The Answer Comes With Waiting

I just jammed myself, my guitar, tuner, mic, laptop, MBox, headphones, and patch cords into a closet along with 172 suits, sport coats, dresses, dress shirts, sweaters and shoes, and — after an hour of trying to shape a few song ideas into songs — tumbled out to the crash of a tamborine.

Frustrating.

My guitar sounded bad, my tempo was off, and I couldn’t get comfortable. Worse, I seem to be losing my voice. It sounds great in there, though; all those clothes make for some excellent soundproofing. But, try as I might, an 8′ X 10′ walk-in closet doesn’t make for much of a recording studio.

I backed up my hard drive this morning, copying over some three years worth of songs and photos and making way for over 60G of new ones. In doing so, I uncovered all kinds of forgotten RealAudio recordings, Quicktime files, and jpegs.

Like the above photo, which seems to have been taken some time in 2003. I can spot alot of youthful, bachelor-type, stuff in the periphery of the photo. All of it is gone now save for the white frame above the desk, a black and white of photographer Harvey Finkle’s nephew on a busy Philadelphia street. It hangs in Abbi and my hallway now.

What follows also fell out of the attic. It appears to be a song, though the melody has long since been forgotten. It’s time stamped December 24, 2003, a time when words and melodies flowed like water.

the waiting

it’s raining on the village, the clouds clinging to the dawn
you’re on the first flight south, tomorrow you’ll be gone
it’s difficult to be the one, left waiting in the dark
so i pour myself more coffee and point myself towards home

cuz i don’t know what it takes
i’m a coward and a clutz
i’m a hypocrite for all the dreams i’ve wasted
no i’m not sure what it takes
i am powerless in love
i am hopeful that the answer comes with waiting

so the airplane climbs up through the clouds and breaks into the blue
the nashville skyline stretches out in front of you
and i’m off to work this city, dodging puddles on the ground
the steady hum of raindrops falling all around

still i don’t know what it takes
i’m a coward and a clutz
i’m a hypocrite for all the dreams i’ve wasted
no i’m not sure what it takes
i am powerless in love
i am hopeful that the answer comes with waiting

this valentine at christmas time this message on your phone
is just to keep you company, is just to keep you warm
i’ll be waiting when you land, no diamonds and no rest
just this fragile human heart beating in my chest

now i know just what it takes
i’m a coward and a clutz
just a hypocrite for all the dreams i’ve wasted
now i’m sure just what it takes
though i’m powerless in love
i am confident the answer comes with waiting

It’s not genius, to be sure. Frankly, as prose, it’s kind of embarrassing. Still, this afternoon finds me waiting again. There’s a bit of cat and mouse to songwriting. A bit of persistence too. Today, perhaps, I lack both. But the drive is clear, the page is blank, and I’m ready to receive.