Reliable Temp

by Sam Bodary

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about

If you're able, I'd humbly ask you to pay whatever you think it's worth, though don't sweat it if you can't. Your time spent listening is worth quite a lot to me already. So thank you. Seriously. Thank you.

Recorded at Pinckney Pines one week in the middle of August 2014.

credits

released 03 January 2015

Songs written and performed by Sam Bodary.

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Track Name: Good Lady Entropy
Overshadowed by the things we’re told
We chase each other through our ventricles
In nooks of ill repose
We pose ourselves akimbo
Casting compost into self-conscious prose

What a burden it is to eat
I stuff myself just to sleep
But when I wake up the burden repeats
Never leaving me free
A Brown-eyed young writer to be

So I guess I’ll have to speak
My mind to good lady entropy
I'll ignore her little smile
Turn the key and say thanks for the ride

But there's barely time to breathe
Our eyes draw lines of need
And nothing else will matter, no,
Once I’m caught in her undertow
With toe to toe and cheek to fading cheek
And beneath this couch we’ll misplace irony

What a curiosity
When my heroes chastise me
As I leaf through their pages and read
Torn asunder by the thundering neat freaks
From the biceps to obliques

So I guess I’ll have to seek
My answers in the campus library
Staring up up at the shelves
All those surnames so potentially ourselves

And all the men tell me
You’re young and still naïve
You’ve years to work and life to breathe
Before you write good poetry
Cause nothing you sing now will ever last
No nothing you play now could ever last
Track Name: Frogs, Flies, & I-65
Paint me with skin white and hairless
Fetch me fingers pale and wrinkly
Let me crawl on the ground
All sides ankles abound
Brush rake my knees
Mulch the dirt beneath me
Businessmen cross isthmuses
In the kitchen
Plucking out hairs
That crawl everywhere
Back to Dayton
As boys cut down weeds and
Climb up trees

Lease me cheeks cracked and rosy
Tie my arms to the high school
Show me the men who can’t cry
Never any reasons why
Scream at the red brick wall
Cause boys play basketball
But you’re a virgin lover of modern fiction
You don’t trust men who cover their contradictions
And pay for their mistakes in free rebates

Fashion me caffination
And absentee infatuation
Rend me incomplete
Starve me ever patiently
I will succumb
To most anyone
With necks that smell of old bookshelves
Back in Newport
And lips that smile at lonely pedophiles
On the levee
Who stare me down with sober intuition

Melt me down to a bottle
Sculpt me with soft enamel
To a charming black relief
Then burn me by that street
Convince everyone you meet
You don’t regret a thing
Leaving us all to perpetually fall
Back in Nashville
Forever appalled at the mess of it all
Off of Acklen
Where you made up all these mundane stories

Tell the living room
You’ll be home soon
You’re just saying hi to the frogs and the flies
Back in Newport
Past I-65 to the west of Cincinnati
Track Name: Flamenco on the Radio
Unjust temporality stops me when I try to breathe the scenery
With a sugary sincerity I'm back to my to do list after this stop and frisk
But by the time the light is off the sun is bryter later than it was just then
And that wistful brown-eyed daughter just behind her failing father disappears from me, nothing to see, blame temporality

She says daughters are just potters hoping someone stops and takes the time to look around
But young male window shoppers always break pots in her sweet shop and walk away
So she's working from home now, taking photos and uploading her wares online
Seeking sublimation and some odd choice incantations in estate sale lines

If I lay myself to sleep
Will life catch up to me
I'm waiting outside the house
I'm in my parent's grey van
Flamenco on the radio
Will I die alive

And the man with white hairless legs from countless years in pants with pleats and button flies
Stands idly by the boys on the court, wasting their sweat between the service lines
Oncology, herbal teas, and hidden knee injuries they keep him up at times
Then shove him down the escalator tear his sweaters turn back and yell see you later

He says family is mutual responsibility shaped by habit
He says money only makes you happy only if you lack it
And pleasantries and kindly deeds are more for me than any fool that believes me when I say that
So please my daughter don't I every catch you saying that

Maybe he thinks
If I lay myself to sleep
Will life catch up to me?
I'm waiting outside the house
I'm in my parent's grey van
Flamenco on the radio
Sweat in the stitching of the steering wheel
Fingers in the window fog
Will I die alive?

And right now underground I'm sure a couple dozen boys discover suicide
They laugh and cry and lie there hoping that they're not the last ones left alive tonight
With teenage glows and menstrual woes they'll stumble up and out the pit of adolescent life
Wake up the next day still high,
hung out to dry like cowhide on the low tide of sunrise
braced to find, whatever's left to find, what their mothers left behind

If I lay myself to sleep
Will life catch up to me?
I'm waiting outside the house
I'm in my parent's grey van
Flamenco on the radio
Sweat in the stitching of the steering wheel
Fingers in the window fog
Seats they're all bowing down behind me
Spent rubber in the fast food cup
Will I die alive?
Track Name: Recipes
Sons tear all the covers off of the bed now
Wake up your fathers
The ghosts rubbing their eyes stuck in the closet
Live on the porch now
With papers in tow

With bills for water and wifi
Things you never knew were sold
Cause nobody told you

Girls grab his old tools nail the wet plywood
Over the windows
The world is weathering down your ramshackle fortress
Made on the weekends
Hiding from friends

And family
No trace of his recipes
Just all these old magazines

Trash ebay or donate
Let’s make some piles
Then get back to our lives
The sooner we die the sooner they eulogize
In white-lies and sound bites
Make us sound nice
Track Name: Lullaby for Emerson Danielle
I hope you never hear this
I hope you’re fast asleep
I hope your eyelids flutter
With every colorful dream
I hope you teach my sister
To love her lack of sleep
I hope you melt her mister
To puddles at your feet

I hope you grow up slowly
So I have time to see
How cells divide and conquer
How one and one make three
I hope you fight your mama
And throw all the food that she wants you to eat
I hope you yell at daddy
When all you need
All you both need is sleep

I hope find somebody
To love you blind and young
But when they up and leave you
I know you’ll plod along
I hope you scare your father
When you leave the place you’re from
Your mother waving goodbye
What a woman you’ll become

So go to sleep
Emmy you need
Plenty of energy
Track Name: Living Things
I am not a painter but I like to play with colors I can see
Holding two dimensions in my left hand while I set the other free
And no its not a masterpiece but each one seems a little more complete
And it helps me calm my nerves and it makes it easier to go to sleep

I am not a lover but I like to love some people quietly
Listening to couples talk in coffee shops while I sit down to read
I don’t know if envy has any locomotive properties
But I’ll shovel green into the fire in that engine room and make them scream

And I won’t be known as a doer of anything
I'll just work behind the scenes making lives a bit more lovely

I am not a thinker, but I like to think you think about me too
And if that isn’t true I’d like to think I’d wanna hear that from you
But I think I know too well that I’d rather make a fort in my living room
Make a sign, say no girls inside, convince myself its not a tomb

And I won’t be known as a doer of anything
I’ll just sit there on the stairs taking notes on the living things
And I won’t be known as a doer of anything
I’ll just sit there on the stairs taking notes on the living things