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Landlocked Island Rock

by Cannonball Statman

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1.
Who is Her 04:37
Interior: my room, late at night. Sit up here with a typewriter; try to figure out what's right. Cut to the scene where the monster dies, cut to the scene where the monster lives; I could stay up here for hours. I'm just a parasite, and I'm taking control of your life, and I know, with your directorial prowess, you'll find a way to kick me out. Are you ready for the last flashback, as everything flashes before your eyes? Are you ready to give it all up, at the beginning of your life? Are you ready to die? Who is Her? Who is Her, and who Her is will be revealed as a character inside your film, and now, you know you are never really talking to me; you're talking to Her. Exterior: the flea market, searching for a prop; scout locations in the park, then back to run-throughs of the script. Fade to black. Fade into the cast and crew.
2.
Out of nowhere, he came from the city, into the woods, where he bought (from a stranger), a drum. Just so that they could say, in the morning paper: "out of nowhere, he came from the city, into the woods, to buy a drum."
3.
Sunburnt 03:21
In sunburnt rooms, she danced from place to place; without a doubt, it was always there, taking away her light, as if she was always in the dark, looming over her. And as she danced from face to face, no one could put her in the right place. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with her; they forgot about her. And I don't know when I can see her; they won't tell me when I can see her. There must be something I can learn from her, and I know I must never forget her. In sunburnt rooms, we danced from place to place, face to face; without a doubt, she was in pain, a pain that could only come from within a darker side of her, and to her, it came from the air. And as we danced from face to face, no one could put us in the right place. I didn't want to lose her and her face, but it became a blur, as her head started spinning. In sunburnt rooms, we dance into first place; they can keep a better eye on the ones in first place. In sunburnt rooms, we fall asleep, excited, preparing for the ordinary routine.
4.
Console 19:52
There's a rope, it goes from me to you; it's like I'm flying, and I think it's real. There's a rope, it goes from me to you; I'm tired of hearing it's all in my head. I haven't come to ask you to change your mind, I haven't come to ask you to change your ways; I've come to tell you that every night I take this rope directly to you. There's a rope, and it takes me back to you; it's like I'm dying, and I think it's real. There's a rope that takes me back to you; I'm tired of hearing it's all in your head. And I'm always here to haunt you, to take my revenge on you, because you feel this pain, too, don't you? If you had the strength to get rid of me, why didn't you do it yourself, or at least, without these mind games? You are like a poison; poison me to death. And I'm here to sweep you off your feet; you stare at my fate, and say "that's for me", and I look so powerful when you sleep, and through the rolling streams; the treetops above. Yeah, I live my life in these woods to search for other places; places outside the world of apathy and confusion, places where everything makes sense. I thought I loved you before, but you lived in a world that wasn't mine; coffee with milk and sugar from a night down the block. Yeah, and I would talk to you inside one way mirrors after school; fell in the mud, but the police said we were clean. Yeah, and everyone's a lost cause in their own magazines; everyone's a traitor in their own way, and everyone's so worried worried worried that the lock won't lock. Everyone forgot their keys last night, and everyone was talking about how you could get this raincoat for a million dollars, from the man at the train station. Yeah, and everyone was talking about how much of a facade it was; everyone forgot their keys last night. In the days of November, yeah, I will get my car; yeah, I will drive on into everything. In the days of December, you will take my life, but you won't go anywhere. In the days of November, I will get my car; drive down the coast of every country by the ocean. In the days of December, you will take my life, and there'll be no one left to Console me. There's a rope, I take from me to you; looks like I'm dying. Well, I think it's real. There's a rope, I take from me to you; I'm tired of hearing it's all in my head.
5.
Bubble 03:09
Stop painting your canvas with the paint I need to paint my room. She causes a scene just to have someone to talk to. She writes the name on her wall; thinks he'll see it. Well, then he'll care. Here we are in the bubble; it's getting hard not to laugh. Here we are in the bubble; we live in the bubble. 'Cause everyday that she walks outside, she can only see the sunlight. Stop painting your canvas with the paint I need to paint my room. A computer helps me breathe; I don't know anything.
6.
Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today. She takes her trailer back to the trailer park. Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today. She takes her gown and bracelet out of the trunk. She lives in a different zone; the only one with the courage to die alone. She lives in a different zone; the only one who could save her is already gone. I used to live in a small house, but death surrounded that house; I would walk around, just feeling all trapped and suffocated. I used to live in a small house, but no one lived inside that house; I would invite people in, but they'd just to try to burn the house down. It's a game of "you lose the game, and everything turns in the wrong way"; people modify your emotions through simple gestures. It's a game of "you lose the game, and everything turns in the wrong way"; people do things to you that you've done to them. Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today. What a day to be the collector, and to be collected. Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today. What a day to spend the rest of your life alone. You live in a different zone; the only one who possesses total control. You live in a different zone; the only one who could save you, you ignore. I love this song; I love this song. I don't know if you're paying attention. And I don't know why; yeah, it's a dying planet. And I don't know if you are gonna take me off of it. And I don't know why; yeah, it's a hard world. And I don't know why you want to make it harder. We live in different apartments now; we still keep in touch. There's some sort of evil in you; I don't know who you are anymore.
7.
The three parted ways, in exchange for a brief trip to the far corners of the human eye where dogs still bark onto recordings of songs about you, written by our fathers and shoved down your throat (like you weren't even looking); yes I said it, and for once you were the victim. YES! I failed with you as you failed with me, and gold became a useless cover. To paint oneself with euphemisms to lie, and a lie is only to avoid campaigning in other dimensions for spare change and to parade into unknown corners of Brooklyn trapped inside the neon clown. Gold became a useless cover, and to paint the world with euphemisms is to trust you with dreams of escaping into worlds fueled by fluorescent lights tall hotels and Hi8 video tapes of smiling rodents in coffee shops, with dreams of infinity and guitars that looked like fire and driving uselessly on the highway of blue dimensions for spare change. I never trusted you with your fears when thunder and lightning struck that they would murder you and I believed you (but only for a second), until I realized I was driving into the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel under an awning of blue. You painted it gold (when you said you were tolerant); when you said you couldn't paint, you were right and you would fall face first into the New York City Transit System and nothing would be there to take you out (when you said you were tolerant). The sidewalks were by now covered with vaseline and memories of thinking you were at all close to me, but gold became a useless cover, and I realized you were as human as I had ever imagined you to be. Sometimes you would dance in public all the time sometimes this was a lie sometimes you admitted you weren't sure about the Dali painting sometimes this was a joke sometimes you would've been perfectly willing to paint the sky gold, but sometimes blue or red and you realized you had no one. You didn't know if I of all people could handle this; you made a mistake, I made more on the road to fame, I sang "it's a game of luck, and a game of lies. I'm not willing to apologize." But why not? I made a mistake, you made more; who cares? In the end, who knows what was right and what was wrong, because in the end, you made mistakes, I made mistakes, there were never three (there were), but at the end of the day, we are only able to do so much before something else has begun, and when I was puzzled, because things kept ending and going away, you might've told me the same exact thing because we are all waiting to go on a trip to the far corners of the human eye with coffee and Food Network and tea dedicated to the Grateful Dead and screaming at Rachael Ray and stepping on ice cubes and standing by the light and ending things and beginning things new and old and pizza and stombolis and celebrating Brooklyn with awesome movie scores and coming home two minutes later to write a song about outsourcing and waiting to watch obscure Canadian comedy and videotaping near the end with green lights blue lights and finally turning on the real lights to film the closing sequence, and then sleeping waiting for the morning so we could film the epilogue.
8.
9.
Motion Dream 04:11
I think I'm falling. I live my life in a moving car. Motion surrounds me, like a dream of sorts. I think my life is changing. I think I'm looking out the window, and seeing nothing. I think I live inside this moving car. We go nowhere, we live nowhere. I think my moods are swinging towards the dream state. And we live in fragments. We live in movements. Never staying. Never staying still. Never finding the perfect place to stay and watch the ocean. Because there's nothing better to do than sit and watch the ocean. We live in fragments. We live in movements. Never dreaming. Never living. I found out you were in my dream, when I spoke to the ones who make dreams happen. You were a vampire, in a vampire suit, drawing my blood, waiting to be erased from the lives of everyone you trust. And it hurts me always, that no one knows but me that you live far outside the city, where no one stays the same.

credits

released December 7, 2015

Jesse made this, in Brooklyn. 2009-2011.

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Cannonball Statman Antarctica

Cannonball Statman is a musician from New York City. He has been described by LiveTrigger Magazine as "the king of modern anti-folk", and has often been noted for his unique sound and stage presence, described by German Shepherd Records as "pure genius". His soulful, articulate songs often tell stories in nonlinear, surreal ways, with intricate, poignant guitarwork. ... more

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