Note to self: only record demos of your songs when you’re really tired, or really sick, or both.

I recorded a song I wrote last spring while sitting on the porches of the 3rd Street Co-op. I didn’t have any paper so I wrote the lyrics on both of my thighs. I biked all the way down Georgia Avenue, from Eckington to Takoma, worrying the whole time the ink on my legs would run, and of course it did, and some of the original words were lost. I got home sometime after 4 AM, in that grey, hazy, overcast state where you’re not sure what you’re closer to, night or day, and as the birds start singing, you realize you’re not sure how long they’ve been singing for, and you’re not sure if you can lay your head down on your bed before the sun pierces your eyes…but luckily this was at Bananarchy #1, and I slept in the basement.

Anywho, this song’s called “Notes On My Skin.” It’s about not being able to be close to the people you want to be close to…in the spirit of Valentine’s Day.