it was late into the night so you know I thought I'd play on Bruce for a bit and get my punk rock on hahahoho
I’m On Fire
When the Streets Grow Cold
Words and Music by Ren Michael How do you sing when the rain falls down, And keep me warm when the streets grow cold? And how do you smile when looming thunder pounds, While you lie out your hand for me to hold? 'Neath the candlelight to some evening sky, You exhale your stares and …
Welcome Home
A change in style ought to explain the hiatus. But it is New Years Eve. - It was some kind of Christmas. 2012 a hell of a year. I can see the beast majestic in the old desert storm and I look upon my own hands, remembering how I stood on the hilltop awaiting the …
Portrait of an Artist with Too Many Gigs and No Clues
I moved out to Los Angeles to be an actor, but I am quickly discovering that I'm a man of many passions. I'm in one of the greatest and most terrifying sorts of trouble in the world. Hollywood Received word that there is a gig for me up in Portland that has nothing at all to …
Continue reading "Portrait of an Artist with Too Many Gigs and No Clues"
Chapter 1
March 10 Sitting in the LAX terminal on my way to Portland with a desire to record things down even though I wonder if now is the time, and then I say 'now is always the time'. Someone looks at me strangely, prolly wondering who this kid is, this kid talking to himself. 'Ya gotta …
Chapter 2
On Pioneer Square in downtown Portland is where I met the pirate. He's a traveller of some kind with a long black beard and a rag on his head, a strong Moses-like cane that he doesn't appear to need for walking, a long sheet that he is wearing as a cap, old pinstripe pants …
Chapter 3
From the airport I was driven into town on a shuttle service that prides itself on being eco-friendly whatever that means, and the driver's name was Khan, as in Kubla, and he was a Pakinstani man who smiled a lot, who was raised in Malaysia and so who identifies more with Malaysia, though he did …
Chapter 4
Flying Elephant Free refills of coffee here, By George! It's great in this city! And how can I leave this comfortable nook when the coffee is bottomless and the afternoon is freezing and rain-soaked. But there is much to see and I've only got a day before work tonight, an operation with the Ford Motor …
Chapter 5
All throughout my time in Portland I was trying to get working on 'Saints' but instead found myself drifting onto other matters, so I was only able to get a modest bulk of thoughts down late one night. A lot of it concerned Texas and the hero's view of it as the great canvas upon …
Chapter 6
Northwest Tech At the convention hall last night it was nice being amongst journalists again, my ol' blood brethren. I studied journalism at the Unviersity of Florida and so it reminds me of those days, in which I chose a major for its own sake so I could hurry up and move to LA, and …
Chapter 7 – Morning Star
Morning Star Cafe. Thursday. Portland. Might it be time to leave the Morning Star? Might it be time to leave your sweet beauty? Outside this place, awaits the day; And the rolling thunder, the falling rain Lays grace upon thee, far and away But it is not for me. I have this morning but dawn …
Chapter 8 – The End. Foreshadowing
And so the last night brings me back to Pioneer In the fiercest rain, amidst old friends And to the fine people of Portland, Goodnight. Oh, fair city. Not that you need it. ~Quinn Some final notes about Portland as I fly back now to Los Angeles. Last night, though I wasn't hungry and my …
Drop Your Pitchforks and Raise Your Glass. Political Parties are No More.
Hope and fear have outlined the political discourse since the beginnings of modern democracy. The actors are compelled to either fight for something or to fight against something, and this leads to campaigns that are either optimistic for what we can obtain, or fearful of that which are trying to avoid. At no time has …
Continue reading "Drop Your Pitchforks and Raise Your Glass. Political Parties are No More."
Oh Texas, oh great American lands. To the mothers and the moon.
There was a time that when I'd think of my mother and my father, I would see a great life divide that illustrated perfectly the divide within my own mind; and one afternoon it greeted me in raw earthly form across the expanse of West Texas, that region which begins for me just a few …
Continue reading "Oh Texas, oh great American lands. To the mothers and the moon."
songs for the outskirts of my city
I I lament for the dying cigarette, Breathing its last into the cool morning air and lying in the middle of an empty road; This rolled up burning scrap paper into which the trials of men lie wrapped tight. Another wave of whisper into the sea, into the chorus of the morning saying "this is …
In December of Last Year II
'...It all died with Kennedy,' said I from beneath hollow ground. 'I see it all so clearly. Does it still live with Kennedy? Still...' 'What's that?' asked my neighbor, I couldn't make out his face. 'The American Dream?' 'What's that?' he asked again. 'Some kind of peace? Some prosperity?' I didn't answer him for I …
Chapter 3
The waves crashed violently on the coast of San Simeon. But from my view, watching the sun disappear at last and leave the sky cast in some mystical grey and blue, it all appeared very peaceful and necessary. I watched it while I stood parked on the cliffs with 'Mama You've Been on My Mind' …
Chapter 4
Big Sur is freedom. It is eternal youth smiling to you and shining above you with God's great sun gleaming high as the waves crash in a morning tempest over the sharp rocks below. On this winding road you hang over the Pacific Ocean, and you hug tightly the green cliffs and the redwoods that …
Stella and Skyway Trains
Where the winds dance so fierce and passerby enchant, Where the dreams lie low, steered, beneath the dim lit street lamps, I stand wide-eyed and smiling, though frozen cold and standing alone. This is a city, though never singing, so wise so old, for San Francisco. Where sad-eyed dogs they trot, and children remain away …
Chapter 5
I went to Frisco for the first time when I was a boy, with my mother when I was six years old. We stayed with her cousin back when she used to live in the city. Now she lived across the bay not far from Berkeley. We talked a little of that time but not …
Ren Michael 