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(the dog tape)

by Alexei Shishkin

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45k 02:00
Mornings are beautiful when you don't have to go. Stick around. Stay at home. Stay with me. We can be stoned. We can move boulders. We can get older and move around. But that would be dumb. Why would we keep moving? I think it would be soothing to settle down. I wake up and you're gone. It didn't take long.
I was moving slow motion all the time. I was living five miles from the ocean side. I wonder what happened when I was under. How does it get out of my brain? Stick me with a needle. I heard all the gods are equal, and I wonder why we wonder who to praise. Brain power talks to me for hours, talks to me for weeks and for days. And I felt amazing. I shriveled my brain up like a raisin in the sun, it could be the only one for me. That was then in a city of cement where you drive half an hour just to satisfy your friends, and when you're done drinking whiskey on a Tuesday, drive home drunk listening to Destroyer's Rubies. I was fine. I was talking to myself. The CD player helped.
I grew up in a town that was coastal, but I always lived 40 minutes from the beach, so I stayed in the shade on the Southside. Didn't go anywhere out of reach. This pale skin burns so easily. It's best to stay indoors. I don't need to see anything. No water, no sun, no more. Then I moved to Gainesville, Florida. It was hotter than a bitch. And I didn't learn a lot, but I learned a little bit. And I spent most of my time drinking liquor and smoking too much weed. But I guess that's everything college should be. Drove across the country. Couldn't find a job. After nine months, found one. Did it for a year or two, and I was done. I can never seem to stay in one place long enough to make a difference to anyone. 15 hours north. That was my due course. I ended up there on a whim. And it's been fun so far. Finding work's been hard. I guess it's always been.
Courts 03:36
I hadn't hit the bottom. They had seen me falling, and they yelled out, “Oh, we got him!” The autumn, it can also be the fall. I spring into things, and I never think about it at all. And it could do me some good to think of all the things I could be doing, But instead I'll sit in my room and be ruined. On a roof with my friends. a skyline filled with cigarettes. Climbing out of windows. Another day, I suppose. It wasn't anything new. Reminded me of you. I stood up. I looked at the moon. The ceiling was appealing with the stars that were punctured in the lungs of the people who were feeling without functions. Me, a space heater, and a guitar. Sitting in a bedroom. Falling apart. Sometimes I digress from what I'm talking about. It stresses me out!
Nothing ever changes. Nothing ever stops. All the same ingredients, and all of the same influences. And I was reading into it way too far. Took me a minute to start, but I couldn't stop. Now I just wanna know how do I slow it all down? Is there a way out? Pump the brakes. Makes some more mistakes along the way. All of your love, floating away. None of the ingredients. None of the influences. I was not reading into it far at all. I couldn't even start at all. Now I just wanna know how do I go anywhere at all? I'll pump the gas. I'll hope it lasts along the way.
Santa Cruz 02:34
You might not respond. You might not say anything at all. But I know in the long run, I'll eventually stumble and fall. And will I get back up again, or will I just stay down and then whine about it? I just need a minute to decide. Wrap my mind around it. And I hope you respond. I hope you say anything at all. I often confuse Santa Clara with Santa Cruz. And every once in a while, I get the California blues. But I don't miss the place. I mostly miss the people. And they told me that people get replaced. I guess I shouldn't have believed them.
Waking up on the floor again. Wondering where you are again. Remembering faces, weird arrangements. Nothing changes in my head. My vision is blurry again. And so I'm closing my eyes as I go. She's such a natural, and I always end up being the one asking all of the stupid questions. And I know it's actually hard to believe, but she ended up looking at me for at least a few seconds. So she closes her eyes as she goes. Get up! Get going! Get on! Get over it!
Wood Sheets 02:10
Don't be afraid of the new moon coming in. Don't be afraid of the skin that you may shed. It's natural to wonder what it's like to stay under even though you keep your eyes ahead. So, don't be afraid of the new moon coming in. Wood becomes sheets. Dirt becomes covers. Three brothers shovel. And I am right here struggling to comprehend things. And brothers they come shuffling, knowing that they're beneath. And I know I'm muddling up everything I speak, But I can't even wonder what's happening next. A line of slow cars, and you're right in the middle. There's a woman on her way to her husband. And you carry her there. One foot over the other. And the green pastures welcome her in forever.
Really I have modest dreams: A house with a balcony. I want to sleep for a month. I want to drive everywhere at once. I want to pay my rent in compliments this month. Am I going to end up a suburban dog? Just another one? I hope I won't be another dog!
Ghost God 03:44
What if god was just a ghost, and we were waiting in line? I refuse to figure out if we had a good time. I'd say, are you afraid? Are your hands remaining raised? The only year I'll be the talk of the town is the time I'm around. God ghost. I'm waiting.


"Alexei Shishkin‘s music exudes the kind of slacker vibes that only places like Los Angeles can help cultivate. He now lives in Portland, and wrote an album to help work out all the things that come along with such a drastic change of scenery." - Tim Thompson, PORTALS

"On “Santa Cruz,” he pines for some form of home and comfort that he used to know from when he lived in LA...Shishkin supports his wanderings with beautiful, impeccably arranged bedroom pop, diminutive and warm in its insecurities." - James Rettig, Stereogum

"shishkin’s debut single is a supremely-crafted piece of understated pop, replete with lazy syncopated drums, hollowed-out guitar chords, and a droning baritone skilled at both hesitant concessions and heart-felt confessionals." - Sam Clark, Dimestore Saints


released April 14, 2015

"Wood Sheets" lyrics by Abby Weiss
"Ghost God" samples Fjord Explorer
All other music and lyrics by Alexei Shishkin


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