Soul Coughing was the title of a poem that Mike Doughty wrote about Neil Young throwing up in the back of a bus. Everybody who read it said, “Um, hey, nice name…” so he took it for his band.
When I heard this story it struck a chord for me. Yes, even our souls need cleansing. And it’s not always pretty. Amen, brother. We like to think that our deepest selves remain clean, despite our days of rolling in the mud. Silly pigs we are.
So, “move aside and let the man go through.” (Or woman as it were.) In other words, I’m going to try to get the fuck out of my own way. Step out of the muck and begin my search for the holy waterfall.
Some kind of verb.
Some kind of moving thing.
Some hand is motioning
to rise, to rise, to rise.
~peace out, jrb