Wanna Fly (Kara's Plea)

Desperate Times Song Book Series: Part 4 (In Our Ongoing Series)

Wanna Fly (Kara's Plea): Music & Lyrics by Kara Thrace's Secret Death Wish. The first purely audio selection in our ongoing songbook series is taken from Kara Thrace's Secret Death Wish: A Heart-Pounding Musical Journey through the mind of the most Murderously Courageous, Insubordinately Bloody, Deviously Sexy Viper Pilot in the Universe.

Recorded at Stockholm Street Studios by Kara Thrace's Secret Death Wish & The Secret Cylon Club 12/30/08

(TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES: AUDIO COMING SOON)

Kara Thrace's Secret Death Wish 1/2/09 @ 169 Bar

Just a reminder to come check out Kara Thrace's Secret Death Wish on January 2nd at 9pm a 169 bar... in all likelihood I'll go on around 9:15/9:30, but show up at 9.
Here's some visual enticement to get you in the mood for the show:

Agnostic Christmas Shoes

Desperate Times Song Book Series: Part 3 (In Our Ongoing Series)

Agnostic Christmas Shoes: Music & Lyrics by Eric March

Performed by Jared Weiss, Eric March, Featuring Lauren Marcus and the Secret Cylon Club (Dave Campbell, Arvi Sreenivasan and Bowen Salkin) at Ars Nova's A.N.T. FEST 11/17/08

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

Desperate Times Songbook Series: Part 2 (In Our Ongoing Series)

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home): Sung by Darlene Love from the 1963 Christmas Gift for You from Phil Spector. The song was written by Phil Spector, along with Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, with the intentions of being sung by Ronnie Spector of The Ronettes. According to Darlene Love, Ronnie Spector was not able to put as much emotion into the song as needed. Instead, Love was brought into the studio to record the song which became a big success over time and one of Darlene Love's signature tunes.

The song was also used during the main titles for the film Gremlins.

Watch Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home) as performed by Joe Iconis and his merry band of musical theatre punks (Annie Golden, Jason "Sweettooth Williams, Lance Rubin, Matt Hinkley, Brent Stranathan, Ian Kegey, Nick Blaemire, Jason Tam, Krysta Rodriguez, Lauren Marcus, Katrina Rose Dideriksen, Lorinda Lisitza, A.J. Shively, Badia Farah, Melanie Field, Rich Krakowski, Jeremy Morse, Eric William Morris, The Kissin Kazoo Sisters (Sarah Glendening & Liz Lark Brown), and yours truly Jared Weiss) at The Joe Iconis Christmas Spectacular @ Ars Nova on 12/17/08.

When work comes before family at the North Pole

Lorinda Lisitza as an inebriated Mrs. Claus & Jason "Sweettooth" Williams as Santa from the Joe Iconis Christmas Spectacular at Ars Nova 12/17/08 (cameos by Jared Weiss as An Elf & A.J. Shively as the biblical figure Joseph of Nazareth)

The Virtues of Sleep Deprivation

Eighty-eight hours now. 88! It's almost been eighty-eight hours without sleep. I don't know why or how I do it, but something wills me to stay awake. Strike that, something wills me to not sleep. My body wants sleep. Head feels heavy, eyesight is blurry, hazy. My brain feels swollen. It is swollen and begs to be itched. It begs to be shut down. I say no. It asks again, politely. I say "No, you must stay on." It asks why. I say, "because, otherwise we might miss something."
"Like what?" my brain responds.
"Like what," I say with all the confidence of a grade-A snake oil salesman "like, lots of things. I don't have to explain myself to you."
I think my display of righteous indignation may have upset my brain. In an act of unwarranted retaliation, my head began to throb. I refuse to give in. I refuse to go to sleep. There's still something I need to do, something I have to get done before I pass out. I don't know what it is.

My body requires rest. My head requires rest. But my soul wills me to stay awake. It wills me to retaliate against my brain. I say no. My soul punches me in the face. I don't mind the pain and I hesitate for a solid ten minutes before I get up for a paper towel to stop the bleeding. There was never any need for a premature paper towel. I enjoy the blood. The blood dripping down the side of my cheek feels warm, like a crimson colored satin blanket on a hearty Christmas Eve.
Failing to get my attention with a solid right hook to the face, my soul punches me in the stomach. Doubled over in pain, I smile and laugh through my tears. My soul is confused and leaves the room.

Only my body and mind left... and me of course. The place feels bigger, emptier, yet Without my soul I feel suffocated, delirious and most certainly on the brink. However confused or angry it may be, it is still my soul, a human soul... and therefore a soul worth saving.

Kara Thrace's Secret Death Wish 1/2/09 @ 169 Bar

She has a tragic flaw and I'd like to share it with you all...

Come to 169 Bar January 2nd to continue the New Year celebration and rock out with:

KARA THRACE'S SECRET DEATH WISH: a fast paced musical journey through the mind of the most murderously courageous, insubordinately bloody, deviously sexy viper pilot in the universe. There will be guitars, harmonicas, maniacal shouting, an out of tune piano, hot chicks making out (byohc), and maybe even a hand drum. What more could you ask for?!

What better place to celebrate the season than at a dive bar on the lower east side with me and a bunch of people you barely know? Exactly, sounds amazing right? Musical Odyssey through deviously sexy viper pilot’s mind, good tunes, good people you don’t know... you get all of this for only six dollars! Now, I know what you’re thinking... You’re thinking: "Holy Shit Jared, I just got massively screwed by a credit default swap gone horribly wrong and six bucks is a lot of money right now... with six bucks I could get like, six cup o’ noodles, or purchase three and a half shares of AIG." Friends, we all know that society is going to collapse under the weight of a failing economy. I say there’s nothing we can do about it but go out guns a’ blazin.

However, I’m here to assure you that you will have an awesome kick ass time, and if you are not satisfied with the show, I will happily hold up the bar and refund your money.

$6 cover 169 Bar, 169 East Broadway, Lower East Side - take the F train to east Broadway... E B’way/Rutgers St.

Headshot

Jared Ponders

Jared filled with Angst

Genius Talent Soul Men

Jared Weiss Songbook Series: Part 1 (in our ongoing series)

Genius Talent Soul Men: Music & Lyrics by Eric March

Performed by Jared Weiss, Eric March and The Secret Cylon Club @ Ars Nova's A.N.T. FEST 11/17/08

To love is to suffer

Love is death, love is suffering. To love is to suffer. To be happy is to love, is to suffer. Then to be happy is to suffer. Then Happiness is suffering. But suffering is being unhappy, then being unhappy is to love, is to suffer, is to be happy. Love is dead and Love is dead. Love fades; what a terrible prospect. When love fades, I can get excited about death. It'll be a great way to cut down on my expenses. To err is to be human. To cause pain is to be human. Pain is suffering, and if suffering is unhappiness then to cause pain is to love. It follows that to 'human' is to love, is to suffer, is to be pained, is to be unhappy is to die. So why not just cut to the chase. Why not simply kill oneself and be done with it all? Murder is immoral; suicide is immoral. However, if morality is subjective and subjectivity is objective, who is to define immorality? Humans? Death? Death defines immorality. Human beings are death. Love is death. To kill oneself is to love too much. TO kill oneself is to cause suffering. To cause suffering is to be happy. TO be happy is to suffer is to be free. But now, death has consumed all my love. Trapped. Trapped forever in a circle of pain and love and death. Death - can you hear me Death? I hope you're in pain. But seriously, all I ask is that you have A.M. radio in the afterlife.

Songs About Real Life Thanks You

Thank you thank you thank you to the 99 or so people who packed Ars Nova to see Songs About Real Life!!! (co-written with my good friend mR. Eric March). I'm amazed you all came and hope you will continue to show the love that was so evident last Monday night. As soon as I get the cd from Ars Nova, I'll throw up some tracks from the show. And as soon as I get out of my coma I'm sure the show will have glorious rebirth. Till then, enjoy my twisted prose.

Happy Thanksgiving (Alice)

God is mute

What is this feeling?

It's the feeling that God is there, but doesn't care enough to save me.

I'm overcome by the need to destroy something beautiful to attain perfection. I want something beautiful inside me. My soul, once bright with hope, is now a black vacuum, sucking in more poison, breaking down my insides, tearing apart my organs one by one. I can't stop it. I can't get these thoughts out. Walking used to help. Helping used to help.

As I walk, I feel a sense of uneasiness, like the right side of my head is about to burst from the weight of too many spotted mornings, too many dark sunrises, too much anger and frustration, thinking I'm not going to live through the night.

Perpetually waiting for tomorrow, my soul is stagnant. My body becomes a cesspool of broken promises, lies, a breeding ground for bitterness, anger and hate. Jaded by power, circumstance and mistrust, I turn to old habits. Without the will to wake up, I walk through life with a chipped shoulder and broken spine. God help me.

I can't focus on now. I turn off and decide to wait, wait until tomorrow to switch on. Get these voices out of my head and these monkeys off my back. God help the man who helps me, for that man is a fool to promote catastrophe.

My friends said I could live for myself and I didn't believe them. I believed in myself and I was spit upon. I believed in them and I was slapped around. Left bloodied and constantly dying, I stopped believing, and my dreams crucified me.

Love no one and you won't get hurt.

I don't know if I really believe that. I'm not quite sure what I believe in anymore. Maybe God is listening, maybe he isn't. Either way, I need a sign. I need a break. If he's there, I need to see him.

Winter Part I

My vision has been obscured by melancholy horror
Familiar walls, begin to crumble

I don’t feel his love,
Far past the end of my nose, I see not what is in front of me; I only see the end
I don’t feel his love. I fear there is none for him to send.

In my alternate existence, I am an elderly Lutheran Minister named Jan Nyvquist. I have a small, but still shrinking congregation on an island called Threnody, off the northern coast of Gotland, Sweden.

PART I

Saturday afternoon had never inspired such spiritual rebellion. I was sitting in my grandfather’s rocking chair, smoking my pipe as was my usual custom, when I suddenly came to the sad realization that I could no longer hear God. Not after this last storm. It had been a downright awful winter. Firewood was scarce. My hearing had been damaged after a bout of pneumonia. It had been a dreadfully devastating winter. It had been a lonely winter. Once again in my grandfather’s old rocking chair, I fumble through my pockets, looking for a key. What happened to this key? Did it ever exist? I couldn’t remember what this key unlocked. It must not exist. I looked at my pipe, long and hard, and decided that what was gnawing away at me was the thought that at some point, this key did exist. However, I couldn’t be sure if this key existed solely in my unconscious, or if there was indeed some tangible manifestation of my imagination that upon deposit in to my pocket had immediately, magically disappeared. The sudden realization of so many possibilities hit me hard. I increase my fumbling.
Finally, I pull out a book of matches. The Cigarettes lived in the desk drawer. After five unsuccessful, frustrating attempts, I finally succeed in lighting a cigarette. I take a long inhale and an even longer exhale.
The snow falls swiftly and surely outside. It falls fast, hard, like my beating heart, on the prowl for company. Cigarette in hand, I stand and walk toward the bay window. I’m not holding my cigarette. I’m holding His cigarette. Midway to the window, I drop his cigarette. We watch together as it dies slowly on the floor. We have the same look on our faces. It is the look of a man who has just been made aware of the fact that he has been watching things die slowly for an eternity.

NEXT PART II: HELGA FUGLESANG

She Wants to Send Me An Email

Date: 12/19/12

Time: 3:42 am

Location: The Interwizzle

I say

Fine.

Just as long as it's not one of those 'look on the bright side of life,' pick me up, feel better bullshit e-cards, with a picture of a cartoon bear climbing up a mountain. I can't take that shit.

She assures me there will not even be so much as a mention of bears, animated or otherwise in this email.

Five minutes later I get an email.

Upon opening the email i was immediately directed to a website that featured 100 animated dancing Jesus' walking 'like an Egyptian' to the tune of Steve Martin's classic 'King Tut'

Like a tool, I smiled.

I put on My Fair Lady, and went to sleep.

Dance Lessons

You waltzed (uninvited) in to my heart.

and before you fox-trotted out, I said one thing. What was that one thing that I said? Clean the up after yourself on your way out. And what did you do? You left all this shit of yours lying around my heart... cluttering up my feelings... My emotions are under a pile of shirts and the only I feel now... well... I feel like taking those emotions... those goddam shirts I mean, I feel like taking those shirts and putting them in a woodchipper...

You can only ask for trust... that's all you have... when you break that trust, either purposefully or not... Nothing is the same again.

She's a witch
and she's on my back
like a dark black shadow creeping up
She ditched the scythe years ago....

I want to kill this devil Death
I want her to take me with her and show me around and see if i like it before I want to commit to a lease... maybe we could work out a monthly trial run and go from there... see what nothingness... or maybe everythingness is like... Is it a giant void? Black? WHite?

God I'm so psychotic right now.... 72 hours, no sleep... too many circles... under my eyes, in my mouth, on my desk, in my ears.... no progress NO FUCKING... PROGRESSS!!!

Listen to me when I'm .... oh come one... ya know... i hate it when you drink... i really do... you're not the same person anymore Pablo.... I can't relate to you... In fact, I don't even know who you are anymore... Since you've left - I never hear from you Pablo - you're always busy with someone else, trying to conquer the world with someone else's diabolical plan... well you always have to have your own way don't you... don't you! yes... yes you do... and I end up going along with it... well ... not anymore You rambling fuck - I'll hear no more pontificating from you anymore... You never write you know... what do you need to come over and visit anyway an invitation engraved in Platinum? Damn son, you so whack... you so whack and you don't even know it... and that's the sad part... you don't know all the brothers you fucked up man... I hope you get a grip and realize when people love you... you need to let them know... otherwise... the love fades... or in some cases... the love festers and turns in to a poisonous hate brewing potion of madness, intoxicating the body with murderous rampaging thoughts... but hey... what do i know about love.

I guess I wanted to destroy something beautiful

Spontaneous (un-edited) recounting of the other night:

I saw her there from across the room and turned away quickly lest the right side of my face start quivering and twitching the way it does when I'm nervous. Let me be perfectly frank. Would you like to no what kind of conversation goes on in my head before I turn to face her again? Did she see me? Does she like me? Does she know my name? Why can't I stop twitching? WHy can't I just concentrate? Whats the matter with me? In the milli-second it takes for the myriad of self-debasing thoughts to fly through my brain, I turn around to see her at the bar ordering a drink. I stared there intently at her blue eyes... I could see God omnisciently directing the universe and the affairs of humankind with wise benevolence in those eyes... there's providence in your face... hope filled and beautiful girl, let me stroke your cheek, that I may feel a tingle run up and down my spine. The good kind of tingle that makes you feel happy you were able to wake up today... Too many late nights. She was situated in such a manner that her hips seemed to be resting upon my eyes... thinish, with long sturdy legs and soft blonde hair... short enough with heels on to call her height average. Her chest was below average in the sense of volume... but if one could measure sex, one would have to get a larger tape measure when it came to her... her soulfilled fuck me eyes screamed 'lust for me heathen' everytime she glanced over in my direciton... She's glancing over in my direction! What do I do? Never remember what to say, you never remember what to say... don't focus on that right now - look at her looking at you looking at her looking down at the broken heel of her shoe Her soft white cheeks made me want to cry, or write a poem or pet a puppy, or jump on her and ravage her mercilessly till I fall asleep. Her smile is what did it... it sent me off my ends it did. A thousand thoughts racing through my head and I can't think of one to say to her. Just go up and talk to her... it hasn't been that long, you know she remembers you... whats the deal? You're a pussy... with no balls is what the deal is. You want to talk to this girl, but there's an aura, no, a forcefield of Unatainability that you have created around her. You wanna love this girl... no you want her to love you, cause in the last five minutes you've fallen head over heels for her and what do you do? What do you do? You lope around the room talking to yourself, thinking of the right thing to say instead of just living and speaking.... that's the problem... you're alive allright.... but you're sure as hell not living buddy.

I left the bathroom with blood on my hands... I'd used all of Mary's bath towels to clean up the sink and the floor and tub, but blood stained through the arms of my shirt... I rolled up the sleeves thinking of a solution... Unbutton your shirt you fool... now what.... tear off your undershirt and tie it around your fucking forearms before you bleed to death you moron... oh right... of course. Leaving Mary's bathroom spotless I exited cautiously in to an empty living room. Where could the guests have gone? Still i see her eyes, now in shadow, slumped over the couch, blood dripping from mouth... her lifeless pretty blue eyes still staring out across the room seemed to sharpen as I kneel down to caress her cheek... but i held back for fear that my touch would somehow wake her up. It didn't have to end like this. Bloody and broken, stockings torn, skin ripped to shreds... she could have had it all but she didn't... I could have had her, but I didn't...

Girl

It's a crowded room
and i think i might be leavin' soon
cause even though the place is packed i feel all alone

I feel their stares,
their callous disconnect bewares me
I shiver as they look away with misconceived conceptions

they might think i'm crazy or outta this world
but i don't give a damn
if you don't like my run-on sentences it's just the way that i am

Pretend like you don't care
but i can sense your annoyance, i swear

You placate me with nods and smiles
but I catch your vacant stare, not taken in by my sweet wiles

Yeah, I know you mind how i spend my time
Cause I'm a clumsy bumbling lunatic, half-out of my mind

I'm a thousand thoughts away, no i don't hear what you say
Maybe we can talk another time another day
Maybe i can deal with it another kinda way

Can you Seemour?

You sensitive aesthete, never do what your told
Watch out for the trees, keep your eyes on the road

I know you wanna die before you get old,
Cause you walked to the beach with a wish
In hopes of catching some bananafish

You’d never eat too many, cause then you’d be stuck
With a swelled up head and shit out of luck

I think it’s time you stopped hangin’ out with four year old girls –
I know you mean no harm, but it’s the kinda thing that sends some people for a whirl

So I won’t let you play and I won’t let you moan
I won’t make you wait up all night by the phone

I’ll fall asleep until you come home
Why oh why’d you pull out that gun
I know that you don’t wanna hurt no one

But yer a person too
It’s scary but it’s true
But... If you blow your brains out... I wanna be there with you

Leaves

Blown by the wind, her wavy brown hair tossed in the breeze,
careless as leaves in the fall
But what does it matter if my life is in shambles
what does It matter if I can’t have you

Little Oranges and Little Blues

Nostrils bloody, soul on fire, finger nails chewed to the bone
I think on you and what you owned
Since you’ve gone things aren’t the same
Now I walk the long abysmal desert plane alone

There’s nothing up there for you to feel
Why’d you gotta risk it, There’s nothing up there at all
Cause you feel too much and know why you’re wrong
Your drugs and your shrugs of distaste won’t change the fact that you’re gone

And I hope you are happy with the things that you chose
I’m long lost and lonely for another one of those
Silently screaming through fog and through pills
Uppers and downers I shiver and chill

Let me in closer and feel how I hurt
See the sunshine faking through me
Feel me closer, you’re getting to me
I can’t stay, follow me, follow me, hold me in your arms and show me that you’re there
Show me I’m not the only one who cares

Tell me that you don’t wanna see
What I don’t want you to know
When you go do bed at night I’m left alone
It’d be cool if you didn’t go
But if you do

Then I hope you are happy with the things that you chose
I’m long, lost and lonely, drunk to my fingers and toes
Silently screaming for help and for pills
Uppers come down and I shiver and chill

You can’t take it with you
Always alone
Can’t take it with you

I dunno but something in you wants to be numb
Something in me wants to be numb
I don’t wanna feel
I don’t wanna heal
Something wants to burn out
Something wants to expire
Somethings wants fuel on the fire
I wanna scream and kill insensitivity
I wann flee and take it all with me
Wanna fly wanna cry wanna die

Let Me In

There’s lots of people I’d like to forget
And places that empty me out
wish I could find you, but so far away
cross a lifetime, an ocean, a trivial day
a trivial game we’d play
holding eachother, but not knowing why
but who got blamed that day
when you suddenly left me, to feel more pain

they took you and chained you and hurt you and pained you and scarred me
I thought you had left not for now but for good

totally alone
in this world I no longer roam
my head has been disowned
by the light of the night that has killed my sight

when they took you, I fell in to darkness, feeling cold and afraid
I try to feel you – I want to be deeper than before
Let me in closer and feel how I hurt
See the sunshine faking through you
Feel me, feel me, let me feel you breath, easy and painlessly

I wanna go back to the way that things were
Cause I’m drunk lost and lonely for a version of her
But a version of her wouldn’t help me at all
Cause a version of her, wouldn’t be her at all