otherside

who wants to admit they lay around snuggling with the dog while listening to townes van zandt live at the old quarter houston texas, on a beautiful sunny saturday afternoon?

the first song t.van zandt learned to fingerpick was "cocaine blues".

waiting until the sun god-damn sets.

those wild night owls.

hoot

hoot hoot hoot who.

those wild night owl friends of yours. you keep them on the back burner. they aren't people to share with other people. they always have a joint. they roll their own cigarettes. they always open the door for you.

they can be kind of loud. around them, you are the quiet one. cuz when you go through these fits where you need those wild night owl friends - for the most part, you've got nothing to say. they introduce you as "doesn't have much to say, but man she's golden."

and you just kind of just smile. and you just kind of get silently drunk. and just kind of stay drunk. and just kind of stay stoned.

thinking about how she mothers you. and he hardens you. and they spend too much. and the guy over there is being too obnoxious. oh who is that in the corner. maybe its another person who spent money on themselves to only go home and listen to townes van zandt. and there you both are. pretty post townes van zandt.

in his pocket is your next drink.

who wants to raise their lazy spent hands and claim.