salt Lake City) from Jesse Spurlin on Vimeo.

Excursion Into Philosophy: Drive Day

I slept better than I had all tour that night. When I woke up that chilly Santa Fe morning I had no idea what time it was since there was no passage of light into the basement. When I walked upstairs Matt was already cooking us vegan pancakes as promised from the night before, and my comrades had congregated in the kitchen. Breakfast was delicious and we had good conversation with Meg, Chris and Matt. When I packed that morning I realized that I left my glasses in Amarillo, which upset me, but not too much because I was thinking about getting new glasses anyway. We said goodbye to all at Meg’s house after eating and showering and hit the road.


The plan was to drive all day to Salt Lake City. At the show last night a kid named Mateo tipped me off about an Anarchist collective called the Boing! House in Salt Lake, which blew me away because I didn’t know there, was any leftist/anarcho culture in Salt Lake City. I would soon be proved very wrong.




The long, long drive was a fun bonding experience for all of us. We all saw country we had never seen before. We passed from northern New Mexico into Colorado the massive Rocky Mountains started towering over the van. The piñon turned into pine and the roads wrapped around the giant mountains. I sat next to Baggins for the entire ride, who had his shirt off for probably 80 % of the trip, and smelled pretty rank. One thing about Baggins is that he can be super stressful sometimes because get you built up by saying things like “Holy crap!” or “Oh my god you guys!” then taking a long pregnant pause that leaves us all on the edge of our seats and then saying, “Oh… never mind… nothing.” He and Bradley also brought me to tears laughing.
By the time we got to Utah it was dark and snowy. We couldn’t see very well, but could in a way feel the huge mountain walls around us and wished it were daylight. We were well into the Rockies and could feel their mammoth presence.
To give you an idea of what was usually happening in the van, Adam was usually reading, Jesse was most of the time editing video on his laptop, Baggins was either reading or cracking me up with his jive, Tyler was usually in the very back row which can only seat one with all the bags and gear in it. Daniel, Adam and I were the DJ’s most of the time.

We arrived at the Boing! house at about 11 PM that night, after over 11 hours of driving. We were greeted by Eta, a pretty lady who told us that we were welcome to sleep anywhere and any food in the kitchen. The house had lots of residents, an extensive library and two kitchens, one, which housed a Food Not Bombs chapter. I met several of the residents that night including Dalen, Eric, Ian, Coleman and several other residents whose names I can’t remember. Eric told us that the next morning there would be a Food Not Bombs redistribution and that we were welcome to anything. He also gave us some Odwalla juices that they found in a dumpster. Eta showed us the upstairs room where we all crashed except for Bobby who slept in the van and Tyler who slept downstairs on the coach along with another traveler from Ohio. I was bummed that we didn’t get to play a show that night, but we were really fortunate to have discovered such a great place on tour.

Excursion Into Philosophy: Santa Fe

The night we stayed in Amarillo was loud and long. Adam and I made an attempt at sleep, but with the party still going on it was too hard. The house was a mess and pornography was strategically place by one of the kids, Gabe, who had an entire magazine cut up and scattered through the house (clocks, frames, jacket pockets, mayonnaise jars, etc.). With all this commotion Adam and I decided to rough it out and sleep in the van. Somebody had to because all of our gear was in there, and I didn’t trust these kids for anything.
I woke up at about 8 AM to the discomfort of my own freezing. My and Adam’s breath had fogged on the windows and froze on the inside. It was probably ten degrees outside tops and my feet felt like icicles. I had to pee something fierce, and there was no way I was going to leave the van. I looked at Adam. Out like a light. I looked at a half empty Vitamin Water bottle. I looked back at Adam.
“Here we go,” I said to myself, my hot breath visible inside the van. I opened the van door and spilled the remaining Vitamin Water and noticed that my shoe was on the ground, frozen, and had been there the entire night. I took the shoe, closed the door and started to refill the Vitamin Water bottle while Adam slept next to me. The most difficult part was having to stop after I filled it up, empty it, then refill. I tried to go back to sleep but it was just to cold. I devised a plan on how to get to the door with a frozen shoe and no socks. I couldn’t stay in the van, it was painfully cold. I put my knit cap around my foot as a sock and wearing one shoe, hopped to the door.
Inside everybody was fast asleep. The other six guys were passed out in the living room. Kelsey was asleep in Sarah’s room. Sarah was MIA. I took advantage of the serenity and took a shower. When I was done my alarm was going off, which woke up everybody. I had set it for 9 AM, so that we could get an early start and beat any snowy weather. We packed the van and dropped Kelsey off at her house.

Driving from the Texas panhandle into New Mexico like watching a flat wasteland turn explode into a mountainous landscape of mesas, plateaus. The change in terrain is rapid and subtle. I sat up front, which was fun because I got to play DJ. We listened to Daft Punk, Jawbreaker, the soundtrack to Angus, Belle & Sebastian and Meneguar. We stopped at Cline’s Corners, which is located at the intersection of I-40 and 285 which leads to Santa Fe. Imagine a huge travel stop filled with knick knacks, Native American paraphernalia, wolf t shirts, New Mexico souvenirs and cheap toys of all kinds.



From that point on mountains and adobe houses emerged steadily, until we finally reached Sante Fe, a beautiful city made of clay. We were all starving. I had been to Santa Fe several times in my youth and kept a vague memory of a restaurant in or around the Santa Fe plaza that my family would always eat at. Upon recalling this to my band mates it was unanimously decided that we would eat at this nameless restaurant which existed in a hazy childhood memory. It wasn’t till we actually got to the plaza that I realized everyone was following me as if I were leading them anywhere. I called my mother and asked her if she knew the name of it, but she didn’t. In the square there was a tourist information center, where Daniel found a restaurant a couple of blocks away that had cheap burritos. We made our way through the chilly streets of Santa Fe, crowded with yuppies and tourists. We were all bundled up when we went inside Bumblebee Bee Baja Burritos. It was pretty okay burrito fair, but we were all famished. I finally went “number two” for the first time on tour, which I think was building up because I went three times that day.


It was time to start heading to the venue, Meg’s House as we knew it. I called a number I had on my computer and talked to a voice named Matt who gave me directions from the plaza.
The house wasn’t hard to find. It was in a neighborhood of small adobe houses. We were met inside my Chris, Matt, and Meg who lived there. They were really nice kids about our age and were preparing a vegan potluck for the show. If only we had known, we wouldn’t have eaten lunch. The fare included homemade New Mexican green chili. I jokingly asked Chris why the house wasn’t decked out with Kokapelli, terra cotta suns and dried chili peppers. “Cause we actually live here,” answered Chris.

The show was a little weird. The kids in Santa Fe seemed a little unenthused. There were a ton of people there crammed in a tiny basement. Our hosts were some of the best house show organizers that I had met. I got a chance to talk with all of them, and they were all very genuine people, and they made delicious food.

After the show we were really tired. The party was still going on so I asked Chris if we could stay in the basement. He told me that we shouldn’t because in Santa Fe radon rises from the ground and can cause cancer. The upstairs room was way to fool, and Tyler was about to sleep in the van, so I double checked with Matt who said it was probably no big deal for one night, which was good enough for me if it meant Tyler didn’t have to sleep in the van. It was supposed to get down to 5 degrees that night. So Baggins, Tyler, Jesse and I slept in the basement.
As I went to sleep that night I reflected on how wonderful the trip had already been in just three days, and how happy I was to be going on tour with these eight guys. The anticipation of the next two weeks filled me with excitement.




TCK/KK Tour - Day 3 (Santa Fe, NM) from Jesse Spurlin on Vimeo.

Excursion Into Philosophy: Amarillo

“The hobos are still here,” said Cago’s sister, as we all woke up. As the light of the day invaded my eyes and the sound of sleeping bags unzipping filled the room T Mac announced that he was still drunk. We all lay around each other in a den in suburban Oklahoma. I stayed at my slumber pallet while my entire caravan congregated in the kitchen. As I fooled around on the internet I heard choruses of “Hell yes!” and “Thank you so much!” so I followed them. When I arrived in the kitchen I saw a spread of about seven different cereals, soymilk, rolls, veggie bacon and sausage. We thanked Cago and her parents extensively as we dug in and assembled around a dining table to make plans for the day. It was agreed that we would check out a record store, Size Records, which James from Steeples worked at and tipped us off about. We packed up, which was a bit of a challenge as Cago’s dogs kept running away. We told Cago goodbye and thanked her a million and one times. With T Mac in tow we headed back into the city.

Size Records had an exterior like a Mondrian painting, and was much larger than I had expected. Oklahoma City had actually surprised me on all fronts, the people, scene and city itself. We cruised and perused and talked with the shopkeeper. I traded him a couple of 7”s for a couple of bucks of the Jay Retard LP I bought.

After we all bought records we dropped T Mac off at his van, which was parked in front of Joline’s house. “Let’s end this the same way we started it T Mac,” said Daniel as he hugged T Mac goodbye.

Jordan had job of navigation as we headed to Oklahoma. Highway 40 West is bleak and flat, but the trip started with The Marked Men on the van CD player so morale was high. As we crawled deeper into the heart of the Texas panhandle snow started appearing faster and faster until there was hardly any visibility and there were snow flurries all around us. The vast flat horizon of the high planes had been swallowed by a winter fog and was crystallizing on the windows. Baggins, who had driving duties, was doing his best to drive on the icy road. It was dark now and visibility was zero. We were probably an hour outside of Amarillo and were all on the edge of our seats. I made an attempt to call my coworker Krisha who was in Amarillo for the break at her parent’s house, but I got her answering machine.
At last we were in Amarillo proper, a flat ghost town covered in snow. The absence of cars and people from the street created an eerie landscape. Baggins listened as I gave directions and we slowly churned down 6th Ave, a part of historic Route 66. The Goldenlight Café and Cantina stood waiting for us as we pulled into the parking lot that had obviously been untouched by anything since the snow had fallen. As we spilled out of the fan we were all happy to be alive and happy to be in a winter wonderland. I tried to call Krisha to alert her of our arrival but again no answer.
The interior of the Golden Light was as empty as the streets. “You boys must be damn crazy to come all the way from Fort Worth on a night like this,” said the lone bartender after we introduced ourselves as the band. “We actually played in Oklahoma City last night,” countered Bradley.
“Shoot…”
He told us that the restaurant would comp us a meal and that we had to be done by 11, but that he didn’t think anyone was coming. We said that was okay, and that it would be good to practice and get food in our stomach. Everyone ordered grilled cheese sandwiches, expect for Jesse and Jordan who got food and myself who got fries. The fries were damn good, some of the best ever. I felt bad because I new that our waitress wouldn’t have any more customers, and that nobody was going to come to the show. I was just glad to be off the road and happy that we got a chance to see so much snow. It was Baggins idea to go to a coffee show down the street and try to recruit show attendees, or at the very least use the WiFi. We hung out in the coffee shop, the 806, for an hour or more and hung out. It was warm and we could all check our email. The question to weather or not we should even play came up, but in the end everyone conquered we should all at least practice.


That night at the Goldenlight each band played for the other band, and the possibly annoyed bartenders. People would come in and leave after hearing about the $3 cover, so Adam told the door guy to drop it. In the end a vagrant wino came in and really had a good time. The practice was good, but the experience was exactly morale lifting. I wasn’t bummed, but I could tell others in the caravan were not so enthused. After the “show” we loaded up and played in the snow, which was actually a blast. Finally I got a text from Krisha saying that we could not stay at her house. We were relying on here house, so it was a bit of a blow. We put our heads together and started crunching numbers for a hotel room. With nine guys it wouldn’t be expensive. Jordan remembered that he had a friend in Amarillo and gave him a ring. “We might have a place to stay,” said Jordan after getting of the phone with Ben. “It’s this girl’s house, and we have to show up and see if it’s okay. No problem. We left 6th Ave in our van while Jordan spit out directions.
The house was in a middle class neighborhood right outside downtown Amarillo and two blocks away from Interstate 40. As we approached a kid in a hoodie and flat brim cap walked out. It was Jordan’s friend Ben. We all introduced ourselves and walked inside a stranger’s house were we hoped to sleep that night. At this point we met Kelsey, who didn’t live at the house but, as we later learned, was a part of a group of kids who work for a crazy millionaire who gives them odd jobs in return for certain favors. Kelsey said it was okay with her that we stayed there, but again she didn’t live there. We all set our stuff down and made introductions, which in a group of nine guys is basically pointless but it’s a gesture of courtesy. Everyone decided to walk down the street to a liquor store so that they could nurse away the defeat of the night. Bobby, Baggins, Tyler and I were distracted by giant hills of snow that we decided to play in.
When everybody got back at the house there were a lot more kids, including Sarah who lived at the house and gave us a hesitant okay. She wasn’t drunk yet so she still had the sense to be weary of letting nine strangers stay in her house, but she came around.
Somehow, it was suggested that both bands should play in the basement.
I’ll cut to the chase because this blog is getting really long. That night we played a badass show to 15 drunken Amarillo kids that went so nuts and so insane it was totally worth the disappointment of the Goldenlight. There was making out and Styrofoam eating. It was complete drunken debauchery, and it ruled.



TCK/KK Tour - Day 2 (Amarillo, TX) from Jesse Spurlin on Vimeo.

Excursion Into Philosophy: Oklahoma City

This tour started Christmas night as I got everything together to load in the van, which I would pick up the next day. I pilled shirts, 7"s, CD's, food, gear, blankets and my own bags into a corner by the stairs at my house. The night before my brother and I had packed all the 7"s, and I spent about an hour stuffing them with lyrics sheets. Casey came by before I left to tell me goodbye and to get a shirt, CD and 7". I explained that we only had 40 CD's going out, so she would have to take a rain check. My father had already pried two of them from me after I told myself I wouldn't sell any more before the tour. That night Daniel and Bradley surprised me by coming home early. They said they couldn’t wait to get home.
The night before we left I slept like a kid on Christmas Eve, which was weird because it was Christmas night. I woke up to a text message from Casey requesting that I don’t die on tour. Shortly thereafter Baggins, the bass player from Koji Kondo, called and let me know they were on their way from Fort Worth. Everybody was waking up and packing, and at this point I didn’t realize that I wouldn’t be in Denton for two and a half weeks.
Koki Kondo arrived at 11.40. Adams, Baggins, Bobby and Tyler spilled out of a van that was followed by Baggins’s father, Dennis, who came to pay for Baggins’s part of the van. Baggins’s real name is Matt Gibbons, and I always forget, but was reminded when Dennis kept referring to him as Matt.
When everybody had arrived Dennis, Tyler and I went to pick up the van at Enterprise, which was just down the street from my house. It took probably 45 minutes to get the thing because we had this guy that was new and unfamiliar with the computer system. We left with a beautiful white 15-seater van. I wouldn’t normally call a van beautiful but in this instance, all my dreams having come to fruition, I’m calling it beautiful.

When we got back to the Panhandle house we started loading, which was the hardest game of real life Tetris ever. To put it in perspective we have gear for two bands, and bags, sleeping bags and food for nine people. Bags were consolidated and seats were taken out, but finally nine guys were able to fit comfortably in the 15-seater. There was Koji Kondo: Adam, Baggins, Bobby and Tyler, Teenage Cool Kids: Bradley, Daniel, Jordan and myself and Jesse who we brought to do merch and videotape. We grabbed a quick lunch at Mr. Chopsticks, I picked up by check at the Cupboard and deposited it, we did a quick walk through of the house and we were off.

The ride in Oklahoma was marked by changes of terrain and patches of snow that began to appear on the ground around us. With all the luggage and body heat in the car, there was no need for the heater, even thought the temperature outside was below freezing.
As we approached Oklahoma City I called the kid who booked our show.
“Hey this is Andrew from Teenage Cool Kids” I started. He told me that there was going to be a “ton of food” ready for us at the Oklahoma City Infoshop, and that there were kids already there waiting for us.
“What was your name, I didn’t catch it?” I asked. “T Mac,” the voice replied. “T Mac?” I repeated. T Mac. So we made our way into the heart of an industrial part of Oklahoma City and neared the address as I gave directions to Bobby, who had driving duties. I recognized the exterior of the Infoshop from the website. It was completely dark and vacant, and nobody was waiting for us, but we all piled out to stretch. Bradley and I ran around. A truck pulled up and a kid pulled up and met Daniel and me. His name was James and he was in the band Steeples. We talked for a bit in the cold until the keyholders of the Infoshop came to open up. James showed us around. It was a very impressive DIY space. Aside from the actual show space, there was a library filled with zines, anarchist/leftist literature, a bike coop and a free store. It was very well organized, especially for a place that had only been open for one month. I sat and talked with James about the space when I heard in a distance the voice on the other end of the phone. It was T Mac. He came in the room demanding to meet all of us.
“We give hugs around here!” he said when I tried to shake his hand. T Mac, whose full name was Taylor Mackenzie we later found out, was a 17 year old kid with a blond mullet who was very enthusiastic about life in general. I thanked him for setting up the show as we all walked back the show room.

As more people arrived so did food, and soon before us was a huge piping hot vegan spread. There was bread, vegan macaroni casserole, lentils, chilli, salsa, hummus, rice casserole, apple cobbler, pecan pie and more. I should point out that everyone in our party was vegetarian besides Jordan and Jesse, so this was overwhelmingly hospitable. As we sat and ate we looked at each other dumbfounded on how we could have gotten so lucky.

The show was fun, Steeples, a screamo type band played first, then Koji Kondo then us. The sound in the concrete room was soaked in reverb, but that’s to be expected at DIY spaces. It was so cold in the room that before the show I put two pairs of socks on to keep my toes from freezing off, and in between bands I would go outside to an oil drum with a fire inside that kids were congregating around to warm up. After we played the numbness subsided and I felt fine. The kids in Oklahoma City were very congenial, and some offered us extra gas money in addition to what we made.
After the show this girl Joline invited us to go Karaoke singing at this bar called Cookies. We all accepted and followed to the bar. We approached cookies planning to sneak in Baggins, Tyler and T Mac, who were all under 21, but to no avail. The stayed in the van and drank beer that Daniel bought them at a nearby gas station. The rest of us went inside. As soon as I walked inside I saw a girl from the Infoshop in the spotlight, but what she was singing I can’t remember. In fact there were a lot of kids that made the pilgrimage to Cookie’s from the Infoshop that night. We looked at the song selection. I begged Jesse to sing “Hypnotize” by Notorious B.I.G. and he signed up for it, but we found out that there were 18 people in the queue ahead of him. I went and hung out with T Mac, Tyler, Baggins and Cago in the van. Cago a friend of Koji Kondo and would be putting us up for the night at her parents house.
We all decided to call it a night and headed to Cago’s parents house, which was about 30 minutes north of Oklahoma City. T Mac came with us. He had planned to stay with Joline, but she was still inside singing. Upon arrival the first thing I wanted to do was sleep, so I put my sleeping bag on the floor of the den and crawled inside. Sleeping proved to be easier said than done as everyone, especially T Mac, was pretty tipsy and chatty by this point, and Cago’s dogs were licking and crawling all over me. I envied Bobby who was snoozing right next to me. Soon after everyone went to bed and the first day of tour came to a close.


TCK/KK Tour - Day 1 (Oklahoma City) from Jesse Spurlin on Vimeo.

Tryna Decide

Teenage Cool Kids - Tryna Decide from Jesse Spurlin on Vimeo.

TOUR KICKOFF

RELEASES

SORRY, SELF TITLED TAPE IS SOLD OUT!!!
NPNR TAPES /100

"Queer Salutations" OUT NOW!!! FREE POSTER WITH FIRST 300!!!

Availabe HERE, Slave Union and Protagonist.

Queer Salutations/Remember Me as a Silhouette
Tape on Crooked Direction available on tour

Remember Me as a Silhouette
7" on C & C Music Factory availabe on tour

LYRICS

"QUEER SALUTATIONS"

Queer Salutations
You were rolling on x the night that we first met. You said you don't remember, its funny how we never forget what we'd like to but never recall the thoughts we're tied to. "Nothing to do tonight, right?" "Tired of watching us drinking?" Its wishful thinking. I'm still waiting for your admission of defeat, Is it the 90 degrees of midnight or the confession of this street that keeps you long? There's a hole in my tongue, and all the words I recited just fell right inside it. I'm trying so hard to keep from lumping into this sunken shape that I take when you put on the smile that greets me like a wave goodbye. Queer salutations are so hard to forget. Reliving the moments we've sworn to have never repeated, now who's mistreated? The push and the pull of the night I wont say I'm completed, I feel alright though I'm still waiting for your admission of the feet Is it the 90 degrees of midnight or the confession of this street that keeps you gone?

Awkward Type of Girl
You've got a boyfriend, but that don't matter. It wont keep him from what he's after. He wants to make you his new obsession before you graduate from post college depression. You pride yourself as an awkward type of girl, but you're a self hating socialite, admit it. You wear a badge of the hardships you've endured. And you don't let your company forget it. Put on a record, he doesn't get it. "I'm not a fan of shallow indie," he admitted. You're not offended when he confesses that he laughs inside at all your vintage dresses. Convince yourself your not part of his deceit. He knows he's only a novelty distraction. A slain regret and a promise to repeat, but will you even get the satisfaction?

Sleeper Hold
I've got a swelling gut. You think its serious, I'm about to explode. You put your hand on me. You make it hard to breath, put me in sleeper hold. Try not to mind it when you get reminded it's nobody's job but yours. You tell the shitty jokes I'll convince all the folks its no one's fault but ours. You can't bury it and pray that it won't come back to life someday. You walk around and stomp your feet to keep it underground, I hear the thumps where I am. "Am I an idiot?" You asked me to shut up. "You'll wake my roommates bro." You make this hard on me, spilling your arms on me melting into my mold. You can't bury it and pray that it won't come back to life someday. Cause there's a mouth in my ear and its dragging names like empty lakes because you throw all your trash in there man.

Reasons Why
Midnight strikes, well I forgot. My empty skull rings "surely not". I hear it echo and I feel the morning light, and my brain is in the fog that grew on my floor overnight. I feel like I'm being eaten alive by the memories I've pushed aside. Am I burning out from the inside? Because something's biting on my brain, the thoughts I thought that I could hide. They are my reasons why I lie in bed to pass the time. I saw a picture and we were sitting on a couch in your living room. Me I was looking at the floor. You wore that drowning gaze. I looked away from you. There's a sign on you that I can't read, it's a side of you I've never seen. And the picture always reminds me how you claim you can read peoples thoughts, you've claimed since you were seventeen.

Excursion into Philosophy
I've seen into your future and I can see the things that you'll do. I could never trust you to disarm a bomb cause your just gonna sit and watch this kid blow up. And its not because of me? Well if you say so. Here's the chance that you have hunted, to do the things you've always wanted. Wear your clothes like you did once when acquaintances were not a hundred empty bottles in your bedroom, shoved in corners to make room for a twin frame where you've hosted many, with blue sheets, you would trade it all. A tree trunk for a twig, and two weeks alone is all you have to dig. I've seen into your future and I can hear the things you haven't said. I read it in the book that you keep hidden from me. You left it open when I found you there asleep. Two years almost two this day I sat where we once sat like I was visiting a grave, you told me here in confidence the only time that you got off is when your brothers friends threw rocks at you and forced you to eat dog shit and called you names that you make your lovers call you when they're fucking you. You were 13 in 1992. I can keep my eyes focused on this square of light on the floor I can't keep my mind off the framed picture on the wall.

Write Back Soon
Look at you, hippy girl, doing what you're supposed to do. White girl dreads on your head. "Want some flowers?" I said no. Powwow girl, think the world is a groovy fucking place. Smoke some grass, adopt cats, can you "dig it" if your shallow? And when the promises you meant to carry out leave you tasting doubt you chase them. You're a bohemian pilgrim, escaping persecution. Look at you, hipster dude, but I guess that's what you want. "Hold my Pabst?" Kiss my ass. Move to Brooklyn or Vermont. Get tattoos, Nike shoes. Tell us all just how you feel In the zine of poetry inspired by Kerouac and Salinger. And when the promises you meant to carry out leave you tasting doubt you chase them you're a counter culture victim, embracing devolution.
Crowd Aggravation I'll admit I'm ill prepared for what I was later told was done in fun. Lucky I made it. I was by myself. I gave you a rain check, I promised not to tell.

Crowd aggravation.
I could feel all the hate of your attack, I could see you standing there smiling. I could hold back the tears but not the screams, my friends told me after that I was lucky that I got away. Or am I lucky that I'm scared to die?

Self Abuse
There's so little I have left to scream about. I cant push out another word on your account. And I cant pretend to tell the truth if you fight back when I say what I wanted to. Do you remember last semester? You were so exhausted I was yelling out a lung and you said I'd lost it. You had covered my mouth so I asked you in my head. Are you feeling unsatisfied now with you situation? Your boyfriend drinks too much and you and he are out of touch and you went to your job the other day. You were insulted a customer and cried you said its hardly worth your wage. I just checked the mail today on my way out. I got the letter that you sent, the words you wrote, and I'm about to start telling you exactly what I think about your latest move. Tried to find the words to put to you, tried em' all and settled on self abuse. I've got a box of your old things that when you left you gave me I pull it out sometimes to remind me of the mess we made. I was over just the other day. You were there lying on your bed, sad in the dark, I gave you something I had made. I lie in bed thinking, sweating out a war. Pillow sheets are puddled, dripping from the fight the night before. Are you fine with telling me that I'm just another moment that has passed, another breath you let slip free?

Prose
All your writing is the same and your forcing stories to the page. And the girl that broke your heart's the star No you never let her get to far. And she's always happy on your page.
Sometimes life is only grand when the cum is falling into your hand. And your sessions begin to increase when your working on your masterpiece.

Tryna Decide
And there's a corner of you where I've never stood before the congregation you adore is pushing me away. I'm not a kid no more, so understand this please: this hear to heart is a reprise, I'll sing you every word but I won't fight you… "Look at this awesome town man" I'm tryna decide, I'm tryna decide. You begged me to climb down. You screamed we were surrounded. "Look at this awesome town man." I'm so bewildered by these candid fits I get, these cries of your abandonment that attest to your state I'm not a kid no more, so understand this please: our faults are never guarantees, its wrong to think that way. I won't fight you…

"Remember Me as a Silhouette"

Abbreviated Smile
Its not fair, you framed me for this fight
We wear the most predictable abbreviated smiles, I'm not trying to wax sentimental
but when you come to town I come to terms with who we really are
Cause when you come to town I come to terms with not coming at all

All faces change when in the dark, its an illusion and a metaphor
Decode a glance to put your face in order
And watch my mind wander

Bullshit I spoke with my eyes closed, could never find the perfect voice
Lost keys, a drunken dare you challenged me, I never had a choice
And every time I pick the scab on my left arm pick a time and place
When words are sounds were forced to hear and I am left deciphering your face
All faces change when in the dark, its an illusion and a metaphor
Decode a glance to put your face in order
And watch my mind wander

Akward Type of Girl
You've got a boyfriend, but that don't matter, it wont keep him from what he is after
He wants to make you his new obsession before you graduate from post college depression
You pride yourself as an awkward type of girl, but you're a self hating socialite, admit it
You wear a badge of the hardships you've endured
And you don't let your company forget it

Put on a record, he doesn't get it. "I'm not a fan of shallow indie," he admitted.
Your not offended when he confesses that he laughs inside at all your vintage dresses

Convince yourself your not part of his deceit
He knows he's only a novelty distraction
A slain regret and a promise to repeat
But will you even get the satisfaction?

Down the Street
I fought like hell to force the smiles that night; I guess I wanted you to be there
I searched the mirror for a face that I could try on to tell you I don't care
And my hands dropped to my side I always set em' where you can get them
I stare at faces boredly, they tell the same old stories
Remember me as a silhouette against a wood grain wall vignette

You condescend and I laugh till I cry
I'm barely awake and I'm taking abuse that would never thought that I'd a heard
From girls that I'm trying to make it with
Somewhere in this town on this boring evening I'll receive a call from my friends
I'll pretend I don't hear them
And when I said I regretted it I was trying to fit in

Yeah you speak so soft
And I'm trying to understand you
Regardless of of where you stay doesn't mean you're out of mind

CONTACT

You can write to us at:

Teenage Cool Kids
715 Panhandle
Denton, TX 76201


or email at machomanandysavage@gmail.com