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Terrarium

by Paul Kotheimer

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1.
Terrarium 02:24
Turn your front porch into a 3-D mosaic labyrinth & then turn your sky into a deep blue velvet yurt with sparkling stars and when you can’t remember why you’re doing it, just try and remember that you’re doing it cause you’re doing it for free Roll up your garden bed and knead it into a loaf of fancy bread and dance your masterpiece for an empty auditorium of trees and when anyone asks why you keep doing it just answer by keeping on keeping on doing it for free-- Why bother writing more to this song? You get the picture Just keep doing it ... Consider for example a terrarium That microcosm in a jar Just set it in some sunny corner of the library for half a century and it grows and grows and there you are
2.
If Only I 03:50
So, for twenty-some years I’ve been writing this song: “If Only I…” Yes, and twenty-some years wouldn’t seem half as long if only I hadn’t worked and reworked it a million times, wrong. If only I… If only I… hadn’t spent all that money on cheap cabernet. If only I hadn’t stammered and stuttered when I knew what to say, or if only I had kept my big mouth shut and just walked away. If only I… If only I… could’ve done just what’s needed and then left it be. If only I hadn’t slipped on the patio and messed up my knee. If only I hadn’t yelled at my poor kid. God, he was only three. If only I… If only I… hadn’t smoked cigarettes for like 96 years. If only I hadn’t wasted all that energy grinding my gears. If only I hadn’t got so bogged down in my worries and fears. If only I… If only I… could have seen who was just using me as a pawn. If I could fix this damn mower I’d mow the damn lawn. I could have told Pop I loved him, before he was gone, if only I… If only I… Now, I could pile on more verses, as I’m sure that you know. If only I could get back down to sleep for an hour or so. If only I could just once figure out how to let it all go. If only I… If only I… If only I…
3.
Could be you've heard of how I died. Well, my ghost is here to tell you: That damn songwriter lied. He never pushed me in that river. Never held me til I drowned. And he never caught me cheatin on the wrong side of town. He never shot me down. But don't ask how. No, don't ask how. Better not ask how. It doesn't matter now anyhow, cause I ain't tellin.
4.
Let's Hang 02:52
Let’s hang. Yeah. You and me. Let’s swang a little thang Without a care in the world, And all our bills paid too— Ooh. At least until Tuesday. Let’s blow it off. No need to even give it a second thought. It doesn’t even have to rhyme. We know we work more than enough and now it’s half-past-fuck-this-shit o’clock. —Yeah, I just said that ‘cause that’s what time it is. [BRIDGE] So let’s relax and just forget about those little aches and pains. Yeah, let’s kick back and kick it and think of all those sweet sweethearts and friends —Good friends who keep you from going crazy. Let’s dance, maybe. Let those who wish to find romance, baby. —[1st time only: “Get a room, you two!”—] and take a world of care of your mind, dear friend of mine [2nd time: “and totally unwind”], and let’s just hang [into solo only: “and take it nice and easy.”]
5.
Just on your right there, you will see some of our gilded climbing ivy. It was painted by a very famous muralist and cost a zillion tax dollars. It broadcasts wi-fi, by the way, which we invented in that building over there. And just across the street, you might see adjuncts and their liberal arts grad students supping porridge in their ramshackle departmental houses. (Oh, the squalor! It’s just like Dickens. --Wait. You have heard of Dickens, haven’t you?… Well, you probably will… in English class.) I think they still have English class here at Universityland! On all those hillsides in the distance stand the various McMansions of the assistant vice chancellor’s assistant administrative executive team. (Tra-La!) And in those high-rise luxury campus condos live the children of some well-connected millionaires, all hanging out and doing some, like, higher learning stuff for a few years until it’s time to get a real job or whatever … with their top-rated, competitive, value-added, industry-recognized, esteemed, prestigious baccalaureates from (guess where!…) Universityland. Yes, and then on GAME DAY, our venerated symbol, the chicken-feathered warrior, does the awesome sacred tail-gating dance at the historic war memorial Insta-Bank Insurance stadium complex, while the thousand-member marching band stands at the 50-yard line playing “Hail Alma Mater,” “Superstitious” by Stevie Wonder, followed by “Never Gonna Give You Up, Never gonna let you down, Never gonna run around and desert U-niversityland.” DUDE! We are of course a 24-hour frat party school, with beer flowing all week long in every gutter, but don’t let that fool you. We totally do research. We’ve researched literally everything. And the results of our research is that our research will require ( - wait for it - ) additional funding. Generous, sustainable funding. Which is exactly why your friends down at the Tri-Campus Alumni Care Office have reached out to you electronically. We hope you’ll join us for our annual networking dinner/fundraiser gala and shoe-shine, where for a small fee you can pose smiling for a selfie with some of our first-round draft choice NCAA superstar athletes in the woody paneled, august-leather-chair comfort of the Old Student Union (which hasn’t changed one bit since the bygone days — except for the new food court.) So when you return to the wide open arms of our beloved Alma Mater, flanked as always by Learning and Labor … we will matriculate and convocate once more — Please swipe in your NetSecure credentials at the door and press one to begin the online course. Press pause at any time. Press pause again to resume. Welcome to Universityland.
6.
Gather and glean. It’s the end of the season. Soon even the turnips will freeze in the ground, so better gather and glean. Bundle and burn. Stay here by the wood stove. Soon each little river will bubble and flow again. ’Til then bundle and burn. Trickle and stir. The mud is grey, but greening. Soon One little hatchling will peck forth Toward the sunshine … … …
7.
8.
Well, my grandfather was born in Chicago in nineteen hundred and ten and he drove a bus for the CTA since before I can remember when. He'd get up for work about three in the morning and head out to the depot in the dark. As a kid, he sold seat cushions for a nickel at old Comiskey Park. Comiskey Park. Comiskey Park. Seat cushions for a nickel at old Comiskey Park.
9.
Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Ah, but ain't nobody innocent, so maybe I'm about to call you out by name. But I won't try to explain what exactly caused the incident. We could say it was an accident, and that way neither of us is to blame. And maybe I will steal your name and put it in this song. DJ will play it on the A.M. radio while I drive that freeway all night long. And no, that couldn't be the moon. I swear I just saw the moon go down. Must be some kind of radio tower spotlight shining down upon the town. Shining down upon the town. Shining down upon the town. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Ah, but ain't nobody innocent, so maybe I'm about to call you out by name.
10.
When spring turns to June and it's raspberry season, we'll be out in the yard for no particular reason: --"They're coming on in the alley and all along the train track" --"Got a pint from the side yard and almost a quart from out back." When it's raspberry season, all the kids that you meet got berry juice on their faces and purple on the soles of their feet. And all the folks with their mowers can keep a-cuttin' their grass. I'll be out in the yard, working nowhere as hard, with raspberry stains on my ass. Well, sure as spring turns to June, soon enough comes July, chasing after the ice cream truck or the flickering of the firefly. We got a good sturdy freezer full of raspberries galore. And every night we will spoon by the light of the moon, just like for seventeen summers before.
11.

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released March 13, 2019

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Paul Kotheimer Urbana, Illinois

For well over 30 years now, Paul Kotheimer has been writing songs. And then recording them. And then putting them together into albums.
At first, way way back in the actual 1980s, he used a cassette player and a microphone from Radio Shack. Now he's the proprietor of Pillow Monster Home Studio, complete with lots of musical instruments and recording gear and one actual pillow monster. YAY MUSIC!
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