1. |
Me and My Mental Health
04:18
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They’re killing activists on the internet again and you’re scared that all the governments are getting in on the trend. I don’t mind, I spend a lot of time concerned with my sense of self. It’s a fickle kind of getting by, me and my mental health. We don’t have trust, we’ve been living so gloomy, it’s all been going so smoothly, what could ever go wrong? We’ve been letting it rust, we had a shiny connection, but I can’t change the direction, so I keep scrolling along.
I spent my Sunday buying clothes that I’ll outgrow, this jacket sewn by children out of fairly traded wool. I don’t mind I spend a lot of time putting books back on the shelf, ‘cause knowing things does nothing for me and my mental health. We’ve been letting things go, we’ve been living so easy, I’ve been feeling so sleazy, I’ve been punching down. We’ve been taking things slow, we track our progress in stages, while kids are sleeping in cages, and we’re just sleeping around.
I don’t need drugs, I don’t need hugs, I don’t need vision boards to taunt me with my goals, I don’t need jokes, I don’t need quotes, I’m still the same, just filled with blame and empty holes.
We’ve been living so weak, we’ve been taught to be greedy, I’ve been feeling so needy, I’ve been staying inside. It’s been getting so bleak, It’s getting harder to listen. We’re finding comfort in distance, and choosing to hide.
The decade’s done with, and online they’re making lists of all the pointless posts we’re proud of, and all the experts we dismissed. I don’t mind I spend a lot of time feeling fewer and refusing help from these outstretched arms around me, me and my mental health.
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2. |
Night Baker
03:37
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The night baker leaves the lights on in the basement even though he never goes down there. The night baker; once a Christian, now a Quaker leaves his shoes on when he walks downstairs. Still he doesn’t believe in ghosts, and he’s not afraid of the dark. He just doesn’t want anyone to watch him while he falls apart.
The night baker steals a kilogram of cinnamon; more than he will ever need. The night baker; once a giver, now a taker. If only he had mouths to feed. Since she told him she couldn’t stay, and he didn’t have the strength for a fight, it’s been months now since she moved away, and since he started working nights.
The sourdough sarcastically mocks him, the bagels they beg him to stay, the gluten-free flour calls out once every hour: “hey night baker are you okay?”
The night baker finds another baked teenager on the doorstep asking for some bread. The night baker knows he’ll one day meet his maker once the voices quiet in his head and he can finally become a ghost, free of drugs that were never prescribed. He’ll never be insulted by toast, he can lie and watch the bread rise.
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3. |
Blockbuster
04:31
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Blockbuster
Palmerston Ave, February 2020.
I still think about our best years. I’m not sure what’s worse to live in them, or watch them disappear. I sought comfort when I came here. You got stubborn so I stayed around to watch the tension clear.
We used to watch the cars pass by. We’d stay out late at night getting caught while we were getting high. The streetlights made us mellow. We would dance around the yellow, now we dodge the LED and waste our time on ‘used to be’.
Sometimes I bike towards your folks’ street not ‘cause I mean to but the habit still weighs heavy on my feet. I follow cracks inside the concrete, I circle back in time to realize I prefer to be discreet.
We used to watch the cars pass by. We’d stay out late at night getting caught while we were getting high and maybe rent a movie, get lost in something gloomy but all the Blockbusters closed. Didn’t know I’d be missing those.
I see your sister getting groceries, I watch our old friends lose control, I see your ex around, and she’s still filling holes that you left her with when you told her you can’t handle it.
We used to watch the cars pass by.
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4. |
Weatherman
04:55
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It was a grey and gloomy cold September day when you walked into our homeroom. You were tall and sophisticated. You were sad in a pretty way. You were bright against the sky’s gloom. As you sat down at your desk, I tried to play it cool. I couldn’t believe I was meeting my future in high school. So I tapped you on the shoulder, as you turned I could smell your hair. You said “Hi.” And I forgot why I was standing there.
In the summer the sun was hot, the UV gave me hives. I spent my days beside the wading pool. Ever selfless, you got a job in a white chair saving lives. I tried to drown so I’d need a rescue. As you tried to get a grip on my chlorinated skin, I tried to speak through all the water I had taken in but I couldn’t. I just lay there and coughed as you rolled your eyes you said to the crowd: “does anyone know this guy?”
If I was your weatherman in your kitchen every day, not a meteorologist just someone pointing out the rain. I’d be on your favourite morning show, I’d have that local kind of fame. I could be your weatherman, you would know my name.
By winter, the ground was bare the snow still hadn’t showed and all the ice up north had melted. You were at the pipeline march blocking traffic in the road and once again I felt connected. As I ran to join the crowd, I couldn’t help but be surprised the cops were binding all your wrists with plastic ties. So I offered up my hands, we’d be locked up together in bliss. You said “no, not him, he just got here, he’s not part of this”
But if I was your weatherman in your kitchen everyday I want to be your weatherman, and host the Santa Claus parade. Won’t you let me be your weatherman? You’ll never have to be afraid of all those meteorologists and their forecast for rain. I’d be on your favourite morning show, I’d have that local kind of fame. I could be your weatherman, you would know my name. Our kids will say “that’s my dad, the weatherman, everyone knows his name.” So won’t you let me be your weatherman?
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5. |
Likewise
04:08
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You’ve changed. You’re thinner. Is this strange? It’s just dinner. You’re on guard. I know I have myself to blame. Is this hard? We paused to ponder as the waitress came. Still I see you and I feel the same. “Likewise”, you replied. I was trying to make you understand I was glad you arrived. Still I fumbled through my sweat-stained hands and said It’s so nice to see you - I can’t believe it’s been so long.
“Likewise,” you replied.
I heard you got kids. I heard you had a husband once. He hit the skids? I can’t imagine that was fun. Your eyes roll. You tell me “that’s not how it went”.
How could I know?
“You couldn’t even pay the rent”
Still I think of you as innocent.
“Likewise,” you replied. “I’m the product of the life you chose, I’m not mad, just surprised.” We sipped our coffee as the tension rose, and as my open my mouth betrayed me, searching for a reason why.
“Likewise,” you replied.
Now I’m whole, though I know I wasn’t then. Time took its toll, I’m finally on my feet again. I’m older and I was thinking we’d be friends. “Likewise,” you replied. “I’ve been searching for a different way we could frame both our lives.” As you smiled, I spoke this truth so plain: You know, the one thing I can’t shake is, I never got to say goodbye.
“Likewise,” you replied.
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6. |
I Love You and I'm Sorry
04:57
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I didn’t hear the dog get up she’s been keeping me from sleeping in. She’s been teaching me to loosen up, I’m still working on my listening. If I need reminding, I hope that you’re finding a reason to believe that when I get complacent, you’ll still have some patience left before you leave. If I’ve been mean, I’ll try to make my words less stormy but before you go to sleep, I love you and I’m sorry.
I let the towels pile on the floor there’s more mold than there was before. My boots puddle up the hallway and I leave the seat up always. If I need reminding, I hope that you’re finding a reason to believe that If I lack direction you won’t lose affection for who I try to be. If i’ve been mean you make an easy target for me but before you hold your peace, I love you and I’m sorry.
I’m a broken record It doesn’t make me better or make me a better man. We won’t live like this forever, you remind me you understand. Sometimes I hate it when you understand.
If I need reminding, I hope that you’re finding a reason to believe that I know I need fixing ‘cause I love contradicting the lessons we receive. If I’ve been mean I’ll work to make my moods less stormy. Until the words run out of steam, I love you and I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry.
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7. |
Class of '99
04:05
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Did you hear about Richard? He got richer and moved away. Met a woman in Montreal, now he calls home everyday ‘cause Richard made plans. He couldn’t stand six months of snow. Instead he settled for four in Ontario.
The hallways aren’t so tall anymore and the smokers don’t open. Still the building doesn’t weather, we;’re no better the second time so we raise a glass to the class of ’99.
Laura never looked backwards, we weren’t so good to her back then. She left school on the first of June in her boyfriend’s Chevy van. Laura drove to the coast she planted trees ‘till thirty-five. She might have never found love, but at least she’s still alive.
Tight lipped, and frosted-tipped, Raphael is the belle of the ball. Long lost, and double-crossed, Eliza is lit and reeks of alcohol. Those of us that stayed here to drink this warm beer and warmer wine, never quite left the class of ’99.
Bobby had a baby, Jane pretends she’s still sixteen. Her and Dick spent their senior year making out after chemistry. Charlie catches Jade starring, unaware of her wife at home. Tommy wonder’s what if while Sophie drives home alone.
It’s not so short of a fall anymore, the smokers doors are all broken. We make small talk about the weather, we’re no better the second time still we raise a glass to the class of ’99.
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8. |
Get So Mad
05:14
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Remember the sound of the icey snow coming cross the lake? We tried to be proud of the choices we got forced to make. We came in and got colder, I pondered getting older. We collapsed in a pile of blankets to plot our next mistakes. You tell me I don’t need to say a word, you tell me I’ll be fine. I tried losing religion, I tried sweet indecision I get so mad when they make you cry. I tried mental compartments, I tried shooting at targets, still I get so mad when they make you cry.
Remember the air thick with sentiments we refused to know, politely aware of the cards we played and the truth we’d sown. You said “its getting so ugly”. Your honesty, it stunned me. The frost of our breath hung so heavy parading down the road. You tell me I don’t need to say a word, you tell me I’ll be fine. I tried spending my money, I tried calling you honey. I get so mad when they make you cry. I tried smoking and penance, I tried green tea and incense. Still I get so mad when they make you cry.
If I was strong, I would fabricate a list instead of all the times I was wrong, and all the circumstantial fires we fed. I would try to remember. I would lobby September. Still you stare at the stucco’d ceiling and whisper “go back to bed”. You tell me I don’t need to say a word, you tell me I’ll be fine. I tried drinking less whiskey, I’m still reminded you miss me and I get so mad when they make you cry. I tried long form debating, you said "I don’t think I need saving” still I get so mad when they make you cry.
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9. |
A Song Called Blame
04:20
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I use the season, I use the smoke, I use the terrifying trial of my elegant denial that I’m not losing hope. I stopped the saying, I stopped the sound, I stopped the simple meditation that I’ll use my education someday and make somebody proud. ‘Cause I’ve got reservations, and I’m still insecure. I’m been imitating darkness to hide I’m not sure. At least I’ve still got blame, they’re all I can find. They’re soft and they’re sweet and they tell me that I’m right all the time ‘cause if I’ve still got blame then no one can see all the whole that were left by my pride when it walked out on me.
I’m a doormat, I’m a cliche like the joke that you told when you said I looked old and we both didn’t know what to say. Sometimes I’m desperate, sometimes I’m alright, sometimes I can’t get out of bed and pull the hair out of my head some days I lie awake and wait for the light and count my limitations. They make me insecure, I’ve been acquiescing hindsight to hide that I’m not sure that I’ll persist with blame. They’re all I demand. They’re soft and they’re sweet and they tell me no one else understands ‘cause if I’ve still got blame no one can see all the holes that were left by my pride when it walked out on me.
You never said goodbye, you never said I’m needed, you never said I’m sorry, I’m on the floor defeated. You never said you’re wrong, you never said you’re right, I know it won’t be long, I’d like to sleep tonight. Instead I sleep with blame, they’re all I got left. They’re soft and they’re sweet and they tell me I should still be upset. ‘Cause if I’ve still got blame, no one can see all the holes that were left in the lie that you walked out on me.
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10. |
Summertime Blues
04:07
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I wanted to say, when I’m not okay I’m barrelling through. You can leave me alone you don’t need to phone me I’m not sad I’m just blue. I was looking for something to live for, I wasn’t looking for something to lose. When the springtime came and I stayed the same I was introduced to the summertime blues.
My voice cracks now and then, I get tired before ten, and I sing out of tune. I get stressed by the sun, I get high and undone to suppress my good moods. You took what I was hoping to live for I always thought I’d get to choose but when the springtime came and withheld the rain it reinforced my summertime blues.
I wanted to say that I miss you. I wanted to say I give in. I wanted to say it was fun while it lasted. I want to begin again. I want to be kids again. I’m still looking for something to live for. Next time I won’t be so confused. When the springtime comes I’ll be the only one to build a home for their summertime blues.
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Jacob Brodovsky Winnipeg, Manitoba
Jacob Brodovsky is a singer-songwriter, summer camp director, and college radio host from Winnipeg, MB, Treaty One Territory.
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