Today I went to Major Matt's to remaster my old albumnAnd on the L train in the morning, I was pretty sure I saw Will Oldham, nHe was wearin' the same sunglasses he had on stage at the Bowery Ballroom nHad he come to walk among the Williamsburgers of his kingdom nAnd like the burghers of Calais will a sacrifice be demanded?nTo offer up our dreams and beg for mercy empty-handed?nAnd hapless in our hipness crowded 5 to an appartment nRelegate our dreams to hobbies and deny our disappointmentnCause The Stones in '65 want total satisfaction, kid nBut The Stones in '69 see grace in just getting what you need nBut if that's a victory then I'd hate to see what I'd look like defeatednCause I know there are those among us who seem to get their dreams unimpedednToday I went to Major Matt's to remaster my old album nAnd on the L train in the morning, i was really sure i saw Will Oldham, nHe was wearin' the same sunglasses he had on stage at the Bowery Ballroom nHad he come to walk among the Williamsburgers of his kingdom nAnd you might say now there's a guy who seems to have their world laid out before him nOr you might say, he's just a rich kid or a fascist or a charlatan nBut either way you say it if you look at indie-rock culture you really can't ignore himnAnd even if at first dismissive, after some listens you'll enjoy himnI was thinking this on the L train, intend on bursting my own bubble nHow long should an artist struggle before it isn't worth the hassle? nAnd admit we aren't fit to be the one inside the castle nThis quest for greatness or, at least hipness, just a scam nAnd too much trouble but then what makes on human being worthy of an easy ride nBorn to be a natural artist you love or hate but can't deny nWhile us minions in our millions tumble into history's chasm nWe might have a couple of laughs but we're still wastes of protoplasm nToday I was gonna waste some time and money to remaster some dumb old album nAnd on the L train in the morning, i was really sure I saw Will Oldham, nHe was wearin' the same big sunglasses he had on stage at the Bowery Ballroom nHad he come to see the strife here in the gutters of his kingdom? nWhere us noble starving artists are striving to feed our ego nOur mothers like our music our our friends come to our shows nAnd if our friends become successful, we'll consider them our foesnGo home to our 4 roomates after payin' big bucks for rockstars shows nWhat a nightmare! what a horror! i don't want no part of this nGet me off this crazy ride, nI'm gonna puke, I'm gonna piss! I'd rather kill myself,nI'd rather just relax or not exist nBut you say you wanna do an e-mail interview? Oh what the heck, I can't resist! nHey, 'ma, guess what today, I did another magazine interview! nHoney, that's great, you're really famous!! Yeah and I'm 27 too!nI kinda thought I was gonna grow up to do stuff that would benefit humanitynBut it's getting harder to tell if this artist's life is even benefitting me nCause I was gonna waste some time and money today to remaster some dumb old album nAnd on the L train in the morning, I was totally sure I saw Will Oldham, nHe was wearin' the same big sunglasses he had on stage at the bowery ballroom nAnd since I was feeling in need of answers I just went right up and asked him, I said, nWill Bonnie Prince, Palace or whatever What do you think about it? nIs it worth being an artist or an indie-rock star, or are you better off without it? nCause I mean maybe the world would be better if we were all just uncreative drones, nNo dead child, hood dreams to haunt us, a decent job, a decent home, nAnd if we have some extra time we could do real things to promote peace, nBecome scientists or history teachers or un-corrupt police at least, nCome on Will, you gotta tell me!! I grabbed and shook him by the arm, nThe L train was leaning Bedford with 10,000 white 20 somethings crowed onnHe opened his mouth to speak but it was lost in the rumbling of the wheels nWe were thrown together in a corner and I yelled Tell me, man, for real! nYou're living comfortably, I assume, even if you're not quite a household name nYou've reached a pretty high level of success & critical acclaimnThe L train got to first avenue and a bunch of people piled outnI was starring into his sunglasses and I was really freakin' out i was like, nSteamboat Willie Bonnie Prince of all this shit, you're like the king of a certain genre nBut even you must want to quit like if you hear a record by Bob Dylan or Neil Young or whatever nYou must start thinkin' People like me, but i won't be that good ever nAnd I'm sure the thing is probably Dylan himself too stayed up some nights nWishing he was as good as Ginsberg or CamusnAnd he was like Dude, I'm such a faker, I'm just a clown who entertains nand these fools who pay for my crap, they just have pathetic punny brains nand Camus probably wished he was Milton too or whatever, you know what i'm sayin'?! nSo Will, will you be straight with me now that it's just us 2 on this train? nCause I was gonna spend some time and money today to remaster some dumb old album nAnd I saw you here on the L train nAnd I was like Hey, is that Will Oldham? he must at least , have some perspective nCause it's like, living in this town I get so confused & wound up & up tight nAnd I just don't know up from down nAnd then we'd reached the last stop and the subway was deserted nThere was a long moment of silence and I let go of his shirt nI started to think that maybe I'd made some kind of big mistakenI tried to walk out onto the platform but by then it was too late nHis sunglasses seemed to grow darker and still he hadn't even spokenHe just came right up behind me and put his hand around my throat nAnd threw me down onto the concrete and kicked my face in with his boot nAnd dragged me down onto the train tracks and tied my hands back with his coatnAnd I was slipping out of conciousness as he was slipping down my jeans nAnd he was punching me and humping me and I slipped off into a dream nSo it might have just been a delusion nBut I thought I heard him say something like Artists are pussies nThen he climbed back up and ran away nSo I lay there in the darkness on the train tracks cold and broken nThe hours passed and I thought, nWell... maybe I won't remaster that old album nAnd then I started thinking maybe it really hadn't been Will Oldham nEven though he did hold my arms and fucked me just like Will sings in A sucker's evening nBut whether it was him or not I couldn't forget the words he'd spoken nArtists are pussies, like we're wusses or we end up getting fucked nAnd other kinds of folks are dicks, tall, smart and strong nAnd born to fuck us up I know, nIt sounds really sexist and stupid, nIt's a terrible analogy but at that moment on the train tracks, nIt made a lot of sense to me maybe it's just some kind of natural balance, nLike 2 types of mental gender that's gone on in all societies,nIn one form or another like some dicks were born to conquer,nI probably would if I could but if i'm just a pussy, that's okay nCause in a few months maybe, I'll put out something good.