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The California Recordings

by Laura Tuthall

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1.
Unchartable 03:59
Unchartable (2015) midnight on Claremont street late in May the sway of the flowerless branches against my petal skin I’m finally in a story worth singing about but pink is just shy red yeah pink is just shy red you used an anchor instead of your oars but I’m just the tide I won’t stay by the shore midnight at the crack park hiked up to the rock on the hill fit my body parts into the hollowest minerals lying on top of the world tied down to this course by the core of the earth you know that sink is just shy swim and I am the bucket your poured concrete in you made me an anchor instead of a storm but inside I’m the tide I won’t stay underneath the boat jingle bells on convenience store doors they mark the space between my place and yours I gotta kick off the shoes that the past four years were travelled in and yeah it hurts hurts hurts that I never heard you knocking at my door and now you’re taking the whole damn city with you you thought you knew where the x was where to point your compass and where to dig in the sand I tried hard to be a major key to stay still on the map but oh well I got trapped in the pull of it in the weight of all these words that seem to separate my sway from yours I gotta sync up gotta chart this thinking while I can before it lands on forever parallel streets back in June the truth buried somewhere but I don’t care you are the no to my nowhere my levee to break not a moment to lose not a second to waste ‘cause pink is just shy red and without the white paint I’ll stain with each breathe with each note with each step down each summer street yeah I’m me; what can tide do but drown back into the sea
2.
Dry 05:43
Dry (2015) moon over clay cracks in the ground where there used to be waterways I curled up so safe in the mud and woke to find dust stretching for miles neon lights over condo complexes trash in the streets where there used to be no directions gridwork pressed to the earth ‘til it’s flat, mathematic, and mild don’t look back I already erased all tracks with the wind in my lungs if you find yourself lost in the desert just know I left no melody to guide you home I lost my wings two winters ago but I tried very hard to stay me wake up at dawn with the parking brake on stuck at the end of a dead end road I took off my shirt and told you to count all the stars in my skin but you thought they were scars in the whole damn sky and I believed you fuck my life I wasted so much time giving all of my raindrops away when I should’ve been saving them surrendering dirt to metal and bone at the edge now looking down at an obvious absence of green you tried to blame me for flooding the fields but you never wanted the trees I like to stay in on Friday nights dance alone in my room drink red wine out the bottle and listen to Blue reminding myself this is “only a dark cocoon”… tune over time I keep trying to rewrite the world so I fit inside but each word I rain on ungrateful terrain ends up bleeding it dry sometimes I like me and sometimes I don’t but I’m done having to decide between worthless and worthwhile done counting the days ‘til I grow back more able to fly that’s that I’m never coming back I’ve got mountains to build I’ve got valleys to hollow and rivers to fill not one note left to undo this desert
3.
Daffodils 05:04
Daffodils (2016) dark red lips on a crowded train feeling pretty gets her through the pain strange men that reek of bad cologne and good cocaine think she was put there for them trying on different personalities like outfits for a date nothing’s quite right I wear it anyways scuffed up, fucked up never really good enough these pieces I have put together but I’ve got a job to do can’t stop to dig back through I just can’t quite see who is as blamable as me but then again, I’ve always been quick to stick the blade in my own gut before considering who really earned a cut I wonder if the fix I’ve been fishing for is stuck under the cicatrix, but I’ve got a job to do can’t stop to dig back through the wreckage I’ll just keep shaping plans and watch each castle turn to sand until the hole that I’ve been building from is deep enough to bury the mess I made with my dreams and vain attempts to bring them to fruition maybe I was drunk when I decided to pay them attention who was I to try to make the outside match the in think I was worth discovering and possibly worth sharing sometimes I can see that you’re as blameable as me or maybe more they tell me I’ve got sense enough to bet right when it comes down to it but I’d like to know for sure if the narrative I’ve put my faith in is fictional self-vindication no, I’ve got a job to do can’t stop to dig back I’ll just keep shaping plans and watch each castle turn to sand until the hole that I’ve been building from is deep enough to bury the mess I put my brain in dirt and took my body back inside to wait blindly for spring – they tell me I’ve got time enough to bet on getting better but it’s a risky, reckless play putting all my pieces back into one game – daffodils I sit alone in Madison Square Park I write some good shit down I walk around I hold my face up to the sun I dare the light to run I guess that these are good enough these pieces I have put together
4.
Darkroom 06:15
Darkroom (2016) same t-shirt for days I’m looking out my little window with my tired little eyes thinking of getting out getting outside getting my hands on everyone else’s time getting to move it’s like being locked in a darkroom with nothing to develop but your own dark thoughts and some old pictures in boxes that’s me I see running free on the golden hills but I don’t remember going there at all I woke up from a dream with the color of a melody I laid it out on the keys poured over and over I worked with dull hope for weeks and then months but the paint dried up the negative me that’s all I’m exposing a miniature, inverted version’s all that they see but that’s not enough for me I know what I could be and it’s so much – more a funny word for a bridge without its mainland out from the island edge to a foggy end lamenting at four in the morning a wish only death can free they say it’s like falling asleep but I’d have to stop dreaming trade in velvet synapses for blank abandoned staves same day on repeat I’m looking out I’m looking in I am remembering that paracosm girl she’s dead I miss her head the liquid thoughts the clouds beneath my feet being happy to be locked in my darkroom with nothing to develop but the landscapes inside me I went back to the dirt to the dry and worn out riverbeds I poured all my water down cried over and over I wet the dormant red it deepened and bled and I almost touched a delta but the negative me that’s all I’m exposing a miniature inverted version’s all I can see but that’s not enough for me I know what I could be and it’s so much – more a funny word for a structure not yet heard by years out from the neuron edge to a network of unknown gears composing at four in the morning a gift only life can leave and trusting that time will expand what now is still stuck in REM sleep and incomplete conduits like swallows bent south like seedlings bent skyward that’s how I’ll be making myself: day by day by day

credits

released April 11, 2018

All music and lyrics composed and performed by Laura Tuthall
Engineered by Lee Ray at Joe Weed’s Highland Studios
Los Gatos, CA
August – September 2017

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Laura Tuthall New York

A self-taught songwriter and musician, Laura is also an accomplished poet, visual artist, and dancer. She graduated from the Boston Conservatory in 2015, while coming to terms with a life-changing medical diagnosis, Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Now a disabled artist, Laura lives in Brooklyn, where she manages her condition and generates multifaceted work with her distinctive set of skills. ... more

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