new england paradigm shift

by Nat Lyon

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1.
don't want to die on '95 (repeat at random intervals)
2.
late December and I'm standing on the runway at the airport in Westerly the pilot finally showed but he's got no socks we took off in a whiteout blizzard in a Cessna 182 I think we hit a cormorant or two (hey man, what was that?) as the plane went down I had to rethink my plan to rescue you from winter island madness with gin and visions you're sleeping in the very same bed that your cousin drank himself to death in on the Vineyard everyone has got a cousin just like that you're hooking up with carpenters living off tips from barista tip jars gin and visions took me this far away from you
3.
I had to climb through your window to see the skiff you made barefoot in the snow we've got nowhere to go you're helping your dad at the boat wright shop it's your living room and he's the saddest man even when he's drunk I'll help you drag that skiff through the frozen marsh then maybe we'll hold hands my imagined plan occasionally we'll stop at that place where your mother was last seen some time last spring
4.
a Brunton compass despite a broken mirror guided us to a transect in the upland interior magnetic poles and GPS codes helped us superimpose a grid across the curve of the the Uncasville quad we worked in the rain your boots were soaked through we dug so carefully through topsoil and A/B strata and I said something that made you smile fighting Indians and the Army Corps there was a knife fight on the site but no one got hurt but no one got hurt we snuck away we're telling stories using random numbers and microscopes you wore my flannel shirt but most of the time you'd politely ignore me while I worked out new taxonomies sitting on the stump of a tree calculating coefficients of similarity between me and you me and you
5.
pitched 04:10
pitched back and forth on the ferry in Block Island Sound heaved against the rail in an October gale you grabbed by hand- said, "don't be scared" then a car broke loose on the deck below it wrecked everything it wrecked everything a panic attack made me jump from the ship and I swam away the Captain was pissed another fucking Spalding Gray radio calls to the Point Judith cops and he called the Coast Guard and as I swam away I thought I heard you say "fucking go to hell" but I couldn't tell I rode on a soft swell there would be questions about my sanity came upon some rocks where I found three grey seals we four spent a moonless night watching red, blue, green lights cruising back and forth, possibly looking for me or maybe fishing for stripers in the morning I swam to shore I hitched a ride in my wet clothes I did not call found you working in the garden didn't talk at all there would be questions there would be questions
6.
a red fox barking at the edge of the halogen field in his catchment zone, hunting field mice all night unmolested by housing developments, predators, or children because the soccer moms don't want their babies to get rabies (so we run) the dogs are biting at the door 'cause they want to go outside but I won't leave the comfort of my illuminated, illuminated, illuminated corner of the world
7.
spoke 03:44
I saw your picture on Gawker with a writer, a minor celebrity some guy that wasn't me he crashed his car, broke your nose was arrested, it was a scene a dose of karma, possibly irony and I'm the last one to get the joke you're a bicycle wheel and I'm just a spoke I'm finally done with the sea but the sea is not finished yet, with me kayaks are racked and the lobster pots are neatly stacked I briefly considered a straight job and I'm the last one to get the joke you're a bicycle wheel and I'm just a spoke I don't want to think about you any more
8.
nav chart 02:57
I heard you went to sea left with the evening tide prescription pills spilled across your navigational chart of the Thimble Islands I want to know what the Swedish flag knows I'm the mossy stone that sinks when the gale blows I want to be the burnt skin on your nose some day I'll be the sand between your toes some day I'll be the sand between your toes some day I'll be the sand between your toes some day I'll be the sand between your toes
9.
coefficients 03:03
a Brunton compass with a broken mirror somehow guided us to a transect in the upland interior we worked in the rain your boots were soaked through and I said something that made you smile you wore my flannel shirt you wore my flannel shirt you wore my flannel shirt but most of the time you'd politely ignore me while I worked out new taxonomies sitting on the stump of a tree calculating coefficients of similarity between me and you me and you me and you me and you
10.
11.
ex-anthro 03:07
living at the edge of an outdated topographical map an ex-anthropologist walking his dogs over granulated snow they've all slipped the leash mending our fences and tearing them down every night is what the good Swamp Yankees do in a cold fallow field counting stars there's a jet overhead blinking blinking blinking blinking pacing the farmhouse but you lost the farm you're wearing out floorboards you're wearing out shoes retire to the fire clean your bottle and gun re-reading field notes and VQR checking on the family they're safe in bed but the ex-anthropologist can't get to sleep yet
12.
sun is up, Monday morning, latte in the kitchen time to wake the dogs up they're curled up like two cats again wife's awake, head on straight, you're already running late out the door, in the car another fucking Monday another fucking Monday this might be the greatest day in history or just another train wreck your Volvo seems to know the way it's driving automatically leafy trees, ivy walls, it's almost a democracy in at 9, out by 5, lots of time to day-dream you're running, running home again don't want to die on '95 (don't want to die on '95) this may be your greatest victory or just another train wreck drink in hand, dishes done, thinking your life's brilliant you thought you could buy a Chinese baby on the internet winding down with the news, now that you're sedated Chris Matthews won't rest until the GOP is bifurcated this might be the best day in history or just another train wreck midnight comes and you're both done heading to the bedroom set the clock, hold you tight, and stare out at the full moon a silent prayer, good-bye despair, I hope that you have nice dreams Tuesday is the future 'cause Monday took the piss out of you this may be life's greatest mystery or just another train wreck

credits

released May 1, 2013

nat lyon | instruments and vocals
recorded at the farmhouse, 2012-2013
chad matheny | mixing engineer
mastered at Dub Narcotic Studio | bob schwenkler
all songs copyright 2013

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