Confidence!

  Apparently my energies work mainly only in opposition.  Too much comfort, complacency and a lack of anyone knowing what I'm up to or nor caring?  Lethargy.  Opposition?  We're good to go.  Opposition to other people's doubts and quibbles, opposition to looming deadlines, budget problems, people flaking out and letting one down, and technical problems.  Jack White would be in strong agreement.

  I vented, got it together and did another song.  Did a bunch of "Neil Young with Crazy Horse loud" guitars which seemed to blow a winter's worth of soul-crap straight out through the wall of my apartment and all over the cars in the parking lot.  Also did shakers, acoustics, bass guitar, fiddly leads and backing vocals, because once again there was no one here but me to do that.

  This song when I've recorded it in the past has been a bit church-music, cheerful, cheesy acousticky, or a bit lazy, Rolling Stonesey.  I took it straight down sludge street this evening.  Actually broke a sweat, too.  The B.C. Rich Warlock was roaring through the Vox tube amp.  The neighbour, fortunately, wasn't home, so I could turn everything up to 2 and flail away.  Her cat (sounds Siamese) was screaming through the door at me as is his wont when I went into the hall on my way to get a sub from Subway across the street.  I decided to stick a mic in front of her door and record the cat screaming and put it in the background throughout the song.  I could picture that being awesome. Typically, as soon as the mic was brought, he shut right up and wouldn't make a peep.

  When I wrote it, the words were in deadly earnest, and I can't say I don't feel like this anymore either.  Obviously, it's to God:

Who Are You Anyway?

I know you're not like Santa Claus, although you know who's naughty or nice

I don't say "I've been good all year, so give me this."  You don't have a sleigh, do you have advice?

'Cause I can't help but wonder because I just don't understand

I don't know who you are anymore I don't even know who I am

But I've been bad all year.

I know you're not like Jupiter. You're more than Zeus in one of his bad moods

Sometimes you help, sometimes you smite, most times I don't get a reason why

Although I don't wish to be rude, sir

The calves are bloody.  Guess I tripped and fell.

I know you're not like my father, although your standards are almost as high

If I'm your son, I'm more prodigal than prodigy, I'm scared to come home and I don't know why

This all sounds like teenaged angst but I need some answers now

I didn't get too many then, but I'm asking you anyhow

Who are you anyway?  And who am I?