Creativity is destiny

In art, your way is the only way

Home
About Me
Eric's Bio
Novels
Essays
Poetry
Radio Plays
Stories
Music
Art
Contact Us
Site Map
Eric's Journal
Philosophical Writings
Bach's music could fit into a week.  Mine fits in an hour...
 
Music
 
 
While the new wave musical tsunami inundated NY's lower east side, a half a world west, I sat on a busted seat in a bus without shocks, banging down the hard, dry roads of the Tunisian sahel.   As a coral sun rose over the gray dawn of the dun desert, my eyes burned after a sleepless weekend, and the melodic line and lyric of my first song slid like a sidewinder across my mind.  Simply and unexpectedly, song-writing, like an invading species with no natural enemies, came into my life. 
 
The Erotics Want You to Come was my band's slogan during the NY new wave rock and roll wars in the '80s.
 
To hear recordings of my songs click this:
From First Song

Song, song, song,
It doesn't make it very long,
But still there's so much singing
in the park.
 
You may  think that it's sad,
but thinking doesn't change a thing:
              
                          Song is noise and noise is life,
                          so love it when it's bad...
              
From Mary Jane
 
Mary Jane, she went insane,
put a pistol to her belly and shot 3 times.
Blood was everywhere but Mary Jane survived,
singing, "I can't even die to save my life!"
 
You got to live it till it's over,
keep the feeling alive.
You can't ask for nothin',
like and death will find you,
so keep the feeling alive...
 
 
 

 
 From Winter Days
              
              Those winter days,
               they keep on goin';
               it's summertime but
               the cold wind is blowin':
               I can't shake em'--
               those winter days,
               they've got a hold on me.
       
               Winter days,
               bluer in the sunshine,
               Win or lose,
               I can't keep from sighing,
               Birds are singing,
               but all I hear is lies.
                       
               Read Sing!
              

From Next Ice Age

 
Run, run, run.
But there's no escape.
Everybody's running
to the next earthquake.
 
Three Mile Island's sinking
Our ignorance is thinking.
It was built too fast--
we'll be cursed to see it last.
 
Next ice age,
Run, Run, Run...
 
 
From Hustle Me
 
You hustle me
I hustle you.
Ripping each off's
the only thing we do...
 
Hustle me, baby,
got nothing but love.
Hustle me, honey,
you know I can't get enough.
You try to snow me,
it's nothing but rain.
It's all the same,
it's all the same...