Marathons and Tarragons

A tarragon is an Old World wormwood whose fragrant leaves are used for seasoning, especially in vinegar. This has nothing to do with my post. It simply rhymes with marathon.

Ahh, the marathon. I’ll be honest. I do not understand these things. Why would any rational human being participate in one? For heaven’s sake, it is 26 freaking miles. That seems a bit excessive. And furthermore, they make you pay money to run them.

Who needs to run that bad? Seriously. Who wakes up and thinks, “Today I’m going to run. Far. Really far. The farthest I’ve ever run. I won’t run around the block or on a trail. I won’t run a mile or two. I won’t even run 10. That certainly won’t suffice my running appetite. No. I will run 26 miles. And I want to run so badly that I will even pay people to let me do it. I can easily run 26 miles on my own throughout my neighborhood or on the track, but that won’t do. I must give up my money to run the path that the Marathon Authorities have designated. I will give up my savings as well as my blood, sweat and tears. I will expend myself monetarily as well as physically. Yes, that is what I am going to do today. I will blow out my budget and my knees.” The sad thing is people not only actually think this, but carry out these thoughts. And when they get to the starting line, they discover that thousands of other people had the same insane idea.

Can you imagine running 26 miles without stopping? I can’t. The thought of running five seems unbearable. But 26?!? That is about four and a half hours of constantly running. Four and a half freaking hours. I can’t even SIT and watch a movie for four and a half hours, much less run. In fact, I can’t fathom doing anything other than sleeping for four and a half hours straight.

I played basketball growing up and so I have no category for running as entertainment. Running has always been a means to me, not an end. You ran to get from point A to point B. Point B was the goal, not the actual steps between the two. In fact, whenever the basketball team was being reprimanded or disciplined, the coach made us run. Running was the punishment. Of all the things that the coach could have chosen for us to do, why would he pick running? It is because he understands that this is a painful and exhausting exercise, one we would never voluntarily do on our own. And this is why marathons make no sense to me. In my mind, it is simply a four and a half hour voluntary punishment for a crime you didn’t commit.

So where are all these marathon runners the day after their triumph? Are they feeling victorious? Are they savoring their accomplishment? Are they feeling on top of the world? Maybe. But most likely they are feeling like complete crap, cursing their stubborn will and soaking in a bath to try and smooth out the unbearable stiffness that has consumed every muscle they possess like some strange premature rigormortis. And they gave up an afternoon of their life. And a pair of shoes. And they paid money to do it. Some marathons reward their runners with a T-shirt. That seems like a fair trade off.

Airports, Airplanes, and Earplugs

Bear with the details here. But they are important. I flew to Atlanta last weekend. My flight was scheduled for 6:00 in the pm on Thursday. I left Baton Rouge at 3:00 and arrived in New Orleans at 4:30 (It is substantially cheaper to fly out of New Orleans). Now this may all seem like trivial information so far, and indeed it might be. But my great adventure begins here, here in the New Orleans airport at 4:30 waiting for my 6:00 flight. And so here I begin.

I took off my shoes, my belt, and emptied my pockets into one of those bins as I passed through the metal detectors and the security gates. I safely walked through without any alarms and I gathered my items on the other side. I put my wallet and cell phone back into my pockets, wrapped my belt around my waist, slid my shoes back on and I was interupted - "I'll take that." The security guard quickly snatched my keys that were still in the bin and began removing my tiny, dull Swiss Army knife from my key chain. He handed them back to me, I apologized in embarrassment, and gathered the rest of my stuff. I have forever lost my little knife. I used it for everything. I cut loose thread from shirts, I cleaned out my fingernails, I picked my teeth with it, etc. Perhaps for sanitary reasons it is best that I lost it.

Then the hour and a half wait. Sidenote: I am terrified of flying. Absolutely terrified. Every bump of even the slightest degree of turbulence sends my heart racing. So I decided to have a drink or two at the airport bar to calm my nerves. Jack and Coke = 6 dollars. This shot-sized plastic cup took me about three sips to get through. And of course, there was only about a teaspoon of Jack in it. Frustrated that it would not do the trick without blowing my entire budget, I returned to the little waiting area in terminal C 7, which was slowly being filled up with inconsiderate people who talk very loud on their cell phones.

And then our 6:00 flight was delayed to 7:00. And then our 7:00 flight was delayed to 8:00. And then our 8:00 flight was delayed to 8:45. And all I brought to read was the Letters of John Newton and The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. Two and a half hours in an airport terminal with 17th century literature is a long and hard eternity of torture. Don't get me wrong, I love older literature. But these two pieces aren't exactly "page turners."

So we finally board and I begin to realize that by the time I arrive in Atlanta, I could have just as easily driven the distance in about the same amount of time. From when I left Baton Rouge to when I arrived at my final destination was about 7 hours. It takes 8 to drive. So we board and of course I'm on a window seat next to a large man who has already claimed the armrest. The fight for the armrest was already lost. This means I am forced to read for the duration of the flight with my arms pressed up against my body like I am wrapped up in mummy linens. And I hate the window seat. But I also hate the middle and aisle seats. I simply hate flying.

And then we take off. And as I survey my fellow passengers, I realize how automatically suspicious I am of Middle Eastern men on board. Is this wrong? Probably.

The flight is only an hour. And by this point, I am well sick of reading 17th century-paragraph-length runon sentences. I decide to flip through the ever avaiable SkyMall Catelog in the little pocket in front of me. This is a great time to shop, in my opinion. It is great to know that at 20,000 feet in the air I can purchase a metal trashcan that opens at the sound of your voice for $300. It is a great feeling to know that if I feel like purchasing a lawnchair with a built in DVD player for $899, I can do so.

But what do other passengers read on planes? They read the crappy, thick, paper back NY Times best sellers. Or the crappy, thick, paper back suspense/thriller/Tom Clancy/Steven King/CSI: Miami novels. Next time you are on an airplane just look around. I promise you that you will see them. They are everywhere. Everyone reads these things.

So then the plane begins descending. And the ears begin popping. For over 20 minutes the pressure in my ears had built up so bad that I could do nothing about it. I'm swallowing. I'm yawning. I'm tilting my head and opening my jaw. Nothing. Nothing works anymore. Is it possible that one can develop a tolerance with ear popping? That is certainly worth exploring later in life.

And finally the plane lands, a solid three hours later than when it was supposed to. And here is something I have failed to understand. The plane lands, gently meanders over to the terminal, parks, and then the seatbelt light flashes off. And what does everyone on board do? They leap out of their seats, collect all their belongings, and....stand there. They join the rest of the rushed idiots in the aisle to stand there, up against one another for another 10 minutes. Do people honestly think that when the sign goes off, they are going to be the only one to jump up, grab their stuff, and run down the empty aisle out of the plane? The foolishness of people baffles me. I always just sit there. I enjoy looking up at all the fools from my comfortable seat. Sometimes I will make eye contact with one of the "standing ones" and there is that faint flicker of humiliation in their eyes. The best is when they sit back down. They admit defeat. They join me and the other smart passengers who are still sitting. We are the ones who should be sitting up in the front, on those large, blue, padded seats with the extra leg room. We should be the ones that get to sit next to people who read good and interesting literature. We should be the ones that get the free drinks. But no, we are stuck in the back on the uncomfortable, cramped seats next to the large, stupid, loud people who hog the armrests and jump up out of their seats the moment the seatbelt sign flashes off.

Muse (a poem)

Muse, if you choose to turn to me
My soul would be in debt to thee
I ask to lift your stubborn head
Truly in need of being led
My prostrate posture proves this to be

Muse, here I use the gifts supplied
I wrote your words like I'm a scribe
Now here they are for all to see
To be assessed and be critiqued
From me the messenger and you the guide

My heart set out to sole compose
Creative words nobody knows
So thus I turned my ear to thee
In hopes you would enlighten me
And so you did, at least I suppose

I gladly took my pen in hand
Though lacked the will to understand
The poem nearly penned itself
Left I to thank nobody else
But solely Muse, who granted my demand

My words were trite and void of meter
I penned about some desperate author
Who out of desperation chose
To use a Muse to aid his prose
Whose help enabled him to write further

But O! Mine hopes were torn and dashed
Mine friends and family simply laughed
"The thoughts are dull, the words are lead,
The meter's off," They scoffed and said
And thus my weary soul and heart were halfed

O Muse! I used your inspiration
Only to be humiliation
Great Betrayer! Line of Judas!
Caesar'd dare to call you Brutus!
Muse, I pray for your destruction

You scamper free from mock and shame
When you were truly thee to blame
In mine spine I feel the sores
I do believe this knife is yours
Now "criticized" becomes my awful name

Ant Hills and other thoughts

So I find myself at someone else's lakehouse this weekend with a group of people (none of whom I had met before) and down by the dock was a large, red ant hill. This thing was the World Trader Center of ant hills. It probably came up to my knee. Now of course my first instinct was to smash it and stand back and watch the frenzy, but because I was with people I didn't know, I was a bit insecure with what they would think of this childish behavior. (People who own lake houses probably frown on immaturity, I'm guessing.) So I refrained from my impulse.

The few moments I stood over the hill going back and forth whether or not I should demolish the ant fortress gave me time to reflect on the larger subject, that is, what is it about people, or at least me, that wants to destroy things when I can and when there is no significant consequences? Why was destruction my first impulse? Without arriving at any conclusions then and there, I pondered what other things I want to destroy when I get a hold of them.

Empty glass bottles. My first impulse is to throw them onto concrete and watch them shatter into pieces.

Broken appliances. Old microwaves and stereos that are of no use to me should be demolished and gutted rather than tossed in a trashcan or placed on the side of the road in my opinion.

CDs that malfunctioned on me halfway through being burned. I bend them and try to snap them. Or I toss them like frisbees. I never gently place them in the trashcan.

Pieces of paper. We don't gently place them in the trash, no, we crinkle and crunch them into a ball and then throw them into the trash.

Bubble wrap. I must pop every bubble. I must make the already worthless thing useless. I never think to reuse it.

Leaves and blades of grass. Whenever I am sitting Indian style on a lawn or in a park you will find me meticulously ripping leaves and blades of grass to shreds. Why I do this, I don't know.

The list could go on. And more could be added about fire and my impulse to burn things around me whenever the opportunity presents itself to hand me a lighter.

I never did arrive at any sort of conclusion as to why I'm/we're driven by destruction. And I never did smash that ant hill but I regret it now. The sight of seeing those thousands of ants panic in pissed off hysteria and try and make sense of why their high rise apartment complex was destroyed would have been incredible. I probably would have done it with a stick. And as I walked away, I most likely would have split the stick in half over my knee.

Forwards and Christianity

Many a blog should be written over the ridiculousness and irrelevancy of email forwards. Email Forwards (or just 'forwords' for short) are utterly pointless and they actually cause me grief and much anxiety. I check my email. Ohhh! 14 unread in my inbox! (This makes me feel good about myself.) And then the bulk of the list begins with FW:. I go through them and erase them all immediately. Who honestly writes these things? Why do we feel compelled to forward them on?

The worst forwards are those that pertain to Christianity or some sort of spiritual optimism. I take that back. I have never really read a "Christian" forward. Most of these forwards are Deistic or Gnostic or Eastern in content and cloaked with Christian language.

For example, I recently read one of the forwards I was sent titled "A Blessed Prayer." It basically went like this: I asked God to change me, He said, "No, that is for you to do." I asked God for spiritual growth, He said, "No, you must grow yourself, but I will do some pruning along the way." I asked God for healing, He said, "No, the body is temporary."

How is this a blessed prayer? The one praying is basically told by God, change yourself, heal yourself, fix yourself, grow yourself, make yourself alive, etc. Forwards such as these do violence to Biblical Christianity and to the God that is. God NEVER sits around idle and disconnected from people and demands them to save themselves. If this were the case, we would all be screwed.

All Forwards should be banned. But especially Christian ones. (Forward this to 15 people if you love Jesus. If you don't, you might be responsible for someone going to hell.)

And Now a Word From Our Sponsor

Every so often I take the time to actually observe the world around me. This happens about once or twice a month. Well, that is actually being a bit liberal. Maybe two or three times every two months. Perhaps that is a bit conservative. Or moderate. But that is not the point. The point is that every now and then I take the time to observe. Here are some of my observations. And reservations.

1. People can't walk any more alone. By this I mean, they can't walk without being on a cell phone. Very rarely do you actually see somebody just walking. Not talking. We are so afraid to be alone for some reason. Must talk to someone. Anyone. I don't care. I have to talk to somebody right this second. Either that or we are so freaking insecure about looking like we are losers. If we are at least talking to somebody we are cool and connected to a social world. But the opposite is really the case. Enjoy a nice, peaceful, quiet walk. Put the freaking cell phone down for a minute.

2. Fashion has made the cycle back around and now we find people propping up their shirt collars. I won't comment any further on the absolute ridiculousness of this social trend.

3. Gas prices are at an all time high. SUVs are still the most coveted vehicles. This is the culture shooting itself in the foot in my opinion.

4. Pit stains should be in style. That way we wouldn't be so worried about them. I realize that this is not an "observation" but I felt like it needed to be on the list.

5. People are ready to have sex at 13 and the culture tells them not to get married until they are 30. The battle for purity is already lost with that paradigm. (This one was provided by every thoughtful RUF campus minister out there.)

6. Facebook and Friendster and virtual friendship networks are all the craze these days. Why though? What is the obsession we have with collecting "friends?" Having 450 virtual "friends" basically means that you have zero actual friends. There is no such thing as an internet friendship. It is a contradiction in terms.

7. No one, and I mean absolutely no one, knows what the War of 1812 was about. Including me.

8. Wendy's has not been selling as much chili this past week. My guess is that chili will be removed from their menu. You know, with the whole finger incident.

9. Anyone who says that they prefer coffee black is a liar. And anyone who hangs out in coffee shops is pretentious. There is a nice, hipster coffee shop hangout here in Baton Rouge and in front of it was parked a truck with a bumper sticker on it that read, "Friends don't let friends drink Starbucks." Starbucks began as this artsy, hipster coffee shop in Seattle and blew up into the commercial megacorporation that it is. Only when something is weird and uncool is it really cool in this culture. And when that weird uncool thing becomes popular, it is actually then truly uncool. This truck driver is rebelling from the rebellion. It's just so silly to me. It's freaking coffee. No one really likes it anyway. People just want to look and feel bohemian.

10. Everyone needs a laptop. Ask them. They'll tell you. They'll say, "Yeah, I really need to get one." If they don't have one, they are looking for one. If they have one, they will let you know why it is the greatest machine on earth and why you have to have their exact one. We walk by people using them and drool with envy. Or we sit behind them and laugh to ourselves when the drooling, envious people walk by. For some reason we have convinced ourself that this luxury is now a necessity. It is the thing that now divides us. We are grouped into two peopl: those that have them and those that don't. I am still in the second group. But I need one.

Cell Phones and Irate People

Ok, ok, so feel on this. I'm at the gas station last Monday, you know, giving the car the old heave ho (fill up). I'm standing there pumping my gas and in an effort to be efficient, I decided to call a friend via cellular telephone (perhaps you have heard of these). I'm now pumping AND talking, doing two things at once as opposed to doing one thing at once.

Suddenly the woman pumping gas next to me begins yelling at me. I didn't make out what she was saying at first as I am not accustomed to being spoken to, much less yelled at, by strangers at gas stations. And afterall, I was on the phone. I eventually turned around to hear the commotion and now a man (who was also pumping his gas) joined the woman in the shouting. They were yelling, "Get off the phone! Get off the phone!!" The panic in their voice quickly alarmed me.

"What?" I asked them, pulling the receiver end of the phone away from my mouth but the listeny part was still up against my ear. "What are you talking about?" I pled ignorance. But I knew exactly why they were yelling I just was so completely baffled that someone, nay, some two people were actually yelling at me because of it.

"You will cause an explosion!! Back away from the car!!" And the man was ushering me away from the pump with his hand. "What are you talking about? 'Cause an explosion?' What in the world?" I was upset by now that they were making such a big deal about it. It was like they were imagining me holding a flaming torch instead of a little, plastic, cell phone.

"The sparks will cause an explosion! It's been documented!! Get off the f*#%in' phone!!!!!!" Now honestly, help me out here people. Sure, sure, I have seen the 20/20 episode where they did a deal on a case where a woman on her cell phone at a gas station caused a fire (not an explosion). This one freak incident now apparently warrants the claim that explosions are caused by cell phones and that they have been "documented." Give me a freaking break. I have never seen sparks fly from my cell phone. I have talked at the pump many a time and have seen no explosions. Why all the fuss people?

I wanted to say, "Holy S&#%!!! Take off your digital watch!! Oh my God!! It will cause a freaking explosion!!" Or maybe I should have said, "Holy crap!! Don't pull your car into a gas station it will cause an explosion!! Don't you know all the wires and engine heat under the hood could cause an EXPLOSION!!!!" But I didn't say any of that. I simply gave him and the frantic woman a dirty look and kept talking.

Your anger with me is only self-defeating

I have recently been the victimized subject of much hatred and disappointment from several emails and blog comments. They all have to do with my lack of updating this stupid site. First of all, what in the world are you expecting from me? The fact that you actually read other people's blogs as regularly as you do might point to a greater problem. Read a book if you are going to read. There are some good ones out there I hear. Second, Ok, I don't really have a second. Third, I apologize for my little outburst there. I should have learned by now that you never encourage your audience to continue reading if'n you insult them for doing so. Forgive me.

All that to say, the hostility that I have been receiving as of late is unjustified and furthermore, is self-defeating. For all the philosophy geeks, members of the Intellectually-Proud-and-Reformed-Theological-Legalists-and-Pharisees Club (IPRTLPC), and the upscale Wallstreet fat cats, you probably already know what the term "self-defeating" is. For the rest of us who have to consult dictionaries and other sources, let me spell it out.

Self-defeating is the term for an idea or statement that fails to live up to its own standards. For example, the claim, "There is no truth" is self-defeating because the very sentence claims to be true. Or another example, "It is impossible to know anything." Again, the statement seems to imply that you can at least know that the statement is true, defeating its very claim.

So how is your anger with me self-defeating? How does your anger with me for not posting more blogs fold back on itself and crush under its own weight? Well, maybe it doesn't. Maybe your anger with me isn't self-defeating after all.

But here are some things that are:

relativism
skepticism
empiricism
logical positivism
religious pluralism
rationalism
truncation

There are more, I'm sure. I will stop there. Two last thoughts in closing. 1. Read a book. 2. Forgive me.

Pledging to blog more often,
MT Howell

In Alphabetical Order

There are 26 subsequent posts to this one. The 26 subsequent posts are the lyrics and chords of the 26 songs on the latest Matty Matt Sax album - In Alphabetical Order. I hope that the album is appreciated, the music is emulated, and the lyrics are read in utterly helpless admiration. If you want an album, simply write me at trippstclaire@yahoo.com notifying me of your mailing address and how you plan on sending me the 10 dollars it will cost you to purchase an album.

And now...finders keepers:

All Smart People Wear Glasses
Baby Please
Crayons You Left At My House
Do What You Want To
Escape (The Great)
From Phonemes to Morphemes
Goodbyes (f/ Barrett Black)
Hindsight's 20/20
I Could Sing a Song
Just As If I'd Never Sinned (f/ Roy Hubbard)
Krakatauan Puppeteer
Love Must Be in the Air
Maybe If We All Devolved (f/ Eric Bellard)
Nothing is More
Oh Yeah (f/ Holly Booth)
Progress is Slow (f/ Barrett Black)
Quasi-Love
Red Wine and Burger King French Fries
Song
The Sun Has Exploded (f/ Eric Bellard)
Unemployed (it must be nice)
Vodka's To Blame
Without You
Xenophilia
You're In Hate With Me
Zeno's Paradox

...losers weepers

All Smart People Wear Glasses

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


If you are what you eat, I’m on par with some meat
Charred and petite, the kind of food that makes you fart in your sleep
Pardon me but surely it is hard to believe
That Roseanne Barr and Kareem Abdul Jabar’s in the sheets
I’m starting to speak so listen cause I’m smarter than Eve. (Who?)
You know that broad up in the garden who squeezed
The fruit right off of the tree. I regard it as weak,
Retarded and cheap and dumb to have a guitar at your feet
Strumming chords round the campfire
I’m guarding my teeth I’m like a vampire. I can’t tire
Though I’m swinging more smiles than a tennis racket
Bringing more style than a denim jacket
Minimize the benefactions
Sick of all you men subtracting then contracting syphilis
If licorice is this attractive give it back to Chris and kiss
Your mother on her skin in back but oh no she’s ticklish
Oh no she’s into this. Incest is hit or miss.

Don’t be afraid to say what you mean
The day is serene but I may go and scream at all the latest things
Seen from the table of dreams
I hate the fatigue of trying to have my way with you freaks
Please just erase or delete

Don’t be afraid to mean what you say
I dream of the day that I sleep it away
And though it seems that they believe in the things of the grave
They deceive and they make you think it takes a display to simply make it ok

Went to the doctor and he made me mad
Gave me some drugs and he made me glad
I’m the prudest, Jewish dude in Massachusetts
What’d you really take me as?
Could it be when I pee everybody in the world want to go and take a look at me?
You’re gonna go and take a look at me and her making out in the backseat
We’re getting sweaty like an athlete at a track meet but I’m throwing no javelin
I’m going on traveling deep up in your mind frame unraveling
Sort of like a weave that you see at flea market
Parking, rolling down the windows letting out the steam
Dig around in the cushions; you never know what things you’ll bring to the surface
I’m nervous and I’ll say it to your face that you’re fat on purpose
You deserve it. You’re worthless. Throw you in a furnace hurting burning
Screaming, squeamish, stomach churning, lurching back and forth and swerving
Dedicated to you ladies in the backroom dressed up like sluts but still virgins
So let me go and take the whole verse back I regretted every word I said
Baby, turn your head to the side and ignore what occurred
Instead maybe go and drop a terd in bed.

Baby Please

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


F Am Bb Gm C
My life depends on if we’ll stay together
F Am Bb Gm C
Let’s make amends if not let’s make the effort
Dm Dm/C# Bb C
To decide if you and I are right

F A Dm
Baby I can’t see why you don’t need my love
G Bb
Is this all a game just like everything else?
C
Nobody needs this.
F A Dm Bb
I don’t know why you just throw my love right out the window with my keys
C
Baby please

“Let’s just be friends” is what I hear you saying
These odds and ends just are not worth crocheting
Into some mosaic. Numb my pain.

Baby I can’t see why you don’t need my love
Is this all a game just like everything else?
I don’t believe this.
I don’t know why you just throw my love right out the window with my keys
Baby please

Crayons You Left At My House

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


G Am
You thought it would be fun
D C D
So you came over and brought your
G Am
Old coloring books.
D G
I choose the Aladdin one.

We sat there for some time
Filling in the blank shapes
With various shades
And tried to stay in the lines

D Em C
Two weeks later you called and you
D Em C
Told me that we were done
D Em C
And I haven’t seen you since

(G Em D)

Last year I moved
And came across a few crayons
That were under the couch
A fucia, yellow and blue

I know now that it’s over between
Us all that is left is to
Drink the crayons you left at my house

I held them up to the fire
Melted them in a glass cup
And drank the liquid up
Guess what’s Technicolor.

I know now that it’s over between
Us all that is left is to
Drink the crayons you left at my house

Do What You Want To

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005

D
Just relax
Bm
Take a breath
G Em A
Everything will work out
D
Take a drink
Bm
Close your eyes
G Em A
Everything will work out

Bm Bm/Bb D A
There’re two ladies in sight and you cannot decide which one is right for you
Bm Bm/Bb A
You ask for my advice but it’s not what you wanted to hear

D
I don’t give a crap
A
I don’t give a rip
Bm
You’re gonna do what you want to
G
Regardless of what I say to
I don’t give a crap
I don’t give a rip
Just go ahead and ruin your life
See if I care if you screw your life up

Round and round we go
No one’s taking it slow
No one’s thinking if this is right
Hearts may break but they’ll heal
Take a break if you feel disliked.

I don’t give a crap
I don’t give a rip
You’re gonna do what you want to
Regardless of what I say to
I don’t give a crap
I don’t give a rip
Just go ahead and ruin your life
See if I care if you screw your life up


D F# G D

G Gm D E
Break down no disrespect
Talk about my girlie gonna break your neck

Escape (The Great)

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


A F#m D E
We dressed up incognito
A D E
The gold was ours to take
A F#m D E
Creeping in like invitro
D E A
The guards began to shake

C# D?
We tried to hide but we could not deny that the
B E
Lights were too bright to escape
A F#m D E
So we squeezed to fit in the Speedos
D E A
And dove straight into the lake

From Phonemes to Morphemes

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


F Dm
Open your mouth and out flowed
Am Gm C
Garbled, slushy streams of sonic, sonic nonsense
F Dm
With no, with no meter
Am Gm
Or no structure or no definition
C
I can isolate the phrases but they’re not making sense

F Gm
Sonic waves, they come inside
C
I can’t quite yet divide
F
The syntax syllables

Phonetic cues, I override
Linguistics all collide (aside)
Your syntax syllables

Am Bb F
From Phonemes to morphemes
Am Bb F C Dm
Mysterious as this all appears to seem
Am Bb F C Bb F
I somehow derive something meaningful

Shut your eyes and listen close
No boundaries to words we spoke
You can’t discern between

Sentences, phrases and words
Together are slurred
With nothing in between

From Phonemes to morphemes
Mysterious as this all appears to seem
I somehow derive something meaningful

Goodbyes

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005
Featuring Barrett Black


Em
So this is the end
C
It’s hard to say goodbye
Am
I’m sure we’ll meet again
D
On the other side

It’s been so long
This weary road
We don’t belong
Where we don’t go

I’ve come to realize
As anybody could
That these goodbyes
Contain nothing good
They contain nothing good

Hindsight's 20/20

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


G C
I might sleep away the present
G D
There’s just way too much at stake
Em Em/Eb G A
It hindsight’s 20/20 then I can’t help but think it’s best to wait
C G C G
For the future to come when everything’s done
C Eb D
I’ll know what was supposed to be

I’m so sick of making decisions
Why won’t they just show me the way?
If hindsight’s 20/20 then I just might lie down and try to sleep
The present away and wait for the day
That I can look back clearly

Em C G
We’re trapped in time and space for once it’s feeling nice
Em C D
I will not listen to their advice
Em
Cause they would have me taking a risk
Em/Eb G A C
And I cannot stomach the consequence if I choose wrong

Em C Am D
We’ll see all of the things we did but not this time
We’ll look back either with regret or pride inside
Em
But everything in front of me
Em/Eb
Is pitch black dark and I just cannot see
In front of my face.
I’m running a race with no clue where the finish line is.

We’re trapped in time and space for once it’s feeling nice
I will not listen to their advice
Cause they would have me taking a risk
And I cannot stomach the consequence if I choose wrong

I Could Sing a Song

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


C D Bm
I could sing a song about rainbows
C D G
You’d remind me that it’s rained
C D
But I’d reply
B Em
“Haven’t you seen the sky?”
C D G
And you would just complain

I could sing a song about Paris
You’d say it was dirty and vile
And they gave Iraq guns
And the women don’t shave enough
What must I do for a smile?

C B Em D C D Em
And I know the glass could never be half full
C B Em D C D A
Cause your glass is full of vodka and red bull

I could sing a song about puppies
Kittens and bunny rabbits too
But you’d say they smell
And they annoy the hell
The hell out of you

So I wrote a song about cancer
I threw in a couple lines bout genocide
I knew we were wrong
When you sung along
And tried to harmonize

Just As If I'd Never Sinned

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005
Written with and featuring Roy Hubbard


Many a men have fallen
Thinking they’re worthy of a Christ-like callin’
Spendin’ and laboring, all of their weary souls toiling
Not recognizing that the true Vine calls them
Soon as the triumph comes
Most play the hare when the race not done
The tortoise Sin pounces upon them
Many shrink to despair laden with guilt and heavy burdens
Been down that road a thousand times
Died a thousand deaths; lost a million lives
It took a long time for me to recognize
That only in Christ that I am justified

Em Am G D
Justification:
Em Am G D
Just as if I’d never sinned
Em Am G D
Is what I used to think that meant
Em B Em
Now I know better

The second verse comes harder
So be more thoughtful; be more smarter
No wisdom of man but the wisdom of God-der
The God who baptizes in Spirit and water
A man’s heart is like a leoparda
That can’t change his spots not even sorta
Man can’t justify himself that’s unthought of
Spoken of as evil in the Word of God what!

Chorus

Take a hard look in the mirror
And be more honest; see more clearer
Sin is a part of you but do not fear
Perfect righteousness is much more near
Oh young man so be of good cheer
Blessed are those who mourn so shed those tears
Mourn over your sins present and past years
And claim God’s righteousness in your last years
Have an understanding of the ups and downs
That the Christian walk is not all joys and smiles
Become a servant and then we are found
Justified by him who holds the crown

Chorus

I am a C
I am a C-H
I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N
And I have C-H-R-I-S-T in my H-E-A-R-T and I will L-I-V-E E-T-E-R-N-A-L-L-Y

I am a C
I am a C-H
I am a Christian who sings dumb S-O-N-Gs
And all the A-T-H-E-I-S-Ts and A-G-N-O-S-T-I-Cs don’t take M-E S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y

Krakatauan Puppeteer

In Alphabetical Order
a Matty Matt Sax Project
Circa 2005


A F#m D E
The Krakatauan Puppeteer came straight from Krakatau – ah
A F#m D E A
But he did not come straight here, he stopped in Minnesota
F#m C#m D E
He learned his skill from Mr. Bellvadeer and Ricky Shroader
A F#m D E
His house was filled with Chandeliers. They called him Casanova.
A F#m D E A
The puppeteer with his veneer: straight from Krakatua - ah