Baddog - Archived Blog Posts

[Baddog]

Yeah, this is a story of a famous dog
For the dog that chases its tail will be dizzy
These are clapping dogs, rhythmic dogs
Harmonic dogs, house dogs, street dogs
Dog of the world unite!
Dancin' dogs
Yeah
Countin' dogs, funky dogs
Nasty dogs (Dog)
Atomic dog

Like the boys
When they're out there walkin' the streets
May compete
Nothin' but the dog in ya
Bow-wow-wow-yippie-yo-yippie-yeah
Bow-wow-yippie-yo-yippie-yeah
Bow-wow-wow-yippie-yo-yippie-yeah
Bow-wow-yippie-yo-yippie-yeah

Ruff
Ruff
Ruff
Why must I feel like that?
Why must I chase the cat?
Nothin' but the dog in me.

 

[Baddog]

Almost midnight and New York City is wrapped in a pea-soupy fog. I'm stomping through puddles of moonlight, howling like a wolf, and people think of opening their windows to yell "shaddup!" but something tells them not to, and they draw the curtains closed instead.

I climbed a lamppost and sat like a gargoyle for awhile and made a crown out of an old newspaper, some pigeon feathers and broken glass.
A slow drizzle brought steam floating off the pavement to meet the fog and the shoes of a man with an umbrella went:

click clack, click clack,

...and I thought maybe there was a message for me in those sounds but I couldn't figure out what it was.

When he was gone, I climbed down and collected three bottle caps and a beer can that I twisted into tiny strips. I tied the strips and caps and the rest of the broken glass to pieces of string and hung them from my ribcage like chimes, and whenever a breeze blew, some silvery, tinkly music would drift up through my mouth.

For a couple of minutes I crouched on a fire hydrant and watched the traffic light turn the street from red, to green, to yellow and then back again but I got bored and followed a dog that was lost and stole an apple from the fruitstand on 7th Avenue.

Right now I'm hanging from a tree with one hand, holding this page against the trunk with the other and writing this with my teeth. A lazy breeze is blowing in off the river and sending the jingling music out of my mouth and swirling around these words and I wished I knew how to spell that sound, cause then I'd always be able to find my way back to this very same night and maybe...,

maybe I could bring you with me....

 

[Baddog]

Well it's Ninth and Hennepin and all the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are on the sky Like a tarp thrown all over this
And the broken umbrellas like dead birds And the steam comes out of the grill
Like the whole goddamn town's ready to blow...
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos And everyone is behaving like dogs
And the horses are coming down Violin RoadAnd Dutch is dead on his feet
And all the rooms they smell like diesel And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat...