Wonder, Doubt And Curiosity

by David McIntire/Greg Segal

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Greg's Notes: Letter to DM, 1/9/07


Here, finally, is your "test pressing" of our CD. If everything's jake and on the trolley, I'll tell the boys in the back room to get it into production on the double. (Wait…I am the boys in the back room…sudden displacement of personality via bad '30s lingo…givin' me the heebie jeebies…the screamin' mimis…pull yourself together Segal…this ain't no time to go to water….)

A bit about my modus operandi on the tracks: I let the poems tell me what kind of music to make, except in the three instances("Changed", "Free The West Memphis Three" and "Thief") that I received suggestions on.

Now for the rest: First off, I would suggest that you read the next couple of pages AFTER your first listen. Let the CD just hit you, and then you can read why I did what I did.

OK, I'll assume (ass of u and me) that you've just listened to the CD and are ready for the story on what gives with the noisemakin'. So here goes.

(See notes with individual songs.)

So that's it......Sorry it took so long to finish, but I'm very proud of it, and I feel I didn't skimp on it or just throw it together, which wouldn't have been acceptable to me- you and your work deserve full and proper attention.

Hope you are digging it. Lemme know!

Take care,



released May 18, 2014

All tracks written and performed by David McIntire (poetry) and Greg Segal (music).

Poetry recorded 7/03 at Trigon Studios, Canoga Park, CA, engineer Marc Mylar

Music recorded 6-12/06 at Phantom Airship 7, Portland, OR

Question mark sculpture by Cat McIntire

Additional artwork and cover design by Greg Segal


all rights reserved


Track Name: And Alive

I am the weak link

I am the truth that escapes no lie

I am the Rubicon

where Caesar burned his ears

dispensing with tonality in favor of fame

I am Hitler's affection for art

But more than that

beyond any great man's destiny

I am that which creates nations

and religion

I am a squalling crack baby banging

unceremoniously on the insides of a back-alley dumpster

fetal, fecal and destined to disappear

I am the cruel man's fists

and his wife's broken face

and (not one to stand on vicious ceremony)

the silent screaming terror of their

horrid distant child

An inventory, strange and small, things

to punctuate a dictionary

of fear

and yet with dismal power, exquisite pain

and encyclopedic mannerisms

in houses great and odd

in shattered pews and misplaced intentions

it can only rust the sieve

and display a sum too quirky to calculate

for every day is different

and every morning identical

for we all wake up as I do


and alive

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: Bound

i am caught up in despair

unable to navigate so precarious a path

as that lain before us by the masters of destruction

i am wrapped up in fear

disabled not by the nebulous anxiety engendered

by the demonized-to-the-point-of-caricature Osama

but rather by the all too real idiot-with-his-finger-on-the-button Bush

i am entangled with the waking nightmare

that has become business as usual

in this nation standing on the precipice

populate with so many who simply don't want to know,

would rather stand in the middle of the tornado

fingers in their ears as they chant "lalalalalalalalalalalalal"

as if we wouldn't all love to believe that

a child's petulant ritual could successfully avoid bloodshed

i am inextricably chained to the horror

above which we now dangle

understanding that we, ourselves, are now the other shoe

whose calamitous fall is broadly awaited

i am enmeshed with the knowledge

that what has been done on countless reservations across this "great" nation

that what has been done in countless banana republics

that what is being done to our most basic human rights

is about to be perpetrated, perpetuated, punctuated and prosecuted

on a country whose starving and sickly population,

half of whom are under fifteen,

will be crushed beneath the machinery of death

machinery designed and built with our tax dollars

and this knowledge is crushing my head and my heart

and the violence seems infectious

because the blood in my skull is knocking holes in my courage

while the mud in my gut is swamping my convictions

and so i trudge

enmeshed, entangled, and chained

through the day

trying to remember how to smile

when all i want to do is cry

trying to remember how to breathe

when all i want to do is bleed

trying to remember how to talk

when all i want to do is scream


(c) David McIntire

some related links:


Track Name: Before You Came To Me

I didn't know I didn't know I didn't have it so good

before you came to me

the notions I thought I had of what love was and could be

before you came to me

were ultimately shades and wisps,

mere approximations of a reality so strangely and surely correct

Before you came to me

words had meaning but not power

Before you came to me

thoughts would flit but never fly

Before you came to me

actions had direction but no purpose

Before you came to me

arms would chain

and eyes would lie

I have now a great appreciation of the life I led

before you came to me

not nostalgia

nor regret

just a simple understanding of contrasts and comparisons

the world after and the world before

Before you came to me

(C) David McIntire
Track Name: Requiem For Gwen
Oh Christ! They've gone and done it again!

another lost boy another lost girl another lost life

Brandon Teena rides again and fear is holding the reins

Brandon I swear you didn't die in vain

despite all evidence to the contrary, we do remember

I know they've killed Gwen and buried her out in the woods

as if you didn't matter, as if you were never here

but don't believe their lies, their eyes, their innocent pleas

their shaking knees

'cause they've gone and done it again

they've proven how low a human being can go

(never underestimate humanity's ability tobe cruel and stupid)

and Brandon if you see Gwen, tell her we miss her, tell her we're sorry

that they've done it again

and I say "they" because I'm afraid to say "we" because I'm afraid we've

let you down

we should have seen this coming

we should have taught our children better than this

'cause goddamnit there's more to raising a kid than don't sneeze on your

sister and look

both ways before crossing the street

and Gwen you were a beautiful child

yes a child, not yet grown and full of confusion and questions and a strange


indigenous to youth

your friends will miss you terribly, even the petty , selfish parts of you

because yes, even these parts carried beauty with them

through your troubled gaze

and your mother will bury you with your makeup and nail polish intact

because she loves you and wants you as beautiful in death as you were in


and as you carried beauty

the men who did this carry guilt

and as you carried your secret power

these men now carry the shame of the angels

and I see them now in their shackles and their shame and I wonder

we may be able to punish them, but can we teach them?

or more importantly, can they teach us??

can we learn what we need from them to not make them again?

and these men (I call them men though they are rally no more than boys, as


as you, Gwen, and no more in control of their own youthful powers than you

were of yours but these boys on the cusp of hope and potential made some

very bad, grown-up decisions and so these boys must now be men)

and these men, their faces so heavy now

have altered the balance irrevocably

and the powers that brought them this far can take them no further

they have been destroyed, subsumed by their cruelty

and they dance now much more slowly

and their tears are now much more obvious

and they will declaim their innocence as they devise some

misunderstanding to cover their abomination and their anger


I can understand that they were angry

what I can't understand is that somehow they thought killing

was an appropriate expression of this anger

what I can't understand is that somehow there was no one at that place

at that time

no one who questioned the brutal reality unfolding before them

I bet they've got questions now

I can't help you now, Gwen

I can't save you from the violent, silent fears so woven into our culture

all I can offer is this;

I will remember.

I will remember you and what was done

just as I remember Brandon Teena and Mathew Sheppard

I will remember you

and I will tell your stories

and I will hope that next time

this is enough

(c) David McIntire

some web pages about Gwen:


Track Name: Punch Line
I don't recall it surprising me then,

you saying that I loved you badly

it was true -

and only the beginning

I could never convince myself that you

understood my motivations

I was so sure of my discretion

Perhaps you were not so blind in your need

as I was deaf in mine

I heard you though and understood

that I was not a poor lover

but in my rush to be gentle

I became awkward,

by studying sympathy I became


and missed you desperately by the hour

cursed myself constantly

took confusion in stride like a free

set of luggage

it's true that I loved you badly

but you accepted what I gave

It is also true that I asked for little

more than to be with you

to be for you what you needed

Possibly I asked too high a price

for too little a return

and my notebooks got filled with fantasies,

blueprints I knew would never be built

and yet when I could hang on no longer

and you sent me away

I couldn't help but hate you

oh, how I tried to hate you

It wasn't you though it was me

and I punished you by punishing myself

in your lap

coming around too often

making scenes

but always exiting a gentleman

I was always in some way

afraid of you

But when we had finally done

all that we could do to each other

when we had finally made good

on our threats of mutual poetry

and the versed closed

and the scars tamed

I finally learned to love you well

I haven't stopped laughing since

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: Everything Is Everything
Everything is everything

it's all in how you look at it

the day is the day

the sky is the sky

the song is the song

all is all is all

it's all in how you look at it

music is music and that's that

but music can't be music if the notes are flat

but ears can change and be changed...

listen with different ears and you can hear music everywhere

on the freeway, the factory floor,

in your garden and the creaking of the basement door

Coltrane and Bach used the same notes

Hendrix and Segovia played the same instrument

Cage and Gillespie sang in harmony

listen and you'll hear them

listen and you'll hear

listen and you'll


art is beauty this everyone knows

but the portrait is ugly if you misplace her nose

but eyes can see much, much more than we think...

change your lenses, clean your glasses,

pop out them orbs and replace them if you have too...

whatever it takes to see things in a way unknown to you

see, see, see! that there is no fundamental difference in beauty

whether it is a flower or a sunset or a broken spring coil or a rust stained

toilet or...

poetry is poetry and it rhymes and it doesn't and

it has meter and it doesn't and it is static and it is dynamic

and it has almost nothing to do with language

if you want poetry listen to your dog snoring

if you want poetry go watch snails fucking

if you want poetry follow the mailman for seventeen blocks

if you want poetry check out the backhoe digging a trench out on Western

if you want poetry look closely in the eyes of your lover and don't you dare

turn away

if you want poetry remember...

everything is everything

everything is everything

everything is everything

everything is everything

everything is everything

everything is everything

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: Shadows And Silence
another moonless night

another useless day

a few quiet moments

in disquieting times

we'll take our peace

where we find it

even in a 3AM weed-fettered patio where everything is shadow

everything is shadow

even the refinery across the rooftops to the south

even the sound of the helicopter as it creepy crawls the city

even the neighbor's cat, eyes glowing with suspicion

another heartless day

another listless night

and in quietly momentous times

we'll pick up our pieces

where we find them

even in the hole in the bottom of the bucket

even in the storm drains

even in the pile of ash and butts dumped out of someone's car ashtray in the handicapped

spot in front of Vons

the pieces are the peace

our peace is in pieces

and we'll find it where we find it

in moonless shadows

and in the stunning silence

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: Come In And Burn
To think of her leaving

is to look into the face of madness

to beg it enter through my eyes

and play its savage purpose against

the confines of my skull

To make the attempt to

stretch my mouth around the razored

putrid words is

an exercise in weird masochism

the pain so foreign and yet so inevitably


I cannot, it seems, do this

as long as it needs be done

my strength wanes with my patience

for the violence laying waste

to my head

and still the most vile fear

is that it could yet be worse

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: Fair Warning
This is Fair Warning!

I will not accept the language that you place upon my tongue

I will not accept the lies that you place upon my lips

The misdirections and obfuscations that you try to insert

will not cleave to my consciousness

I will grin and bare my teeth to barricade against

the misnomers you wield with shameless abandon

I will refuse your constructions and deductions

they do not hold sway

It is my intention

to hold you accountable

for the uncountable

It is my perception

that my reception

is insurmountable

I will refuse your assertions of reality

I will continue to deny what you claim to be true

The words you use drip with falsity and fear

the lubrication of lies

Your language serves only to perpetuate deception

your vocabulary consists only of misdirection

your sentences permeated with ill intent

will not penetrate my understanding

I do not accept your language

I will not retain the lies

I do not accept your language

My mouth doesn't stretch to that size

my tongue will not speak your language

my mouth will not form your words

my lips will not shape the sounds

my ears hear only a whirr

I will not accept the language that would only soil my mouth

I will not utilize the untruths that would blister my lips

your sinister dictionary is quite contrary and

I will not accept your language

I will not accept your language

I will not accept your language

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: Changed
is it just nostalgia? -

get out while you can

accelerate the beat

beat, beat them at your own game

following unknown rules

beat the sense they knocked in - out

is it just convenient? -

wishing death or suicide

or just a violent surprise

did the hardcore lion slam

into the wall for nothing more than a buzz?

time, what a time it was

the feeling of self-worthless

missing the target - keep pulling the trigger

placing bets on your own reality

driving fast and hiding hard

some of us got good at insulation

some of us got good at aggravation

some of us disappeared

some of us never were

some of us were great (or not)

some of us lived on frightened laughter

(if Darby were alive today

he'd be dead from AIDS)

guarantee you missed your chance

guarantee you lied to get out

promises are what you are

memories are what you wish you were

what was hatred is now pure

what was gutter trash is now sainted



we are what we loved and feared

and nothing has changed

we were happy we were scared

and nothing has changed

(c) David McIntire
Track Name: History Lesson
How long will we remember the name Amadou Diallo?

For how long shall we recall his death?

Certainly the forty one shots have been well documented,

examined, reexamined, decried, defamed, explained,

excused, justified, criticized, twisted and warped

until these shots no longer even resemble bullets

but rather simple molecules from a complex

chemical equation

So the parts are there; the journalistic diatribes,

the enraged denouncements, the pompous denials, the photos, the interviews,

the witness accounts,

the innumerable op-ed pieces

all of which will well serve any future historians

who may have some studious interest in turn-of-the-century

police/community relations and the

socioeconomic ramifications thereof

But what about us?

How long will we remember?

What lessons will we truly glean from such an act

of sadness?

How long will we remember

the name Amadou Diallo?

(c) David McIntire

a web page on Amadou Diallo:

Track Name: LD50
we must finally speak aloud

of the violence almost secret

the hidden brutality

that makes our lives so convenient

(it's not safe until half of them die)

we cannot live proud

bathed in the blood of the mostly mute

the secret shame shown

in the pictures they don't want us to shoot

(it's not safe until half of them die)

the flawed science of profit and loss

dictates a premise so skewed;

if you call me a monkey

you can put a wire in my brain

if you call me a monkey

it's alright to make me insane

(it's not safe until half of them die)

if you call me a rabbit

you can pour acid in my eyes

if you call me a rabbit

you can use the science of lies

(it's not safe until half of them die)

in the white room

in the clean, white room

the inquisition continues

in the white room

in the clean, white room

the inquisition continues

(it's not safe until half of them die)

(c) David McIntire

some related links:


Track Name: Free The West Memphis Three
Every freak on the street

Every geek in the room

knows the daily paranoia

like a mutant hothouse flower

living life under a glass

the only one in your class

If you're smarter than your classmates

If you're stranger than your peers

you will be pushed away

Because being odd is a crime

you will be convicted

you will be evicted

you shall not be free

We must free

the West Memphis Three

a knife

a lie

and stupidity

are the ingredients of a conviction



and vengeance

are the ingredients of a death penalty

Destined to die

Damien denies the lies

Jesse and Jason face only their lives

locked away

We must free

the West Memphis Three

murder charges are meaningless

when three boys are convicted only

of being different

in a world that needs things the same

in a world that feeds the insane

and starves the good the decent and the fair

that kicks the just and the compassionate

in the teeth

in the head

in the eye

yes, it's a kick in the eye

to realize

that what got my ass kicked in high school

got three boys convicted of murder

"they got weird hair"

"they wear black t-shirts"

"they listen to that devil music"

We must free

the West Memphis Three

I've been told that justice is blind

but I think instead she's lazy

She won't rise from her bed of nails

She won't rise to the occasion

She doesn't care that these three

were condemned not for any murder

but for the high crime of being different

She ignores the evidence

She is deaf to the pleas

and her blindfold is stapled in place

and so it's up to me

and you - it's up to we

to sing for Damien

to shout for Jason

to dance for Jesse

it's up to we

We must free

the West Memphis Three

We must free

the West Memphis Three

(c) David McIntire

a link for the West Memphis Three:

Track Name: Thief
Like stealing truth from a baby's mouth

she slipped into the dimness of my house

and made the silence sing

She transformed my confusion with

subtle brash abrasions

returning to me a jewel both bright and dark

She walked through dawning darkness

and brought me the light

She took a look of hope

and gave it definition, direction

She wiped away my slate

and handed me colored chalk

She created a wondrous act of love

out of what had once been only words

and talk

She stole me from the stranger I was

and gave me back to the man I should be

by burning away the falseness of my face

she brought out the beauty in my scars

by walking through the dawning darkness

she brought me to the stars

(c) David McIntire

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