Words & Music Club
Disappear.jpg

01. WRITER

Carl Mizell


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

The Dismemberment Plan: 
The Face of the Earth


04. WRITING

I have an awful confession to make.

I have been with my wife for ten years, and in that time, we have managed to create a clear channel of communication. There is nothing we cannot tell each other. Well, almost nothing. I’ve never told her that I also have a girlfriend that I’ve been together with for almost twenty years.

At least, I think I have a girlfriend.

I know what you’re thinking: “Is this guy as handsome as I am currently imagining him?” Sadly, I am not, but now that we’ve cleared that up we can move on to your second question: “How can one not know if they have a girlfriend?” Honestly, I’ve been wondering that for two decades, but I’ll do my best to explain.

This whole mess started in the summer of 1999. I was twenty-one, and to say I was aimless is…charitable. I had fallen ass-backwards into my first full-time job at a group home. Since this group home was in Oakland County, I had to spend two weeks at the vaguely-named Macomb/Oakland Regional Center to become “certified” to work in said nursing home. (I liberally applied quotation marks there because I never actually received any actual certificate. I am still salty about this.) While at this training, I met a young woman I’ll call Emma. (You can call her whatever you like, but it’ll help you follow along if you stick with the fake name that I picked.) Emma was painfully shy, and she only spoke to me when we ended up in a training group together. Despite her reticence and my general awkwardness, it was clear that there was an attraction between us. Eventually, we overcame our inherent social deficiencies and began dating. It was…okay. Seriously. It was a perfectly average relationship for two people aged 18-24 to have. We hung out, watched the first half of movies, made out during the second half, and occasionally slept together. Her aforementioned shyness kept us from going out too often, but she did come see my band play once, which was nice. It was the only time that a girl I was dating ever saw my band play. (She wasn’t a fan, but don’t feel too bad about that. No one was.)

I sense you getting antsy. Well, “sense” is a tad disingenuous. Actually, I’m watching you read this now, and I can see you shifting uncomfortably. Okay, okay…I’ll get to the good stuff.  Our relationship carried on for a few months, with nothing of note happening. Like I said, it was a perfectly standard relationship, save for one seemingly minor detail: I couldn’t call her. She lived with her father, and he forbade her from receiving phone calls. She could make calls, but she couldn’t receive them. (Yes, this is odd. No, it didn’t seem odd to me at the time.) If I wanted to speak to her, I had to page her. Now, I realize that some of you aren’t familiar with how this process worked, so let me diagram it for you:

1) I called her pager number, and when prompted, I punched in my number.
2) Her pager notified her of who was requesting a call back.
3) She’d call me back.

Too easy. If I wanted to see her, all I had to do was add a simple step to the process. This went on without fail, until one day, when it didn’t. We had made plans to go to the Renaissance Faire, and the day of our trip I paged her to verify whether I would be meeting her there, or if she needed a ride. I paged her in the morning, and then…nothing. And that was it. I never saw her again.

To this day, I have absolutely no idea what happened to her. She never called me back, and life moved on. For a while I joked with my friends that I was cheating on her with whichever girl I was dating at the time, but those jokes quickly grew stale. It wasn’t until I was much older that I gave any serious thought to what happened. I mean, what if the battery in her pager died and she missed the page? She replaces the battery, but my page got lost in the ether. Maybe her father suddenly decided that she could neither make nor receive calls...maybe she saw the future and knew that pagers were a dying technology, so she threw it in a river and immediately bought a Nokia phone that she still uses to this day. I often wonder if she thinks about me, and if she thinks that I’m the one who disappeared. I would love to find out what really happened, but I know that I never will. Even with the internet at my disposal, I could never do it. Even if I could remember her last name (or any identifying information for that matter), I think it would be too creepy. “Hey, remember me? The guy you dated for about four months in 1999 and then ghosted. So yeah…what the heck happened, eh?” If I were her, I’d respond to that message, just so I could ghost me again.

Maybe we’ll cross paths one day, and there will be a spark of recognition. We’ll start to speak, but the fear of being awkward to a stranger will keep us from saying anything. So, we’ll move along, and the memory will fade just a little bit more.

Seriously though…what the hell happened?

 
 

01. WRITER

Tylor Sherman


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Friends in America:
Souvenir


04. WRITING

Red poppies everywhere. Pinned to lapels of talk show hosts.
Its meaning explained before pre-game commercial breaks
To an American audience with too many wars to observe.

Milk thistle surrounds me; such violent weeds
In glass bottles between rounds of blended scotch whisky.
Caught my arm more times than I could count.

A Belfast veteran offers us a cigarette.
Thanks us for our service. 
Shrugs offs the inconvenience, stomps his foot and walks back inside.

Slurred speech like drunk comedic men in movies.
Protesting push-up contests. I mean, we can I guess. But I may puke everywhere.
Five years separated by twenty-something goals.

Home is where the heartache is, the failed career remains.
How quickly failure fades when you flee three thousand miles away.
Why didn't anyone suggest this solution before?

 
 

01. WRITER

Sam Moore


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Mogwai:
Take Me Somewhere Nice


04. WRITING

“So, when was the last time you disappeared?”

I slouched back in the chair, one leg hanging over the side. Her office had a very homey feel about it, the furniture slightly dated in a charming sort of way and the lighting kept to a relaxing, dimmed amount. I felt comfortable here, at ease to disclose things that don’t make sense outside these walls.

“Disappearing” is like abruptly waking up from a dream...or maybe it’s closer to rapidly falling into one. Either way, one minute I’m here and the next I’m there. I’ve slipped from this world and into another one.

It is another world, this is true,” she had told me in our first session. “But we must remember that the world you enter when you disappear is a byproduct of cognitive distortion. It’s a place very similar to our own, but it’s been altered by your own thoughts. Disappearing and reappearing are like switching between two different lenses through which we see and interpret the world around us. When you disappear, you’re looking at a world that’s been clouded by those distorted thoughts. If our world is a mirror, the one you go to when you disappear is that same mirror--but shattered. What you’re seeing in the mirror is the same, but it’s been skewed.”

She ended that first session with a goal: keep disappearing to a minimum, and reappear quickly when it happens.

“It’s been a few weeks,” I said.

“A few weeks? This is progress. Last session you told me you were disappearing most days. Where were you the last time you disappeared?”

“Home,” I said. It’s easy to disappear while at home. Something about it makes me especially vulnerable to those distorted thoughts that she had mentioned. It’s almost like a gravitational pull slowly swallows them up and then amplifies their energy.

“Tell me again what disappearing at home is like,” she said.

“It takes me somewhere that’s like my house but...different. There’s never anyone there but me. I can’t see anything outside of the windows--not the porch, not the streetlights, not the neighbors houses, nothing. It’s as if they were all painted over with thick, black paint. Like nothing else is out there.”

“Disappearing can be a very isolating experience.” Her pen scrawled swiftly across her notes as she jotted down this information. “And the layout? I believe you mentioned it’s always changing?”

“Yeah. It’s never the same twice. The pieces are there—the rooms, hallways, and those sort of things, but they’re rearranged. Like someone held up the entire house and shook it around. It never feels right and I’m always disoriented. I know that isn’t actually how my house is, but I can’t figure out what’s off about it until I reappear. It’s like in being in a strange dream. You don’t question any of it until you’re awake. But when I’m back, I immediately notice that everything was wrong.”

“Of course,” she said. “Home doesn’t quite feel like home, does it? Can you describe the layout in this most recent instance?”

“Some of the hallways seemed to go on indefinitely. Oh, and all the doors led to my bedroom. No matter what I did or where I went, I would end up there.”

“This is a very common phenomenon,” she said matter-of-factly. “Disappearing takes a lot of energy, even if it doesn’t seem like it would. Many individuals feel exhausted once it happens. It’s quite possible that your mind just wanted rest, and it kept leading you somewhere it could shut off for a while.”

She’s right-I do feel exhausted every time I disappear. It’s like my body and mind are running on empty. The smallest things take a great deal of effort, like each movement is wading through thick, muddy water. Though I often disappear at home, it can really happen anytime and anywhere for that matter. I was reminded of an instance when I disappeared in the middle of a session, here in her office. That window was painted over black, too, and her words seemed to quietly float away until they were unable to reach my ears. I tried to remember them when the session ended, but it seemed I was too bleary to properly file them away. Her words got stored in the wrong place in my mind, or more likely, were tossed out.

“So all the doors led to your bedroom,” she continued. “Was this like your normal bedroom?”

“Everything except for the ceiling.”

She paused a moment to think, clicking her pen and anticipating the answer to her question. She must have already known, but asked anyway. “Was it the eye again?”

I slouched even further into the chair, deflating my posture as much as possible. Often times when I disappear and try to go to sleep I’ll lie awake staring at the ceiling, and hear a noise that sounds like crackling and crumbing. A tear forms in the ceiling that spreads and grows into a hole and a single large, yellow eye rolls into it and stares back at me all night. It rests comfortably in the tear in the ceiling, just large enough to not slide through, gazing back at me and making wet mushy noises when it blinks. It’s presence makes me uneasy, which makes it nearly impossible to get any rest with it lingering over me.

“Yeah,” I said. “It was the eye.”

“This, too, is common for many individuals who disappear. The other world makes rest very difficult. Rest comes at random--either in frequent, giant handfuls, or in tiny bits that slip through your fingers. But, the important thing is that you reappeared. Judging by your progress, I am willing to bet you reappeared more quickly than normal, too, didn’t you?”

Her words held truths I hadn’t considered. Maybe I was making progress after all. I considered this before answering.

“I think so. When this first started I would be in the other world for long stretches of time, often unable to track how long I was gone. The last time was much quicker, though. It didn’t seem so long.”

“Slipping back into this world more easily is a good indicator that the distorted thoughts are dampening. The other world should stop appearing as often, but when it does, you’ll find that you are able to handle it better. Continue doing what you’re doing,” she said, clearly pleased with these results.

It seemed as though all the work I had put into these sessions was actually starting to pay off. I allowed myself a fraction of a smile and nodded before getting up to leave.

“And one last thing,” she said, pausing to make sure I understood. “Don’t beat yourself up when it happens again.”

 
 

01. WRITER

Brandon Trammell


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Gillian Welch:
Hard Times


04. WRITING

Growing up my family never stayed in one place for more than a year. For the most part we stuck to Flint and the surrounding areas that would take us, save a stint in the sad beauty of southeast Missouri. But every year like clockwork we were looking for a new place. It was like a dance; rent here, rent there, round up family to help us move to the next spot. All those friends I piecemealed together like a buffet, then they're gone with the slam of a shitty pickup tailgate. Sometimes we were lucky and got an apartment with a community pool. Usually it was a tiny shithole that barely fit all of us (five, then four, then five again, finally six.) House, trailer, apartment; I always knew it would last for a year until we had to find a new place.

Don't get me wrong, I learned a lot. Spent a lot of time seeing things that helped me find who I didn't want to be. I learned how to avoid trouble, and how to fade into the background. I learned how to do the bare minimum to get by so I could leave my brother and sisters to watch themselves while I rode my skateboard all over Fenton Road. And to bury my mind in comic books, art, and eventually Punk Rock. I learned how to pretend that everything was fine when it wasn't. I became very good at these things.

When people ask I tell them I'm from Flint, but living in the burbs for the past five years has softened me. I don't feel like I belong here, but I don't really have anywhere that feels like where I'm from. All those places we lived. What does it add up to? Am I home? Do I even know what that means?

I'm scared that no place will ever feel like mine.

But I'm betting that setting up stakes here will keep my kids from ever feeling that helplessness that I felt every time we turned the key to a new place and started from scratch.

My home is little voices singing musicals while I try to work from the other room. It's late nights watching horror movies, and day trips to Ann Arbor for records and Korean street food. My home is road trips, school plays, and out of state weddings. It's cleaning up dog puke and making shepard's pie for the 500th time, and driving on bald tires half the winter so the heat stays on.

Fuck where I'm from. I don't need it.

I'm here. Right now. With the people that matter. And that's enough.

 
 

01. WRITER

John Duffy


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Chumbawumba: 
Tubthumping


04. WRITING

Long Voyage Home

Before we all left Outback Steakhouse, my uncle signaled that he had to go to the bathroom. Otherwise, he said, he’d piss himself on the way home. My dad and I laughed. Do people actually do that? Piss themselves while driving?

Look, when it comes to road pissing, I’ve been in a lot of tight situations. Pee bottles, window blasters, pinch and holds, yellow submarines—I’ve been around, which is why I wasn’t that worried when, 10 minutes into my hour-long commute back home, I realized that I had to piss.

You may not know this, but your piss calculus changes a lot when you’re on the road.  I had about 50 minutes left.  Worst case, I’d pull into a gas station or a rest area. Or I could do literally one million other things to relieve myself. Same goes for the 40 minute mark, the 30 minute, and so on. A million choices. No big deal. 

But then something happens. The piss urges occur more frequently, each with a fury exponentially greater than the last. It may not be so bad right now, but when you’re barreling down the highway in a Honda subcompact and it circles back around, you’re gonna sweat a little—I promise you.

With 20 minutes to go, I realized that something serious needed to happen or I was completely hosed.  With my eyes on the road, I poked around on the floor looking for wide-mouth bottles, fast food containers—really, anything that could house the piss. At this stage, pissing into an old Chalupa wrapper actually seemed like a good idea. 

Ask any long-haul trucker and they’ll tell you the same thing: when you finally hit CODE RED status, the millions of choices you used to have actually dwindle to, like, two or three. That’s when you have to commit to something, and those two or three choices are usually 100% terrible. 

I was moving at 80mph and it was full-on raining. Concrete jungle, no major exits, no pee bottles, no choice. It was going to happen, so I needed a plan.

I remembered that my ill-fitting floor mats—designed for a completely different type of vehicle—were produced by Weather Tech, that company that advertises on TV. You see a guy with snow boots, and all the shit that he tracks into the car melts away and conveniently pools in the center of the mat.  They say they’re, like, designed by lasers or something. Fuck it, I thought. I’ll just turn on cruise control, unzip, and hope for a miracle. Worst case, I’d hit the steering column and it would splash back. (Or, I’d straight up crash the car and die.) Best case, the piss stream would form an arc that would land surgically into the floor mat’s laser-contoured moisture receptacle.

With no time to think it through, I blasted straight forward and pinched off. The relief lasted about three minutes until the urge came back, ripping through my shit so hard that I had no choice but to full-pressure-fire-hose it again. This time, I had managed to stop on an exit ramp near my house. The incline was steep and I could hear the piss pool sloshing around next to my foot. It hit the rear barrier of the mat, splashed over, and absorbed into the carpet. 

By the time the last blast hit—the most intense of them all—my confidence was shattered: I would not be able to hold it until I made it back. With no choice left, I fully surrendered to the piss urge. My day, my week, my life, everything was worth fuck all because tonight I’m pissing in my car. I let it rip and did what had to be done, right there, doors closed, windows up, with just a block to go before I was home.

When I pulled into the driveway, I could hear the piss pool splash over the side of the Weather Tech mat again. I got out, folded it like a taco, and emptied it onto the lawn. I’ll be god damned, I thought. Aside from the piss that absorbed into the seat and the surrounding carpet, that floor mat actually worked! 

I ended up spraying the affected areas with Windex and patting them down with a piece of paper towel.  No telling if it would do anything, but it seemed like a good idea. Then I went back inside.

Long day. Long year, in fact. I set my alarm and went to sleep. Fuck it, I thought. It’ll probably disappear.
 

 
 

01. WRITER

Chris Thibodeau


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Sharks Keep Moving: Arizona


04. WRITING

As my car crossed over state lines, I adjusted my rear view mirror to catch one final glimpse of the lush California landscape before it vanished into the bleakness of Nevada.

I can’t help but think that there is a metaphor hidden in these seemingly endless brown hills and hope that my memories of the West Coast don’t fade as quickly as that tiny speck of green in my rear view mirror.

My right foot releases the gas pedal slightly, just enough to resemble hesitation. California disappears.

As one hill ends, another begins.

Oh, there it is.

 
 

01. WRITER

Dan Waters


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Hozier:
In the Woods Somewhere


04. WRITING

I really like this song. There is some interesting symbology within the lyrics which I relate to a period of my life where I “disappeared.” I am a very introverted person, I often get lost inside my mind. Lost in thought. Sometimes feeling quite dissociated from the world and other people. This is not always a negative thing. Sometimes I am lost in thought because I am pondering questions I want to answer, exploring abstract ideas. It depends what frame of mind I am in and what I am thinking about at the time.

What I hope to convey with this song choice is the idea of losing oneself completely in a very negative way. Essentially an emotional, “spiritual” and psychological death. Followed by an awakening or rebirth. Disappearing into the dark and reappearing as a new person.

I have gone through several periods of depression in my life. The worst of which was a little over a year ago now. Something happened in my personal life which caused me a tremendous amount of emotional pain and I snapped. I went completely within myself. I completely “disappeared”.

I was lost in the depths of my mind. The person I was before was just gone. Dead. Only a ghost of him remained. Through this period I become more and more separated from the outside world. Alienated from friends and family. I even lost my job. I just didn’t care enough. The outside world didn’t matter to me anymore. When in this sort of psychological state, everything outside of oneself is hardly even there. It is like being in a fog. Everything is muffled and blurred. In fact I would say I was so far inside of my own mind that I even felt disconnected from my body. My physical body didn’t even matter to me. It was barely even there. I was so far gone that I didn’t even care to eat. 

I think many of us feel a mild version of this quite often. Especially people who are both very introverted and intuitive. But this was extreme. An extreme manifestation of the “usual” feeling of being disconnected. Out of sync. Exacerbated by a very deep depression and emotional pain.

Listening to the song my interpretation of the lyrics and also the the general mood is one of a symbolic death and rebirth. In my view particularly relating to psychological change. I believe that there is an element of the human psyche that can die and come back again. Multiple times depending on ones experiences through life. That is what happens to you when you encounter a catastrophe. Something so damaging that your mind dissolves into chaos. You “disappear” into the darkness and only reappear again once you make order of things. 

I will now go through the lyrics of the song itself, breaking them into sections and giving my interpretation for each. It would be a good idea to listen to the song as you read the lyrics to conjure up in your own mind the imagery being described here. The general sound of the song is important to this interpretation. To me it sounds dark and painful. The heavy beat which varies throughout the song in its intensity also really sets the mood of the song. Let’s begin. 

My head was war,
My skin was soaked,
I called your name 'til the fever broke.

The descriptive language used in this first section I feel relates to a “sickness” or an acute negative pain. Soaked skin, “I called your name 'til the fever broke” a calling, something is lost? Someone is lost? A loss of self. 

When I awoke,
The moon still hung,
The night so black that the darkness hums.

The initial shock of what caused the pain has ended but upon “awakening” (perhaps literally awaking from sleep) there is a feeling of disappointment. Nothing has changed. The darkness hums. The pain endures. 

I raised myself,
My legs were weak,
I prayed my mind be good to me.

To me this section speaks of an internal struggle to power. A will to power. To survive. He doesn’t want to give up. His “self” is dying. He knows it and he tries to “rise to his feet” metaphorically speaking. He hopes he has the strength to carry on. He wants to stand up tall again. 

An awful noise,
Filled the air,
I heard a scream,
In the woods somewhere.

More pain. A forest or woodland to me in this interpretation is symbolic of the mind. “An awful noise fills the air”, a “scream in the woods somewhere.” A scream from within his mind.  

A woman's voice!
I quickly ran,
Into the trees with empty hands.

This part could be interpreted in a couple of different ways. “A woman’s voice!” This could be about a specific woman. Someone loved and lost. Or more widely, a symbolic meaning, possibly not an actual woman at all, but instead what a woman can represent. The feminine archetype in symbology across cultures often represents the unknown, or potential. For love, or for life itself. It is the unknown that manifests the new.

“I quickly ran, into the trees with empty hands” he is going deeper into his mind. Towards this idea. Empty hands could suggest a kind of nakedness or vulnerability. Defencelessness. He his “baring his soul” to the feminine part of his mind. To “the unknown” It is impossible to venture into the unknown without making oneself vulnerable. In the unknown there is potential. But there is also danger. 

A fox it was,
He shook afraid.
I spoke no words,
No sound he made.
His bone exposed,
His hind was lame.
I raised a stone to end his pain.

To me this is the narrator encountering himself. Or at least a part of himself. It is a part of his psyche that is injured and afraid. Fragile and fragmented. Possibly even his innocence or Inner child.  He is wounded. “His bone exposed, his hind was lame, I raised a stone to end his pain.” My interpretation of this is a suggestion of suicide. Too much damage has been done and he has decided the only thing he can do is to end his own pain my ending his life completely. 

What caused the wound?
How large the teeth?
I saw new eyes were watching me.
The creature lunged.
I turned and ran,
To save a life I didn't have.

Remembering that this interpretation is the idea of being lost in ones mind, an exploration “into the woods” the woods being the psyche.

This part starts with a question, or more accurately a thought. “What caused the wound?” He is questioning himself. How did he get here? What caused this pain? He is searching for answers. “I saw new eyes are watching me.” Something is lurking in the shadows of his mind...or perhaps he is seeing himself through new eyes. The “new eyes” watching him are his own. Just another part of himself. The darker part, the parts of himself that he doesn’t usually acknowledge. For me the creature here represents two things. One is depression. Depression is the creature that has caused him this pain..but it is also more than that. It is deeper than that. It represents the “shadow self”. The darker parts of the psyche. The cause of his depression. He is seeing himself. That ultimately it is him (or his shadow which is a part of himself) 

that has caused him this pain. He is the victim AND the villain. It is hard to look at the darker parts of oneself but it is also where you can find the most growth. The things you need to face are usually precisely where you don’t want to look. This realization is very difficult however. 

So he runs from it at first. To save “himself”. To “Save a life I didn’t have”  the change is difficult. He wants to go back to the man he was. But he can’t. That person is gone..that time is gone. Also now that he has seen himself. All of himself, there is no way back. He cannot save his old life or “old self” he is gone. 

Dear, in the chase,
There as I flew,
Forgot all prayers of joining you.

This part again could be referring to a specific woman. The same one from earlier in the song. “There as I flew, forgot all prayers of joining you”He is “flying” through his mind. Deeper into the woods. So intwined with his shadow that he forgot or gave up all hope of joining this woman or gave up hope completely. All thoughts of the potential of love or life were consumed. Replaced by only thoughts of fighting his shadow. Of making order from the chaos. He has truly disappeared now and when he reappears he will not be the same animal.

I clutched my life,
And wished it kept.
My dearest love,
I'm not done yet.

He has stopped running. He is holding onto himself. “My dearest love” Again appealing to the woman. Or to the potential of life itself. “I’m not done yet” He sounds defiant in this section. He is slowly regaining himself. He is refusing to give up. 

How many years,
I know I'll bear.
I found something in the woods somewhere.

This last part could be interpreted in a couple of different ways but to me it is again him feeling defiant or stronger. Especially when you take into account how the mood in the last portions of the song changes. It sounds more aggressive. “How many years, I know I’ll bear” Whatever is ahead of him he knows he can bear it. “I found something in the woods somewhere.”

He nearly didn’t make it. He came close to ending his pain. To ending his life and “disappearing” completely. But he chose instead to face the darkness. To face the pain. To face himself. To go deeper into the trees and  Integrate with his shadow. 

By disappearing into the woods (his mind) he managed to find himself and then reappear again as a new person. He has won the battle with himself. He has made order from the chaos and has climbed back up out from the darkness. Transformed. 

 
 

01. WRITER

Michelle Lukezic


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Half Moon Run:
Need It


04. WRITING

I promise to be provocative
Oxygen deprived, yet cognitive
Touch the neck, react, retract
I'll show you how, I want it bad

Want to need it, need to feel it
If we stop to think, don’t let it change the demeanor
I want to come, to press into
Fall through sheets, get lost in you

If we go deeper, we can disappear
Devour the goods, be black marketeers

 
 

01. WRITER

Edward Dolehanty


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Martha Wainwright: 
Proserpina


04. WRITING

The Letter Your Mother Never Wrote

I was wrong.
It is not for me to say who you should love, Nor should I feel inclined to set the perimeters of your relationship.

I was foolish.
I see now that I should not have tried to punish you, Nor was it right that I should attempt to punish all humankind for my own mistakes.

I was blind to the truth.
That you left on your own volition, abandoned me, is something I could never accept. Yet, here I still sit, alone.

Even more so,
I am sorry. Though in my heart I know the words have come too late.
I am sorry.  

 
 

01. WRITER

Bill Cleveland


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

LCD Soundsystem:
New York, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down


04. WRITING

you played this often,
wish my pains weren't my focus,
and listened to yours.

 
 

01. WRITER

David Beuthin


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Yuck:
Rubber


04. WRITING

i've been lost before. i've been left alone before. i've been so far from anyone i know that i couldn't find a single thing that reminded me of home.

except for you. i think of you.

it's hard to tell someone you love that it is time to be done. when they care so much, love so much and give everything they can for you. but when that time comes, your heart breaks. it breaks more than can be explained. you disappear. you become lost. left alone. so far from anyone that you can't find a single thing that reminds you of home.

except you. i come back to you.

 
 

01. WRITER

George Lukezic


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Bon Jovi:
Always


04. WRITING

Dear Missing You,

I don’t know why life seems so strange
When everything to you seems the same
Seems like minutes, hours, days, months go by
Since I heard you last say “Hi”
If there is a reason
Send me a text, give me a call and tell me why
So we can see if there is something we can try

Love,
I Don’t Know Why

 
 

01. WRITER

Andy Dalton


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

The Fireside Wake:
Last Words


04. WRITING

I’m cheating. This song is from an album I’ve been making for the last 5 years. It is not yet released, and only exists as a private soundcloud link for anyone interested in my words and music. In fact, this is the only song from said album I’ve ever made available to anyone in any fashion, outside of hanging out with me and asking to hear it. I really don’t like shoving my music down people’s throats - or any music down any throat for that matter.

This not-so-cleverly-titled song is the final piece of a 95 minute movement I’m calling my solo album. It was very difficult for me to write because it eschews any vagueness and is incredibly direct, introspective, and autobiographical in nature. I cope with terrible situations by writing about them. I feel uneasy every time I listen to this song, but I think it’s important to confront my demons, even if I’m not able to make sense of them.

When the theme of “disappear” was presented, my gut sank because that is exactly what this song addresses. Seemed a pity to waste something so apt. Thanks for letting me bend the rules.

Words and Music by me: Last Words
Well my mother’s on her deathbed
But we never got along
And it’s not my fault, for sure not hers
But it all just fell apart

Do I feel grateful, sad, or guilty?
Do I deserve to beat my heart?
Cause this attitude to battle you
Was the lesson you taught

And my friends are all laughing at me
In their subtle stupid ways
So I’m takin' a trip, I’ll need a morphine drip
And I may not e’er return

So when I wake up old & angry
When I wake up cold and gray
Roll me over, dear, in my shallow grave
And just make it disappear
Just make it disappear
Just make it disappear

 
 

01. Photographer

Dom Lopez


02. THEME

Disappear


03. MUSIC INSPIRATION

Grizzly Bear: Colorado