Gormful In Maya

by Ford Pier

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    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Fifty numbered "handmade" copies with lyric sheet, signed (woo-woo!) and personalized with a single word from The Book of Thomas The Contender. All fifty copies, in order, reproduce the Savior's reply to the question "Lord, why does this visible light that shines on behalf of men rise and set?"(139, 25-31). Money donated for the CD will go to the DTES Response Fund to assist in preventing the spread of Covid-19 in Vancouver's most disadvantaged neighborhoods. We do not ship to Australia.

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1.
Happy days are here again, I’m bleeding out my ass Apparently food is the new thing, but I’m sure this too will pass A conoisseur’s palate and $2.28’ll getcha a gallon of gas So it’s out the cloaca, into the sewer Out with the older, in with the newer Ah, hahahaha I dabbled in mysticism and got lost amongst the runes Sacred numbers and the zombi cucumber but I never bent any spoons I can’t shake the sound of the chanting, but I don’t remember the tunes So it’s on with the kicking out of the jams But by the pricking of my hams Something wicked this way wobbles And it wobbles because it’s lame And it’s lame because it hasn’t got a leg to stand on ‘Cause the both of its legs are game That’s game like a zero-sum game And that sum is the sum of all fears I can feel it in the hair on the back of my neck I can feel it in the hair on the back of my ears But the post-punk-partum depression impresses me less than the message’s failure to move It’s the sheeple vs. the nanny state - what’s with all the cloven hooves? I’ll always remember that dope sick beat, but I can’t recall any grooves So it’s off with the gloves and on with the show And down with the settling, up with the growing Oh, hohohohobiminibminibimini… This is a transaction, not a performance This is a morpheme, not a word This is a secret you’ll carry ’til you’re dead and you’re buried Spoken just loud enough to be heard That’s heard like a herd that’s immune That’s immune like immune to my charms I can feel it in the hair on the back of my neck I can feel it in the hair on the back of my arms Happy days are here again, I’m buying local sourced From a pop-up Mom-And-Pop Op op, but Mom and Pop divorced So they handed it off to their foolish heirs whose folksy airs seem forced So it’s out of the blue and into the onyx Up with the spirits, and DOWN with the tonics Down with the tonics Happy days are here again
2.
Those I look like a liar to aren't going to change their minds now No bold visions set fire to No new peaks to aspire to, anyhow So much you'd never allow And every voice hissing I was wrong now swears that’s what they meant all along All along That was then Sing a song In the time it takes to be called a liar again The same as if I had lied like they say I did But the time it takes… It could well be there’s no shame in this Is there any pride?
3.
That man’s not talking to himself, he’s running over a comeback to a slight An imagined one which changes shape just that much faster than he can get that comeback right He’d like to think he idles in a state of readiness, but experience has taught him that he’s just not that fast That man’s not talking to himself, those are incantations to protect him from his past That’s gonna be me one of these days If I don’t come around and change my ways And make it right It doesn't matter that it doesn't matter now, what does is that it did It informed the opinions I held and the decisions I made and the evidence I went and hid Now I owe more than I’ll ever see, I’ve misrepresented myself, I’ve stolen from my friends I’ve played it out a hundred different ways in my imagination, but there’s only one way that it ends And I’d do it tomorrow if it wouldn’t cause others so much pain How can someone who hates himself so much be so vain? See, I was born in a place of relative ease To parents who loved me In a time of peace I’ve got my health and I’m fairly bright I was born male and I was born white Blessings one after the other in a long long line There’s no advantage worth having I couldn’t say was mine So judgment doesn’t land on me from far away The fault’s not in my stars, not in my nebulae It isn’t God’s idea of fun To have me go around disappointing everyone To have my every undertaking fail It’s not His finger on the scale It’s nothing extraordinary anyhow It’s not anything not telling you so right now It’s for me the guilt, for me the shame I guess it’s for me to take the blame Like I guess it’s for you to wonder how someone with such a high opinion of himself can hate himself so much But make it right Like a fat poison berry that puckers and rots on the vine Like a kid who keeps selling a treat long after his mom has thrown up her hands and said “fine!” Like an interrupted vapour seal that creates a fog inside the glass Like the drone of a mower and the smell of new cut grass I hear a voice telling me what I know needs to be done But the voice telling you all about it right now is the louder one I’ll make it right Make it alright
4.
Oh, great. This again. The curtain rises on a tired and familiar scene The philandering chief of the gods takes the patron of fidelity to be his queen They finish each others’ thoughts and one is the glory of the other, wouldn’t you say? I saw your lips moving And it’s important to talk, you can use a funny voice, or a confabulation, connotation, denotation, or a gestalt Or borrow half-understood terminology from science like “aggressive margins” and “loading the fault” There’s something in there that’s worth hearing, I know that’d only be made less so If you would just come out and say it Is it the point to tell or have the point be taken well or Have me think it up myself and approach a position from a place I’m not? Then leave a space shaped like the thing it is you wish I thought On second thought... We’re gonna have to agree to disagree I hate fighting ‘bout fighting and I’m not sure I’m satisfied that you know what trust looks like Or understand it’s not useless if it’s broken sometimes We finish each others’ thoughts and one is the glory of the other, wouldn’t you think? I heard those wheels turning
5.
The one with the boots is haughty and fit She’s got a loud proud voice and a lacerating wit She moves fast past where guys like me sit And trails a fragrance of brightly lit rooms She’s got dozens of friends who all look the same She eats food made of vegetables I couldn’t name What I’d see as a trial, she’d treat like a game I don’t know for certain, but it’s fair to assume Say, who are these dark women in their caves asleep atop their gleaming hoards? Who are these dark women, what are they pulling me towards? The lady downstairs is orange but she goes She knows things that only an orange goer knows I could be projecting or something I suppose But my sense for such things is not the worst There’s a trick to the blinds is my best guess ‘Cause they’re never ever shut, so you can see what a mess the place is at all times Sometimes you can catch her undress And she’s just a little older than you might think at first Who are these dark women, where do they go to learn the secrets that they guard? Who are these dark women, what makes being one of them hard? I don’t think about my exes - I guess the sting of defeat is still too recent I don’t think about the girls I knew when I was a boy - something about that seems indecent I don’t make plans for the future - I’d only be setting myself up for a fall I think of all the places I’ll never visit and chart the space between them and sail past them all The chick who likes trance is busty but dim That lummox she’s with, I’m glad I’m not him Though in a fair fight, my chances would be slim He’s got height and a good twenty pounds He’ll look at his phone and he’ll look at her bum Or past the talk to where he thinks the action might burst in from Or for someone who doesn’t make him feel as dumb as she is ‘cause he’s who she wants hanging around Who are these dark women, when they look at me what is it they don’t see? Who are these dark women, what is it they don’t want from me? What is it they don’t want from me?
6.
Donatism 02:38
If you are frugal and wise, you’ll find that doors will open The tally of advancements multiplies and the gains accrue to you in scope and size And when they do so, prepare yourself for calumny and abuse-oh Like the Fraticelli in the thirteenth century They’ll tell you how it ought to be They don’t care how you got it No being lucky and no being smart No more vacations or restoring hot rods or collecting art No point trying to fight ‘em When a house or an apartment is a luxury item Good luck finding someone who says that’s as it should be but to say it isn’t is a heresy and not a new one either No more no settling for second best No more fine oil or lotion to soothe the feet of a special guest If you think I want to pay top dollar for the things that I most prize I don’t, but I’ll find a way, just ‘cause what’s life for otherwise? But when somebody worth ten of me Can pay triple what I did for a third of what I got So you think of them instead of me And there’s nothing I can do to make you believe I’m not the same as they are You’re on the lawn with the feathers and the tar Like the Little Brothers in the thirteenth century They’ll tell you how it oughtta be Like the Katharoi In the third century Let you know what you ought to be In the fourth century Poenitentiam agite In the fourteenth century They’ll tell you how it oughtta be
7.
What’s something that you’ve always known was true? The humour of a number or the music of the spheres, stories told by open spaces that last for years I’ll tell the world What you think you are only goes so far Someone devout with someone to keep safe stands up and utters perjury and the unbeliever kneels and bows his head the night before surgery I’ll tell the world Would you want to hide so well nobody could find you? Could you go on, knowing the worst was behind you? The ashes of a monster find friends amid the dust like the grip of the hand of a child who’s never known anything but trust like the passing of an aeon trades riddles with the tide like atoms say “I love you” by committing suicide I’ll tell the world
8.
There’s one or two things about which I’d say I really care I’ll put up with a lot as long as those few things are there I bet you’ve got a different list I know that you exist But I can’t see you It’s only fair that there’d be pushback on some things we’re proud of that you’ve got a problem with and I’ll allow that you’re allowed It sucks always being wrong I know that you are strong But I can’t see you But I have no doubt if you were to be But shown the way then you would agree With all of us over here, with my friends and me And I’d show you myself. but I can’t see you And you can’t see me And what would you think you were looking at if you could? Somebody just like you but mean or stupid or just plain no good? I saw one of your guys dismantled in an interview How could you watch something like that and think the way you do? Sometimes I just feel sorry for you Most times I just ignore you because I can’t see you And you can’t see me And what would you say you were staring at if you did? An opportunity, a teachable moment, a nagging pain of which you wish you were rid? It’s like I gave you your comeuppance and you said, “I know” like I’d just made your point for you in words you would have chosen Oh, who knows? Maybe you know you’re wrong You might even hear this song But I can’t see you But I have no doubt if you were to be But shown the way then you’d agree With all of us over here, with my friends and me But you won’t and that’s why I can’t see you And I can’t hear you And I can’t see you
9.
Bug Out Kit 04:30
At last the day I always feared would come has come and come like an avenging gale And all that preparation, all that doubting it was needed will be called to account should I succeed or fail Ah well, sue me if there’s something crucial that I’ve overlooked, okay, then just believe me, this is new to me Disconnecting my connections Detaching from attachments Refusing to be tied down, be bound by the ties that bind me I’ll change my numbers and my passcodes and my hours and Change my name and change my face and leave no trace behind me But how could I who’ve shown such strict attention to detail in planning my withdrawal have allowed myself to be unhorsed by something so bush-league? To be so sloppy as to need to go at all - close call Truly: can I trust myself to summon the resolve that it’ll take to turn away when that brightness bears down to blind me? I think so I think I can go dark, I can go deep, and I can go low I think And I can change my colour, change my shape, and leave my pursuers bashing into each other in a cloud of ink behind me You’ll see, oh there’s not much more to me than this there’s less than you would think that you will miss, but True enough, there will be things I’m gonna miss that to recall may bring a tear And people that I wish I didn’t have to hurt Bonanzas if certain debentures were to clear Oh dear Puny considerations like this are what got me in this mess that now I gotta put to rest And do it fast and do it well and do it so no one can ever find me And do it while I’m able Leave it on the table Just grab what I can carry Before I hit a snag Put it in a bag Put it in a bindle Hasten down the wind, I’ll hie myself away Away across the water, through the woods, and up a hill and toss the combs behind me
10.
It’s almost daylight, farewells have all been said The last teenagers have toddled off to bed We like to play hard, though it gets way harder We’ll hit the hay hard Hey, but we’re not dead yet Our instincts don’t fail, our sights were always clear We blazed our own trail, that’s how we wound up here Not always flawless, but we take solace you couldn’t call us anything less than sincere Like everything for which our generation’s known We love to sing the old favourites in new ways and make them our own And when it’s time to catch our ride We’ll greet each other on the other side Where we will never be misunderstood again There is still power moving through us Even as that hour draws closer to us It’s almost midday, shouts ring across the floor The Last Teenagers look like we’ve lost one more And for a second, the rhythms quicken then go on ticking same as they did before We dealt with money, sex, and time in new ways, why not this then? Someday, so will you Can’t tell where we end and where you begin That’s maybe something we can help you through We weren’t the worst - whatever else we did, we cared We were the first to learn what we did the way we did and shared We were generous With all of you who followed us. So you would never be misunderstood again

about

Written and performed by Ford Pier with one or two friends here and there... see individual song credits.
All songs published by Trite Motifs (SOCAN)

credits

released September 25, 2020

Recorded by Paddy Ryan at Big "P"
Mixed by Howard Redekopp at The Menagerie
Mastered by Gregory Obis at CMS
Thanks to Darcy Hancock, Ryan Beattie, and David Hathaway for the use of their fine instruments.
Dedicated to Eric Napier and Brad Lambert
Physical media waiting for the dust to settle. For THAT, you'll pay!

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Ford Pier Vancouver, British Columbia

Ford: v.t. to cross by wading (Webster)
Pier: n. a disappointed bridge (Joyce)

Ford Pier has a rock band called The Vengeance Trio and a string quartet called Strength Of Materials. There's eight or nine albums of this stuff, and more on its way. You just watch. ... more

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